The silence in the Mehra mansion was suffocating.
Aanya could feel every pair of eyes on her — questioning, judging, disbelieving. Her chest tightened.

She couldn't stand there anymore.

Without a word, she lowered her gaze and stepped back. Her trembling hands brushed away her tears as she turned and quietly walked toward the hallway. Her steps echoed — the sound sharp in the stillness.

"Aanya..." Mrs. Sikha's voice called behind her, but Aanya didn't stop.

She goes direct towards her room with quick steps, her vision blurring. By the time she reached the corridor outside her room, her heart felt like it would burst.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, she broke.
Her back hit the door and she slid down to the floor, pressing her hand to her mouth to muffle her sobs.

"What have I done..." she whispered, shaking.
"I lied... to the only people who ever treated me like family in this mansion."

A knock interrupted her tears.

"Aanya," Ishaan's voice came, calm but low — a voice that carried both guilt and concern.
She didn't answer.

He waited a few seconds, then spoke again, softer this time.
"Aanya... open the door."

Her fingers hesitated on the handle. Something inside her didn't want to see him — didn't want to face those eyes that always hid too much.

But before she could think, Ishaan turned the knob. The door wasn't locked. It opened with a quiet click.

He stepped inside slowly, closing it behind him.

Aanya immediately turned away, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
"Why did you come here?" she asked, her voice trembling but sharp. "You got what you wanted, right? 

Ishaan's face is a mask of regret. He swallows. "Aanya, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell them like that. It just—happened."

She stares at him. Her voice is small, fragile with hope and pain.
"are you...truly accepting me, Ishaan? As your wife?"

But his answer tears the hope away.

"Don't get me wrong, Aanya," he says, blunt and cold. "I called you my wife in front of my family. That's true. But don't mistake that for anything else. In private — behind closed doors — you're nothing to me."

Rage rises in her like a physical thing. She moves right up to him, eyes blazing.

"Then why the hell did you marry me?" she explodes. "If this is all some revenge against my brother, then finish it. Do whatever you planned — hurt me, destroy me. If you want me dead, then kill me and be done with it. If my death makes your revenge whole, just do it!"

Her words tumble out, half-formed, bitter and raw.

Ishaan's hand clamps her wrist. He spins her around and pins her to the wall. The room narrows to the space between them — his face inches from hers. His voice is a low, dangerous hiss.

"Just shut up," he snarls. "If killing you would have avenged us, I would have done it long ago. Believe me, darling — I'm not that simple. I won't end this quickly. I want them to suffer, to watch, to know what pain is." just like we suffer. just like my sister suffer,"

He lets the words hang like a threat, then his voice drops, furious and ragged. He leans in until his breath fogs the space between them.

"Do you know what her last word was?" he asks, eyes burning. "She screamed Aransh name.  Not mom. Not Jay and Jiya. not mine she is taking one name fucking one name and that is Aransh." your brother name.

 The air between them was thick — a storm waiting to break.

Aanya's chest heaved as her tears mixed with anger. Ishaan's grip on her wrist tightened before she yanked herself free, stumbling back a few steps, breath trembling.

she cried out, her voice cracking.

"She took his name because she loved him till her last breath! Because he meant everything to her!"

Ishaan's expression darkened, his eyes flaring with pain and fury.

"No, Aanya!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. 

"Not because she loved him — but because even on her deathbed, she couldn't forget that the man she loved betrayed her!" " She called out the name of the man who cheated on her. You don't know the whole story, Aanya. You weren't there."

His words hit Aanya like a blow. She froze, staring at him in disbelief.
Her lips parted, trembling. "No... no, Ishaan. Bhai can't do that."

Her voice softened, pleading now. "He... he always talked about her. Do you know that? They were planning to marry soon. Bhai told me himself — he wanted me to come back to India for his wedding. He can't do this, Ishaan.  he loves her so much." There must be... there must be some misunderstanding."

Ishaan exhaled heavily, his chest rising and falling. He turned away from her, his voice dropping low, cold and distant.

"There's no misunderstanding, Aanya. I know they loved each other — deeply. I know they were going to marry. But even after all that, your brother..." he paused, his jaw tightening, "still cheated on her." She couldn't bear it... and took her own life.

