21. Misunderstanding
It felt like someone had smashed my head against a wall all night.
A dull, relentless pain throbbed through my skull as I forced my eyes open. For a few seconds, everything was blurred-shadows, unfamiliar light, silence too heavy to be comforting.
Then reality hit.
This wasn't my room.
My breath hitched as I took in the space around me.
Mr. Raizaada's room.
Panic crept in slowly, crawling up my spine. I tried to sit up, every muscle protesting like it had been broken and put back together the wrong way. My body ached in places I didn't even know could ache.
And then I looked down.
My heart dropped.
I wasn't wearing my clothes.
I was wearing his shirt.
My hands trembled as I clutched the fabric, my mind spiralling.
How... how did this happen?
Did we actually-
Did something happen between us last night?
Why couldn't I remember?
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force memories to surface. All I could recall was drinking something.
After that-nothing. A void. Darkness.
Fear seeped in, thick and suffocating.
Did he take advantage of me when I wasn't in my senses?
I looked around the room wildly, half-expecting to see him somewhere-watching, waiting.
He wasn't there.
Instead, my gaze fell on a file resting neatly on the side table.
My hands moved on their own as I picked it up, dread curling in my stomach. The moment I opened it, my breath caught.
A jewellery design.
The first one. Of the five.
The truth slammed into me with brutal clarity.
He gave it to me.
Which meant...
It happened.
He kept his end of the deal.
My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. I felt hollow, sick to my stomach.
I came here on my own terms-but not like this. Not without awareness. Not without consent.
He shouldn't have done this.
He shouldn't have.
I pressed the file to my chest as a sob escaped me.
Now everything felt tainted.
The room.
The shirt.
The design.
And him.
I hated him.
For making me feel used. For making me feel powerless. For making me question myself. I was ready to hand him myself fully, but he still pulled out this trick.
Clutching the file tightly to my chest, I forced myself to stand and walked toward the door. My head was pounding, my body screaming for a shower before it completely gave up on me.
The moment I stepped out-I collided with her.
Of course, Daadi.
God, why did it always have to be her?
Her gaze dragged over me slowly, from head to toe, like I was something dirty she'd accidentally stepped on. Her eyes stopped at the shirt.
My shirt.
No-his shirt.
"What the hell have you done?" she demanded, shock laced thick in her voice.
I laughed. A dry, humourless sound.
"I haven't even had the chance to do anything," I snapped. "If you want details, ask your grandson. He's the expert."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "What a shameless girl," she spat. "Is this how you announce husband-and-wife matters to the world?"
Fuck husband and wife.
"Oh please," I shot back coldly. "If modesty was actually taught in this house, your grandson wouldn't be playing mind games-and you wouldn't be interrogating me in the hallway."
Her eyes widened, clearly not expecting that.
"And since you're so concerned," I continued evenly, my voice sharp as glass, "you first asked what the hell I've done-so I just cleared, I haven't done anything. Whatever happened was your grandson's doing. Ask him what he did. I don't even have the full details myself."
She bristled. "Girl, shut up. You have no shame. And stop roaming around like this-there are servants in this house."
I laughed, short and bitter.
"Funny," I said. "Your grandson walks around this mansion shirtless all the time, fully aware there are female staff working here. You never seem to remember 'servants' then. But when it's me?" I added coolly. "That's when morality suddenly wakes up?"
She shook her head, muttering as she walked away, "God knows whose genes you inherited. Samarth was never this shameless."
The words lingered long after she disappeared.
Of course I didn't inherit his genes.
He was far too innocent for people like you.
Maybe I'm your karma.
Or maybe you're mine-God knows.
All I know is this: if pain were a test, I've been passing it for years. And if this is punishment, then God clearly decided I was strong enough to bear what others never could.
As soon as I reached my room, I sent the image of the design to the bastard who had trapped me in this mess.
My phone rang within seconds.
"Is this really Raizaada's design?" he demanded. That was his first question.
"Do you think I'm here wasting my time playing house?" I snapped, teeth clenched.
"No-no, of course not," he said quickly. "But what about the other four?"
"One design per day," I said coldly. "And you make damn sure my brother is front of my eyes when I hand over the fifth."
Silence.
Asshole.
"Oh, he'll be there," he replied finally. "But only after all the designs are in my hands."
I let out a sharp laugh. "Do you think I'm stupid? I said I want my brother in front of my eyes the moment I give you the last design. If that doesn't happen-" I paused, voice dropping. "-you'll regret it for the rest of your life. I'll personally make sure of that."
I disconnected the call.
Grabbing a towel, I walked into the bathroom and stepped under the shower, letting the water hit my skin, trying to wash away the anger, the fear, the disgust.
I kicked his shirt aside with my foot, letting it fall at my feet.
Whatever this was debt, sacrifice, or war- I wasn't backing out now.
I closed my eyes, letting the cold water slam against my skin, trying to calm the mess inside my head.
And then it hit me.
I'd drawn a jewellery design straight out of Yugant Raizaada's damn mouth, when I installed a spy mic in his collar, and heard his private Convo with his workers.
So why not again?
If I could recreate his designs myself, I wouldn't need to wait for him. I wouldn't need his mercy, his deals, his fucking control. I could hand those designs straight to that bastard before and actually time and be done with this hell.
But for that-I needed Mr Raizaada's laptop.
After the shower, I got dressed quickly. The house was unusually quiet. From downstairs, I heard Daadi mention he'd already left for the office.
Perfect.
I marched straight into his room and locked the door behind me.
I started searching like a criminal on a deadline. Drawer. Cabinet. Shelf.
There.
Second cabinet.
His laptop.
He didn't even take it to the office today?
