Chapter 3
The engagement was over, but Anvi’s world had only just begun to collapse.
The next morning, she sat by the large window of her room, staring out at the gardens of the Oberoi mansion, where she had spent twenty years feeling safe, loved, and free.
But now, freedom was a memory.
In a matter of days, she would be leaving this house, this life—everything she had ever known—to step into his world.
A world where people feared even uttering his name.
A world where she would become the wife of Hukum.
Her fingers trembled as she absentmindedly touched the emerald ring on her finger—the weight of it felt heavier than her own existence.
And then, a knock came at the door.
"Pari?"
Her mother’s soft voice.
Anvi turned, trying to mask the storm brewing in her chest. "Come in."
Ishita Oberoi stepped inside, her kohl-rimmed eyes filled with worry. She sat beside Anvi, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear like she used to when she was a child.
"I know this isn't what you wanted," her mother whispered, her voice heavy with guilt. "But sometimes, life chooses for us."
Anvi swallowed the lump in her throat. "You always told me I could choose my own path. That I could marry for love, not for business."
A silent tear slipped down Ishita’s cheek. "I know."
"Then why?" Anvi’s voice broke. "Why are you letting them do this to me?"
Her mother exhaled shakily, her hands gripping Anvi’s tightly. "Because if I fight this, you will lose more than just your freedom, Pari."
Anvi stilled.
"What does that mean?" she asked slowly.
Before her mother could answer, the door swung open.
Her father stood there, his presence casting a shadow over the room.
"It’s time," Veer Pratap Oberoi said, his voice firm.
Anvi’s breath hitched.
"Time for what?" she whispered.
Her father’s expression didn’t change. "Agastya’s men are here. You’re going to the Rathore mansion today."
___________________________________________
The Rathore Mansion was not a home.
It was a fortress.
The palatial estate stood tall against the blue skies of Udaipur, its golden domes gleaming in the afternoon sun. Guarded gates loomed over her as Anvi stepped out of the car, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Her eyes flickered to the armed men standing at every entrance, their faces blank, their backs straight.
This was not a family home. This was a kingdom.
And at the center of it stood its king.
Agastya Singh Rathore was waiting for her at the entrance, his expression as unreadable as ever.
He was dressed in a simple white kurta, yet he looked as commanding as he had in black the night before. His piercing gaze slowly raked over her, taking in the soft pastels of her embroidered suit, the way her delicate hands clutched the dupatta like she was trying to hold onto something—anything—that still belonged to her.
But it was useless.
Because now, she belonged to him.
"Welcome home, Pari."
The words made her shiver.
Home.
This wasn’t her home. It never would be.
Her lips parted, the words I want to go back lingering on the tip of her tongue—but she never got the chance to say them.
Because at that moment, a woman stepped forward.
A woman with kind, tired eyes and a warm presence.
"Choti Maa?" Anvi whispered in shock.
Devyani Rathore smiled softly, cupping Anvi’s face like a mother greeting her long-lost daughter.
"You’ve grown into such a beautiful girl," she murmured, her voice thick with affection.
Anvi blinked. "You… you know me?"
Devyani laughed gently. "Of course, Pari. I held you in my arms when you were barely a month old."
Anvi’s stomach twisted.
She had never heard of the Rathores visiting her as a child. Why did Choti Maa know her?
Before she could ask, Devyani took her hands. "Come inside, beta. You must be tired."
Anvi glanced back at Agastya, expecting him to give some cold remark, but he was already walking away.
As if her arrival didn’t matter.
As if she were just another chess piece in his world.
And somehow, that hurt more than anything.
___________________________________________
As Devyani led Anvi inside, the grand interiors of the Rathore mansion took her breath away.
Tall pillars, crystal chandeliers, and silk carpets stretched across the enormous hall. But despite the wealth, there was no warmth.
Unlike the Oberoi home, where laughter and music filled the air, this house felt… hollow.
"You’ll be staying in Agastya’s wing," Devyani said gently. "Your things have already been moved."
Anvi stopped walking.
"His… wing?" she echoed.
A woman’s sharp voice interrupted. "Of course. You are his fiancée, aren’t you?"
Anvi turned, her eyes meeting the piercing gaze of Rajeshwari Rathore—Agastya’s mother.
Cold. Unforgiving. Regal.
"You may be an Oberoi," Rajeshwari continued, her tone clipped. "But you are in our house now. I expect you to behave accordingly."
Anvi straightened her spine.
"I didn’t ask to be here," she said softly, but firmly.
Rajeshwari’s gaze darkened. "And yet, here you are."
Devyani’s hand gently squeezed Anvi’s before she turned to Rajeshwari. "Let her rest, bhabhi. The wedding preparations will begin soon."
Rajeshwari said nothing. Just gave Anvi one last cold look before walking away.
Anvi clenched her hands, her heart racing.
It was clear.
She wasn’t just marrying Agastya. She was marrying into a battlefield.
___________________________________________
Anvi’s room—or rather, their room—was grand yet impersonal.
The king-sized bed was far too big. The closets were filled with her new clothes, ones she had never chosen. And the air was thick with his scent.
She felt watched, even when she was alone.
And then, the door creaked open.
Agastya.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with slow, deliberate movements. His presence made the room feel smaller, suffocating.
She turned to face him, her chin lifting slightly.
"I don’t want to stay here," she said, her voice steady.
He let out a low hum, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You think that matters?"
Anvi clenched her jaw. "I have a right to my own life."
Agastya took a single step closer, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light.
"You lost that right the moment your family sealed this deal," he murmured.
Anvi refused to back away.
"You might own this house, but you don’t own me."
A slow, dark smirk tugged at his lips. "Is that what you think, Pari?"
Before she could react, he lifted her left hand, his thumb brushing over the emerald ring he had placed on her finger.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Then why are you wearing my ring?"
Anvi’s breath hitched.
Because she had no choice.
Because she was trapped.
Because, for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure if she would ever escape him.