Anita's eyes fluttered open and was greeted only by darkness.

Her head pounded with a persistent ache. Her wrists and ankles throbbed from the rope's cruel grip.

The silence in the room was broken by the creak of the door swinging open.

She flinched at the sudden sound and looked up, her blurry vision sharpening, revealing the man from the night before.

His cold gaze flickered to the untouched plate of food on the floor before landing on her.

"It's six o'clock. Time to continue our journey," he announced flatly.

She swallowed the dryness in her throat, and replied. "I need to use the washroom."

He stared at her for a moment before nodding curtly. "Fine. But only for five minutes."

The man moved toward her and with a tug, he loosened the knots around her wrists and ankles.

As the ropes fell away, she winced at the searing relief that shot through her limbs.

Red, swollen marks circled her skin.

"Get up," he ordered, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet. Her legs wobbled under her, still numb from the hours of restraint.

He marched her out of the room, and led her to a small structure nearby—a crude, makeshift space with a hole in the dirt floor for waste and a rusted tap dripping steadily against a stained, mossy wall.

"This is it," he snapped, pushing her forward. "Five minutes. Don't try anything."

****

Akash couldn't sleep the entire night.

Thoughts of her safety kept racing through his mind, leaving him restless.

After the first rays of light seeped through his curtains, he decided he couldn't wait any longer.

Grabbing his car keys, he headed out to visit her home to put his mind at ease by ensuring she was okay.

When he arrived, the front door was wide open and it swayed slightly in the morning breeze.

Uneasiness gripped him while he stepped inside cautiously.

"Anita?" he called out, his voice echoing in the eerily silent house.

After he noticed the condition of the room, his fear deepened.

The furniture was overturned, and papers were scattered across the floor, confirming his worst fear that the house was empty.

"Where in the world will I start looking for them?" he muttered under his breath.

"I'm certain they must have already left Mumbai a long time ago." His voice burst with anger and worry and he slammed his fist against the wall, the pain in his knuckles doing little to distract him from the fear crunching at his chest.

****

Divya woke up in the lodge room, her mind filled with worry.

She sat up on the hard bed, clutching her phone tightly, debating her next move.

She had tried calling Anita's mother multiple times, but her phone was switched off.

Her eyes darted around the room as she whispered to herself, "Akash? Would he even be willing to help when they no longer share a relationship?"

She was doubting he would.

"But how in the world will I even get his contact number?" she muttered, running her hand through her disheveled hair.

An idea suddenly struck her like a flash of lightning. "The restaurant! Of course, the restaurant might have his number."

Without wasting another moment, she dialed their landline, and within seconds, the line connected.

"Good morning, Girish here!" the man on the other end greeted politely.

"This is Divya, Anita's friend," she said quickly. "Please, can you send me Akash's contact number? I'm certain you must have it. Anita is in trouble, and he needs to know about it."

"What do you mean? I can't just give you our customer's number, especially Mr. Akash's. It's against our policy," he replied, his tone still polite.

"I understand," she replied, her voice quivering with urgency. "Fine, don't give me his number. Just please, tell him that Divya has called and it's an emergency. Tell him Anita had accompanied me to a village because I was given a contract. But it turns out the man deceived me—he used me in his dirty scheme to lure her to him. They've kidnapped her! And now I have no idea if she's safe... if she's even alive." Her breath hitched.

"I'll pass the message to him," he said after a moment of silence.

"Thank you," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'll be waiting for a reply... please, make it soon."

With that, she hung up, her hands trembling and she clutched the phone tightly to her chest, hoping Akash would call her soon.

****

Akash had just finished speaking with the commissioner, requesting a search to locate Anita and her family, when the restaurant's landline number flashed on his phone screen.

He immediately picked up.

Girish relayed everything Divya had told him, and he froze.

He closed his eyes for a long moment in shock, then, he mumbled, "Send me her number."

Seconds later, the message came through.

Without wasting any more time, he dialed her number.

She picked up almost instantly, her voice trembling as she guessed who it was.

Before she could speak, his voice roared through the line.

"Why did you take her away from me?"

"They tricked me—" she began in a shaky voice, but he cut her off,

"I will make all of them pay, including you. If anything happens to her, I swear—" his voice cracked with fury—"I swear upon my life, none of you will see the sun rise again."

Before she could respond, he hung up.

He dialed his assistant's number and his hand jiggled from fear while he paced back and forth.

