Chapter 27 Inheritance of Chaos
The morning sun filtered gently through the Agnivanshi Palace windows, bathing the grand hall in a golden hue.
Incense smoke curled upward, weaving through the shafts of light like memories that refused to stay buried.
The scent of sandalwood, rose petals, and long aged grief lingered in the airlike an old poem stuck mid line.
Today marked the death anniversary of Ridhima and Suraj Rajput. The palace was full. Except for one conspicuous absence - Meera Agnivanshi.
Divya Agnivanshi, draped in an ochre silk saree with faded gold embroidery, moved with the grace of someone holding herself together by sheer force.
She had left no detail undone-fresh flowers, polished marble floors, and priests chanting mantras that echoed like voices from the past. Her eyes stayed dry until she glanced at Ridhima's photograph.
And then, one tear fell.
Not just for a sister-in-law. But for a best friend she had loved... and perhaps, forgiven.
Meanwhile, Adwait sat silently by the havan kund. His posture was disciplined, his expression unreadable. Clad in a simple off-white kurta, he looked like a man trying to remain invisible. The mantras stirred fragments of memories buried deep:
Ridhima's stern face.
Suraj's warm laugh.
The cold basement.
The burn of a forgotten slap.
The betrayal of silence.
Not even when someone called Ridhima a "kind soul".
Not even when an old relative said, "She raised Adwait so lovingly."
He didn't flinch. He simply folded his hands and bowed his head, letting the fire swallow a scream that had taken permanent residence inside his chest.
"Pooja samapt hui." The priest gestured toward the framed photos-Ridhima in a pale blue saree, Suraj smiling gently beside her. Garlands lay heavy over both portraits, weighed down by marigolds and unspoken truths.
["The ritual is over."]
The guests began lining up to offer flowers.
Adwait moved through the crowd quietly, distributing flowers. His steps were measured. His gaze grounded. When he reached Iva, standing beside her father, he paused. She wore a simple co-ord setno jewelry, just a ring and the aura of a queen.
Their eyes met.
No words.
He offered her the flowers. She took them, fingers brushing briefly.
A static moment. Then gone.
Martin arrived with a silver tray. "Prasad," he smiled.
[Prasad: After the prayer, prasad was distributed to everyone.]
Her hands full of flowers, Iva tilted her head slightly. Adwait fed her a spoonful of halwa like one feeds a slightly annoyed but indulged child. She smiled just a hint knowing exactly what game he was playing: sweetness with fire.
When she stepped forward, she placed her flowers only on Suraj Rajput's photo. Not Ridhima's.
There was no apology.
No pretense.
Only choice.
As she turned back, she noticed a young woman beside Adwait, early twenties, bright anarkali, frills, lipstick, and eyes full of gossip.
Martin approached with prasad. Adwait scooped a spoonful for her, but the girl caught his wrist mid air.
"Long time, Adwait?" she asked, beaming.
Iva's jaw tightened. Her soul did a full body eye roll.
She stormed forward.
"Martin. I want tea. Now." She didn't even glance at him. Her voice alone raised the palace temperature by five degrees.
Adwait blinked, startled. He dropped the prasad into the girl's hand like it burned him.
"Isn't she Iva?" the girl whispered, delighted.
"And who are you?" Iva snapped, eyes like blades.
"I'm Adwait's-"
"Cousin. Adoptive. Whatever," Adwait cut in flatly.
The girl blinked, unsure whether to feel insulted or ignored.
"You're Iva?" she finally asked.
"Yes. Proud owner of Rajput House. Breathing new life into it," Iva replied coolly.
"You sold it?" the girl gasped at Adwait. "You never let us touch it, and now you gave it to an outsider? The family's going to explode. They already hate you. Now they'll kill you."
She flounced off before Adwait could reply.
Iva turned to him. Her tone was flatter than stale soda.
"Who was she?"
Before Adwait could answer, Martin saved him by setting down a steaming cup of tea in front of Iva.
"Someone with a PhD in crushing on sir," he muttered.
Adwait sighed.
