Saransh was walking past Sahera’s room.

He wasn’t planning to stop.

He just wanted to check if she had eaten something.

The door wasn’t fully closed.

He heard it.

Not loud crying.

But the kind where someone is trying to hide it.

His steps slowed.

He pushed the door slightly.

Sahera was sitting on the bed.

Back resting against it.

Her phone lying beside her.

Her eyes red.

Tears silently falling.

Her shoulders shaking every few seconds.

Saransh’s chest tightened.

She looked smaller.

Not like the strong, calm Sahera who always told everyone not to panic.

Not like the girl who joked in the market.

Just… his little sister.

Broken.

He walked in quietly and sat down beside her.

She didn’t notice at first.

Then she looked up.

And tried to wipe her tears quickly.

“I’m fine.”

He hated those two words.

He gently pulled her hand away from her face.

“No, you’re not.”

Her lips trembled again.

And suddenly—

She leaned into him.

Like she did when they were children.

When she had nightmares.

Saransh wrapped his arms around her tightly.

It wasn’t awkward.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It was instinct.

“It was so close, ansh…” she whispered.

His jaw clenched.

“I know.”

“And… he…” she couldn’t even finish.

He didn’t ask who.

He didn’t need to.

He could guess.

Saransh felt anger rising.

Not just at the shooter.

Not just at the world.

But at anyone who made her feel alone.

He looked at her trembling hands.

Enough.

He took out his phone.

She looked at him weakly.

“What are you doing?”

He stood up.

“I’m calling Papa.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“No—”

“Yes.”

His voice was firm.

Only their father could calm this storm.

He stepped aside and dialed.

The call connected quickly.

“Hello, Saransh?”

Tanishk’s voice sounded tired… but steady.

Saransh swallowed.

“Papa.”

Something in his tone changed everything.

“What happened?”

Saransh didn’t hide anything.

He told him about the shooting.

The sniper.

The guard.

The panic.

The fear.

And then he lowered his voice.

“Papa… Sahera needs you.”

There was silence on the other end.

Not empty silence.

Heavy silence.

The kind a father has when he is holding his rage inside.

“Is she hurt?”

“No. But she’s… she’s not okay.”

Tanishk inhaled sharply.

“I’m coming.”

No hesitation.

No questions about schedule.

No delay.

“I’m coming tonight.”

Saransh felt his throat tighten.

“Papa…”

“Yes?”

“She tried to act strong.”

A pause.

Then Tanishk’s voice softened.

“She’s always been stronger than she needs to be.”

Saransh looked at Sahera.

She was watching him quietly.

Small.

Vulnerable.

“I’ll handle this,” Tanishk said, but his tone had changed.

It wasn’t just about the attack anymore.

It was about someone daring to scare his daughter.

“I promise you, beta. No one touches my children.”

Saransh closed his eyes for a second.

That was the voice he needed.

That was the voice Sahera needed.

He walked back and sat beside her again.

“Papa is coming.”

Her breathing hitched.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Tonight.”

She didn’t cry loudly this time.

But tears slipped again.

Relief.

Safety.

Belonging.

She leaned against his shoulder again.

And Saransh wrapped his arm around her.

Protective.

Steady.

Outside, the palace corridors were long and grand.

But inside that room—

It was just a brother holding his sister together.

And somewhere far away—

A father was already on his way.

Not as a businessman.

Not as a former heir.

But as a lion walking back to his den.

The pre-wedding shoot was set near an old sandstone haveli.

Golden walls.

Soft evening light.

Perfect backdrop.

The photographer adjusted his camera.

“Closer, sir. Ma’am, please look at him.”

Rahul smiled widely.

Too widely.

“Inaya, come on… we should do this properly.”

He slid his arm around her waist.

Pulled her slightly closer.

The photographer clicked rapidly.

“Perfect! Sir, tilt her chin up a little.”

Rahul didn’t hesitate.

His fingers touched her jaw.

