Hai ..

Hello ...

Happy reading...

***********************

The tension in the air was almost electric, the kind that made your skin prickle before the storm hit. The moon hung above like a silent witness, casting cold light on two powerful men about to erupt.

"What do you think?"

"You'll trap Isha the way you've done with every other girl? And I'll just stand by and watch? Never."

Shivaksh's voice thundered, and without waiting for another second, his fist collided with Shivendra's jaw , a direct hit that snapped his head to the side.

Shivendra staggered, wiped the blood slowly trickling from his lip, and smirked , not out of amusement, but fury.

He stepped forward, unbothered by the pain, and threw a brutal punch straight to Shivaksh's face, then grabbed his collar, yanking him closer with raw rage.

His next blow was a solid punch to Shivaksh's stomach.

"Don't play your dirty politics in front of me," Shivendra growled.

"I know what you want. It's not Isha , it's the Hukum Sa throne. That's why you are marrying sughanda , because you want raja jitender singh, support, to protect your throne, That's why you're trying to ruin me in front of everyone. If you had asked for the position, I would've given it to you. But no, you had to spin your web like always."

Shivaksh gritted his teeth, grabbing Shivendra's wrist and twisting it behind his back in one swift move.

"Don't act so innocent," he spat.

"I know what you and Khailash Rathi did. How many lives you destroyed. Including... Isha's family "

He paused. His words halted mid-sentence, like something dark had slipped from his mouth that even he wasn't ready to admit.

A silence hung for a second, until Shivaksh pushed Shivendra away and stepped back, chest heaving with anger and pain.

Shivendra, confused and furious, barked,

"What do I have to do with Isha's family? I barely even know her! I met her just a few days ago , what business would I have with her past?"

His words cut.

Because the truth was he didn't know.

He still saw Isha as just another girl... not as someone with scars. Not as someone with secrets.

"Oh, so now you're accusing me of something else?" Shivendra shouted.

"Accusations and manipulation , that's what you do best, right? Just like you did all those years ago... and now again."

In a flash, Shivaksh grabbed his collar again, rage boiling in his eyes.

"Stay away from Isha."

The words weren't just a warning - they were a vow.

But Shivendra wouldn't back down.

He grabbed Shivaksh's collar too, the hatred between them simmering like a volcano.

"And what if I don't? Huh? What will you do then? More importantly, who the hell are you to raise your hand on me?"

Shivaksh opened his mouth to shout the truth

"Because she's my......."

" Stop it "

But before he could say it

"She's my wife!"

A voice cut through the chaos.

Isha.

She ran toward them, her breathing heavy, eyes wide in disbelief.

Her hands tried to push them apart, to stop them from hurting each other.

"Stop it! Please, both of you, just stop!" she cried, her voice trembling.

But neither man was ready to back down.

"He started it, Isha!" Shivendra snapped.

"You think I'll stand here and let him throw punches at me for no reason?"

"No reason?" Shivaksh hissed, eyes burning.

"He's manipulating you - like he's always done with everyone."

"ENOUGH!" Isha shouted, standing between them, shaking with emotion.

Isha pushed herself between them, trying to hold back two storms with shaking hands. They parted away.

"Stop it! Both of you!"

Her voice trembled, but her eyes blazed.

"You're not enemies. You're brothers! How did it come to this?"

But neither man backed down.

"He's not my brother!" Shivaksh barked, glaring past her at Shivendra.

"Brothers don't stab each other in the back. They don't try to snatch what matters most."

Shivendra scoffed.

"Oh, and what exactly have I snatched, Shivaksh? Power? Position? Or... Isha?"

That name - her name - dropped like a stone in the middle of a stormy sea.

"Don't you dare drag my name into your ego war!" Isha snapped, turning to Shivendra.

But he didn't flinch. He took a step closer to her, voice laced with bitterness.

"You think I'm the problem, Isha? Open your eyes! He's manipulating you. He's trying to make me look like the villain again, like always. This was never about you - it's about him controlling the world ."

"You don't get to speak for me!" Shivaksh shouted, stepping forward.

"Don't you dare twist this! Isha has her own mind. You think just because you stand near her and act like a savior, she'll forget what you really are?"