Iva arched an eyebrow. "Want tea too?"
"I want something stronger," he muttered, rubbing his temple.
She sipped quietly. But her grip on the teacup was too tight. Her silence was the kind that carried lightning.
Martin leaned in. "She asked for tea, sir."
"I know, Martin," Adwait murmured. "She is very, very angry."
Across the room, Iva sat like a queen made of frost. Legs crossed. Eyebrows sculpted into perfect disapproval. The cup didn't clink once. Dangerous elegance.
When she finished, she looked up. Her eyes met Adwait's. He smiled tentative, peace seeking.
She did not smile back.
She glared.
The smile died halfway.
He gave a subtle nod an invitation.
She stood and walked toward him like a queen going to war.
He led her through a side corridor marble underfoot, jasmine vines overhead, the garden just visible beyond.
She didn't wait for him to speak.
She grabbed a fistful of his kurta near the collar and pulled him close.
"Dare you let anyone touch you," she whispered, fierce and trembling. "Dare you, Adwait."
His grey eyes held oceans softness, guilt, exhaustion.
She blinked back tears. The image of that girl clutching his wrist burned in her mind.
Then she turned to Martin, who trailed them.
"What does she even see in him?"
Martin blinked innocently. "Oh, I don't know, ma'am. Maybe the same thing you see in him? Just a wild guess."
Iva glared. "Excuse me?"
Martin grinned. "I'm just the prasad guy. What do I know about fate, fire, and forbidden feelings?"
Adwait coughed to hide a laugh.
She turned to leave.
But fate had other plans.
Rudra passed her in the hallway. "Mom was looking for you," he said casually.
She nodded, distracted, and turned toward the lounge where Divya often hosted inner circle guests.
But "He was their son, Anuja. If he hadn't sat in the pooja, people would've questioned me," Divya said, frustration edging her voice.
"I gave him to Ridhima because Suraj was hell-bent on having a kid to continue the legacy.
Aur Ridhima ko pata nahi uss jyotish baba ne kya bol diya tha.
Aur mujhe uss apne psycho bete se jaan chhudani thi. "
["But he was their son, Anuja. If he hadn't sat in the prayer ceremony, people would've questioned me," Divya said, frustration creeping into her voice.
I gave him to Ridhima because Suraj was obsessed with having a child to carry on the family name.
And who knows what that astrologer told Ridhima.
And honestly, I just wanted to get rid of that psycho son of mine. "]
Iva's breath hitched.
"Divya bhabhi, aapne toh jaan chhuda di, par Suraj bhaisaab aur Ridhima bhabhi ki jaan chali gayi uss manhoos ke wajah se.
Aur upar se, woh saari property khaa gaya jispe haq sirf humara tha.
Har mahine usse paise mangne padte hai hume!
Na pooja mein baithne ka uska haq tha, na property ka.
Woh sab toh mere bete ka haq tha!" Anuja's voice cracked with rage.
["Divya bhabhi, you may have washed your hands of him, but Suraj bhaisaab and Ridhima bhabhi lost their lives because of that cursed boy," Anuja's voice cracked with fury.
"And on top of that, he swallowed up the entire property that rightfully belonged to us!
Every month we have to beg him for money!
He had no right to sit in that pooja, and no right to that property.
All of it should've belonged to my son!"]
Divya let out an exhausted sigh. "Anuja, legal beta tha woh unka. Mujhe kya pata tha Suraj jamaisa sab kuch Adwait ke naam kar denge. Pehle hi bola tha Ridhima ko Adwait ko leash pe rakhe."
["Anuja, he was their legal son. How was I supposed to know Suraj son in law of the house would leave everything to Adwait? I told Ridhima from the start-keep that boy on a leash."]
"Divya bhabhi," Anuja sneered, "Suraj bhaiya toh Ridhima bhabhi ke kabu mein hi the. Adwait toh psycho tha hi usse toh basement mein bandh karke rakhti thi woh. But Suraj bhaiya... pata nahi kya pyar jaag gaya tha. Sab kuch uske naam kar diya, humari family ki property bhi."