Inaya stiffened.

Just slightly.

But enough.

Her smile stayed.

But it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Relax,” Rahul whispered near her ear. “We’re getting married. Why are you so formal?”

She forced a small smile.

“I’m not.”

He laughed softly.

“Oh, you are.”

Another pose.

This time he held her hand and pulled her into a half embrace.

He was enjoying this.

The attention.

The idea of ownership.

The title — soon-to-be husband.

His smile was confident.

Almost proud.

Meanwhile—

Two staff members stood near the light equipment.

Watching quietly.

One leaned toward the other.

“So this Rahul Oberoi is finally getting a wife, huh?”

The other smirked faintly.

“I heard he a fuck boy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Womaniser. Parties. Different girls every few months.”

The first one looked at Inaya.

“Poor girl.”

“She’s so sweet. Doesn’t deserve this jerk.”

They quickly looked away as Rahul laughed loudly again.

“Sir, one more pose!” the photographer said.

Rahul turned to Inaya.

“Let’s do that romantic one.”

Before she could respond—

He pulled her gently against his chest.

Her hands rested awkwardly on his shoulders.

She didn’t lean in.

He did.

The camera flashed.

“Inaya, smile more!” the photographer requested.

She tried.

But her mind wasn’t there.

Not in the haveli.

Not in the frame.

Not in his arms.

She felt trapped inside a beautiful picture.

Rahul brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly.

But there was something performative in it.

Something rehearsed.

She nodded politely.

“Thank you.”

Another click.

Rahul whispered again, “After marriage, you’ll get used to me.”

Her breath faltered slightly.

Get used to me.

Not I’ll make you comfortable.

Not I’ll wait.

Just —

Get used to me.

The photographer smiled happily.

“These pictures are magical!”

Yes.

Magical outside.

Heavy inside.

Inaya’s eyes looked at the camera.

But for a split second —

They looked distant.

As if silently asking someone —

Is this my life now?

Rahul adjusted his blazer proudly.

Satisfied.

Possessive.

Happy.

Inaya stood beside him.

Perfect bride-to-be.

Perfect posture.

Perfect silence.

And somewhere inside her —

Something was slowly dimming.

The shoot finally ended.

Lights were being packed.

The sun had already dipped low.

A long dining table was arranged in the courtyard of the haveli.

Soft yellow fairy lights above.

Elegant setup.

Everything looked perfect.

Rahul pulled a chair out for Inaya.

“Sit.”

She sat quietly.

Food was being served.

Multiple dishes.

Among them —

Seafood platters.

Inaya kept her hands in her lap.

She wasn’t hungry.

She wasn’t even present.

Rahul noticed her untouched plate.

“You’re not eating?”

“I’m fine.”

He picked up the serving spoon and added food onto her plate himself.

Prawns.

Fish curry.

She immediately looked at it.

“Rahul… I’m allergic to seafood.”

He paused.

Then smiled casually.

“A little won’t harm you, darling.”

“It does,” she said softly. “I’ve told you before.”

He leaned back in his chair.

Studying her.

“You worry too much.”

She didn’t move the plate.

He picked up a piece of prawn with his fingers.

“Inaya.”

She looked at him.

His tone wasn’t loud.

But it wasn’t asking either.

“Trust me.”

The staff around them were busy.

No one was really watching closely.

He brought the food near her lips.

“For me.”

Her fingers tightened under the table.

“I really shouldn’t—”

“Don’t embarrass me,” he said softly, smiling outwardly.

It was said gently.

But it wasn’t gentle.

She hesitated.

Then opened her mouth slightly.

He fed her.

Watching her face closely.

As if testing something.

“See?” he smiled. “Nothing happened.”

She swallowed.

Her throat already feeling slightly uneasy.

He fed her another bite.

And another.

“Good girl,” he murmured lightly.

Minutes passed.

Conversation around them continued.

Rahul laughed with someone nearby.

Inaya shifted slightly in her seat.

