Chapter 20
IRA
"Who did that to you?" Mom asked, dabbing antiseptic onto a piece of cotton. She pressed it gently against the cut on my back.
I didn't answer. I just stared out the window. The moon was unusually bright that night, almost too perfect, too calm, as if the universe had no idea what kind of mess I was living through.
I thought Kabir was a decent guy. I thought he was smart, charming, and ambitious-the kind you'd take home to your parents. But the truth? He was the worst kind of man. He was a liar, a manipulator, and a monster.
He was already married. And not just married, but abusive. He used to beat his wife, torture her, and tried to kill her, all because she filed a complaint against him.
When he left today, I rushed to find her. I didn't even know why, maybe instinct. I found her on the road, broken. She was shaking and crying like a wounded soul. She told me everything.
He had raped her multiple times and beat her even when she was pregnant. She lost two babies because of him. She used to be a doctor, a good one, but Kabir destroyed her career, her image, everything. She begged me not to marry him.
I never told Mom and Dad about him. I knew they wouldn't believe me. They never did. Not when Patel took advantage of me back then. Not when I needed them most.
I glanced at Mom through the window glass. Her reflection startled me; she suddenly looked older as lines formed on her forehead and worry etched in her eyes.
"Mom..." I said, slowly. "If I tell you something, will you believe me?"
"What kind of question is that, Ira? Of course, I'll believe you." She looked hurt by the question.
"Kabir did this to me." I pointed to the wound on my back. Her hand stopped mid-air as her eyes widened in shock.
"You asked me to go upstairs. I did. But I heard a woman scream. I followed the sound and found Kabir hurting a woman. His wife. Karthik and Patel were there too, just watching, like it was some sick show. I tried to stop them, and they attacked me. They threatened me. Kabir thinks I'm weak."
I laughed, a hollow sound. "He doesn't know I'm not that kind of girl."
Mom's face went even paler. "Ira..." She made me look into her eyes. "Are you still... marrying him?"
"I don't have a choice, Mom." I smiled weakly. "You believe me?"
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them away quickly. But I saw them. I always did. Pain, fear, guilt, all written across her face.
"Why wouldn't I believe you, sweetheart?"
I gave a small smile, the kind that hides more than it shows. "Because last time... no one did."
Her hands trembled, cotton falling to the floor. The silence between us was thick, heavy enough to crush us both.
For a second, I thought she'd do what she always did. Walk away. Pretend it wasn't happening. But this time was different. She reached for my hand.
Her grip was soft, hesitant. "I didn't know the whole truth. I thought you were making a fool of us," she whispered.
"You didn't ask, you never tried, Mom," I replied calmly.
She looked up, and something had changed in her eyes. "You're not marrying him, Ira. I'll talk to your father. We'll figure something out."
"You don't understand," I said. "Kabir has people. He's not just a monster, he's a powerful one. And Dad... he'll never believe me. I can't bring shame to him again."
Mom wiped her tears, her jaw tightening. "Your father will listen. And if he doesn't, I'll make him. You're our daughter. We failed you once. Not again."
I hesitated. "What about Dad's heart?"
"If anything happened to you," she said, her voice cracking, "it would break him more than anything else. You don't see it, but he's proud of you. He doesn't say it, he never says anything, but when you got into that accident, he was shattered. You are his everything. And mine."
She reached out again, gently holding my face. "We're with you, Ira. No matter what."
The antiseptic still stung, but for the first time in a long time, something else felt stronger, her words and her presence.
I turned back to the window. The moon was still there. It was bright, but this time, it didn't feel like it was mocking me. It felt like it was listening.
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No one was at home, everyone had gone shopping for my wedding. I was pacing back and forth, unable to make a decision. What should I do? Dad would be disappointed if I refused the marriage, so I agreed. But I would teach Kabir a lesson. He had no idea what kind of woman he was messing with.
I was startled when the doorbell rang. My eyes shot to the door, frowning. I answered it, only to freeze when I saw Kabir standing there with his twisted smirk.
"Miss me?" he said, pushing up his spectacles. "Trust me, I missed you so much."
"What are you doing here?" I snapped, clenching my jaw.
"Is that how you talk to your future husband?" he asked gently, pushing the door wide open and stepping inside. "Are you thinking of cancelling our marriage?"