["Divya bhabhi," Anuja scoffed, "Suraj bhaiya was under Ridhima bhabhi's control from the beginning.
And Adwait? He was already a psycho-she used to keep him locked up in the basement.
But Suraj bhaiya... I don't know what kind of love he suddenly discovered.
He gave that boy everything. Even our family's property. "]
"Mom, not just that," Mili's voice cut in. "I heard he sold Rajput House to the Ambanis. I thought he'd give it to me."
"Shut up, Mili. He was your cousin. Did you forget he is a psycho?" Anuja hissed.
"He's not my cousin. We're not even blood related! He's an Agnivanshi. And trust me, Mom, I don't give a fuck about Rajput Mansion. Agnivanshi Palace is where I want to be." Her voice turned dreamy.
"Mili, I already told you. Rudra is going to marry Ivikaa Ambani. Abhay and I have already decided. Forget becoming an Agnivanshi. You're already surviving on Adwait's mercy for money," Divya snapped.
"Oh, please, aunty. Who gives a fuck about Rudra? I was talking about Adwait. And do something about that Iva and Rudra. I want Adwait."
She stomped off, hair flipping, heels clacking.
Anuja scoffed. "Sorry, Divya bhabhi. She's just obsessed with that psycho. Ridhima thi tab tak sab theek tha. Basement se usse kabhi bahar aane hi nahi diya. I swear, I'll kill him for selling our property."
["Sorry, Divya bhabhi. She's just obsessed with that psycho. Things were fine when Ridhima was around. She never even let him out of the basement. I swear, I'll kill him for selling off our property."]
"He sold it to the Ambanis," Divya said sharply.
"Do you want to get on the bad side of them?
In fact, Rudra suggested it. You'll get hefty money, darling.
Abhay thought of this too. To strip Adwait of one major assets.
Eventually, he'll give the money to you.
He already gave up his right to the Agnivanshi name.
Soon, he'll be in some basement of a shitty slum. "
Anuja let out a cruel laugh. "Thank you, Divya bhabhi. Always looking out for the Rajputs."
"You're family, Anuja," Divya replied sweetly. "And now I have to go meet Iva. I'm already working with her. Soon she'll be Mrs. Agnivanshi. Consider Rajput House as ours - along with the Ambani princess."
Iva stood frozen.
Her grip tightened around the teacup she hadn't realized she was still holding.
Her jaw clenched.
Her family. Her house.
Her Adwait.
Blood boiling. Heart breaking.
And this time, there would be no forgiveness.
Iva couldn't breathe.
Adwait in the basement.
Ridhima burning his wrist.
That phrase alone kept looping in her head like a cruel lullaby. Again and again and again.
There was so much he had hidden from her. So much pain... quietly folded and locked behind that calm smirk, those soft jokes, the midnight poetry, and that stupid red thread.
Her hands trembled as she pushed open the hallway door, searching for him.
She found him just outside the courtyard, back turned, hands loosely joined. Almost like he was praying. Or maybe... bracing.
She didn't wait. Her anger was not loud, not explosive. It was the silent fury born from love - the kind that aches more than it burns.
Without a word, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward a shadowed corridor, tucked away from the eyes of the families inside.
Adwait blinked in surprise but didn't resist. He was too tired. Too used to being dragged around by people's expectations - for once, maybe this was different.
When they were finally alone, she turned to him, eyes blazing. Not with accusation. With devastation.
"I gave you flowers in front of your father," he said softly, attempting a smile. "And food, too. Promise fulfilled." His usual smirk followed, as if he hadn't just been thrown into hell moments ago.
She didn't smile back.
Then-
"Stop playing," she said flatly. Her voice wasn't angry but it was hollow. Empty.
That was worse.
Adwait's lips faltered. Before he could speak again, a loud scream shattered the silence.
"WOH MERE ADWAIT KO MAR DEGI!!"
["She will kill my Adwait"]
Adwait froze.
Everything inside him stilled. The light in his eyes died in an instant.
He didn't even have to look. He knew.
And then he ran.
