Vikrant stormed out of Adhiraj's study, his face flushed with anger and frustration. The relentless lectures from his father and Adhiraj about reputation and family honor had been a suffocating weight on his shoulders. Each word seemed to pile another brick onto his mounting resentment, until he could no longer bear the oppressive atmosphere.

He was halfway down the corridor when he heard Shaurya's voice call out, breaking the silence of his furious retreat.

"Vikrant!" Shaurya's tone was firm, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Vikrant halted abruptly, his body tensing as he turned to face Shaurya. The two men stood locked in a silent battle of wills, their gazes meeting with a mix of defiance and challenge.

Shaurya approached him, his demeanor calm and collected, a stark contrast to Vikrant's seething anger. "Look, Vikrant," Shaurya began, his voice steady. "I think we should move on from this. We both have our own lives now. We're married, we have our wives to look after."

Vikrant scoffed, the sound bitter and derisive. "Wives? You think this is about wives? Did you not hear a word I said inside? I'm divorcing Ishani tomorrow. I want nothing more to do with her."

Shaurya's lips curled into a smirk, an expression that mingled pity with a touch of satisfaction. "Alright, divorce her then. She has me, her brother, to look out for her. But tsk, tsk," he continued, his voice taking on a mocking tone, "poor Meera. She'll be the one to suffer for your actions."

The smirk on Shaurya's face only fueled Vikrant's fury. "You bastard," Vikrant spat, his voice cracking with raw emotion. "You have no right to talk about Meera like that."

Shaurya's gaze hardened, his expression unyielding. "Why not? She is my wife" he echoed, the words dripping like salt on Vikrant's wounded soul.

"She would never be yours. She loves me." Vikrant challenged.

"Is that so? Don't worry I will change that soon" Shaurya smirked.

"You fucker" Vikrant cursed him.

Shaurya took a step forward, his eyes blazing with rage. "You better take care of my sister, Vikrant. Otherwise, you don't know what I'll do. And always remember this—while Ishani will always have me to protect her, Meera is alone now. I am her only shield from this cruel society."

Shaurya's words hung in the air, heavy with the promise of retribution. Vikrant's fists clenched at his sides, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. The weight of Shaurya's threat was suffocating, a stark reminder of the precarious balance of power and protection that now governed their lives.

"So now," Shaurya continued, his tone shifting to one of cold finality, "be a good man and apologize to my sister. Make things right. Else every tear that leaves my sister's eyes," Shaurya added with a chilling calm, "Meera will cry a river for that."

Vikrant's jaw tightened, his mind racing as he processed Shaurya's ultimatum. The implication of Shaurya's words was clear: if he didn't mend his ways, the consequences would be severe and it could get worse for Meera. His and Meera's fate hung in the balance, contingent on his next actions. He needed to get both of them out of this trap that Shaurya and Ishani had set up for them.

"I'm giving you a chance," Shaurya said, his voice laced with a dangerous finality. "Don't make me regret it. Make things right with Ishani, or Meera will pay the price."

"Is that why you married Meera?" Vikrant hissed, his anger barely contained. "So you could keep your sister pleased? so you could blackmail me into continuing this fucking stupid marriage with your sister?"

Shaurya's expression remained remarkably calm, almost detached. He met Vikrant's fury with a cool, unflinching gaze. "I didn't," he replied nonchalantly, as though discussing the weather. "I married Meera to protect her. That was my sole intention.

The dismissal in Shaurya's voice only fueled Vikrant's anger further. "Protect her? By using her as a pawn in your twisted game?"

Shaurya's eyes narrowed slightly, though his demeanor remained steady. "If you want to see it that way, go ahead. But the truth is, Meera needed protection from the very people who were supposed to care for her. As for you, Vikrant, this marriage with Ishani was never about me blackmailing you. Everything that happened was unexpected . But now that It has happened, I would ensure that my sister lives happily with you and your family where she wouldn't be mistreated."

Vikrant's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. "So you think you're so noble, saving your sister while playing with people's lives?"

Vikrant's eyes burned with contempt as he continued, "You and your sister are nothing but selfish. I guess that's why you're both left without a family."

Shaurya's hand shot out, grabbing Vikrant by the collar, his grip tight with fury. For a moment, the air between them crackled with tension, but then Shaurya released him, his eyes dark with unspoken threats. Without a word, he walked downstairs and seized Meera's hand, yanking her toward the door. His touch was a far cry from the gentle way he'd led her into the house earlier.

As he dragged her away, Meera's heart pounded in fear. The tender man she thought she knew was gone, replaced by the old Shaurya whose rage burned in his eyes.

Vikrant's voice rang out, sharp and desperate, as Shaurya dragged Meera toward the door. "Where are you dragging her like that?" he yelled, surging forward and clutching Meera's free hand. Now, she was caught between them, one hand held in Shaurya's furious grip, the other tightly held by Vikrant.

Shaurya's eyes blazed with anger as he looked down at Vikrant's hand wrapped around Meera's. "She is my wife, and what I do with her shouldn't concern you," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom.

Meera's eyes welled with tears, both from the terror of Shaurya's wrath and the bruising grip he had on her wrist. The bangles she wore dug painfully into her skin, making her whimper in pain.

"Leave her hand; you're hurting her," Vikrant demanded, his voice laced with a mix of anger and concern as he saw the anguish etched on Meera's face.

Shaurya's smirk was cold and merciless. "And I'll hurt her more if you don't rethink what I said earlier," he sneered. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer. "Now, leave my wife's hand," he commanded, roughly jerking Vikrant's hand away from Meera.

Vikrant stood there, his heart pounding with a mixture of helplessness and fury, as Shaurya dragged Meera out of the mansion. Once outside, Shaurya forcefully shoved her into the front seat of the car before settling in the driver's seat and speeding away.

The car roared down the road, the mansion fading into the distance, but Shaurya suddenly pulled over on the side. Meera flinched as he leaned toward her, fearing another outburst. Instead, he reached behind her seat and retrieved a first aid box.

"Give me your hand," he said, his voice still firm but devoid of the earlier venom.

Hesitantly, Meera extended her injured wrist. Shaurya's touch was unexpectedly gentle as he examined the wound, carefully removing the broken glass bangle from her pale skin. She whimpered when he extracted a shard from her wrist, but Shaurya didn't meet her eyes, his expression unreadable as he methodically bandaged the wound.

"Sleep," he ordered curtly, as he started the car and drove back home.

Meera didn't argue, she rested her head against the window glass, before a tear escaped her eyes. Soon sleep consumed her.