Abhira stood her ground, her gaze steady as she tried to soothe the storm raging within Armaan. "Armaan, just hear me out," she said softly, extending a hand between him and Abhir, her calm presence a quiet barrier. "I know you're upset, but yelling won't solve anything. Please—let's just talk."

Armaan let out a bitter laugh, eyes fixed on Abhir, who stood slightly behind Abhira, silent and tense. "Talk? Really, Abhira? What's left to say? He stood there and confessed his love for Charu—in front of his own wife! What kind of man does that?"

Abhira's shoulders dropped slightly, the weight of constant conflict evident in her posture. "Main samajh rahi hoon, Armaan. But shouting again and again won't change what's already happened. I'm only asking for one calm conversation. Just one."

But Armaan wasn't ready to let it go. His eyes narrowed, voice laced with sarcasm as he pointed at Abhir. "You know what? Let's do this the 'calm' way. Let's sit down and decide—should we crown Abhir the most shameless man in Udaipur? Or maybe the whole world? Personally, I'm voting for option B."

His words cut through the room like glass, sharp and unforgiving.

Abhira flinched but didn't waver. Her eyes flicked to Abhir, who stood quietly, gaze lowered in guilt or shame—it was hard to tell. She turned back to Armaan, her voice firmer now. "I get that you're hurting. But this?" She gestured between him and Abhir. "This rage—it's only burning what's left. We need to stop adding fuel to the fire."

"Yaa toh mujhe iss problem ka solution do, yaa mujhe rokna mat!" Armaan's voice thundered through the room, heavy with frustration and fury. His chest heaved with the effort of holding himself back, fists clenched at his sides like coiled springs ready to snap.

Abhira stepped forward cautiously, her hands raised slightly in a gesture of peace. "Pehle tum shaant ho jao..." she began, her voice calm but firm, trying to be the grounding force in the storm.

But Armaan wasn't having it. "Solution do, Abhira!" he snapped, cutting her off mid-sentence. His voice cracked with emotion now—not just anger, but hurt, betrayal, disbelief. Abhira opened her mouth again, but this time, no words came. She just looked at him, torn between reason and the chaos unravelling in front of her.

"Ab mujhe mat rokna," Armaan muttered darkly, taking a step forward, his eyes locked on Abhir like a predator zeroing in on its prey. Abhir didn't move. He stood silently, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched, bracing for whatever was about to come.

Armaan paused, his fist halfway in the air. "Kya?" he demanded, chest still heaving.

Abhira swallowed hard and took a breath before dropping the words that would change everything. "Solution hai divorce." Her voice was steady, deliberate now. "Humein Kiara aur Abhir bhai ka divorce karwa dena chahiye."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Armaan blinked, stunned into stillness, the anger on his face morphing into shock. His hand fell to his side slowly, as if the weight of her words had physically brought it down.

Abhir's head lifted, eyes flickering with a complex mix of guilt, disbelief, and perhaps, a strange kind of relief.

Abhira stood her ground, unwavering. "Yehi sahi hai, Armaan. Jab rishte mein sirf dard reh jaaye... jab pyaar ke naam par sirf guilt aur betrayal bache... toh us rishte ko todna behtar hota hai usmein jeena se."

The silence in the room, heavy and suffocating, was suddenly torn apart—not by shouts, but by the sharp, deliberate sound of clapping. Everyone turned in unison, startled. Kiara stood near the doorway, arms crossed and eyes gleaming—not with joy, but with cold fury. Her slow, mocking applause echoed through the room like the ticking of a bomb about to explode.

"Wow, bhabhi... kya solution diya hai aapne," she said, her voice laced with icy sarcasm as she walked forward, heels clicking against the floor, each step a declaration of war. Her gaze was fixed on Abhira, burning with disbelief and betrayal. "Sach mein... aap toh kamaal kar gayi."

She stopped just a few feet away from her, her expression contorted between a bitter smile and restrained rage. "Mujhe ek baat bataiye... aapne aur aapke bhai ne khud ko meri zindagi ka bhagwaan samajh liya hai kya?" she snapped, her voice rising now, trembling with emotion. "Aap dono decide karenge ki mujhe kis ke saath rehna chahiye, kis se alag hona chahiye? Mera opinion, meri feelings, sab kuch irrelevant hai aap logon ke liye?"