Iva followed him instinctively, heart pounding, unsure what she was running toward, only certain that whatever it was it was the truth.
They reached the main hall where chaos had already broken out. Servants were trying to restrain Meera Agnivanshi, her delicate frame shaking with terror as she threw objects at Ridhima's portrait like it had come alive.
"Veer!! Veer, voh mere Adwait ko maar degi!!" she shrieked, voice torn, raw, feral.
[Veer!!,Veer, she will kill my Adwait!!]
Glass shattered.
A photo frame cracked against the marble.
Rudra stepped forward, trying to calm her, but she grabbed Suraj's frame and hurled it toward him.
"VAANI! VEER! MERA BETA!!"
[Vani! Veer! My son!]
And in that madness, Adwait stepped into the storm. Like a soldier returning to war.
"Main yahin hoon, Maa... Veer yahin hai," he whispered, going to her, hands trembling.
[I am here only mother, veer is here.]
She didn't hear him. She saw ghosts. She was inside a nightmare that never ended.
Suddenly, she grabbed the brass diya stand from the table and threw it and Adwait shielded himself with his forearm. The flame grazed his skin and the pain bloomed instantly, but he didn't flinch. He stepped closer.
Then, like a final scream from the past, Meera picked up the heavy silver plate and flung it and this time, it was going straight toward Iva.
Adwait turned in a heartbeat, pulled her toward him her breath caught in her throat and the plate crashed behind them.
Boom.
The noise died.
Her cheek was pressed against his chest, heart racing against his ribs. Shielding her.
Maria arrived just in time, syringe in hand. With Martin's help, they calmed Meera down, injecting her carefully as she wailed Adwait's name in a broken loop.
"Vaani... Veer... Adwait..."
And just like that she collapsed. Her body gave out, and the war ended. For now.
Martin and Maria carried her away gently, whispering to her like you would to a scared child.
Iva stood still, numb.
Someone finally asked the question everyone else was too scared to voice.
"Who brought her here?" Adwait's voice was low, but it cut through the silence like a blade.
"I brought her," Abhay declared, his voice firm, rising like thunder across the hall. "She has every right to be here. It's her daughter and son-in-law's death anniversary."
The room fell into stunned silence. The Ambanis, Agnivanshis, and Rajputs stood frozen - some wide-eyed, some uncomfortable. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
Adwait turned to him slowly, voice quieter but laced with bitter sarcasm. "Such a sweet son you are." He took a step closer, his tone colder now. "But let me remind you... she can't even stand the sight of Ridhima Rajput's photo. And you brought her here knowing that?"
Abhay opened his mouth, but no words came. Guilt flickered in his eyes, but pride held his jaw tight.
Adwait didn't wait for a reply.
He glanced at the shattered frames, at the smear of ash on the floor, at the chaos that still echoed inside the bones of the palace and then back at his father.
"You knew exactly what would happen," he whispered. "And you let it."
After saying that, Adwait turned and walked away quietly, without another glance.
His steps didn't echo, but they thundered in Iva's ears.
She wanted to follow. Every cell in her body screamed at her to go after him.
But her feet didn't move.
She stood frozen in the middle of the ruined pooja hall, surrounded by broken frames, spilled flowers, shattered glass, and the weight of too many truths collapsing at once.
Ridhima and Adwait's past.
Meera Agnivanshi's breakdown.
The venom of whispered legacies.
It was all too much. Too fast. Too sharp.
She finally turned, eyes dazed, and found Maya nearby. "Come with me," she said softly.
They walked in silence to her room. The corridors felt longer than usual. The walls colder.
Maya kept talking, her voice a lifeline. But Iva's mind had drifted elsewhere to basement shadows, to red threads, to wrists burned by truth.
"Iva? Are you even listening?" Maya asked, shaking her gently.
Iva blinked. Nodded. But it wasn't real.
"I'll talk to you later," she said quietly, already walking away.
She didn't explain. Couldn't.
Her heart had chosen a different direction.
She moved quickly, turning toward the west wing. The part of the palace where silence lived.
