Khushi's anger erupted like a storm, her fury palpable as she wreaked havoc in the room. The delicate decor was scattered, the once neat and orderly space now a chaotic mess. Her movements were frantic, driven by a deep sense of betrayal and heartbreak. The sight of her own reflection in the shattered mirror only fueled her rage; she was a mirror image of Maya's bitterness, caught in the same destructive cycle.

"Dost aap bahut buri ho! Aapne mere dadda ko chenn liya mujhse!" she screamed, her voice cracking with raw emotion. The words were a desperate cry for recognition and justice, her anguish spilling out uncontrollably. She collapsed onto the floor, her body shaking with sobs as she mourned the loss of her father's affection.

Maya, seizing the opportunity, approached her daughter with a calculated calmness. She sank down beside Khushi, her movements tender but insincere. As Khushi clung to her, seeking solace, Maya's embrace was cold and manipulative. She stroked Khushi's hair, her touch meant to soothe but primarily intended to control.

"Bas beta, rote nahi hai. Aansu insaan ko kamzor bante hai, aur tum Maya ki beti ho, aise nahi rote," Maya said softly, her voice a blend of feigned sympathy and calculated reassurance. Her words were laced with a dangerous mix of comfort and command, designed to mold Khushi's emotions to her advantage.

Khushi looked up at her mother, her eyes swollen and red, her voice a whisper of desperation. "Toh kya karun main Maa? Dadda ne ek baar bhi nahi kaha Khushi, dadda loves you! Unke liye dost mujhse zyada important ho gayi," she lamented, feeling utterly forsaken by the father she had once adored. The emotional rift between them was like a chasm that seemed insurmountable.

Maya's gaze hardened with resolve. "Khushi, jab apna haq na mile toh use chenna padta hai," she advised, her tone dripping with a dangerous resolve. Her words were meant to manipulate Khushi into action, framing the situation as a battle to be fought and won.

Khushi, still reeling from the pain, turned her tear-streaked face towards Maya. "Matlab?" she asked, her voice barely audible, but tinged with the spark of a new determination.

Maya wiped away Khushi's tears with practiced ease, her touch deceptively gentle. "Matlab! Shaadi attend karo aur batao sabko kaise Manvi ne tumhare dadda ko tumse door kar diya. Tumhare dadda khud yeh shaadi nahi karenge... emotionally blackmail karo unhe," she instructed, her voice filled with a dark promise of victory. Her plan was to turn Khushi's hurt into a weapon, to manipulate the situation to her advantage.

Khushi's face, still flushed with anger and betrayal, began to harden with resolve. She hugged Maya tightly, her emotions swirling between grief and a newfound purpose. "Maa, aap sahi kah rahi ho! Ab dekhna kaise dadda ko main aapke aur apne paas wapas laati hun," she vowed, her voice resolute despite the tears that still glistened in her eyes.

Maya's smile was one of satisfaction, her eyes gleaming with the knowledge that her plan was working. "I am waiting," she said, her tone dripping with anticipation and malevolence.

As Khushi rose and left the house, her steps were purposeful, her mind racing with the task ahead. Maya's laughter followed her out, a cruel sound that echoed through the empty room. "Silly girl!" Maya muttered to herself, the words laced with scorn as she reveled in the success of her manipulation. Her plan was in motion, and she was prepared to watch it unfold with cold, calculated glee.

Manvi drove home with a heavy heart, her thoughts a swirl of emotions. The once joyous anticipation of her wedding day had turned into a nightmarish ordeal for both her and Aarav. She stole glances at him, noting his despondent silence and the deep lines of distress etched across his face. The man who had been her pillar of strength now appeared as though he had been ravaged by a storm.

Aarav sat beside her, his posture slumped as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. His eyes were distant, lost in the tumult of recent events. The sight of him in such a state tugged at Manvi's heartstrings. She reached out and placed her hand gently on his, a gesture meant to offer comfort and solidarity. When Aarav looked at her, his smile was a pale reflection of its usual warmth, a mask hiding the turmoil within.

Trying to lift the mood, Manvi said with a touch of playful warmth, "Yeh kya? Mera dulha iss tarah mujhse shaadi karega aaj?" Her attempt to lighten the atmosphere was sincere, though it carried the weight of concern and affection.