Abhira stood still, her eyes locked with Kiara's, absorbing every word. She didn't interrupt. She didn't defend. Not yet. Her silence wasn't weakness—it was restraint. But beside her, Abhir looked like he'd turned to stone.

His shoulders were stiff, his jaw clenched, and his eyes—those eyes that once held confidence—were filled with shame and confusion. He couldn't look at Kiara, not directly. Not after everything.

Kiara took a sharp breath, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears, her voice now loud, furious, and impossible to ignore. She turned toward the others with arms slightly outstretched, her tone suddenly theatrical, but every word steeped in heartbreak.

"Chaliye baat karte hain Great Abhir Sharma ki—Rockstar Abhir Sharma!" she spat the name like it left a bitter taste in her mouth. "Jinka jab man kiya, inhone mujhse shaadi kar li. Jab man kiya, toh meri hi behen ke saath affair chala liya." She paused, the weight of the sentence hanging in the air like smoke after a fire.

Her voice trembled as she pushed forward, now more raw than loud. "Jab man kiya, inhone mujhe dhokha diya. Har ek sach mujhse chhupaya—har ek pal jhooth mein jeene diya mujhe. Aur jab mujhe sach ka pata chala, jab meri duniya toot kar mere saamne bikhri... toh inhone kya kaha?" She turned to Abhir now, her voice breaking but her gaze fierce. "Inhone kaha ki yeh shaadi sirf ek galti thi. Sirf ek galti."

She let out a cold, hollow laugh—one that carried more pain than amusement. Her eyes flickered back to Abhir, then down to the floor as if searching for the strength to continue. But when she spoke again, her voice was stronger—sharper.

"Inhone kaha ki yeh thak gaye hain. Rishta nibhaate-nibhaate thak gaye hain." She paused, her lip quivering. Then suddenly, her voice surged with intensity. "Lekin kiya kya hai jo yeh thak gaye?" Her hands trembled as she gestured to herself. "Iss rishtay mein jitni bhi mehnat, jitne bhi efforts hue... sab maine kiye. Maine har jhoot sehkar bhi rishta chalaya, har raat khud ko samjhaaya ki shayad kal sab theek ho jaaye. Maine har baar inki khamoshi ka matlab samajhne ki koshish ki. Aur aaj yeh keh rahe hain ki thak gaye?"

Her chest heaved as she finished, her voice echoing in the stunned silence that followed. No one moved. No one dared to speak. The truth she had laid bare was brutal—and it demanded to be heard.

Kiara's voice dropped, thick with emotion, her eyes glassy with tears that refused to fall. She looked straight at Abhir, her expression a mix of disbelief and devastation.

"Inhone mujhe sirf ek tissue ki tarah treat kiya," she said quietly at first, but the pain behind her words made them echo louder than any scream. "Jab zarurat thi—jab akelepan ne inhe dhoondha, jab duniya se bhaag ke chhupne ke liye ek naam chahiye tha—tab main kaam aayi. Aur jab dil bhar gaya, jab kisi aur ke liye inka dil dhadakne laga... toh mujhe bas ek bekaar, ganda tissue samajh ke fenk diya. Bina kisi sharam ke, bina kisi maafi ke."

She slowly turned toward Charu now, her eyes bloodshot with tears that she had long held back. Her gaze was a storm—fury and heartbreak woven together. Today, she was no longer the silent, hurt sister. Today, she was going to make sure everyone knew exactly where they stood—especially the ones who had taken her love, her trust, for granted.

"And now," she said, her voice colder than anyone had ever heard it before, "meet the great lawyer, Charu Bansal." Her words dripped with sarcasm, each one sharper than a blade. She paused for a moment, her eyes never leaving Charu's face, as if daring her to interrupt. "I used to tell everyone—my Charu di is the best. She's the one who would always have my back, the one who would do anything for me. I believed that with all my heart, without a second thought."

Her breath hitched, and the anger she'd been holding onto exploded in her chest, flooding her voice as she continued.

"But what I didn't know, what I never imagined in my worst nightmares, was that you were a snake. A snake slithering through my life, poisoning everything—my relationships, my trust, my very existence. All the while, pretending to care, pretending to be the loving sister I thought I knew." She took a step closer, the words coming faster now, each one more venomous than the last.