I slammed the door behind him, but it was too late as Kabir had already stepped in, uninvited, wearing that same arrogant smirk.
"I said, what are you doing here?" My voice was firmer now.
Kabir's smirk deepened. "I came to see my bride. Can't a man check on the woman he's about to own?"
"I don't belong to you," I snapped. "And I never will."
He laughed softly. "Still playing the tough girl, Ira? You forget what I can do to you."
"Get out of here!" I hissed, jaw tightening.
His face darkened. "Enough with the drama," he muttered, and suddenly lunged at me, gripping my wrist. But I wasn't the same woman who used to be afraid of him.
I twisted my arm, yanking it free in a fluid, practiced motion, stepping back into a defensive stance.
"You forget, Kabir," I said coldly. "I'm not helpless like your ex-wife. I'm a trained army officer. You think you can just walk in here and intimidate me?"
"Big talk," he hissed, charging toward me again.
This time, I was ready. I blocked his hand, drove my elbow into his ribs, and then kicked him hard in the knee. He stumbled back, groaning, clutching his side.
"You want to fight?" I said, breathing heavily. "You came to the wrong house."
But before I could catch my breath, the door creaked open again. I turned, just as Amish Patel stepped inside, calm and collected, the usual deadness in his eyes.
I froze.
"Ira, my darling," he said with a smirk. "Still causing trouble?"
"Leave. Both of you," I barked, my eyes locked on them. "Now."
Kabir recovered quickly, and while I was distracted by Amish, he lunged again. I managed to elbow him, but Amish rushed me from behind. I twisted and punched him in the gut, but Kabir grabbed me and slapped me hard across the cheek.
Pain exploded. My knees buckled, and I fell, blinking through the haze, blood trickling from the corner of my lips.
Kabir grabbed my hair, yanking my face close to his.
"Think you're strong?" he spat. "You're nothing. Just a woman playing a warrior."
I struggled weakly, blood in my mouth, vision blurring.
Amish crouched beside me, staring. "Pity," he said. "Could've been beautiful, if you'd just kept quiet."
"You'll both regret this," I rasped, every word thick with fury. "I swear it."
Kabir struck me again and this time, everything went black.
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My chest felt tight. Not just nerves, I'm talking about that crushing kind of feeling where your heart pounds so fast, you wonder if it might actually stop. My breathing was all over the place. I was gasping like someone who'd been underwater too long and had just come up for air.
Something inside me was knocking emotionally. It was loud, constant, like a warning bell. Like something was dying inside me, and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.
Prashant.
His name burned in my mind like someone had pressed a hot iron to my skin. He was getting married today.
That single fact kept ringing in my head, over and over again. I couldn't escape it. It felt like the world was ending, or at least my world.
I sat frozen in my room in Udaipur. My emotions were running wild, confusion, pain, guilt, fear, all tangled together like messy wires sparking in my brain. Did I love him? No, but still these stupid feelings.
I didn't even know. Maybe it wasn't love anymore. Maybe it was just guilt. Or the comfort of familiarity that feeling you get when someone knows you so well, it's scary. Or maybe it was just the stupid belief that he was the only one who ever got me. The real me.
And that thought? That thought broke me. Because what if it was true? What if only Prashant had really seen me, understood me, and accepted me?
I didn't think anymore. I just acted. I picked up my phone, opened the flight app, and typed "Jammu." I booked the first flight.
Next thing I knew, I was at the airport with nothing but my phone, my purse, and a lie I hadn't even figured out yet. I didn't pack, I didn't call anyone. I drove straight to the airport like something inside me had screamed loud enough that I had to listen.
And as I sat on that flight, reality hit me hard. What was I doing?
But it was too late to back out. The lie was already building inside me; it was messy, raw, and terrifying. But more than the lie, what crushed me was the silence. The silence I had lived in for so long. Not just around others, but inside me too.
When I reached the Banquet Hall, it looked like a dream. No, a mockery of a dream, like something out of a big-budget wedding movie.
There were lights and flowers everywhere. People were smiling and laughing, dressed to impress. I could smell the fresh roses. It was too perfect and too clean. And it made me feel even more out of place.
My cab driver dropped me at the gate, and I just stood there for a second. My heart was beating like crazy. My palms were sweaty. It was like walking into a battlefield without a plan, without armor, just raw emotion and a stupid hope that I could change something.