"Oh right," Shivendra snapped back, voice rising,

"And you're the saint here? The one who hides secrets? What were you about to say earlier, huh? About Isha's family? Say it now, Shivaksh. Say the truth if you have the guts!"

Shivaksh's jaw clenched.

His fists curled again, not in rage - but restraint.

"Not now." he snapped.

"Not now? Or never? Because the truth might ruin the image you're trying so hard to protect?" Shivendra barked.

Isha looked between them, her chest rising and falling with the weight of everything unsaid.

"Enough, both of you!" she cried again.

But Shivaksh's eyes turned toward her, filled with a pain deeper than fury.

"Why are you even trying to save him?" he asked, voice low, rough, like he already feared the answer.

And without thinking , without calculating , Isha blurted:

"Because Shivendra is my friend!"

It echoed.

Louder than the fight.

Sharper than the punches, all three froze.

Even Isha's breath caught in her throat as she realized what she had just confessed - to herself and to them.

Shivendra stared at her, stunned.

He had fought so long to be seen, but now... he wasn't sure what to do with it.

And Shivaksh...

His face didn't twist in anger.

It just fell, he looked at her like she had just taken a piece of his soul and handed it to someone else.

"If he's your friend..." he whispered, stepping closer, his voice hollow,

"...then who am I, Isha ji?"

Isha's lips trembled. Her heart ached.

"I didn't mean....."

But he gently stepped back. Shaking his head.

"No, no... I heard what I needed to." he whispered

Tears welled in her eyes.

"You're twisting my words ...."

"I'm just hearing the truth." His voice cracked now.

"First, you reject me... and now, you give that place in your heart to him? Fine. At least now I know where I stand."

Isha didn't said a word . She couldn't. Her words had gone rogue. Her heart was louder than her logic.

"I never asked to come between you both," she whispered, looking at Shivaksh with broken eyes.

"But you both dragged me in. And now you accusing me Shivaksh ? "

"I never accuse you , I couldn't do that when I can still take my breath ," Shivaksh said, his voice faint.

"I just hoped... maybe once, I thought you had choose me on your own."

And with that... he turned.

Isha reached out instinctively,

"Shivaksh, wait.....please, don't go like this...."

But he gently removed her hand from his sleeve.

"Take care, Isha , don't trust anyone easily ."

No anger.

No accusations.

Just heartbreak.

He walked toward his car, eyes clouded with unshed tears, and slid into the driver's seat. Isha stood frozen. Not knowing whether to run after him... or collapse right there.

The engine started.

And with one last glance in the rearview mirror,

Shivaksh drove away.

Leaving behind a storm of silence and two broken people who didn't know how to fix what had just shattered.

Shivaksh's car disappeared into the night, the silence that followed was suffocating. The air still felt heavy from the words left behind.

Isha stood frozen for a moment, her heart screaming to undo what had just happened, but her feet wouldn't move. She could feel Shivendra's gaze on her, but she didn't turn.

And then, in his signature tone , that perfect mix of sarcasm and bruised ego , Shivendra broke the silence.

"Well..." he started, looking up at the sky.

"I never thought you'd actually accept me as a friend. That's... nice."

His words weren't soft. They were laced with a bitter laugh, like he was trying to mock the very thing that had just wounded him.

Isha turned sharply, eyes flaring with rage, confusion, and guilt.

"You know what?" she snapped.

"I hate you."

The words were raw. Not filtered. They came from the part of her that didn't know how to process what had just happened , the regret of hurting Shivaksh, the guilt of slipping, the weight of emotions she didn't ask for.

She didn't wait for a reaction.

She stormed off, footsteps quick and sharp on the pavement, her bag swinging behind her, hair flying wildly in the breeze , but her heart was slower than her pace, dragging behind with every aching beat.

Shivendra watched her go, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He didn't chase her this time.

Just stood there, under the flickering streetlight, the corner of his lip lifting into a faint, almost painful smile.

And then, with a bitter chuckle, he whispered to himself:

"Maybe that's why I like you."

His voice was too low for anyone else to hear.

But even he felt it echo in his chest.

