The dining room was a total pressure cooker. The tension was thick, and I was caught right in the middle of it. Beside me, Inayat was barely touching her food, just picking at her plate with a completely distant look in her eyes. Across the table, Aman’s unexpected and unwelcome presence was only making the unease a hundred times worse. I kept my jaw clenched, trying to maintain my composure.

"Anjali Bua," Niya’s voice suddenly broke through the strained silence. "You didn't tell us that Sana has a boyfriend."

Bua didn't even blink. Her expression remained completely blank. "That's not the only thing I didn't tell you," she replied, her gaze locking steadily onto Dad.

Dad dropped his fork, his temper clearly starting to flare. "What is it, Anjali? Speak clearly."

And then, she dropped a bomb on the entire room.

"I am re-marrying," Bua announced flatly.

Dadu’s shock was immediate. He slammed his hand on the table, staring at her in disbelief. "What are you saying, Anjali? Have you completely lost your mind?" 

But Bua stood her ground, refusing to back down even a fraction. "I've made this decision for my Sana," she insisted, her voice rising. 

"She needs a father's love too. You can't stop me this time, Papa. Remember when you forced me to marry that man just for your status? I did it—even though I liked someone else. But not now. Not when I know my daughter's future isn't secure."

Papa stands so fast his dining chair flies back and crashes against the marble. The sound fills every corner of the room.

"Who is he?!" His voice is not a question.  Bua looked him dead in the eye, her response completely matter-of-fact. "Manish Batra."

The name hit the room like a physical blow. I froze, my mind racing as I immediately whipped my head around to look at Inayat. Her expression mirrored my own—pure shock, visceral disbelief, and a total storm of chaotic emotions.

My blood turned to absolute ice. She wanted to marry Manish Batra. The exact person who had literally just tried to kill Inayat by orchestrating that truck accident.

The table erupted into a massive shouting match, but I couldn't deal with it right then. I decided to let the elders handle the domestic warfare. My only priority was getting Inayat away from the chaos. I quietly exited the dining room and retreated upstairs to our room, hoping to find her there in the quiet.

But the moment I opened the door, she was nowhere to be found.

"Cupcake?" I called out, my chest tightening with sudden anxiety. There was no response. I rushed over and checked the bathroom, but it was completely empty and dark. "Inayat?" I called again, louder this time, panic starting to set in.

"I'm on the balcony, Veer," her quiet voice finally came from outside the glass doors.

I let out a massive breath of relief and stepped out into the cool night air. The moon was hanging low, casting a pale glow across the concrete balcony. Inayat was standing there by herself, leaning heavily against the railing, completely lost in her thoughts. I walked up behind her quietly.

I wrapped my arms securely around her waist, pulling her back against my chest, and rested my chin gently on her shoulder. The moment she felt my touch, she let out a shaky sigh and leaned all her weight back into me.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked quietly.

"Nothing," she whispered.

"Don't give me that, Inayat," I pressed, my voice serious. "You're stiff as a board. Talk to me. Is it about what Bua said downstairs? Is it Manish Batra?"

She stayed silent for a long beat, and then she let out a heavy, stressed sigh. She turned around slightly in my arms, her eyes wide and full of anxiety.

"I saw him, Veer," she whispered, her lower lip trembling. "Today at the festival... I saw the exact same person who was there when the accident took place."

My entire body went rigid. My grip on her waist tightened like steel. "Your accident? The truck on the highway? Manish Batra's man?"

She shook her head quickly, her face turning pale. "No. The accident when I was eight years old. The one that killed my parents."

My breath completely hitched in my throat. The hit-and-run from twenty years ago. The case that had gone completely cold.

"Do you remember his face?" I demanded, my protective instincts flaring up.

"I'm not entirely sure," she said, a tear finally running down her cheek. "The memory is still blurry. But if he comes in front of me again... if I see him face-to-face, I will definitely recognize him. I know I will."

Hearing that completely broke my heart. I wrapped my arms tighter around her, cocooning her fragile form against my chest to protect her from everything.

"Don't worry," I told her fiercely, pressing a firm kiss to the top of her head. "The police are doing their work. My team is looking into everything. We will find that person soon, I promise you.”

But beneath my calm resolve, a massive storm was raging in my head. My mind was racing at a million miles an hour, trying to connect the dots. Who was this faceless villain? 

It's definitely not Manish Batra or Mia because she already recognizes them.

INAYAT POV:

I woke up with a sudden start, gasping heavily for breath as my chest heaved. The nightmare had felt entirely too real, the terror of it still vivid against the back of my eyelids.

Mahir Bhai’s calm presence in the room was an immediate lifeline, completely grounding me back in reality. "You're fine, Inayat," he murmured, his reassuring voice echoing softly in my ears. 

