In the aftermath of the slap scene, tension lingers in the room. Rakshit's phone buzzes, cutting through the silence like a knife. He glances at the screen, sees it's Vinay, the manager of his company, and swiftly answers, his tone clipped and professional. "Yes, Vinay? What is it?"

As Rakshit steps out of the room to take the call, Drishti remains inside, her heart heavy with the weight of the recent confrontation. Before she can gather her thoughts, Tejashri, Rakshit's aunt, enters the room with a sense of urgency.

"Drishti, beta, there's an important ritual that must be performed by you and Rakshit together as a newly married couple." Tejashri explains, her eyes soft with expectation.

Drishti's brows knit in concern, but she nods, trying to hide her unease. "What do we need to do, Aunty?"

Tejashri smiles warmly, handing Drishti a lit diya. "You must carry this diya to the mandir, symbolizing the light and unity you bring into each other's lives. It's essential that you both do this together."

Drishti hesitates for a moment, feeling the warmth of the diya in her palms, its flickering flame reflecting the turmoil in her heart. She nods and walks out to find Rakshit, who has just ended his call.

Standing in front of him, Drishti takes a deep breath. "Mr. Shergill." she starts, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside her. "We need to go to the mandir together to perform the ritual."

Rakshit turns to her, his face hardening with indifference. "Ritual?" he repeats, a slight scoff escaping his lips. "I don't believe in this marriage, and these show-off rituals mean nothing to me. I'm doing this just for my mother."

Drishti feels a pang of hurt at his cold dismissal, but she pushes it down, refusing to let him see how much his words affect her. "Whatever you believe, it doesn't change the fact that it's a ritual that must be completed." she replies, her voice tight with controlled emotion. "If you won't come, I'll go and complete it without you."

As she turns to leave, Rakshit suddenly grabs her wrist, his grip firm and unyielding. The sudden pull causes her to nearly collide with him, but before their bodies can crash together, Drishti instinctively shields the diya with her hand, her fingers curling protectively around the flame. She positions her other arm in front of Rakshit, blocking him from colliding with her.

Their eyes meet, and there's a fiery intensity in her gaze. "The flame should not disappear before the ritual is completed." she says, her voice low and fierce, yet carrying a profound sense of determination.

Rakshit stares at her, momentarily taken aback by the strength in her eyes. For a second, he almost forgets his disdain, lost in the depth of her unwavering resolve. But just as quickly, he shakes it off, releasing her wrist as if her touch burns him.

Drishti pulls away, her heart pounding, and walks toward the entrance of the mansion to go to the mandir, the diya in her hands casting a warm glow over her troubled features. He watches her retreating form, a mixture of confusion, frustration, and something deeper flickering in his eyes-something he's not ready to acknowledge.

AT THE MANDIR

Drishti approaches Panditji, her steps heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. Panditji looks up from his preparations and frowns slightly when he notices Rakshit's absence.

"Drishti beta, where is Rakshit?" Panditji asks, his voice gentle yet concerned.

"He won't come." Drishti replies, her tone strained but firm.

"What? Why?" Pandit ji asks, his voice laced with confusion as he frowns. "He... he has some important work to attend."

Panditji's frown deepens. "But this ritual cannot be completed without him. It's a ritual meant for couples to perform together."

Drishti opens her mouth to respond, her heart sinking with the realization that her efforts might be in vain, when suddenly the sound of a car engine disrupts the quiet. She turns to see a sleek, expensive car pulling up. The door swings open, and Rakshit steps out, his face a mask of cool indifference.

Without a word, he strides toward them, his eyes locking onto Drishti's. The air between them crackles with unspoken tension, but before she can say anything, Rakshit bends down and, with surprising ease, scoops her up into his arms, cradling her in a bridal style. The diya remains steady in her hands, the flame dancing precariously as her breath catches in her throat.

"Mr. Shergill w-what are you d-doing! Put me down!" Drishti exclaims, her voice tinged with both surprise and indignation. Her heart races at the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

Rakshit rolls his eyes, his expression one of complete disinterest. "I'm picking you up, not because I want to, but because it's a ritual." He says, his tone laced with annoyance. "You think I'm trying to get close to you? Its a ritual, I had to pick you up. Or else, I don't even pick up my shoes, let alone you. Don't flatter yourself, Mrs. Shergill-I don't even like seeing your face."