Because for the first time in years, Shivendra Suryawanshi - the man who never truly cared about anyone , had let someone in.

And she just walked away saying she hated him.

********************

Next day

The Wedding Morning

The Suryawanshi Mansion glowed like a bride herself  adorned in yellow marigolds, strings of mogra, bright bandhani drapes, and lanterns that swayed in the soft breeze. The scent of sandalwood incense mingled with fresh flowers, wrapping the entire haveli in warmth, tradition, and festivity.

The entire courtyard buzzed with laughter, dhol beats, and the sparkle of a celebration everyone had waited years for.

Gaurav and Rishabh Suryawanshi , Shivaksh’s chachus ,  were dressed in regal bandhgala sherwanis, their pagdis tied with pride. They led the dance floor with joyful abandon, twirling and laughing like young men reliving their own wedding days.

Their wives  ,  Shirisha and Richa  clapped to the rhythm, swaying gracefully in their leheriya sarees, faces glowing with happiness.

Suhani bua joined with her daughter Ruhi, who twirled in a ghagra choli full of mirrors, her anklets chiming with every step. The cutest of them all Shreya, Rishabh and Shirisha’s four-year-old ,  ran around handing flower petals to everyone, her laughter echoing like temple bells.

The beats of the Rajasthani dhol, the sound of surnai, and folk melodies like

“Padharo Mhare Des”,

“Kesariya Balam”, and

“Ghoomar”

created a rhythm that echoed through the mansion, drawing everyone into the magic.

But no one literally no one  was happier than Madhavi ji.

She stood near the staircase, her eyes glistening with unstoppable tears as she looked at her son  , her Shivaksh standing in his wedding attire.

He wore a cream-colored embroidered sherwani with a deep crimson safa, and a gold brooch with the Suryawanshi family emblem proudly displayed.

Madhavi’s hands trembled slightly as she adjusted his stole, her heart so full .

“Aaj tera sapna poora horaha hai Madhavi… tere Shivaksh ki shaadi ho rahi hai,” she whispered to herself, unable to stop her smile.

Beside her, stood Vikram ji, who had long lived in the shadows of silence because of his mental disability . But today… even in his limited speech, even in his slow movements, there was light in his eyes. A smile. For the first time in years, he clapped along to the music. Slowly, gently  but he clapped.

Out of nowhere, Rudraksh jumped in the middle of the dance floor.

“Ab toh dance banta hai!” he shouted, pulling in a few cousins and swirling around like a storm of chaos and joy.

Madhavi ji laughed -  truly laughed - when Rudraksh grabbed her hand and spun her around.

“Maa, aaj toh aapko bhi naachna padega!” he declared.

Even Vikram ji chuckled as he was dragged into the center.

Soon, the family young and old  was dancing together, hearts light, spirits high, soaking in every second of the celebration.

Amidst all the dancing and music, stood Shivaksh, watching.

Smiling. Nodding.

But only on the outside.

Inside, he was crumbling quietly.

His eyes wandered to the decorations, to the sacred flames being prepared… and then, unbidden, they wandered to his memories.

The first time he saw Isha, in the choad of Mumbai traffic.

Her soft laugh when she made fun of his royal attitude.

The time she held his hand not out of love, but comfort and still, it meant the world to him.

The night she had tears in her eyes, and he had sworn to never let her cry again.

And now… here he was.

Getting married.

Surrounded by joy.

But missing the only person he ever wanted to stand beside in that mandap.

He clenched his fists subtly, forcing the pain down. His mother was happy. His father smiled for the first time in years . The family was glowing. How could he ruin it?

So, he wore the mask again  like he always did.

Smiling when they cheered.

Nodding when they complimented.

But inside?

He wasn’t celebrating. He was mourning.

**********************

While the Suryawanshi mansion pulsed with drums and celebration…

Isha's room was filled with quiet chaos  half-packed suitcases lay open on the bed, scattered clothes, books, files, and a few old letters she had never dared to give to  Shivaksh .

Isha folded her clothes slowly, almost mechanically, as if her hands moved but her heart wasn't involved. Her eyes were swollen from a night of no sleep, her lips dry, her body exhausted but her soul?