"Prepare the helicopter. Now!" he yapped, his voice filled with urgency.

"Sir, the helicopter is out of fuel," the assistant stammered nervously. "And you know, there's currently a fuel shortage across the city, so—"

"I don't care!" he interrupted, his voice breaking with desperation. "Beg, borrow, steal—do whatever it takes! I need that helicopter ready in an hour, understood?"

"But sir, it—"

"No excuses!" he roared, gripping his phone so tightly it creaked. "I don't care if you have to siphon fuel from another plane or bribe someone. Just make it happen!"

Without waiting for a response, he slammed the phone down, his chest heaving as panic overtook him.

His thoughts raced uncontrollably.

I can't lose her. Not like this.

He didn't waste another second.

He immediately dialed the government aviation office, his voice shaking as he spoke. "This is Akash Kapoor. I need an urgent permit to fly my helicopter today. It's a matter of life and death."

The officer on the other end replied. "Mr. Kapoor, I understand your urgency, but the airspace is extremely congested. We have multiple commercial flights scheduled today. The earliest we can permit you to fly is tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" he repeated, his voice rising with panic. "That's not acceptable. People's lives are at stake! I'll pay any amount—just give me the permit today. Please!"

"Sir, even if I wanted to help, the situation is beyond my control. There's a strict protocol, and safety measures must be followed," the officer explained.

Akash gritted his teeth, and his desperation poured into his words. "I'll double, no, triple the standard fees. I don't care about the cost! Just find a way to get me in the air today. I'll hold you personally responsible if anything happens because of this delay."

The officer sighed, then replied. "Alright, Mr. Kapoor. I can authorize a special permit, but the earliest time you can fly is 10 PM tonight. That's the best I can do."

"Done," he agreed instantly. "I'll have everything ready by then. Thank you."

*****

The car came to a jarring halt before a grand haveli, towering over the village like a relic.

The village was a world completely different from the urban life she had grown accustomed to in Mumbai.

The roads weren't roads at all—just stretches of red, uneven sand, scattered with pebbles and baked hard under the sun.

On either side of the path were mud huts with thatched roofs.

The haveli stood completely different to the rest of the village.

It was enormous, and its dark brick walls reflected long shadows over the dusty courtyard.

The iron gates at the front were rusted at the edges, but their sharp spikes and heavy chains still glinted.

She was yanked out of the car roughly, and her feet sank into the hot sand while she stumbled forward.

The men dragging her gave her no time to take in her surroundings.

They dragged her through a narrow corridor inside the building.

Her wrists throbbed from where the ropes had chafed her skin, and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.

They reached a hall.

At the center of the room sat two men, their backs turned to her.

The one on the left was broad-shouldered.

The other was an older man, his posture more relaxed than the other.

Both were seated on carved wooden chairs that looked as though they'd been plucked from another century.

The men dragging her roughly shoved her forward, and she fell to her knees on the cold, hard floor.

The older man turned first, his face weathered but still sharp, his eyes piercing as they studied her.

He looked to be in his late fifties, with a neatly trimmed beard streaked with gray and an expression that held no emotions.

But it was the second man who made her breath catch in her throat.

Slowly, he turned to face her, and she froze.

It was her father.

Her mind reeled, struggling to make sense of what she was seeing.

His face was unmistakable—the jawline, the slightly furrowed brows, and the eyes she'd seen every day of her childhood, and recently, in jail.

"Mr Deshmukh?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, her throat tight with disbelief and fear.

Her father's gaze didn't soften at all.

He didn't move nor did he speak.

Beside him, the older man leaned forward, and his lips curled into a small, menacing smile.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. "What's going on? Why are you here? Why am I here?" she demanded, her voice rising angrily.

Her father remained silent for a moment, then finally spoke, his voice cold and devoid of any emotion.

"You'll understand soon enough."

He got up and began approaching her.

Crouching down just before her, he looked at her with cold eyes. "You see the Mukhiya over there? I've given you away to him in marriage."

Her eyes snapped to the man who was grinning at her—a smile that made her skin crawl.

His face was ridden out, his hair graying at the temples, and the deep lines etched across his face revealed more of his years.

She looked at him with utter disgust before turning her gaze back to her father. "It's against our values," she whispered, "I've already married Rajiv. I can't marry again."

Her father's lips curled into a mocking smile as he stared down at her. "I'm surprised," he sneered. "So you still remember our values?" He chuckled, and in an instant, his hand swept across her face, a hard slap that stung her cheek.