On the grand staircase, she spotted Martin descending composed as ever, his face unreadable, like chaos didn't just unfold minutes ago.
"How is she?" Iva asked, halting him.
"Ma'am is stable," he replied in his signature flat tone. "Sir took care of it."
Iva clenched her jaw. "Why did Adwait just leave like that? Everyone was hurling knives at him, at Dadi. He should've spoken up. He should've raised his voice!"
Martin paused for a beat, then looked her straight in the eye.
"Sir doesn't raise his voice," he said simply.
That made Iva stop.
"What?" she snapped. "He doesn't know how to get angry? Is that it? Can't he just scream back for once?!"
Martin's eyes darkened with something unreadable. He stepped down one more stair.
"Sir doesn't raise his voice," he repeated. Then added, "The problem starts when he lowers it."
And with that, he walked past her silent as ever leaving behind words that echoed louder than any scream ever could.
She returned to her family quietly. The air around them had shifted less festive, more cautious.
"Iva, you already tied one?" her father asked, holding out a red thread. "I brought this for you. I know you don't usually wear these dhagas, but still..."
"It's okay, Papa. Give it to me," she said with a soft smile, accepting the thread from his hand. "I'll wear it."
He nodded, visibly comforted. Then after a pause, as if walking a tightrope, he ventured, "So... about the Agnivanshis.."
"None of our business, Papa," Iva cut in, her voice firm but respectful. "We have the Rajput house, and we paid a fair price for it. That's all that matters."
Her father gave a small nod. "Fair enough, Iva. But still, we should be cautious. Stay clear of their mess. Please begin renovation soon, hmm?"
"I agree," said Virya, stepping in. "But to be honest, Adwait handled it surprisingly well. I wish he wasn't a tenth fail guy. He could've been part of our circle. I'm so done with Rudra and his shady business deals."
Vayu patted Virya's back with a smirk. "You're an Ambani too, Virya. Handle it like one."
Iva chuckled softly, then excused herself, red thread still wrapped lightly around her fingers.
She asked one of the maids for Meera Agnivanshi's room and made her way there, heart pounding for reasons she didn't fully understand. The corridor seemed longer than usual, every step echoing a quiet decision.
She opened the door gently.
Meera was asleep, her features calm but fragile like a storm that had momentarily rested. And beside her sat Adwait, silent, still, watching over her with the kind of patience that didn't come from obligation, but something deeper.
He looked up as Iva entered. Surprised, but not startled.
Without a word, she walked to him and sat by his side. Then, extending her hand, she gestured for his.
He hesitated for a second, then slowly placed his hand in hers.
She took the red thread and began tying it around his wrist. His eyes stayed on her - puzzled, but quiet. With every knot, something unspoken tightened between them. Just as she pulled the thread for the last loop, Meera stirred awake.
"Vaani..." Meera whispered, her gaze still clouded with past and memory. Her eyes fell on their hands, the red thread still warm, freshly tied.
"Maa, woh yeh..." Adwait began, fumbling for words.
[Mother,.. she...]
But Meera's mind had already drifted somewhere else. Somewhere years behind.
"Vaani, tu mayke se aa gayi?" she asked, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Maine kaha tha na, yeh tujhe Mrs. Agnivanshi bana hi dega..."
["Vaani, you've come back from your maternal home?" she asked, a soft smile playing on her lips."Didn't I say-he'd make you Mrs. Agnivanshi someday..."]
"Maa, yeh Vaani.." Adwait tried again, his voice gentle but unsure.
["Mother, this Vaani..
But Iva interrupted, eyes never leaving Meera's.
"Ji maa yeh veer..." she said softly. "Main... Veer ki Vaani."
["Yes, Mother, this is Veer..." she said softly. "I am... Veer's Vaani."]
A moment passed.
Then, instinctively maybe protectively Adwait reached out and held Iva's palm in his. Not thinking. Just feeling.
It was unintentional. Immediate. Real.
And for a second, it felt like time blinked - surprised.
Funny how a single thread can tie more knots than any ceremony ever could.
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