Ch5 The Bride Was Gone
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Rudraksh sat on the edge of his bed while the doctor, summoned by Choti Dadi, dressed the burns on his feet something he had never wanted. The sting of the wounds was nothing compared to the fire that already raged within him. Pain of the flesh was shallow; the fire in his soul was far deeper.
Choti Dadi left a glass of turmeric milk on the table before walking out of the room.
The moment she was gone, he stood on his injured feet and walked to the balcony, ignoring the blood seeping through the bandages.
Without a second thought, he emptied the milk into a nearby flowerpot.
He had hated milk since childhood, but no one knew that secret no one except his mother.
She always knew his true likes and dislikes, the things he never revealed to anyone else.
He was only five when she left this world.
His mind was sharper than most children, sharp enough to understand that his mother had sacrificed her life to save her husband's.
After that day, loneliness became his only companion.
Viswraaj and Devaditya were there, yes, but they were too young to understand the weight he carried.
From then on, he trained himself to bury his pain, to keep his secrets locked in the prison of his own heart.
At the age of ten, he was sent away to London for higher studies.
Ten long years passed there, and by twenty, he returned to India with nothing but ambition burning in his veins.
He built his first business from scratch, and within five years, he stood among the top businessmen of the country.
But that was not enough. At twenty-five, he carved his way into the underworld.
In just a year, through sheer cruelty and darkness, he claimed the throne as the undisputed ruler of Asia's mafia empire.
That was the black truth no one dared to whisper.
Once this marriage was over, he would return to Mumbai. There were matters waiting in the shadows, debts to be collected, enemies to be silenced, and a throne to protect.
He lifted his eyes toward the night sky, where darkness stretched endlessly, and exhaled a long, steady breath.
Tomorrow was the haldi ceremony.
If he was honest, he didn't believe in any of these rituals.
For him, they were nothing more than empty formalities.
All he wanted was for this marriage to be done with, so that he could finally receive his mother's last letter.
After that, he would walk away from this charade, leaving that girl with nothing but divorce papers.
He knew her type well. She was only marrying him for his wealth. Otherwise, everyone knew what kind of man he was cruel, ruthless, and merciless. No one dared to come close to him.
It seemed tonight would be another sleepless night. But then again, sleep had long abandoned him. How could it not? There was no peace in his heart to begin with.
Time Skip - Morning
The soft morning air kissed Rivanya's face as she finished the pooja and poured water into the Tulsi plant. A quiet calm wrapped around her, as if the world wanted her to believe that everything was fine. She took a deep breath, letting the fragrance of incense soothe her restless mind.
Carrying her cup of chai, she sat down with her books. Just one more month only one and then she would walk into a law firm interview. Her focus should be only on this, on fulfilling Maa's last wish, on building the life she had always dreamed of.
But no matter how much she tried, last night's echoes wouldn't leave her. Samita's sharp words, Alisha's arrogant taunts they had carved into her deeper than she wanted to admit. She told herself to ignore them, to rise above them, but a part of her still burned.
She forced her eyes on the pages, pretending nothing could shake her. Yet, somewhere in the depths of her heart, she knew fate had its own plans. And when destiny decided to interfere, no amount of studying could prepare her for the test it would bring.
After three hours, when she finally looked at the clock, Rivanya realized she had been studying nonstop. A faint ache curled in her stomach it was hunger.
There were servants in the house for everything, but cooking was something she could never give up.
Everyone said the food made by her hands tasted exactly like Maa's cooking, and whenever she heard that, she felt as if Maa was alive within her again.
Each spice she added, every flavor she stirred it was her way of keeping her close, of holding on to the warmth she left behind.
Cooking wasn't just a task for her... it was a memory, a prayer, a piece of love that refused to fade.
Rivanya loved cooking for a reason far deeper than anyone could imagine.
Every time someone said her food tasted exactly like her mother's, she felt as though Maa had returned to her, alive in every bite.
That was the true reason cooking mattered so much to her it wasn't just food, it was her way of finding her mother again.
That morning, Rivanya decided to begin preparing lunch directly.
Though the household was full of servants ready to assist her, she refused their help.