The force of the blow left her momentarily stunned, her head spinning as she recoiled from the pain.

Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her face.

She stared at him, speechless, while he continued his tirade.

"But who are you lying to?" he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "Were you not planning to marry that man?"

He let out a bitter laugh because he was enjoying the torment in her eyes. "But the marriage ended, didn't it?" He laughed maniacally like the entire situation were some sick joke.

Her eyes tightened with suspicion.

"You must be wondering. How, right?" he said, understanding her confused face.

"Well, let me explain clearly," he started. "Remember Muhammad? Where is he, by the way?" His voice rose as he called out loudly, "Muhammad!"

Her heart skipped a beat as she heard footsteps approaching from the side of the room.

Her eyes flicked over, and there he was, Muhammad.

She chuckled bitterly, tears of being betrayed brimming in her eyes.

Her father continued, the cruel smile never leaving his face. "I guess you've already figured out that your dear Akash is innocent in all of this, and that it was all a plot. Even though I told you to leave him, the man didn't want to believe you meant it. He still followed you like a dog." He scoffed, shaking his head. "How loyal was he? It was infuriating for a man to cling to a woman like that. It's not manliness."

Her stomach churned, and she swallowed hard, bowing her head in disgust.

Every word of his felt like a slap to her already bruised heart.

He leaned in closer, and his tone shifted to graveness. "So, what happened next? No, let's start from the beginning," he exclaimed, "Muhammad! How did you two meet? He interviewed you, didn't he? Then he said he wanted you both to be friends, didn't he?"

She remained silent, too disgusted to look at him or even respond because he wasn't worthy of any of it.

Her silence only fuelled his anger.

He gripped her chin with force, yanking her head up so that she was compelled to face him.

She refused to meet his eyes even after his grip tightened, pulling her face toward his.

"Look at me while I speak to you. I've missed seeing that helplessness in your eyes," he barked, but she refused to lift her gaze.

His anger flared.

He slapped her again, his palm connecting with her cheek with a loud crack. Her cheek turned bright red, and tears welled up, spilling down her face uncontrollably.

Still, she kept her eyes fixed on the ground, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking up.

"You will look at me while I'm speaking to you!" he roared, slapping her once more.

The pain of the blow made her let out a guttural cry, but she still refused to meet his eyes.

"Look at me!" he screamed, his voice like thunder, and she flinched at the force of his words.

Her gaze remained locked on the floor.

Furious, he slapped her again, the force making her head snap to the side.

Muhammad, who had been standing silently, clenched his fists in anguish, his own heart aching with every slap she received.

He couldn't bear to see her like that. He had a pained expression when he stepped forward, and exclaimed. "Just let her be."

The Mukhiya's eyes burned with fury as he turned to Muhammad. "Who are you to interfere between a father and daughter?" he shouted. "Get out of here immediately!" he ordered him.

Unable to watch the cruelty longer, he walked away, but his heart ached with pity for her, and though he knew he had no power to stop the abuse, he couldn't bear to stay and watch it unfold.

Her father continued, "Well, never mind. Where was I? Ah, yes. We connected you to Muhammad so easily because I knew you were a fool. The instant someone mentions they're from your hometown, you start respecting them without question. Muhammad wasn't the one supposed to interview you that day. But because, like your Akash, the Mukhiya also has connections in the city, he sent Muhammad in the man's place. Then we had him repeatedly speak about Akash's past to plant doubts in your mind."

He paused for a moment to take a breath. "At first, I'll admit, your love for him was strong. But as they say, nothing stays strong once it's shaken consistently. When you and Akash came to visit me at the station that day, I realized one thing. No matter what we did, he wouldn't leave you alone unless you made him hate you unpretentiously. And that's exactly what we did. We presented a file with details of his past, a file that had circulated years ago, but we edited it. We took out the part where the girl who accused him publicly apologized and revealed the messages weren't from him and that he didn't send her any money. She admitted she lied because he wanted to break up with her after discovering she had been cheating on him. You saw it, and of course, you lost your mind, just like I expected. You went crazy because, unfortunately, the city has corrupted your upbringing."

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You tried to end your relationship with him just because he cheated on you. So what if he did? Is he not a man?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, her body shaking as she cried uncontrollably.