Her breath hitched, and the anger she'd been holding onto exploded in her chest, flooding her voice as she continued.

Kiara's voice grew even colder, her words cutting deeper with every syllable. Her eyes locked onto Charu with a look of pure disdain, as if the woman standing before her had become nothing more than a shadow of the person she once trusted.

"You've just proven it, haven't you?" Kiara continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "You've shown everyone exactly who you really are. After all, you're nothing but Sanjay Bansal's daughter, aren't you?" She let the words hang in the air, thick with scorn. "Betrayal runs in your blood, Ms. Bansal. It's in your veins, coursing through you, just like it did with your father. You didn't even need to try, did you? It was always a part of you,

hidden behind that pretty face and those so-called noble values you like to flaunt."

She let out a small, bitter laugh, as if the very idea of Charu's righteousness was laughable. "You've proved that you're just like him, haven't you? A traitor through and through. It's in your very DNA."

Charu, for her part, didn't raise her head. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground, her hands trembling slightly as the weight of Kiara's words crushed down on her. The silence in the room was suffocating, and despite the harsh accusations, Charu seemed unable to muster the strength to defend herself. She had no words to counter the truth that Kiara was so ruthlessly laying out.

Sanjay, unable to bear the rising tension any longer, finally lost control. His voice thundered across the room, sharp and commanding, as he pointed an accusatory finger at Kiara.

"Zubaan sambhal ke baat karo, Kiara!" Sanjay shouted, his anger radiating like a storm about to break loose. He stepped forward, his eyes filled with fury, every word coming out like a slap in the face. "This is enough!"

But Kiara, her face flushed with righteous anger, stood her ground without flinching. Her eyes were blazing, burning with a fury that was palpable, and she turned toward him, her voice unwavering.

"Chilaaye mat, fufa saa." She shot back, her tone ice-cold and dripping with contempt. The sharpness in her voice left no room for negotiation. "I'm not Charu di, who will just sit back and take whatever you throw my way."

Her eyes locked onto Sanjay's, filled with a fire so fierce, it seemed to freeze the air around them. There was something in her gaze—something so intense—that for a moment, Sanjay actually faltered.

The fury in Kiara's eyes was unlike anything he had ever seen. It wasn't the usual defiance that could be easily dismissed. No, this was different. The rage radiating from her was so raw and unfiltered, it made even the seasoned Sanjay shiver involuntarily.

Kiara's words rang in the room like a challenge, and for the first time in a long while, Sanjay found himself backing away, realizing that the woman before him was no longer the docile, obedient niece he once knew. She was no longer afraid to speak her truth, and the weight of that realization hit him harder than any of her words.

Kiara's voice cracked with a mixture of frustration and raw emotion as she turned her gaze back to Charu. Every word she spoke felt like a heavy blow, each sentence building upon the last, a torrent of truth and pain that had been boiling inside her for so long.

"You... you left Abhir, Charu di. You walked away from him." Kiara said, her voice shaking but still holding an edge of strength. "I was the one who stood by him. I was the one who fought for him when everyone else turned their backs. I put in all the effort I could to win his heart, to make him see the love I had for him, to make him believe in us. But every single time, no matter what I did, you made sure to ruin it. You destroyed everything."

She took a deep breath, her fists clenching by her sides, the pain of it all flooding back to her. Her voice, though still full of anguish, began to grow more furious as she continued.

"I don't even understand what kind of magic, what kind of spell you've cast on him, Charu." Kiara's words hit harder now, her eyes locking onto Charu with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "It's like no matter what, you've got him under your control. He's trapped in your world, and no matter what I say or do, he can't seem to break free from you. I don't know what kind of hold you have over him, but it's like he's been completely blinded."

Her chest rose and fell with every word, each one soaked in frustration and hurt. Charu, standing before her, could only keep her head lowered, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. She had no defense, no way to explain her actions. All the guilt she had been holding inside now seemed too much to bear.

Kiara's eyes then shifted to Abhir, her gaze piercing, filled with both disappointment and a seething anger that had been building for too long. She took a step closer, her voice lowering, but each word carrying the weight of a bitter truth she needed to say.

"But mark my words, Abhir," she said, her voice full of sharp conviction, "the day you need Ms. Bansal— the day you realize you've been fooled, and you turn to her for support, she won't be there for you."