I accepted the glass of water he handed me, the cool liquid instantly soothing my parched, burning throat. But the word "nightmare" lingered heavily in the air, etching itself deeply into my consciousness.

"Bhai, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice still hoarse and thick from sleep.

His eyes held a deep, genuine concern—a clear reflection of the strong brotherly bond the two of us had forged over the past few months. "Collecting files," he explained gently. 

"Veer mentioned they were up here in his room. I heard you from the hallway—you were panting, crying out in your sleep." His words completely unraveled my vulnerability, and I felt a wave of gratitude for his silent, non-judgmental understanding.

"It must have been a nightmare," he added.

"Nightmare," I repeated under my breath, the word echoing uncomfortably in my mind.

"Thanks, Bhai. But where is Veer?" I asked, looking over and noticing that his side of the king-sized bed was already completely empty and neatly made.

"He had an urgent meeting come up at the office, so he had to leave early this morning," Bhai informed me.

"Oh, okay," I replied, forcing a small nod while still trying my best to shake off the unsettling remnants of the dream.

As I watched Mahir Bhai quietly exit the room, closing the door behind him, I couldn't help but think about the big brother I never had. 

Growing up, I had always wanted an older brother to protect me. When Mom had finally told me she was pregnant with a baby boy, I had been absolutely overjoyed, counting down the days. But that joy had been devastatingly short-lived. Now, I forced myself to bury that painful part of my past, taking a deep breath to focus entirely on the present.

I carefully moved to get up from the mattress and head toward the bathroom, leaning heavily on my wooden stick for support. But before I even took a step, I caught a glimpse of the digital clock on the nightstand.

It was 11:00 AM.

My heart skipped a beat. How on earth had I slept in so late? What would Maa and Papa think of me missing the morning prayers and breakfast? A sudden panic set in. I needed to hurry.

After quickly finishing getting ready, I dressed in a faded pink traditional outfit, combed out my hair, and stepped out into the quiet corridor. But the moment I reached the landing, a massive problem presented itself—the grand staircase.

I stood at the top, staring down at the steep steps, wondering how I was going to navigate them without straining my weak legs. Just as the anxiety began to build, Sana appeared right beside me out of nowhere, extending her hand.

"Ah, thank you," I said, letting out a breath of relief as I accepted her assistance.

We began to slowly descend the stairs, one agonizing step at a time. I kept my left hand firmly on my wooden stick, shifting my upper body weight onto it, while holding Sana’s hand with my right. As we walked, she casually started talking about Aman.

"You know, Aman is just so incredibly sad that you can't dance anymore," she said, her voice dropping into a tone that dripped with completely mock sympathy.

I glanced over at her profile, taken aback by the sudden, unsolicited comment.

"I mean, look at you... your leg clearly won't support you now. I know it must be so incredibly hard for you to face that reality," she continued, her voice entirely insincere.

I kept my mouth shut, my grip tightening on my stick as we cleared the middle landing.

"But don't worry too much," she added, a small, proud smile touching her lips. "Aman told me I could take your place at the dance studio for now. I've been regularly uploading my own dance videos on the studio's social media accounts, and they've actually gained a massive amount of followers recently."

Her blatant boasting immediately grated on my nerves, sending a sharp spark of irritation through me. "Aman asked you to do that?" I asked, doing my absolute best to hide the sharp spike of surprise in my voice.

"Yeah, he did," she confirmed smoothly, tilting her head high. "And he's very happy with the engagement. Honestly, you should check the account yourself."

We finally reached the last step of the grand staircase. I managed to force a tight, polite smile onto my face to dismiss her, but inside, my blood was absolutely seething.

I walked into the dining room alone, my wooden stick tapping quietly against the marble floor. I sat down at the table, a plate of breakfast waiting for me, but the food was the last thing on my mind. Pulling out my phone, I decided to immediately check the official social media account of my dance studio.

My fingers hovered over the screen as I opened the login page and typed in the details. But the screen flashed red. The password had been changed.

I stared at the error message in disbelief. Did Aman alter the credentials without even telling me? Feeling a knot form in my stomach, I bypassed the block and decided to just look up the public page from my personal account instead.

As the profile loaded, Sana’s proud words echoed sharply in my mind.

The follower count had surged to a staggering 1 million followers over the last five months. The realization hit me like a massive tidal wave, threatening to completely drown me in a sea of betrayal and shock. Five months. That meant while I was lying completely helpless in a coma, fighting for my life in a hospital bed, Sana had systematically taken over my space, my brand, and my studio.

I stared at the screen, my hands shaking slightly against the edge of the dining table. But then, I closed the app and steeling myself, I took a long, deep breath. I had faced worse challenges than this before. This would be no different. I was going to overcome it, take back what belonged to me, and handle this just like I had overcome everything else in my life.