Her soul was already halfway out of Mumbai.

She had made up her mind.

She was leaving.

Delhi. Studies. A new life. A clean slate.

And more than that ,  she was leaving him.

The thought made her stomach twist.

Behind her, Ammaji’s haveli , the place she once called hell echoed in silence. It wasn’t the same without the warmth of Shivaksh’s visits, his sudden arrival that always stirred her routine.

She moved to zip the suitcase… when her eyes landed on something carelessly thrown on the corner of the couch.

A jacket.

A plain black jacket  but one she knew all too well.

His jacket.

He had left it behind the last time he came to meet her, storming out after yet another conversation that ended in broken hearts and silence.

Her hand trembled as she reached for it.

The moment her fingers touched the fabric, his scent hit her ,  that faint cologne, mixed with something uniquely his. Familiar. Comforting. Dangerous.

And in that moment, everything collapsed.

She hugged the jacket to her chest, burying her face in it, and the dam she’d been holding back all night finally broke.

“Why, Shivaksh… why did you come into my cursed life ?” she whispered between sobs, her voice cracking.

Tears streamed down her cheeks lnot silently, but violently. The kind of crying that steals your breath. That drains every ounce of strength you’ve held onto for so long.

Mayuri stood near the doorway, watching quietly, her heart breaking for her friend. She had never seen Isha like this -  so vulnerable, so defeated not even when amma ji tortured her .

Sonali, unable to watch anymore, whispered:

“Mayuri… I’ll be back in a bit.”

Mayuri only nodded, her eyes never leaving Isha.

.

Isha still held the jacket, rocking slightly, as memories began to bleed into her vision.

The first time he visited Khota and  trashed  Ammaji.

The way he used to lean against the doorframe and call her “Isha ji” with that  sweet almost invisible smile

How he once covered her with his jacket when she fell asleep in the car .

How he looked at her  like she was both the problem and the solution to his pain.

She stood up shakily, wiped her tears, and folded the jacket with trembling hands. She placed it neatly inside her bag , not because she wanted to take a memory, but because she didn’t have the strength to leave it behind.

She didn’t know if he’d ever forgive her.

She didn’t know if she’d ever forgive herself.

But she zipped the suitcase anyway, picked it up, and took a deep breath.

She had a train to catch.

And a heart to leave behind.

---

Wedding venue

The wedding venue looked no less than a palace.

A massive haveli-turned-resort, decorated with thousands of jasmine garlands, glass chandeliers, and gold fabric drapes swaying with the desert breeze. The grand entrance was guarded with high security — Z+ category, fitting for a Suryawanshi wedding.

Guests arrived in vintage cars and luxury SUVs. Royal families, industrialists, ministers — the guest list sparkled like the gold they wore.

And outside those golden gates, stood Sonali — breathless, sweaty from the rush, eyes darting with desperation.

She clutched her dupatta tightly and walked up to the security post.

“Excuse me, I need to go inside. It’s important.”

One of the guards, wearing an earpiece and black uniform, held up a hand.

“Invitation card, ma’am?”

Sonali hesitated.

“I... I don’t have one.”

The man’s expression didn’t change.

“Sorry, ma’am. Without an invitation, no entry. Strict orders from Maharani Sahiba herself.”

His tone was polite, but firm.

Sonali’s heart sank.

She glanced around desperately — someone, anyone she could talk to.

Her eyes scanned the line of guests — that’s when she spotted Karthik, dressed in a sharp beige kurta, talking to the valet, seemingly waiting to receive someone.

Her eyes widened.

“Karthik ji!” she called out, half-running toward him.

“Karthik ji!”

He turned, confused at first, then recognized her.

“Sonali?” he stepped forward, surprised.

***********************

Other side

The moonlight was soft, yet it felt harsh on Isha’s skin.

She stood at the doorstep of Ammaji’s Khota, a small suitcase in hand, her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say goodbye out loud. But the lump in her throat didn’t let her.

She looked around  “Where’s Sonali?”

“She left a while ago,” Mayuri said softly, coming out behind her.

“Maybe she went to bring something… I’ll inform her. Don’t worry. She’ll understand.”