I stepped in anyway. Because sometimes, even when you know you're about to ruin everything, you still walk forward.
I walked into the wedding like I didn't belong there. Because I didn't.
Everyone turned to look at me. Their faces I didn't recognize, voices I didn't care to hear. Their eyes scanned me like I was some drama about to unfold, and maybe I was.
Still, I walked through the crowd like I had every right to be there. Truth is, I didn't. But there was no time for truth, only desperation. And then I saw him.
Prashant.
He was sitting in the mandap, in the middle of all the lights, music, flowers, and all this fake celebration.
He looked different, not the man I remembered. His face was the same-sharp jaw, quiet expression. But his eyes? They were empty, lacking any emotions. He wasn't happy. I knew he was not happy.
And somehow, seeing that broke me in ways I hadn't expected. Something inside just snapped. I didn't plan it. I didn't even think. I just said it.
"I'm pregnant." It came out of my mouth before my brain caught up. Suddenly everything stopped. The music. The priest. The whispers. Gone. It was just me, standing in front of a hundred people, and saying the one thing no one expected.
"I'm pregnant with Prashant's child."
That was it. People gasped, stared, and whispered. I heard a metal plate clatter to the ground. I didn't look around because I didn't need to.
I repeated it, louder this time. "This wedding can't happen."
The silence was thick as people looked at me like I was the villain in a family soap. Maybe I was, but I didn't care. I wasn't doing this to look good. I wasn't here to save my reputation. I came because I couldn't stay away. I came here to save myself.
I came because some part of me still believed that Prashant was mine. And that belief, no matter how stupid or broken, was stronger than any shame or fear.
Prashant stood up slowly. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were burning.
"What are you talking about, Ira? And how the hell did you come here?" His voice was low, but I could feel a dangerous tone beneath it. He was not the Prashant I remembered.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You can't marry her. Not after everything we had. Not after I'm carrying your child in my womb."
It sounded weak and cringey even to me. His mother and sisters rushed in, gasping in horror. The bride, the poor girl, started to cry like a five-year-old. The hall buzzed with whispers.
"Drama queen."
"Shameless."
"Who does she think she is?"
"She's pregnant?"
"They had sex before marriage."
"What a shameless woman she is."
I heard everything but still, I stood my ground, alone and fearless.
Because this wasn't about them. This was about me and Prashant.
About the stupid hope I hadn't let go of.
I thought I would marry Kabir, but he turned out to be a monster.
I couldn't marry him, but I was going to teach him a lesson with the help of my future husband, Prashant Pandey.
"We were together," I said, my voice softer as tears gathered in my eyes. "Maybe I was wrong to leave you. Maybe I don't even know if I still love you. But you can't marry someone else just because I messed up with your feelings. I know you'll never be able to love her the way you loved me."
He looked at me like he was trying to decide if I was insane or serious. Then he said, "You think this is funny?" he sneered.
"No." I shook my head. "This is fear of losing you forever."
That was the truth. It was not love, not revenge, but plain fear. I was scared he'd move on and I'd lose him for good.
He laughed bitterly. "You ruined my wedding because you were scared?"
"I ruined your wedding because I couldn't stay away." I choked, clenching my hands into fists.
His silence said more than his words ever could.
The bride's family lost it. Her father started shouting, her mother was crying uncontrollably.
The bride just sat there, broken and shaking.
I hated doing that to the poor girl, but I knew she would get a perfect husband.
Prashant was not for her; he belonged to me, even if that man was showing pure hatred towards me.
"Okay," he said, flatly, and shocked me. "Congratulations, Ira. You win. You'll get married, but please don't regret it later because your life will never be the same after becoming Mrs. Pandey."
"I'll accept whatever you have offered to me, Prashant." I smiled sadly.
Prashant pulled off his floral turban and let it fall to the ground, stepped down from the mandap, walked over, and stood next to me. He was not a man in love. He was watching me like I was someone who was accepting punishment.
He gripped my hand roughly and dragged me to the mandap. And we got married that night. There was no music, no claps, and no smiling faces. Only pain, disgust, and disappointment.
Prashant didn't look at me, not even once. There was no happiness. He was just showing anger. And a giant wall of unspoken things between us. We were husband and wife. But it didn't feel like a beginning.
It felt like the end of something we'd both ruined.
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