Her fingers tingled.

She blinked.

The lights seemed a little too bright.

She swallowed again.

Her tongue felt strange.

Her breathing slightly heavier.

Rahul noticed.

He leaned closer.

“What happened?”

“My… hands…”

She tried to lift them.

They felt heavy.

Numb.

A faint rash began forming near her neck.

Her vision blurred slightly.

She grabbed the edge of the table.

Rahul’s smile faded for a second.

But not into panic.

Into calculation.

“Inaya?”

Her breathing grew uneven.

“I told you…”

Her voice was weak now.

Her body swayed.

The chair screeched lightly as she almost lost balance.

Someone from the staff gasped.

“Ma’am?”

Rahul stood up quickly.

But instead of shock—

There was irritation in his eyes.

“I told you it was just in your head,” he muttered under his breath.

But now people were staring.

Inaya’s body felt cold.

Her lips slightly pale.

Her pulse racing.

She tried to stand—

And couldn’t.

The world around her tilted.

And she collapsed.

The plate shattered on the ground.

Silence.

Then chaos.

Rahul caught her just before she hit fully.

Holding her.

Looking concerned.

Playing the part.

“Call the doctor!” he shouted loudly.

But his jaw was tight.

Because this—

Wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

He wanted compliance.

Not consequences.

And somewhere deep inside—

Inaya’s last conscious thought wasn’t fear of the allergy.

It was this:

He didn’t listen.

He didn’t care.

He just wanted control.

And her body paid the price.

The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and fear.

Tarini walked fast.

Her heels echoing sharply against the tiles.

Her face was pale — but composed.

“Where is she?” she asked the nurse.

“Room 204, ma’am.”

She didn’t wait.

She pushed the door open.

Inaya was lying on the hospital bed.

IV line attached.

Face slightly pale.

Eyes half-open.

For a moment—

Tarini forgot everything.

The palace.

The politics.

The image.

She rushed to her daughter’s side.

“Inaya…”

Her voice cracked slightly.

Inaya looked at her.

“Mumma…”

Just that one word.

Tarini held her hand tightly.

“What happened?”

Rahul stepped forward immediately.

Concern painted perfectly on his face.

“She suddenly reacted to something she ate. I told her not to stress herself. I was right there, aunty. I handled everything.”

He sounded like a hero.

Like a savior.

Tarini looked at him.

“You knew she’s allergic to seafood.”

Rahul hesitated for half a second.

“I thought it was mild. She said she was fine.”

Inaya’s fingers twitched slightly.

But she said nothing.

The doctor entered.

“Mrs. Tarini, she’s stable now. It was an allergic reaction. Thankfully brought in time. But you need to be careful.”

Careful.

Tarini nodded stiffly.

“Yes, doctor.”

The doctor left after giving instructions.

Rahul leaned toward Inaya again.

“You scared me.”

His tone soft.

His hand brushing her hair.

Possessive.

Claiming.

Tarini watched closely.

Something about the way he said it didn’t sit right.

She stepped in slightly.

“Inaya needs rest.”

Rahul straightened.

“Of course. I’ll handle the discharge formalities.”

Tarini took out her phone.

She called Navdeep.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

No answer.

Her jaw tightened.

At a time like this—

He wasn’t picking up.

Rahul returned with papers.

“All done. She can go home.”

He smiled reassuringly.

“I’ll send the best nutritionist from my side. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry.

Tarini forced a polite nod.

“Thank you.”

But her eyes were calculating now.

Observing.

Reading.

Later—

Inaya and Tarini sat inside the car.

The door closed.

Silence.

The driver started the engine.

Outside, Rahul waved slightly.

Playing the caring fiancé.

The car moved.

Inside—

No words for a few seconds.

Then Tarini spoke softly.

“You told him you’re allergic.”

It wasn’t a question.

Inaya stared outside the window.

“Yes.”

Tarini’s fingers tightened around her clutch.