Instead, she even cooked for them. In her eyes, there was never a difference between rich or poor, high or low.
To Rivanya, the man in tattered clothes and the man in an expensive suit were equals.
From helping the elderly to showing affection, even if for just a moment, to orphaned children her heart never knew hatred. Compassion was simply her nature.
While she was working in the kitchen, a spoon slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
She bent down to pick it up, and in that moment, a container of turmeric that had been placed precariously on the platform tipped over, spilling entirely onto her.
In seconds, Rivanya was drenched in turmeric from head to toe.
And at that very moment, far away in Vardhanpur, Rudraksh too received his first touch of turmeric.
Choti Dadi prepared a paste of flowers, sandalwood, and camphor, and gently applied it, beginning from his hands before moving up to his cheeks.
Rudraksh's face, however, remained expressionless neither joy nor sorrow touched his features.
He wore nothing but a plain white dhoti, and the sight of his body made hearts skip a beat.
His frame was tall and broad, each muscle defined like it had been carved from stone.
The sharp lines of his chest and the ripple of his abs gleamed under the soft light, while the strength of his arms spoke of both power and dominance.
There was an intoxicating danger in the way he stood bare, unbothered, untouchable like a god of war dressed in simplicity.
When the ritual ended, Rudraksh was bathed first with milk, then with water, and finally with rosewater until every trace of turmeric had been washed away. He returned to his chamber, changed, and reappeared in the hall wearing a fresh white dhoti.
He stood tall at the very center of the hall, hands clasped behind his back, his presence commanding silence. His voice was low but firm as he spoke:
"I have something to say to all of you."
Immediately, the entire family gathered, eyes fixed on him. Pratap's thoughts burned he was certain this boy was about to cause trouble, to create yet another storm for him.
Rudraksh's gaze swept across the room before his words cut through the silence:
"After the wedding, the bride will not come to Vardhanpur."
Gasps echoed. For a moment, the room froze, and then whispers of shock spread like wildfire.
Choti Dadi's voice trembled with both worry and authority as she stepped forward.
"Rudraksh beta, what do you mean? This is her sasural, her rightful home. She will be your queen. Do you even realize what you are saying?"
Rudraksh's voice was steady, cold, and unshaken.
"I know exactly what I am saying, Dadi Maa."
Pratap's anger flared instantly.
"No, you don't! You have no idea what nonsense is spilling out of your mouth. And perhaps you'd care to explain why the new bride will not come to her rightful home?"
Rudraksh's fists clenched tight, his knuckles whitening as he closed his eyes and inhaled a sharp, heavy breath, trying to contain the fire inside him.
Before he could speak, his younger grandfather intervened, his voice firm yet calm.
"Rudraksh, enough of this. Will you tell us now why the new bride cannot step into Vardhanpur? What is the truth behind your words?"
Rudraksh opened his mouth, but Pratap cut him off again, his voice like thunder.
"What will he tell you, Kaka sa? This boy knows nothing but stubbornness. This is nothing but another one of his tantrums his arrogance!"
That was the final straw. Fury stormed through Rudraksh's veins, his eyes blazing with a blood-red fire that made even silence tremble. He despised anyone interrupting his word especially Pratap.
His voice cracked through the air like a whip.
"Rana Pratap Vardhan ji, yes you are the Raja of this land. But don't you dare forget the head of the Vardhan family is still me. This family obeys my word, and whether you like it or not, you are also a part of that family. So when I speak, you will listen to all of it not half."
Pratap, trembling with rage, took a step forward as if to confront him, but before he could, his middle brother, Arindam Raj Vardhan, placed a hand on his shoulder, urging restraint.
"Bhai sa, calm yourself," Arindam said softly yet firmly. "You know Rudraksh. He is still young and fiery, but we are the elders here. We must be the ones to keep balance. Please... let him speak."
Then turning to Rudraksh, his tone gentled.
"Beta, tell us clearly. Why won't your bride come here after the wedding? Where will she go instead?"
Rudraksh's answer came like a sword drawn from its sheath.
"Mumbai. Yes, her farewell will not be to Vardhanpur. She will go to my house in Mumbai."