"You can't do this, Uttam!"
Needhi stepped forward, her voice trembling with urgency.
"The children need their father just as much as they need their mother. They deserve both parents!"
Uttam turned sharply.
"Do you expect me to hand over our daughter—and our innocent grandchildren—to an irresponsible man like him?"
Needhi flinched, lips parting, but no words came out.
Before another word could spark a fresh argument, a low voice cut through the room like cold blade—
"That's Enough."
Heads turned.
Adityanath stood still, his voice calm but commanding.
"These children carry Rajvanshi blood in their veins. That truth is not up for debate. And it will not be denied."
His eyes locked with Uttam's.
"They are the heirs of my family. And no one —no one — can take them from us."
No one dared to speak.
He continued, his voice firm and final. Hands clasped behind his back. "Since what's done is done..."
He gestured towards Ahaan and Aria.
"Let us get them engaged today. If Aria and Ahaan have made a mistake then marriage will turn that into destiny. Perhaps—that is the God's will."
Then, to his wife—
"Let's give them our marriage rings and bless their union. We'll arrange the wedding once the pandit chooses an auspicious time."
Kalyani hesitated.
Her eyes flickered between her husband, her grandson, and the girl beside him.
"Yes," she said gently. "That sounds like the right thing to do."
Her smile softened, but her mind was a battlefield.
'I will not watch history repeat itself in silence.
A blessing today will not be a leash tomorrow.'
Uttam opened his mouth to object—
But Aria stepped forward. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
He turned to her, stunned.
Aria felt the noose tighten—woven from silk lies, glass promises, and wooden smiles.
'If a game is what they want—
then she would play.
And she would win.'
Ahaan didn't move. Didn't speak.
But his eyes found hers—dark, questioning. Desperate.
Aria didn't answer him with words. Only a long, deliberate breathe.
Then she turned toward her father. Her voice was soft but certain.
"It's okay, Papa. This is what I want."
Ahaan's fists clenched at his side.
'It wasn't fair. None of this was.'
And yet—somewhere deep down—he knew it wasn't wrong either.
Rudra had always shielded him and Savi from the worst of it. But now—it was his turn.
Aria's and the twins' existence had already been exposed.
And the only way to protect them now... was to keep them closer.
To participate in the cursed game of Rajvanshi bloodline.
○●○
Kalyani Rajvanshi signaled to one of the attendants.
A small, red velvet box—aged with time and trimmed in gold—was brought forward with quiet reverence.
Inside, nestled on a bed of faded satin, lay two antique rings.
Worn, yet regal. Heavy with history. Heirlooms, and chains.
The initials A & K were carved delicately into the metal.
His and Hers: Adityanath and Kalyani.
Adityanath lifted the heavier ring—a man's ring. Its weight echoed the burden of a dynasty built on obedience.
Kalyani picked up the smaller one—a woman's ring.
It looked delicate, fragile in appearance—but like her, it had never broken under pressure.
Together, they stepped forward.
They held the rings out to Ahaan and Aria.
"From one generation to the next," Adityanath said, voice solemn. "These once belonged to us. Now they belong to you."
Kalyani added, "They carried our legacy. Today, they bind you two as the future of this family."
Ahaan hesitated, a drop of sweat ran down the side of his temple and disappeared into the collar of his shirt.
Not from heat—but from pressure. From the silence Rudra had left behind.
His fingers twitched slightly as he turned to her, searching her face — for clarity, for forgiveness. Or maybe understanding.
But Aria didn't look at him.
Her expression was a marble mask. Immaculate. Impenetrable.
And then—wordlessly—she lifted her hand.
The movement was slow, deliberate.
Like someone reaching out to accept a verdict they already knew was unjust.
Without a word, Ahaan slid the ring onto her finger.
Precise. Mechanical.
The applause had not yet started—but it rang in his ears anyway, mocking him.
The gold glinted under the hall lights—soft, warm. But it felt cold in her hand. Cold like the steel truth she had buried for weeks.
And then—she picked up the other ring.
She took Ahaan's hand and placed it on his finger—not as a lover claiming her partner, but as a soldier drawing her battlefield line.
Her fingers lingered for a second too long on his hand. Not lovingly—but enough to let him know: She wasn't putting on a ring with the hope of a future together.
But a shackle with a promise of destroying him beyond repair.
A performance received. The hall burst into applause—loud, polite, jarring.
But Savi and Manik could feel the sense of suffocation beneath the grandeur. It looked like everyone was clapping at a funeral they couldn't openly admit is happening.
Kalyani gave a faint brittle smile.
"It's done. The Rajvanshi heirs would've their parents now. The legacy continues."
Adityanath nodded, satisfied.
"We'll begin wedding preparations soon. For now, let the world know—the engagement between the Maheshwaris and the Rajvanshis is sealed."
Uttam Maheshwari didn't move. Didn't speak.
His hands remained at his sides—clenched so tight, the bones stood out.
Needhi smiled—quiet, triumphant. Even Adityanath couldn't rival the satisfaction that curled beneath her lips.
In the crowd, Manik watched his sister, a strange discomfort tightening in his chest.
'What happened to you, Di?'
Beside him, Savi stared at her brother. A quiet dread rising inside her.
'What mess have you gotten yourself in, Bhai(brother)?'
Across the hall—
Ahaan glanced down at the ring on his finger.
It suddenly felt too tight. Or maybe it was the weight of promises made, and debts yet to be paid.
And Aria?
She was smiling.
For the crowd. For the cameras.
A flawless, graceful smile—the kind that could slice skin if you looked too closely.
She wasn't thinking about her upcoming wedding.
She was thinking about Ruhani.
About the twins. About the letter.
About the danger crawling closer with every smile she faked.
She was thinking about revenge—
and the price of staying silent.
Then—her gaze flicked toward Ahaan.
She didn't speak.
But the chill in her eyes said everything:
'This is only the beginning, Ahaan Rajvanshi.'