𝐑𝐔𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐀

Ch4The Bond of Fire

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For a moment, my heart sank. Even today, Papa didn't care about me not even one percent.

Ever since he remarried, it felt like he had completely forgotten that I even existed.

But then, I shook my head and told myself, Leave it, Rivanya.

Why should it matter now? I'm not here to stay anyway. I'll just meet him once and leave.

With that thought, I stepped further into the house. The moment I entered, my eyes fell on a board kept right at the entrance. In bold letters, it read:

"Alisha Weds Rudraksh."

My gaze lifted, and I looked around. The entire Bedi mansion was decorated like a bride glittering lights, fresh flowers, and festivity hanging in the air. It wasn't for me. It was never for me.

Just then, I heard a familiar voice

Papa's voice.

As I turned, I saw him walking toward me, his face lighting up with happiness. Without a second thought, he pulled me into his arms. I hugged him back tightly, holding onto the one piece of love I had always craved. After a moment, I bent down and touched his feet in respect.

He placed his hand gently on my head and said,

"Be happy, my daughter."

Then, looking at me with a questioning gaze, he asked,

"Where is your luggage, beta? You're going to stay in Mumbai from now on, right?"

I replied softly,

"Papa, yes... I'll stay in Mumbai, but..."

He raised an eyebrow, prompting me,

"But...? What is it, Ruvu beta?"

I took a deep breath and said,

"I'll be staying at Nanu's mansion in Mumbai. Papa, please don't misunderstand me, but I don't want to do anything against Nanu's wishes. And besides, if I stay here, it might create problems for the family."

He shook his head gently, his voice firm yet full of affection,

"Beta, this is all yours. This house, everything it belongs to you. You're the only heir to my property. All of this is rightfully yours, beta."

Before I could respond, a loud crash of breaking glass startled me. When I turned sharply, I saw my father's second wife, Shamita Bedi, standing there in a fury her hand had shattered the glass vase.

In anger, she shouted,

"Yes! Give everything to your daughter! Throw everything at this wretched girl, Naresh Bedi! Leave nothing for me and my daughter. Don't ever give her anything!"

Papa's face hardened, his voice cutting through her rage,

"Mind your language, Samita. Never forget, you are speaking to my daughter. Do whatever you like, but everything here belongs to Rivanya and will remain hers. You've already ruined two whole years of her life and stolen her dreams because of your actions."

My father's wife spat out bitter words,

"Such terrible qualities in your daughter, and yet all the blame falls on me thank God it's you two, father and daughter!"

I felt my chest tighten as tears blurred my vision. Rage, helplessness, and sorrow tangled inside me. I had known her cruelty, but hearing it spoken so openly, with my father standing there silently, was like salt on an open wound.

Papa stepped forward immediately, his voice sharp and commanding:

"Enough, Shamita. Go inside, now!"

But she refused. Her glare pierced me like a knife, filled with malice, hatred, and accusation.

I could feel the weight of her anger pressing down on me.

My father, trying to calm the storm, took her hand gently and guided her inside but even as she disappeared from view, her venomous words seemed to linger in the air, echoing through the house.

Even after she was gone, her voice haunted the walls, as if accusing me in every corner of the room.

The memory of her yelling, the way she tried to destroy my spirit with her words, made me shiver.

And my father's restrained scolding his attempt to keep the peace felt like a bitter reminder of how powerless I often felt in my own home.

This is why I rarely come here. This is why Nanu never allows me to stay long.

It's not that I don't know how to respond to Shamita Bedi, or that I lack the courage to stand my ground.

But for my father, for the love and respect I hold for him, I choose to remain silent.

I bite back my words, swallow my anger, and bear the insult quietly, because I know that my resistance would only bring more pain to him and to myself.

Every word she spoke, every cruel glance, cut deeper than any weapon could.

And yet, somewhere deep within me, a small flame of defiance flickered.

One day, I promised myself, I wouldn't just remain silent.

I would rise above their hatred. I would protect my dreams.