Idiot.
I flopped onto the bed and opened it, fully aware I was once again digging my own grave-but honestly? I stopped caring a long time ago.
My brother over my life. Always.
The screen lit up.
Password protected.
I tried one password.
Wrong.
Second.
Wrong.
Third.
Wrong.
Locked. One hour
I waited.
Tried again.
Locked. Three hours.
I waited again, patience stretched thin, jaw clenched, nails biting into my palms.
Tried again.
Locked. Six hours.
That was it.
I snapped the laptop shut so hard it echoed in the room and shoved it back where it belonged.
Fuck his laptop.
Fuck his passwords.
Fuck his house.
Fuck his rules.
Fuck his entire goddamn life.
I was starting to realise that Yugant Raizaada wasn't just standing in my way anymore-He was the only way.
The moment I shut his bedroom door behind me and turned around, my breath lodged painfully in my throat.
Mr. Great Raizaada was standing right there.
Right in front of me.
Watching me like he'd caught me red-handed.
Which-I guess he had.
"What were you doing in my room, little thief?" he asked calmly, stepping closer and pushing a loose strand of my hair behind my ear like he owned the right.
I wanted to slap his hand away.
I wanted to tell him not to touch me.
But my body, traitor that it was, froze.
I shut my eyes and exhaled sharply.
"You-" I lifted a finger toward him, ready to unload every curse I'd been holding back-
"Who is she?"
The voice cut through the moment like a blade.
I dropped my hand and looked past him.
A woman stood there.
Beautiful. Effortlessly so.
Around my age. Maybe a little older. Dressed in a crisp white shirt tucked into a black skirt, long black boots clicking softly against the marble floor. Confident posture. Sharp eyes.
Too perfect.
She stepped forward and came to stand beside Yugant.
And then-He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Wait.
He actually wrapped his arm around her?
"She's Dhwani," he said calmly. Then, after a brief pause, added, "My wife."
"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, her face lighting up instantly. "So you're my sister-in-law? You're really pretty." Before I could react, she pulled me into a hug. "I was so worried," she said cheerfully. "I kept thinking-God knows who my brother married. But you look so innocent."
Behind her, I saw Yugant clear his throat.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Very innocent."
I plastered a tight-lipped smile on my face. He was getting on my nerves. No-everything was getting on my nerves. Including myself.
"What happened, bhabhi?" she asked gently when I didn't respond the way she expected. Her smile faltered. "Aren't you happy to meet me?"
Bhabhi?
Yugant's sister. The one he'd mentioned. The one who'd struggled with depression.
I softened instantly.
"Um... could you please not call me that?" I said carefully. "I'm not really comfortable with it. You can just call me Dhwani."
I tried to sound polite, but I could tell it still stung. She looked at Yugant for a moment. He blinked at her-just once.
She nodded.
Then turned back to me with a gentle smile.
"Of course," she said warmly, taking my hand. "I'll call you Dhwani."
Something inside me eased. I was already overwhelmed-by the lies, the situation, the fake marriage, the feelings I didn't want to name.
Yugant should've told her the truth. She seemed too kind to be dragged into this mess.
"Oh," she added suddenly, brightening again. "I didn't introduce myself properly."
She smiled. "I'm Dhrithika. Dhrithika Raizaada."
"Nice to meet you, Dhrithika," I said politely.
She smiled, nodded once. "You two talk. I'll go freshen up. We'll meet at the dining table."
I nodded faintly and watched her walk away, the sound of her heels echoing down the corridor.
The moment she disappeared, I turned to leave as well.
I didn't get far.
Yugant caught my wrist and shoved me back inside the room, slamming the door shut behind us. The sudden force pinned me against it, his body blocking every escape.
"What the fuck were you trying to do?" he snapped, teeth clenched. "I handed you one design already, and you're still sneaking around like a thief?"
The softness he'd worn earlier was gone. Completely.
"Let go of my hand," I hissed, twisting my wrist. "You're hurting me."
"I'm hurting you?" he scoffed. "Or are you hurting me? Everything is happening exactly the way you wanted, yet you still can't stop poking your nose where it doesn't belong. Can't you behave for once?"
Something inside me snapped.
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"I wouldn't have done any of this," I shouted, voice shaking with disgust, "if you hadn't done what you did last night!"
His eyes darkened instantly.
In one sharp movement, he twisted my wrist behind my back. My chest collided with his as he leaned down, trapping me completely.
"And what the fuck do you think I did?" he asked, every word dripping with something dangerous.
My heart hammered violently.
"You... you took advantage of me," I said, the words burning my throat. "You made me drink something and then you, you raped me-"
His fist slammed into the glass panel beside my head.
The sound shattered the air.
I flinched violently, stumbling closer to him out of sheer instinct. My whole body trembled.
He grabbed my arms, holding me still.
Blood trickled from his knuckles. Tiny shards of glass were embedded in the back of his hand.
"I did what?" he growled, each word forced through clenched teeth.
I stared at his bleeding hand, my chest tight, throat closing.
Had I misunderstood everything?
"I-I woke up in your shirt," I whispered, tears blurring my vision. "My body hurts. I couldn't remember anything. I thought-"
My voice broke. A sob escaped before I could stop it. "I thought that's what happened."
I thought he would snap again.
But instead, he turned away from me, his back rigid as his hand dragged through his hair in frustration.
"Get out,"
"But-"
"Go," he cut in, his voice rough, barely holding together.
"Leave, Dhwani." He exhaled hard, fists clenching at his sides.
"I'm losing my control right now," he added, without turning back.
"And I don't trust myself when I'm angry.
I don't want to hurt you," his shoulder rose and fell in anger, " go away. "