Isha’s eyes dimmed with worry.

She didn’t want to leave without hugging her one last time.

“You take care of yourself, okay?” Mayuri added, brushing a strand of hair behind Isha’s ear.

“And… call us once you reach Delhi.”

Isha gave a small nod. Her voice had deserted her for now.

She turned and walked toward the cab waiting outside. The driver, an elderly man with kind eyes, opened the door for her. She sat inside, her bag beside her, the city slowly fading behind her as the cab pulled into the dusty road.

The cab rattled forward through the lanes of Mumbai , the same streets where she once saw sat  beside Shivaksh, 

Her eyes drifted toward the window.

Shivaksh’s smile. His stubborn face.

His protectiveness. His pain.

Everything flashed like a movie inside her head.

She clenched her fingers tightly around her dupatta. Her breathing grew heavier.

After a few minutes of silence, she suddenly leaned forward.

“Bhaiyya… gaadi rokhiye.”

The driver looked confused, but obeyed.

The cab slowed down and stopped by a quiet corner of the road.

She got down. Stood still for a few seconds. Breathed.

And then got back inside.

“Railway Station le chaliye.”

Her voice was firmer now. Not because she was ready but because she had to be.

The cab started again, this time towards the final goodbye.

All the while, a white SUV, parked a few lanes away, moved subtly behind the cab at just the right distance to not be noticed.

Inside sat Nelson, Shivaksh’s most trusted bodyguard ,  sharp eyes, clean jawline, and a Bluetooth headset clipped in his ear.

He was on the phone.

“Yes sir,” he said in a low voice.

“She just asked the driver to stop for a few seconds. Possibly second thoughts. But now she’s back and heading straight to Mumbai Central Station. Ticket’s booked. Platform details confirmed.”

There was a pause.

Nelson listened.

Then nodded, eyes never leaving Isha’s cab.

“Understood. I’ll keep following."

He ended the call, gaze cold and focused.

Inside the cab, Isha leaned her head back, eyes shut tight.

A tear slid down the side of her cheek. She didn’t wipe it. And messaged someone..

Outside, Mumbai rushed by  unaware of a girl leaving behind not just a city…

…but a love that had stitched itself too deep into her soul.

******************

On the other side, Shivaksh sat still in the lavishly decorated mandap, his hands folded, following the priest’s chants. Rituals continued. Flowers rained. Sacred fire crackled.

But the man seated beside it ,the groom was still.

Expressionless. Lifeless. Hollow.

The pandit looked up after completing the mantras.

“Call the bride,” he instructed the family.

The conch blew. The music shifted.

And then she walked in -  Sugandha -  dressed in the most regal bridal attire, her lehenga heavy with tradition, her face composed like a queen.

She walked gracefully up the steps of the mandap.

But the man she was about to marry?

Didn’t even look at her. Not once.

The crowd murmured in awkward confusion.

Sugandha turned toward the priest and softly said,

“Before I sit down… I have something to say.”

She nodded toward the projector operator and DJ, who were confused at first but followed her cue.

The DJ handed her a mic, smiling in anticipation ,  thinking she was about to pour her heart out for the groom.

But Shivaksh still didn’t move.

His soul was somewhere else. With someone else.

She began:

“Shivaksh ji... sorry, Hukum Sa.”

The moment she used that name, Hukum sa , Shivaksh finally turned his head -  surprised.

“Apart from each other’s names, we hardly know anything about one another,” she said calmly.

“And more importantly, we were never interested in knowing either.”

There was a shift in the crowd’s mood, a growing tension.

“This wedding… this entire celebration… was built on a lie,” she said, smiling sadly.

“You never wanted this marriage. And truth be told… neither did I.”

A hushed gasp filled the courtyard. Madhavi ji’s face froze. Rudraksh blinked in disbelief.

“So I’m calling off this wedding, Hukum Sa,” Sugandha announced boldly.

“Not because it was arranged… but because your heart already belongs to someone else.”

Gasps echoed louder this time. Cameras stopped clicking. The hall fell into an eerie silence.

“But before I go,” Sugandha added with a soft smile,

“I have a small gift for you.”

