Meera stood frozen at the threshold of the grand mansion, her heart pounding so fiercely that she could feel it in her throat.

The opulent home she once knew so well now seemed like a fortress of dread, every brick a reminder of the horrors she had endured within its walls. The memories clawed at her, pulling her back to the moment when her father and uncle had betrayed her in the name of their twisted sense of honor. They had buried her alive, erasing her existence as though she were nothing more than a stain on their pride.

Her legs trembled, refusing to move forward. The weight of fear was paralyzing, a cold hand gripping her heart and refusing to let go.

"Shaurya, please... I'll do anything you ask, but I can't go inside," Meera whispered, her voice trembling with panic. Her wide, terrified eyes searched his face, pleading for mercy. "I beg you, don't make me face them."

Shaurya's grip on her shoulders tightened, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. His touch, though firm, was surprisingly tender—so different from the man she had known this morning.

"Shhh," he soothed, his voice a low, calming murmur. "Remember what I told you, Meera. You are Meera Shaurya Pratap Agnivanshi now. My wife"

This time her name sounded different when he said it. It was as if he was weaving a shield around her with every word.

"You don't have to fear anyone anymore," he continued, his dark eyes boring into hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "No one would dare to even lay a finger on you. Not as long as I'm here. Your husband will always stand beside you."

Husband

Meera stared at him, struggling to believe his words. The man before her, who had once been so cold and distant, was now offering her the very thing she had craved for so long—safety. But her mind was a battlefield of doubt and fear, the scars of betrayal too deep to heal with mere words.

"Now breathe, Meera," Shaurya instructed gently, guiding her through deep, steady breaths. His voice was an anchor, pulling her back from the edge of panic. She followed his lead, inhaling shakily and exhaling the fear that clung to her like a shadow.

She had no other choice. It was either her father's wrath or Shaurya's —and deep down she somehow knew what defying him could cost her.

"Such a good girl, wifey," Shaurya murmured, a small smile playing on his lips as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Meera's skin prickled at the contact, the warmth of his lips a stark contrast to the coldness she had grown accustomed to. He was completely different from the man she had known back at his home—more patient, more... protective. It was disorienting. Almost as if he had two personalities living inside of him.

"Let's go," he said, reaching for her hand.

She hesitated, her feet still rooted to the ground, unwilling to cross the threshold into the nightmare that awaited her. Shaurya noticed her reluctance and turned to face her fully, his expression softening.

"Mai hoon na," he reassured her, his voice gentle yet resolute. "Come."

The sincerity in his words made something inside her crack, a tiny fissure in the wall of fear she had built around herself. For the first time, she felt a flicker of something other than terror—a fragile, tentative hope that perhaps she wasn't as alone as she had thought.

Meera nodded, her throat too tight to speak. With a deep breath, she allowed Shaurya to guide her inside the mansion, her hand clasped tightly in his. As they crossed the threshold, the familiar scent of sandalwood and incense filled her nostrils, bringing back a flood of memories both bitter and sweet. But Shaurya's presence beside her, solid and unwavering, kept her grounded.

They walked through the grand foyer, the marble floors gleaming under the chandelier's light. Every step felt like walking into a lion's den, but Shaurya's hand in hers was a lifeline, sheltering her in the present.

As they approached the living room, Meera's heart rate spiked, her breath quickening with every step.

They entered the room, Shaurya looked at meera's family, his sister and her in laws and her husband now most probably his ex-bestfriend, Vikrant, the conversation ceased abruptly as their eyes landed on Meera.

Her father and uncle turned to face them, their expressions a mix of shock and disdain as they took in the sight of Meera standing beside Shaurya, her hand firmly clasped in his.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Adhiraj spat, his voice dripping with venom as he whispered. "I buried you with my own hands. You should be dead!"

Shaurya stepped between them, his towering presence shielding Meera from her father's rage. His eyes were cold as steel, cutting through the air with a force that silenced the room.

"Indeed, she is dead," Shaurya said, his voice low and dangerous. "The girl you knew as your daughter is gone. The woman standing before you is mine now—Meera Shaurya Pratap Agnivanshi. So, I suggest you back off."

Meera's father's eyes flicked to the symbols of her new identity—the mangalsutra around her neck, the sindoor in her hair, the chooda on her wrists. Each one a testament to the life she now belonged to. The realization struck him like a blow, and he recoiled slightly, his gaze narrowing in disbelief.

But Shaurya wasn't finished. With a sharp motion, he pulled out a piece of paper and shoved it into the man's chest. The marriage certificate—proof of her new life, her new allegiance.

Meera clutched shaurya's hand as she tried not to faint just by the mere presence of her father. She wanted to laugh at the irony. How once she wouldn't go a day without talking to her father for hours and now she didn't dare to exist in his presence anymore.

Meera's father's hands trembled as he took the document, his eyes scanning it quickly. Shock registered on his face, followed by a cold, calculating expression. He glared at Meera with a smirk that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Well then," he sneered, his voice laced with contempt. "If that's the case, she's your responsibility now. I don't care what happens to her. She's no longer my concern."

He turned to Shaurya, his tone dripping with false sincerity. "Since you're like a son to me, Shaurya, let me be clear—she's only welcome in this home as your wife and nothing else but it would be better if she doesn't grace us with her presence."

Shaurya was about to roll his eyes at him, when a fist came out of nowhere, slamming into his jaw with a force that nearly knocked him off balance. Meera gasped, her heart lurching in her chest as she saw the blood trickle from the corner of his mouth.

It was Vikrant, his face twisted with rage as he grabbed Shaurya by the collar, yanking him forward. His eyes burned with betrayal.

"You bastard!" Vikrant roared, shaking Shaurya violently. "How dare you marry her? You traitor!"