Aarav's eyes met hers, and he let out a deep sigh, the kind that spoke volumes of his inner pain. Yet, even in his agony, he found it in himself to muster a smile for her. It was a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was there nonetheless. "Ji nahi! Aaj yeh dulha dulhan se bhi zyada acha lagega," he said, his voice carrying a mix of resignation and determination. His words were meant to soothe her, to assure her that despite everything, their bond remained intact.

Manvi's heart ached at the sight of his forced cheerfulness. She reached out and gently squeezed his hand. "Aaravji, sab thik ho jayega. Bas ek baar yeh shaadi ho jaye," she reassured him, her voice soft and soothing. Her confidence was a lifeline, a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of their distress.

Aarav's mind replayed the traumatic events of the previous night, the cruel manipulations, and the painful confrontation with his daughter. "Haan Manvi, ab toh main bhi chahta hun yeh shaadi ho," he admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of resolve and sorrow. "Rahi baat Khushi ki, toh kaise bhool gaya main, hai toh usme Maya ka khoon. Uski tarah hi mujhe hurt karti rahegi," he added, his tone heavy with the realization of how deeply Maya's manipulations had wounded both him and his daughter.

Manvi's heart sank at his words, her own pain mirrored in his. The understanding of how deeply he was hurt by Maya's actions was palpable. They reached the Malhotra mansion, and Sharda's face lit up at the sight of Aarav, her joy momentarily eclipsing the worry in her eyes. However, her gaze soon fell upon the bruises and the evident distress on Aarav's face. It was clear to Sharda that the marks were the handiwork of Maya, for no one else could have caused such harm.

"Kaki, mere dulhe ka zara makeover kar dijiye," Manvi requested, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. Her words were an attempt to shift the focus, to prepare for the ceremony with whatever grace and dignity they could muster.

Sharda nodded with a reassuring smile, though her concern was evident. She gently guided Aarav to a private room, her maternal instincts kicking in as she took charge of ensuring he was ready for the wedding. Manvi, understanding the importance of her own preparations, made her way upstairs to her room. As she ascended the staircase, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, her heart torn between hope and despair. She needed to be ready, to step into the role of the bride with grace, even as the shadows of recent events loomed large over them all.

Manvi glanced at her wedding lehenga, a rich tapestry of colors and intricate embroidery that seemed to shimmer with a life of its own. She admired the way it flowed around her, the fabric catching the light in delicate patterns. As she settled into the final stages of her makeup and jewelry, she felt a pang of sadness. She wished Khushi could have been part of their happiness today. The absence of her stepdaughter weighed heavily on her heart, casting a shadow over the joy she was trying to embrace.

Just then, she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Khushi standing behind her, her presence like a soothing balm. Khushi's face was illuminated by a soft, tentative smile, and her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "Mere liye dadda ki khushiyan matter karti hai sirf unke liye wapas aayi hun," Khushi said, her voice steady but emotional.

Manvi's heart swelled with relief and gratitude. Khushi's presence, even in the midst of this tumult, was enough to bring a flicker of warmth back into the room. She nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Thank you, Khushi," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Khushi gave a small, reassuring nod before heading towards Aarav's room. The mansion seemed to hold its breath as she moved through the corridors, each step echoing with a mixture of hope and hesitation. She found Aarav seated on a chair, his face lined with pain and fatigue. Sharda was carefully tending to his wounds, her hands skilled and gentle as she wrapped a bandage around his head. The bruise from the rod was still fresh, and the injury had caused a noticeable loss of blood.

"Beta, yeh pagdi mein chup jayegi," Sharda said softly, her tone both comforting and practical. She was determined to make sure Aarav looked presentable despite the visible signs of his recent ordeal.

Aarav managed a pained smile, though it barely masked the deeper turmoil within him. "Yeh toh chup jayega kaki, lekin mere dil mein jo dard ho raha hai usey main kaise chupaunga? Meri beti hi meri khushiyon mein shamil nahi hai," he confessed, his voice laden with sadness. The physical pain was a mere echo of the emotional agony he was enduring, exacerbated by the estrangement from his daughter.