She turned toward the projector operator and gestured.

On the massive screen, a video began playing.

Sonali confronting Isha in her room:

“Have you lost your mind, Isha?”

“Just answer one thing  - do you love him or not?”

Isha froze.

Her lips quivered.

Then, she whispered:

“Yes… I do. I love him more than my life.”

Her voice cracked, but her eyes held strength.

“But my love should be his strength… not his weakness.”

“He deserves someone like Sugandha. Educated. Accepted. Royal. That’s what his family wants.”

“Some love stories, Bhaji… are meant to remain incomplete.”

She removed the mangalsutra from her wrist, held it to her heart, and whispered:

“And I… I’ll live with these memories. That will be enough for me.”

The screen went black.

Gasps. Tears. And then… silence.

---

Back to the Mandap

Shivaksh slowly removed the garland from around his neck.

Let it fall.

His eyes welled up. His jaw clenched. But his heart raced with the truth.

He turned toward Sugandha, who had tears in her eyes ,  not from heartbreak, but after witnessing a love so raw, so selfless.

“Where did you get this video?” he asked, voice trembling.

Sugandha smiled and pointed toward the crowd.

There stood Sonali, beside Karthik, both watching anxiously.

Karthik raised both hands with a guilty smile and muttered, “Sorry…”

But before he could explain, he ran to the mandap.

“Sorry Hukum Sa... but I had no other choice,” Karthik confessed breathlessly.

“Because I know if it came down to love and family… you’d always choose the family.”

“You always have. You never thought about your own happiness. That’s why I went to Sugandha ji. She gave me this idea. And Sonali ji gave me that video.”

Shivaksh stared for a second, then pulled Karthik into a tight hug.

“You’ve solved the biggest problem of my life today, Karthik.”

He stepped forward to get down from the mandap ,  when Raja Jitendra Singh stood up and growled,

“You’ve made a mockery of this wedding, Sugandha. Women like her, just  entertainers , they don’t become queens. They have other names. But never ‘wife’ or ‘Rani’.”

Before anyone could respond, Shivaksh’s rage ignited.

He stormed forward.

But Sugandha stood between them.

“Deal with the world later, Hukum Sa. But right now… please don’t let Isha go.”

Then she turned to her father and said:

“Papa, I don’t want to be someone else’s Rani… because I’m already a Queen of my own story.”

Shivaksh stepped once closer to Jitendra and whispered darkly,

“If you ever, even by mistake, speak ill about my wife, the Rani of Udaipur, I swear, I’ll forget you were ever a friend of my father.”

Then he turned to Madhavi ji, guilt in his eyes.

“If I owe anyone an explanation, it’s you, Maa.”

“I love her. Truly. But she…”

His voice broke.

But Madhavi ji silenced him with a palm on his lips.

Tears in her eyes, she smiled and said:

“I’m proud of you, Shivaksh. You finally found your true love.”

She removed her gold kangan, placed it in his hand.

“Go… bring our Bahu haveli , our haveli in udaipur. We’ll wait to welcome her with the respect she deserves.”

Rudraksh wiped a tear and grinned,

“Let’s go, Bhai. Let’s bring Bhabhi back.”

Shivaksh bowed to his parents, touched their feet… and ran toward the exit.

Just as he reached the exit, where the cars were parked, he took out his phone ,his hands trembling.

100+ missed calls from Nelson.

He cursed under his breath.

His phone had been on silent… all this while.

He called back immediately.

“Kya hua, Nelson?”

Nelson’s voice was tight. Urgent. Panicked.

“Sir… Isha Ma’am is missing.”

“What??” Shivaksh froze.

“She didn’t board the train. Our men searched the entire train. She’s gone. We don’t know where or when we lost her.”

The world spun.

The ground beneath him shifted.

She was gone.

---

So that's it for today i hope you like it, and know again a cliff hanger , probably some readers were after me to kill me but you know I have a better idea , just complete the target of 100 votes and I will update the next part till then keep guessing where isha

went ??

Is amma ji hand in this ?? Or shivendra ?? Or isha herself ??

For answers just vote and don't forget to do inline comments, I would love to read your comments ❤️🤌

Thank you