“And he still fed you?”

Inaya’s eyes filled slightly.

But she blinked the tears away.

“He said one bite won’t harm.”

Tarini inhaled slowly.

That wasn’t care.

That was dismissal.

The city lights passed by.

Inaya leaned her head against the window.

“I’m tired, Mumma.”

Tarini looked at her daughter.

Really looked at her.

The dullness in her eyes.

The quiet.

The hesitation.

“Are you happy?” Tarini asked suddenly.

Inaya didn’t answer immediately.

The silence said more than words.

The car continued toward the palace.

And for the first time—

Tarini felt something dangerous.

Not fear of inheritance.

Not fear of outsiders.

But fear that she might have chosen the wrong man—

For her own daughter.

As soon as the car stopped, Tarini stepped out first.

She didn’t wait.

She walked inside fast.

Inaya followed quietly.

When they entered the main hall—

Navdeep was sitting on the couch.

Leaning forward.

Elbows on knees.

Face tense.

He stood up immediately when he saw them.

Tarini didn’t greet him.

She marched straight toward him.

“Where is your phone?” her voice was sharp.

Navdeep blinked. “What?”

“I have been calling you for hours.”

He ran a hand over his face.

“Oh… I actually— when I heard Sahera got shot, I rushed here immediately. I think I forgot my phone at the office.”

He said it casually.

Without realizing what that sounded like.

Tarini’s expression changed.

Something flickered in her eyes.

Did he really care so much about his brother’s daughter—

That he forgot his own daughter?

Navdeep finally looked at Inaya.

“Oh! Beta, how did the shoot go?”

Inaya stood still for a second.

Softly she said, “Papa… I ate seafood by mistake.”

Navdeep’s face changed immediately.

“What? Beta, you’re allergic! Are you fine?”

He stepped closer.

Concern finally visible.

Before Inaya could answer—

Tarini cut in sharply.

“Bas.”

Her voice echoed slightly in the hall.

“Don’t show fake concern.”

Navdeep stared at her.

“Tarini—”

“If you were so concerned about your daughter, you would have picked up my calls.”

Silence fell heavy between them.

“Inaya,” Tarini said without looking at her, “go to your room.”

Inaya hesitated.

Then quietly walked away.

Her steps slow.

Navdeep watched her leave.

“Darling, I got tense hearing Sahera got shot,” he said firmly. “Don’t you think that is a tense topic?”

Tarini’s eyes flashed.

“So my daughter being unconscious in a hospital is not tense?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“She is a guest here,” Navdeep continued, trying to stay calm. “What if something happened to her? What would I tell Tanishk? You know how much he trusts us. He sent his children here. We are responsible for them while they stay here.”

Tarini laughed bitterly.

“Responsible? Or emotionally invested?”

Navdeep frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” she stepped closer, voice trembling now, “every time something happens to them, you forget we exist.”

“That’s unfair.”

“Is it?” her eyes glistened now. “When Inaya needed you today, you were unreachable.”

“And when Sahera was shot, I couldn’t think straight!” he snapped back slightly. “She is like my own child.”

That sentence hung between them.

Like my own child.

Tarini whispered, “But she is not.”

Navdeep’s expression hardened.

“She is your brother’s daughter.”

“And Inaya is our daughter.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

Navdeep’s voice lowered.

“I care about all of them.”

“But not equally,” Tarini said quietly.

That hurt him.

He looked away for a second.

“You’re making this something it isn’t.”

“No,” she said softly now, the anger melting into something deeper. “I am seeing what it is.”

He exhaled sharply.

“This is not about love. This is about responsibility.”

“And this,” Tarini said, her voice breaking slightly, “is about priority.”

Neither of them spoke after that.

The palace felt divided.

Two parents.

Two kinds of fear.

Two children hurt on the same day—

But for different reasons.

And somewhere upstairs—

Inaya sat alone.

And Sahera slept under protection.

And below—

A marriage had just cracked a little.