He turned his face slightly, his eyes burning but refusing to meet hers. "You weren't here, Aanya. You didn't see what we saw. You don't know what she went through."

Aanya's tears rolled freely now. "Then tell me."
Her voice broke, but her tone carried a desperate strength. "Tell me the truth, Ishaan. Tell me everything. I deserve to know why I'm being punished for something I didn't do."

Silence.
For a moment, only their uneven breathing filled the room. Ishaan said nothing — his silence louder than any words.

Finally, Aanya stepped closer, standing right in front of him — her voice calmer now, though her eyes shimmered with pain.
"Why didn't you let me tell them the truth?" she asked softly. "That you forced me into this marriage... that who i am."

Ishaan turned to look at her. His eyes were tired — the rage had dimmed, replaced by something hollow.

"You want to tell them?" he asked quietly. "Fine. Go ahead."

He stepped forward, his tone sharp now.
"Maybe they'll hate me for forcing you into marriage — but after that?" His voice cracked slightly. "They'll hate you even more."

Aanya looked at him, confused and hurt, but he didn't stop.

"The moment they know you're a Verma... Aransh's sister — everything will change. You're getting close to Jay, right? You think he'll still smile at you once he finds out who you are? No. He'll hate you, Aanya.**"

He swallowed hard before continuing. "And sikhu Mom  — she loved Nisha dii like her own daughter. "When she finds out that the girl she admired is actually the sister of her daughter's murderer, do you think she'll still like you? She will hate you with all her heart."

Aanya's lips trembled, tears slipping down her cheeks. But Ishaan's words kept cutting.

"Even your ex — the man who claims to love you — Nisha was his mentor, Aanya. He's in business because of her. Once he finds out you're Aransh Verma's sister, I don't even want to imagine what he'll do."

He looked straight into her eyes, his tone flat. "So go. Tell them. If you want everyone in this house to hate you — then do it."

Aanya stood frozen, his words echoing in her ears. Her tears fell faster now.
She took a deep, shaky breath. she take long deep breath then look at him and said softly.

Ishaan I don't know Nisha di. I never met her. I've only heard her name — from my brother, from Jay, and from everyone in this house who spoke about her.

And from everything I've heard, I understood one thing — she was a very strong woman. She didn't seem like someone who would give up so easily. I don't believe, that Nisha di would take her own life for this reason."

Hearing her words, Ishaan just stared at her for a moment. Even he seemed lost in thought before asking quietly,
"What do you mean?"

"I'm saying," Aanya replied firmly, "there must be something we don't know — something hidden behind all this."

"I know Bhai could never do that. Maybe there's something you missed — something hidden that none of us saw. Please, let's find out the truth together."

Her voice cracked but she didn't look away.

"And I swear... if it turns out that my brother was really the reason Nisha Di took her life, then you can do anything with me i will not say a single thing  I'll stand beside you. I'll help you punish him myself. But please... first, just once — try to find the truth."

Ishaan's expression softened — not with forgiveness, but with a flicker of pain.
He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw clenched, then sighed deeply and turned away. Without another word, he walked out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him.
Aanya stood still for a few seconds before her knees gave way. She sat on the edge of the bed, tears silently tracing down her face, her heart breaking under the weight of everyone's hatred and one man's pain.

In that quiet room, both love and revenge felt equally cruel.

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The mansion felt empty in a way it never had before. The dining table sat untouched — plates cold, chairs pushed back as if everyone had fled rather than finished their meal. The chandeliers cast long, indifferent shadows. Silence hung like a thick curtain that no one could pierce.

Karan moved through the rooms like a ghost. The revelation from earlier had hollowed him out: the woman he loved, the truth about her presence here, and the violent claim that she had been married to Ishaan — all of it left him stunned and drained.

He sat in a dark corner of his room long after everyone else had retired, staring into nothing. The room's quiet amplified the emptiness inside him: each tick of the clock sounded like a judgment.

No one spoke that night. No one cheered. Night passed like a held breath.

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By noon the house still moved carefully around yesterday's shock. Aanya had not come out for dinner the night before, and no one had knocked on her door — no one knew quite how to act.

