The silence inside the luxury car was almost unbearable.

Kashish sat by the window in the backseat, her face turned away from the plush leather interior, watching the city lights blur past through a sheen of unshed tears. Her fingers clenched the edge of her silk dupatta, knuckles white, her phone resting lifeless in her lap.

She hadn’t spoken a word since leaving Riwaaz.

A single drop escaped the corner of her eye, trailing down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, almost angrily. But another came. Then another. Her chest ached, but her back remained perfectly straight. Always poised. Always polished. Just like she was taught to be.

Angad Chandravanshi sat beside Malini , reading glasses perched on his nose, scrolling through his phone. He hadn't looked at her since they entered the car.

Malini sat on the other side, hands folded neatly in her lap, the stony silence between them thicker than the upholstery.

Finally, Angad spoke, his voice clipped.
"Care to explain what that was?"

Malini didn’t respond.

He sighed through his nose. “You said he was stuck in traffic.”

“I thought he was,” she replied, her voice low, laced with restraint.

Angad turned sharply to look at her. “You thought? Or you lied to save face?”

Malini looked up, her eyes rimmed red, but dry now. “What would you have preferred, Angad ji? That I announce to the entire table that your son vanished without notice?”

“That would’ve been better than letting the Goyenkas think we are fools!” Angad snapped.

Angad gave a sharp look toward Malini, but didn’t interrupt.

“Your Papa was humiliated,” Malini continued. “So was we.I had to sit there and pretend everything was fine while Pariniti’s parents kept exchanging glances like we were part of some tragic soap opera.”

Kashish swallowed hard, her voice trembling. “I did everything I could to hold it together.”

Malini laughed, low and cold. “Hold it together? You are not some naïve girl who just joined this family, Kashish. You’re a Chandravanshi. That name comes with duty.”

“I know what the name comes with,” Kashish whispered.

But the bitterness slipped through, and both Angad and Malini caught it.

Malini narrowed her eyes. “What did you say?”

Kashish turned to face her mother-in-law fully, her voice steadier now—measured but heavy. “I said I know what the name comes with. I’ve paid for it. Every day.”

The silence that followed was brutal.

The car rolled on, headlights slicing through the night, as the three sat trapped not just in their silence—but in the fragile glass walls of a family cracking beneath the surface.

Only the quiet sound of Kashish wiping her tears—discreetly, silently, with the edge of her dupatta—remained.

And outside, the Chandravanshi mansion loomed closer. Grand. Imposing. Cold.

Just like everything waiting inside it.

The Chandravanshi mansion stood like a citadel against the night sky—imposing, elegant, and unknowably silent. Shree stepped inside hesitantly, clutching the edge of Tanishk’s jacket that he’d draped around her shoulders. Her eyes roamed over the high ceilings, the antique mirrors, the massive oil paintings, and the flicker of chandeliers hanging like frozen stars.

Everything here smelled of quiet power. And secrets.

Tanishk guided her gently, not saying much. “You can rest here,” he said, pushing open the door to one of the guest rooms. “No one will disturb you.”

She nodded, her voice caught somewhere between gratitude and fear.

The room was spacious but warm—cream drapes, a soft carpet underfoot, a four-poster bed dressed in ivory linens. Shree stood awkwardly near the door, watching him turn to leave.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” he said, eyes soft but unreadable.

She nodded again, and the door closed behind him.

Alone now, Shree walked slowly around the room, touching things with the delicate curiosity of someone unused to luxury. Her fingers brushed the edge of a carved side table, traced the embroidery on a cushion, and finally settled on a porcelain vase sitting near the window.

She leaned in, curious—its blue floral design .

But her hand trembled. Her nerves, stretched thin from days of fear and sleeplessness, betrayed her.

Crash!

The vase slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor.

Shree froze, her breath hitched, eyes wide with panic.

Before she could even move, the door flew open.

Tanishk entered, holding a tray with a bowl of steaming khichdi and a glass of water.

His eyes darted to the broken vase—then to Shree, kneeling on the floor, trying to pick up the shards with her bare hands.

“Shree!” he said sharply, setting the tray down and rushing to her side.

As she looked up, startled, one sharp piece cut into her finger.

She winced—blood welled up immediately.

“Are you out of your mind?” he snapped, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly. “Why would you touch broken glass like that?”

“I-I didn’t mean to—”

“You should’ve waited. I told you to rest!”

She flinched—not from his voice, but from the echo of old fears. Her hands shook in his grasp, but he didn’t notice at first.

Then he saw it. The way she recoiled. The way her eyes looked—not at him, but through him, as if bracing for pain.

His voice softened instantly. “Hey… I’m not angry at you. Just… worried.”

She looked away, tears brimming in her lashes. “I didn’t want to break anything. I swear.”

“I know,” he said gently, already guiding her to sit on the bed. “It’s just a vase. Doesn’t matter.”

He brought out a small first-aid box and sat beside her, wrapping a soft bandage around her bleeding finger.

The silence between them was quiet, but not empty.

Shree watched him, his head bent in focus. The warmth of his touch. The care in his actions.

Who was this man?

The same man who brough her and never climbed right over her.
The one who hadn’t judged her.
The one who hadn’t asked for explanations.
The one who had brought her into his world of marble floors and velvet drapes without once making her feel small.

But why was he like this?
Why did someone like him—a man with this kind of wealth, this kind of family—carry such quiet sadness in his eyes?

Her thoughts scattered when she remembered Heena’s words.

“Tanishk Chandravanshi? He’s filthy rich. Owns half the goddamn city. But he’s married, Shree. To that Kashish Aswar .Big family arrangement. High society stuff. They are three years married, they are childhood bestfriend.”

Married.

Her breath caught for a second.

She looked at him again. Carefully. As if seeing him for the first time.

Why would a man with a wife… bring a girl like her here?

What was his truth?

And why did it feel like he was just as lost as she was?

Tanishk finished wrapping the bandage. “Done,” he said softly, his voice breaking her thoughts. “Now try not to go near sharp things for the next hour, okay?”

Shree nodded.

Tanishk looked at her—then stood up and picked up the tray.

“Eat. You need strength.”

And with that, he turned and walked to the window, giving her space. But even with the distance between them, Shree could still feel it—

That strange, quiet pull between two people carrying wounds they never chose.

Sneak peak- Chapter 14

“He broke the promise,” she whispered to the empty room.

Then, softer—more to herself than anyone else—

“So did I.”