I would claim my life on my own terms, without letting anyone especially Shamita Bedi define who I am.

I still remember every word Nanu had once told me the cruel truth behind my mother's death.

How Shamita had forced my father into betrayal, deceiving my mother and leaving her with no choice but to suffer in silence.

My mother, unable to bear the heartbreak, had collapsed before my very eyes.

I was only five years old when I watched her life slip away, her breaths growing faint, her eyes pleading for help I could never give.

Even now, decades later, the memory strikes me like lightning.

The helplessness, the sorrow, the rage it all comes flooding back in an unbearable wave.

My chest tightens, my heart aches, and my hands tremble at the thought of that innocent little girl, powerless, watching the most precious person in her life fade away.

I had barely allowed myself a moment of calm before my patience snapped. I turned toward the door, my footsteps heavy, carrying the weight of every lost childhood dream, every stolen moment of love and safety.

And then a voice. Sharp, cutting, venomous.

"Oh, what the hell are you doing here, Rivanya?"

Alisha. My step-sister. Shamita Bedi's daughter. The living embodiment of my mother's heartbreak, the reason my father's betrayal had been possible. Her words were like fire on an open wound. My fists clenched. My body tensed. My teeth ground together.

How dare she speak to me like I was intruding, like I didn't belong in the life I was born into? After all the pain, all the tears, all the years of silent suffering how dare she?

Every ounce of my childhood grief and my adult strength surged together, a storm of fire and sorrow.

I wanted to scream, to throw every word back at her, to make her understand even a fraction of what her family had stolen from me.

But I held myself back, knowing that showing my rage would give her the satisfaction she craved.

Instead, I stood tall, my chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, my eyes sharp and unflinching. I would not let her see me broken. I would not let her win.

This was my moment. My space. My life. And no one no stepmother, no step-sister, no one would take it from me.

I tried my best to keep calm, but my patience was hanging by a thread. My anger had already reached its limit.

I turned to face Alisha, my gaze sharp and unwavering, and with a bitter edge in my voice, I said,

"That question should be mine, Alisha. But what can I say? You are the result of my father's sins, and it is me who has to bear the punishment. And don't you dare forget this house once belonged to my mother. Even today, it is still in my name. So if anyone here is unwanted,

it's you and your mother, not me."

My words silenced her. Her lips pressed tightly together, her jaw clenched, and her eyes blazed with rage as she ground her teeth. She wanted to scream, to spit back her venom, but the truth had struck too deep.

Then, forcing herself to calm down, she curved her lips into a mocking smile and replied,

"You know what? I won't ruin my mood today. Because my marriage has been fixed... with Rudraksh Vardhan. Yes, the Rudraksh Vardhan the most powerful and famous businessman in India. And soon, he will also be crowned the king of Vardhanpur. Which means very soon,

I'll become the eldest daughter-in-law of the mighty Vardhan family."

Her voice dripped with arrogance, her eyes glowing with the pride of wealth and status, as though that alone made her superior. She didn't care who Rudraksh truly was whether his heart was kind or cruel, whether his soul was light or dark. All she cared about was the power that came with his name.

Looking at her, I felt no envy. Only pity. Because what she proudly called her triumph was nothing more than greed painted in gold.

"Great then... congratulations to you," I said flatly, turning to leave.

But before I could take another step, Alisha's mocking voice followed me.

"I know you must be burning with jealousy, Rivanya. After all, good things always happen to me. You see, good fortune only comes to good people... isn't that right?"

Her words were laced with poison, but I understood the meaning behind every jab. I turned back, meeting her smug gaze head-on, and replied coldly,

"Yes, I know. You're that girl who was born with a golden spoon in her mouth. First, your mother destroyed my family, and now it's your turn to shatter someone else's. I understand, Alisha. After all, the stain of your mother's sins runs in your blood it was bound to show someday."

The truth hit her like a slap. Her face twisted in rage, her lips trembling as if ready to spit fire. But before she could hurl another insult, I refused to give her the satisfaction.