"That was easy, yes," he added coldly. "Bringing you here was the most difficult part. That's why we made plans A, B, C, D, E, all the way to M, just in case Plan A failed. And it did, but thankfully, Plan B worked." He paused for a moment, taking a breath, then continued, "The mistake we made with Plan A was we didn't reevaluate the outcome as we should have. Do you remember you asked Muhammad to research villages that still practice child marriage? Forced marriage? This one was ranked number one. We thought you'd come here to find out more information when you eventually set up your foundation. We gave you a month at most, but after you found out about Priya, you foolishly transferred the money for the foundation back to Akash. Right?"

She looked at him, her eyes filled with shock and tears. "How do you know all this? How do you know about the money he gave me? Were you not in jail?" she asked, her voice trembling with surprise.

"Jail!" he laughed. "Yes, I was. That's exactly why I planned so carefully—because no one would ever suspect I could cause harm while I was locked away. You lived your life comfortably, and I planned comfortably too." He paused, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "But how did I know all this? Well, that's what will shock you."

He suddenly gripped her chin, squeezing it tightly, forcing her to look up at him again. "Unlike you," he sneered, "one of my daughters is just like me. She kept feeding me every piece of information we asked for. And with Muhammad's help, she learned how to check your phone every night while you were asleep, and searched for anything useful. You still keep notes on your phone, don't you? About your plans?" a twisted grin spread across his face. "You stopped using a diary and went digital. Congratulations."

He inhaled a deep breath, enjoying her bewildered face, then continued, "So after Plan A failed, we tried Plan B. We learned that Divya lived with you and that her company was struggling. Can you believe that? A woman is working. If not the city, where is this allowed? But let's put that aside for a moment. The Mukhiya went to the city and offered her company a contract to come over to the village and finish his school. She wanted to go alone, but we made sure your sister convinced her not to. She made her bring you along, and yes, she brought you to us unknowingly."

She whispered, "You are a disgusting man. The day you die will be the happiest day of my life."

He simply smiled. "Are you not curious to know how I got out on bail? And how the Mukhiya knows you?"

She turned her face away, repulsed.

"I'll tell you anyway," he said gleefully. "I got bored in jail. One day, they told me I could make one call, and I remembered a friend of mine from the village. I still remembered his number clearly, so I called him and explained everything. I told him how my daughter, the one I brought into this world, sent me to prison. He offered to help me, but there was one condition. He wanted her in marriage. He'd heard rumors about how she ran away from her first marriage and escaped to the city to build a life on her own—away from the life women are supposed to lead. He said he would teach her manners. He'd make her sensible again. And I agreed. I said I would sell her, in exchange for my freedom. So, we made a deal."

She chuckled bitterly, glancing at the Mukhiya who still grinned at her, before turning her gaze back to her father. With contempt in her voice, she spat, "Kill me. Go ahead. But forcing me to marry someone against my will is something I will never do again."

"Can you leave us alone, Deshmukh?" the Mukhiya's face hardened with irritation.

Her father nodded, got up, and walked away, completely unconcerned about what would happen to her.

She lowered her gaze, disgust swirling in her chest, as the Mukhiya approached.

He crouched down to her level and his hands like iron gripped her chin.

She felt as though acid had been poured over her skin while he forced her to meet his gaze.

"The city has clearly corrupted your mind," he said cruelly. "But I'll set it straight. Our marriage will take place tomorrow morning. The henna ceremony will be tonight, so you'll behave accordingly. Worthy of me." He paused, eyeing her to assess her worth. "I've heard from your father that you were too stubborn to bed with your first husband. It won't be the same with me. I won't marry you just to look at you like some picture. The only reason I am marrying you is to produce male children, which my first wife couldn't give me. You will give this village sons, understood?"

She snarled, "You can keep dreaming, because it will never come to that. I will never marry you."

He laughed mockingly, "Who are you relying on? What's the boy's name? Akash! Yes, him. He used to be your protective shield, but not anymore. Maybe, if it was before, he would have come for you, but not now. No one will take you from me."

She smiled faintly, "He will come. I know he will come. He'll take me from here. He..." Her words were abruptly cut off by his sharp slap. She squeezed her eyes shut, and he sneered,

"Lesson number one—never oppose me. Now, take her to her room. Her sister will join her and help her get ready for the henna ceremony. And make sure she's not untied until after the wedding," he ordered coldly.

The men nodded and, without another word, roughly lifted her and carried her away.

The room they brought her into was surprisingly beautiful.