Her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that was almost painful. "She won't stand up for you, not the way you think she will. She won't fight for you, not when it matters. You'll see her, standing there, silent, doing nothing but watching as you sink. And that, Abhir, will be the day you realize she never truly cared for you. She'll just keep quiet, like she always does, and all you'll be left with is your regret."

Kiara took another breath, her words coming faster now, as though she couldn't hold back the torrent any longer.

"She'll just stand there, pretending to care, pretending to be the woman you once thought would fight for you, but when the real test comes—she'll just be there, making excuses, saying nothing. You'll be alone, and she won't be there to save you."

Her words stung, every one of them meant to wake him up to the harsh reality she had already seen. There was no turning back for her now—no holding back the truth any longer.

Kiara's anger had now reached its peak, and she turned back to Charu, her eyes seething with a bitterness that couldn't be hidden. Her voice was laced with scorn as she spoke, each word like a dagger aimed directly at Charu's heart. She didn't care anymore. She had already laid everything bare, and now she was going to finish what she had started.

"And anyway, what do we even expect from her?" Kiara continued, her voice sharp and filled with disdain. She turned towards Charu, her gaze unforgiving. "This isn't the first time, is it? She's fallen in love three times before, and each time, she's moved on, left them behind like they were nothing. And now, the fourth time—here we are, with Abhir. But don't worry, the fifth time will come soon enough. Someone else will catch her eye, and she'll forget all about him too."

Her words were venomous, each syllable dripping with a hurt so deep that it felt like a personal attack. Kiara's face twisted into a bitter smile as she watched Charu's silent struggle, her eyes burning with unspoken accusations.

"Her love is like two-minute noodles, one which tastes bad," Kiara said with a laugh, but it was empty, devoid of humor. Her eyes, once full of warmth and care, now held only anger and a deep, seething hurt. "Quick, instant, and when it's done, you're left with nothing but a bad taste in your mouth."

Her laugh echoed through the room, but no one joined her. It wasn't funny—it wasn't even meant to be. The words were meant to wound, to expose Charu for what Kiara now saw her as: a person who could never truly commit, whose love was shallow and fleeting. The joke, as unfunny as it was, struck at the heart of what Kiara had endured, what she had seen in Charu all along.

Abhir, who had been standing silently for most of this exchange, now looked at Kiara in disbelief. This wasn't the Kiara he had known.

The Kiara he once admired for her calm and composed nature, the one who always kept her emotions in check, was now someone completely different. Her anger was like a dam that had finally broken, flooding everything in its path. The girl standing before him wasn't just hurt—she was furious, and she was done being the silent observer.

He could see it in her eyes—the pain, the betrayal, and the frustration that had been festering for far too long. She wasn't the quiet, supportive sister anymore. The dam of her anger had cracked wide open, and now, every word she spoke, every look she gave, was an embodiment of that rage. Abhir had never seen this side of her, and it shook him to the core.

Kajal, who had been silent up until this point, finally spoke, her voice calm but laced with authority. She had been watching the entire exchange with a growing sense of discomfort, unable to ignore the bitterness and anger spilling from Kiara's words.

While Kajal understood the depth of Kiara's pain, she knew that the harshness of her words was only adding fuel to the fire. It was time for someone to step in, and Kajal had always been the one to try and keep things from going too far.

"Kiara," Kajal said softly, but her voice held a weight that demanded attention. "We understand that you're hurt. We all can see the pain you're going through, but there's a way to express that without tearing others down. Your words, they're sharp, and they cut deeply. Be mindful of what you're saying. I know you're upset, but you need to watch how you speak and stay within some limits. This anger will only push everyone further away, and it won't help you heal."

Kiara, however, was no longer willing to hold back. She looked at Kajal with defiance burning in her eyes. Her fists clenched at her sides, her anger reaching a boiling point. "What do you mean?" she snapped, cutting Kajal off mid-sentence.

"You think I don't know what I'm saying? I've been quiet for too long, standing by while all of this has been happening. You're right—your daughter has crossed every possible line. She's betrayed us, and we've all been left to pick up the pieces. So, now that I speak up, suddenly it's too much for you?"

Her words were sharp and direct, challenging Kajal's authority. Kiara wasn't interested in hearing explanations anymore. The hurt, the betrayal—it had all built up inside her, and she wasn't going to hold back.