Drishti's cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and anger, but she says nothing, knowing that any retort would only escalate the situation. Instead, she tightens her grip on the diya, focusing on keeping the flame alive as they begin the ritual.

He started climbing the stairs with her in his arms, his bare feet touched the cold surface as his eyes remained focused at front.

Drishti glanced at the diya in her hand, its flame dancing with the rhythm of their movements, and asked quietly, "Why did you come here? You weren't interested in this ritual or this marriage. You even said so many things to me. Then why?"

Rakshit continued climbing, his eyes focused ahead. "Mom told me to come here. I respect my mom, so I perform all the rituals she asks, whether I like them or not."

A silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Drishti stared at him, trying to decipher the man behind those words, but Rakshit remained an enigma.

They start the first round around the mandir, the air thick with tension between them. As they move, the pallu of Drishti's yellow saree slips over Rakshit's face, blocking his view entirely. His steps stopped. He grunts in frustration, trying to shake it off, but it stubbornly clings to him.

"Pallu hatao" he orders, his voice sharp with irritation. Frustration etched on his face as he struggled to see through the fabric.

Drishti pressed her lips together, trying to suppress a giggle, her eyes dancing with mischief. The sight of him trying to shake off the saree with no success was oddly endearing.

"Remove the pallu, Mrs. Shergill." He repeated, his tone growing more irritated.

She couldn't resist teasing him. "Why should I? You didn't want to look at my face. See how fast God listened to you. He covered your face. Now you can't see my face at all."

He gritted his teeth "Just remove the pallu. I can't see anything." He demands, his frustration evident.

"You look better like this." Drishti teases, her lips curving into a small smile. But seeing the genuine irritation in his eyes, she eventually relents and carefully pulls the pallu away. Their eyes meet, and for a brief moment, the world around them seems to fade, leaving only the two of them, suspended in time.

But just as quickly, the moment passes, and they resume the ritual, each step measured and heavy with unspoken words.

As they near the end of the third round, a sudden gust of wind carries a sprinkle of red powder into Rakshit's eyes, causing him to wince in pain. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but the irritation only worsens. His eyes sting, and he instinctively closes them, his grip on Drishti tightening as he struggles to maintain his balance.

Drishti gasps softly, concern flashing in her eyes. She quickly reaches for her pallu with her free hand, the other still cradling the diya. She attempts to help him, but Rakshit keeps turning his face away, his pride refusing to let her assist.

"Why are you moving your face? Look at me!" Drishti says as she leaned closer, trying to get a better look, her voice laced with both concern and exasperation.

He turned his face away stubbornly, unwilling to admit he needed help.

"Look, you won't be able to see my face with this color in your eyes, but you'll turn blind. I can't argue with a blind man, it's no fun. So let me clean it. Just keep your ego and arrogance aside for a moment."

Rakshit grits his teeth, stubbornly avoiding her gaze, but Drishti is undeterred. She cups his cheek with her thumb and two fingers, firmly yet gently turning his face toward her. "Just stay still." she commands, her voice soft but authoritative.

Rakshit hesitates, caught off guard by the tenderness in her touch and the seriousness in her voice. Despite his initial resistance, he finds himself complying, his eyes locking onto hers as she carefully wipes away the red powder. There's something in her gaze that holds him captive-a mix of strength and vulnerability that stirs something deep within him, something he's not ready to confront.

Once she's done, they continue the ritual in silence, the weight of the moment lingering between them. They finally complete the last round and step into the mandir together, the diya still burning brightly in Drishti's hands.

Inside, they stand before the big murti of Lord Krishna, and Rakshit steals a glance at Drishti as they both prayed. Her eyes are closed, her lips moving in silent prayer. There's an intensity to her devotion that catches him off guard, and he finds himself wondering what she's praying for with such concentration.

As her prayer ends, Drishti carefully hands the diya to Panditji and touches his feet, seeking his blessings. Rakshit follows suit, his actions more mechanical, yet he can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between them.