It was large and furnished with a double bed and a soft carpet.

Yet, it did little to soothe the panic and fear that gripped her heart.

Her hands and legs were still bound tightly and the rough ropes cut into her skin with every movement she made.

The men had dragged her to the room, their rough hands gripping her arms and forcing her inside as if she were nothing more than a piece of cargo.

She stumbled, hardly able to keep her balance with her hands and legs tied.

She got thrown onto the bed and then, they disappeared away.

After she collapsed onto the mattress, trying to catch her breath, the door creaked open, and her sister stepped inside.

She avoided Anita's gaze, but at last, their eyes met, and anger and betrayal burned through Anita's veins like fire.

Her sister stared at her quietly before she crossed the room and placed a bowl of food on the small table beside the bed, "I brought you your food," she whispered,

Her eyes flared with fury, and she forced herself to sit up, despite her restraints. "Food?" she spat, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. "When did you become so cold and heartless? After everything, you still appear before me and bring me food?"

She flinched, but then muttered. "I didn't want this for you," she murmured. "I swear. If only you were obedient—"

"Don't!" she yelled, her face flushed with anger. "Don't you dare say a word. You have no right to speak. You're just like him. Just like our father. Cold and heartless." Her voice quivered with disgust. "I never want to see you again. Go away."

Her eyes filled with tears, but she said nothing.

"What about our mother? What did they do to her? And my other sister? Tell me, what happened to them?" she demanded, her voice breaking with pain.

She remained silent, and Anita shook her head in more disgust.

"Just leave. I never want to see you again."

Slowly, she turned and walked out of the room.

The door clicked shut softly behind her, and Anita slumped back onto the bed, staring at the food on the table with hollow eyes.

Her sister opened the door again, but this time, she stood at the doorway.

She couldn't bear to match gazes with her again, and after a long silence, she spoke, "Anita, I know you're angry, but please, just calm down. I'll come back when you've settled, to feed you and help you get ready for the henna ceremony."

Anita's eyes shot up at her, and she only chuckled, lost at words.

She nodded quietly and turned, walking out of the room with the same heavy steps as before.

The Mukhiya was passing by when he spotted her waiting outside the room.

His eyes narrowed, and he strode over to her with the commanding air of a man used to getting his way.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be feeding her so you can get her ready sooner?" he barked impatiently.

"She... she doesn't want to eat right now," she whispered and shivered under his scrutinizing stare.

"What nonsense?" His voice rose. "It seems I have to interfere then," he growled, pushing past her and dashing into the room.

The door slammed open and Anita flinched at the noise, her body stiffening instinctively.

When she saw it was him, her expression hardened into a scowl.

He marched toward her, his heavy boots thudding against the floor until he reached the bed.

Without any hesitation, he sat down beside her and gripped her chin with a cruel force, tilting her face toward him.

She winced but refused to look away, her eyes blazing with anger.

"You will eat whether you like it or not," he snarled, grabbing a handful of food from the tray and shoving it roughly toward her mouth.

She coughed and choked, spitting the food back out.

Her voice was hoarse but fierce as she managed to rasp, "Are you mad?"

"Stop acting like a brat," he barked, his voice filled with irritation.

"You're no longer in the city. You can't do whatever you wish here. I've already informed you the henna ceremony is today. Is this how you want to appear before everyone? Looking so weak and pathetic?"

"I am not going to marry you," she said firmly. "You can't blackmail me because there's nothing left to blackmail me with. Kill me if you wish.

Akash is safe, and he will stay safe. Let my father do whatever he wants. What will he do next? Harm my mother? My sister?" She smiled faintly, a bitter smile that didn't reach her eyes. Leaning forward slightly, she whispered, "Let him. I will not be blackmailed. My heart has turned cold, do you understand? I've been betrayed, cheated, and used. There's nothing left in me to fear or to lose. My heart is now frozen solid."

His smirk disappeared, replaced by a flash of unease. But he quickly masked it, forcing his confidence back. "Your sister will come and get you ready soon. Clear your head, and accept your reality," he said, then got up to leave.

Her voice, sharp and venomous, stopped him in his tracks. "Tell Deshmukh," she said very slowly, "that if I get my hands free, he should fear our encounter, because I will kill him. And you," her eyes tightened and her voice dropped to an icy whisper, "you will not escape me either."

He turned to look at her in shock, "You've gone mad," he muttered, shaking his head, but his steps quickened as he left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.