Even Nita, the head maid who had spent months treating Aanya like a fellow worker, felt awkward and uncertain now that the truth had surfaced. For three months she had fed, tended, and spoken to Aanya as "the help." Now she didn't know what to call her.

Aanya finally emerged from her room at lunchtime. She hadn't eaten since yesterday evening; hunger hollowed her stomach, but it didn't steady her voice or her hands. She went straight to the kitchen. Nita was there, moving calmly among plates and steam.

"Aunty," Aanya said, trying to keep her voice steady, "why didn't you call me? I would have helped." Her hands hovered over the counter.

Nita paused and looked up, troubled. "How could I call you, Aanya— I mean ma'am?" she began, then stopped, searching for the right words. "why You didn't tell me you were Ishaan's wife."

Aanya forced a small, tired smile. "Telling them wouldn't change things," she said quietly, taking Nita's hand in her own. "Please—don't call me ma'am. I'm still Aanya." Nita nodded, uncertain but kind.

Aanya reached for a plate. "It looks like you've made everything. I'm starving — I'll want to eat something." She sounded almost cheerful; the thinness of her cheer made it more tragic than joyful.

"Of course, beta. Sit, I'll bring it to you," Nita replied.

"No, I'll manage," Aanya said, and began to plate food.

At that moment Mrs. Sikha Mehra entered the kitchen. Aanya, facing the stove, didn't see her at first. Nita greeted her with a quiet,

"Good afternoon, ma'am," and Aanya turned, startled — and then frozen. Sikha stood behind her with a gentle, composed smile. Aanya had braced herself for anger, for disapproval; instead Sikha's expression was soft, almost maternal.

"Hello, Aanya," Sikha asked lightly. "Where have you been hiding? You didn't come down at dinner and breakfast."

Aanya blinked and managed, "Hello, aunty," with a voice that wobbled.

Sikha glanced at the small plate in Aanya's hands and frowned gently. "You're going to eat so little? You haven't eaten since yesterday," she said, taking the plate from Aanya and guiding her toward the dining table. "Nita, set a plate for me and Aanya."

They sat down together. It was Aanya's first time at the Mehra dining table since she'd arrived three months ago; she hesitated, every motion feeling strange and new.

As Nita laid out the simple lunch, she asked softly, "Mr. Mehra and Karan won't be joining for lunch today.?

 Aanya stiffened at the mention of Karan — after the chaos yesterday, she had no idea what confrontation might still be waiting for her.

"No, sikha replied. "Mr. Mehra went out earlier, and Karan flew back to America on this morning's flight."

Aanya's mouth went dry. The news landed like a cold hand; Karan was gone. She hadn't expected him to leave so suddenly.

Sikha watched her and then asked gently, "Has Ishaan left for the office yet? 

Aanya blinked and looked down at her hands, startled by the question. Why is she asking me? she thought. Sikha's eyes searched her face as if hoping she would know.

"I... I don't know," Aanya answered at last, her voice slow and hesitant.

Sikha sighed and squeezed Aanya's hand. Her voice softened into something warm but firm. "Look, Aanya — I don't know what's going on  between you and Ishaan. You two say you have your reasons, and I won't force you to tell me. But now everyone knows you're his wife. There's no reason to hide anymore. You are family. You should act like family."

She paused, looking straight at Aanya. "and why are you still locked away in that room? Why haven't you moved into Ishaan's room?"

Aanya's eyes widened as if struck. The thought of sharing Ishaan's room — his private space — made her stomach flip. In her mind the room was a cold, unfamiliar place: a monster's den, she thought, and the idea was unbearable.

"No," she told herself quietly, shaken. She imagined telling herself aloud: I will not sleep in that monster's den. But her lips didn't form the words. Sikha's eyes were full of simple expectation: to belong, to not hide.

Aanya swallowed; the plate trembled in her hands. The mansion around them went on with its rituals — dining, clearing, quiet conversation — as if the last night's earthquake hadn't happened. Yet everything had shifted. The silence felt heavier, the rooms smaller, and Aanya's place in the house more precarious than ever.

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Thank you for reading 
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Bye bye take care. ❤️