"Let's go, Mrs. Shergill." Rakshit says finally, his voice breaking the silence. "We need to go to the office."

Drishti nods, her expression unreadable as they walk back to the car. They sit in the backseat, the tension between them palpable. The car starts, and as they drive away, the events of the ritual replay in Rakshit's mind. The small, intimate moments-her determination, the way she shielded the flame, the touch of her hand on his cheek-all swirl together, leaving him unsettled.

Drishti, on the other hand, stares out the window, her thoughts equally conflicted. The man who had shown nothing but coldness had, even if reluctantly, participated in a ritual that demanded their unity. It was a small step, but one that left her questioning the barriers between them.

Neither of them acknowledges the shift, but it lingers, like the faint scent of incense in the air, a reminder that beneath the surface of their animosity, something more complex is beginning to take root.

━━༻❁༺━━

Rakshit dropped Drishti off at the Shergill house, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he drove away, heading back to his company. As the sound of the car faded, Drishti stood in the driveway, her heart pounding with the weight of her mission. She had to find it-the one thing that could change everything. But where?

INSIDE THE SHERGILL HOUSE

Drishti entered the house, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She headed straight to Akshit's room, her heart pounding with determination. She needed to find it-whatever it was that held the key to her mission.

As she rummaged through Akshit's drawers, she muttered to herself, "It has to be here somewhere. Where are you hiding it?" But after thoroughly searching every corner, she found nothing.

With a sigh, she moved on to Mahima's room. She carefully opened closets, checked behind picture frames, and even looked under the bed, but still nothing. "Come on, Drishti! Soch soch soch... kahi toh hoga!" she whispered, frustration creeping into her voice. "If it's not here, then where?"

After checking the other rooms with the same result, Drishti slumped onto a chair in the hallway. She closed her eyes, trying to piece it all together. "The person responsible has to be in this house. And that thing I'm searching for... it has to be here. But if not in someone's room... then maybe... a secret room? A secret base?"

Her eyes snapped open as realization dawned on her. "Of course! It has to be hidden somewhere no one would think to look. I'll search the entire house again during Holi. Everyone will be outside playing, and I'll have the place to myself."

Drishti stood up, resolved. She walked back to her room and sat down at her desk, pulling out the files she needed to complete. As she set up the meetings for Rakshit, she whispered to herself, "Two more days, and I'll find it."

She was determined to find it, she had to. But...

Unknown to her, a shadowy figure watched her every move from a distance, their eyes narrowed in suspicion. Someone within the house had noticed her relentless pursuit, her determination to uncover secrets best left hidden. This person couldn't afford to have Drishti disrupt their plans, plans that if carried out successfully, could lead to the downfall of the Shergills. They knew things-dangerous things-that, if revealed, could turn the world upside down. And Drishti, with her inquisitive nature and unexpected presence, was quickly becoming a significant problem.

They whispered under their breath, "She's getting too close. Her presence here is ruining everything. If she finds out the truth, it will destroy all our plans... the Shergills will be safe, and I can't let that happen."

The figure slipped away silently, blending into the shadows, planning their next move to thwart Drishti's efforts.

━━༻❁༺━━

Divya and Akshit were once again caught up in one of their usual heated arguments, their voices bouncing off the walls as they traded sarcastic barbs.

"Agar tum abhi chup nhi huye toh mai tumhara muh tod dungi!"

"Oh really!? Tod kar dikhao!"

"Dekho merese saath na zyada smart banne ki koshish mt kro. Just return my sandwich to me you khana chor!"

"Oh? How about I throw this at your face, Ms. Doctor? It will do quite a good makeup, what say?"

"Really, Mr. Akshit Shergill? How about I slam your face in this plate full of food? You'll look more handsome." She spoke, rolling her eyes as she was already getting annoyed.

"So, you agree I'm handsome?" He leaned back on the dining table behind him, staring at her as she gritted her teeth.

Divya stood with her arms crossed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I don't reply to house clowns who are hopeless romantics and remain drown in their book 24/7."

Akshit smirked, leaning against the wall with a confident tilt to his head.