"Dadda, main hun," Khushi's voice cut through the silence, her tone both firm and tender. She had entered the room quietly, her eyes moist but resolute.

Aarav's gaze shifted to the door, his heart lifting at the sight of his daughter. A genuine smile broke through his pain as Khushi rushed to him, enveloping him in a tight embrace. In that moment, all the anger, accusations, and misunderstandings seemed to dissolve. Khushi was both his strength and his vulnerability, and despite the recent confrontation, his love for her remained undiminished. "Khushi, tum aa gayi," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion.

"Haaan, Dadda. Khushi aayi hai sirf aapke liye," she replied, her voice steady as she clung to him.

Aarav's heart ached with both relief and sorrow as he pulled back slightly and pressed tender kisses on Khushi's face. Tears began to slip down his cheeks, each one a testament to the struggle he had faced.

Khushi gently wiped them away, her smile warm and comforting. "Dulha rota hua acha nahi lagta," she said softly, her tone light yet filled with care. She picked up the turban, and with Sharda's assistance, carefully tied it around Aarav's head.

Aarav was deeply moved by her gesture, unable to fully grasp why she had shifted so quickly from anger to affection. It was clear that Khushi's behavior was a reflection of Maya's influence, but her act of kindness was a balm to his wounded soul. He resolved to speak with her after the wedding, hoping to bridge the gap between them and understand her perspective more fully.

As Khushi finished arranging the turban, a serene calm settled over the room. The earlier tension seemed to dissipate, replaced by a delicate and tentative sense of reconciliation. Aarav looked at his daughter with a heart full of hope, gratitude, and a profound sense of relief. Despite the tumultuous journey, their bond remained a beacon of strength and love, guiding them through the storm.

Aarav and Khushi stepped out of the room together, the atmosphere around them vibrant and alive with the anticipation of the wedding. The baraat, a lively procession, awaited them outside. The dhols beat a rhythmic and jubilant cadence, their deep, resonant sounds filling the air with infectious energy. The groom's relatives and friends were in high spirits, their dances animated and exuberant, a sea of bright colors and rhythmic movements.

Aarav climbed into the open decker car, adorned with an array of flowers that cascaded in a riot of colors. The car was a spectacle of celebration, a mobile throne for the groom that sparkled under the sunlight. As Aarav settled into the decorated vehicle, he glanced around, taking in the lively scene before him. The car's interior was plush and comfortable, yet the vibrancy of the exterior decorations seemed to infuse every moment with a sense of festivity.

Khushi, standing beside the car, was a whirlwind of energy and joy. She had taken on the role of the baraat's cheerleader with infectious enthusiasm. Clutching a dhol, she played it with spirited gusto, her hands moving with a practiced rhythm. Her face was illuminated by an exuberant smile as she called out to the crowd, her voice carrying over the din of the dhols, "Mere dadda ki baraat hai! Nikli toh shaan se!"

Aarav watched with a mixture of wonder and confusion as his daughter reveled in the celebration. The unexpected joy in her eyes, the genuine happiness that shone from her face, left him both bewildered and touched. Her earlier confrontation seemed a distant memory in this moment of pure, unfiltered celebration.

As the baraat moved forward, the crowd danced and sang around the car, the atmosphere charged with jubilant energy. The flowers on the car seemed to come alive in the rhythmic sway of the music, and the dhols' beats resonated with the heartbeats of everyone present. Aarav and Khushi joined in the dance, their steps in sync with the rhythm of the dhols, their movements a blend of grace and exuberance.

Aarav couldn't help but smile, a genuine, heartfelt smile that spoke of his complex emotions. He looked at Khushi, whose infectious enthusiasm had transformed the day from one of sorrow to one of celebration. Their shared moment of joy, amidst the vibrant celebration, was a testament to the enduring strength of their bond.

As they moved towards the wedding venue, the car glided through the crowd, the dhols continuing their celebratory beat. The guests danced around them, their movements creating a swirling mosaic of color and sound. Aarav felt a renewed sense of hope and optimism, even as he remained uncertain about the future. For now, he allowed himself to be carried away by the joyous energy of the baraat, embracing the happiness that Khushi's presence brought to this significant day.