"Damn, Ms. Divya, so much information about me? Are you stalking me? Oh wait- don't tell me you're already in love with me! Ah but I can't blame you either. My charms are irresistible, you know." He winked, a smirk adorning his face.

"You know, Akshit, you're like a mosquito. Always buzzing around, annoying everyone, and impossible to get rid of." She spoke.

"A mosquito, huh? Well, at least I know how to get under your skin." He winked again with a smirk.

Divya's eyes narrowed, and instead of firing back immediately, she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a softer, almost playful tone.

"Get under my skin? You really think you have that much power over me?"

Akshit's smirk faltered slightly as she moved closer, closing the distance between them. His usual confidence wavered, and he swallowed, trying to maintain his composure. "W-What are you doing, Divya?"

Divya leaned in even closer, her face just inches from his, her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his heart skip a beat. "You know, Akshit, for someone who likes to talk big, you sure look nervous right now."

Akshit's breath hitched as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. "I'm not nervous," he stammered, but his voice lacked its usual sharpness.

Divya's lips curled into a sly smile as she noticed the effect she was having on him. She tilted her head slightly, her voice a low murmur. "Really? Because it looks to me like I've got you right where I want you."

Akshit's eyes darted to the side, trying to avoid her gaze, but he found himself trapped, unable to look away from her. "You're... you're just trying to mess with me."

Divya chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down Akshit's spine. "Maybe I am. But it's working, isn't it?"

For a moment, Akshit couldn't find any words. Divya had flipped the script on him, and he didn't know how to respond. She was in control now, and he was the one left flustered and off-balance.

Finally, Divya leaned back just enough to break the tension, but her eyes never left his. "Next time you try to get under my skin, Akshit, remember this moment. Because I can play your game too."

With that, she gave him one last lingering look before turning on her heel and walking away.

As her figure disappeared around the corner, Akshit stood frozen, the echo of her soft chuckle still ringing in his ears. His mind raced, trying to process what had just happened, but all he could focus on was the warmth that had crept up his neck and the rapid thudding of his heart.

"What... just happened?" he thought, still in a daze. His usual sharp wit seemed to have abandoned him the moment Divya leaned in. The memory of her breath, warm and close, sent another wave of heat to his cheeks.

He touched his face absentmindedly, feeling the unfamiliar warmth there. "Did I really just get nervous?" The realization made him shift uncomfortably, an odd mix of embarrassment and something else-something he couldn't quite name-settling in his chest.

"I'm Akshit! I'm not supposed to be the one getting flustered. That's her role... isn't it?" But the memory of her bold, confident gaze replayed in his mind, and he couldn't deny it. She had completely thrown him off balance.

He let out a small, almost nervous laugh at the thought. His hand slid into his pocket, and he found himself fidgeting with the edges of his phone, a rare sign of his unease.

Akshit's thoughts drifted back to the way her eyes had locked onto his, the playful smirk that had curled her lips as she leaned in closer. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the lingering blush on his face. "Maybe I underestimated her...."

His mind continued to replay the scene, and the more he thought about it, the more he felt a strange sense of admiration.

Heat crept to his cheeks and he hid his face in his palms, jumping slightly when he realized what he was actually doing.

"NO WHAT? I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THIS! IM THEE AKSHIT SHERGILL!" He looked around as if to make sure no one had witnessed his moment of weakness.

With a sigh, Akshit ran a hand through his hair again, trying to regain his composure. "Okay, Akshit. Get it together. It was just a little banter... nothing more." But even as he tried to convince himself, the warmth in his chest lingered, and he knew deep down that things had shifted between them, even if just a little. But a thought striked in his mind and he gasped, sudden realization hitting him like a block of bricks.

"Wait... DID SHE JUST WON THAT ARGUMENT?!? ugh!"

"Watch it Divya Mehra... Next time...." he thought, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Next time, I'll be the one to win the argument and catch her off guard."

"Kya yaar Kanha ji! Socha tha yeh Gopi bahu hai, yeh toh Kriti Sanon nikli." He ran a hand through his hair again, not accepting he likes the dominating side of hers as much as he likes her other sides.

He murmured before walking away but the scene still lingered on the corner of his mind.