For too long, she had been expected to stay quiet, to let the chaos unfold without speaking up. But now, she was done with silence. Her anger was a mirror of her deep frustration with the entire situation.

Kiara turned to Kajal again, her voice calm but laced with unmistakable tension, the fire in her words no longer loud but even more potent in its restraint. There was no shouting now—only truth spoken with chilling clarity.

"Your daughter is a lawyer, Bhua Saa," Kiara said slowly, enunciating every word with purpose. "She's not some naive teenager who didn't know what she was doing. She's trained to understand the weight of choices, the consequences of every step taken—professionally and personally. She fights cases, interprets laws, defends people's truths in court... and yet, when it came to her own life, her own morals—she conveniently forgot all of it."

Her eyes remained locked with Kajal's, unwavering, filled with the pain of betrayal. "She should've known better. She should've known that love built on deception can only crumble. She should've known that betraying your own blood for your feelings isn't strength—it's cowardice wrapped in justification." Kiara paused, her breath heavy. "You taught her values, Bhua Saa... or at least you tried. But somewhere along the way, she buried them under desire, impulse, and selfishness."

She stepped slightly forward, her voice growing more resolute. "If anyone in this room was expected to act with responsibility, it was her. Not me. Her. And yet she was the one who destroyed everything—my marriage, my trust, our family's dignity—and then stood there crying like she was the victim." Kiara's voice broke slightly at the end, not out of weakness, but the exhaustion of being strong for far too long.

Kiara let out a bitter chuckle, the kind that came not from amusement but from the sheer absurdity of everything that had unfolded around her. Then, she laughed—a cold, hollow sound that filled the room with discomfort. It was the kind of laugh that made it clear she wasn't just angry anymore—she was broken, bruised, and done pretending.

"You know what's really funny?" she said, her voice sharp, her tone laced with mockery. "Do you all want to hear what the great Charu Bansal said? The same Charu Bansal who's been standing here crying, trying to look like the misunderstood one?" She looked around the room, daring anyone to stop her now.

"When Abhir told her he was going to divorce me—yes, me, his wife—do you know what she said?" Kiara paused, her voice thick with irony. "She said: 'Kiara will break if this marriage breaks.'" She let out a scoff. "How thoughtful, right? So sweet. So deeply concerned for my well-being. A woman who cared so much about me, it's almost poetic."

Then her expression turned, her voice colder now, laced with venom. "But where was all that concern when she was secretly meeting my husband behind my back? Where was this protective big sister energy when she was having an affair with him—knowing full well that I was married to him? Where was that thoughtfulness then? When she crossed every line a sister could?"

Kiara's voice cracked slightly, not from weakness, but from the sheer weight of her own disbelief. "It's easy to play the part of a noble, selfless woman in front of people. But it's a little harder to hide the truth when your actions have already burned everything to the ground."

Kiara's gaze slowly shifted toward Abhir, her expression now caught between disbelief and scorn. A bitter smirk tugged at her lips as she took a step closer to him, the tension in the room tightening with every word she was about to unleash. Her tone dipped into sarcasm, laced with years of suppressed pain finally unraveling.

"And my dear husband—my patidev," she began mockingly, the words leaving her lips like poison wrapped in velvet, "he really thinks he's so smart. So calculated. So in control of everything around him." She paused for a second, as if examining him. Her voice dropped, lower and more cutting. "But the truth is, he doesn't have even an ounce of sense. Not even a shred of wisdom."

Her eyes bore into Abhir's, unflinching. "You couldn't even handle a relationship with honesty. You played house with me while your heart was still wandering elsewhere. You thought you were being clever, didn't you? Balancing a marriage with one hand and an affair with the other. But you weren't clever, Abhir. You were just weak. And worse than that—you were a coward."

Charu, still standing a few feet away, remained utterly silent. Her head slightly bowed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, but she didn't say a word. She couldn't. Not now. Not after everything Kiara had exposed.

The silence from her end was louder than any defense she could have mustered—and Kiara noticed.

Abhir stood rooted to the spot, as if the floor beneath him had suddenly turned to ice. Kiara's words rang in his ears, each one slicing deeper than the last, but he didn't flinch. He couldn't. His face was unreadable at first—stoic, stiff—like he was trying to hold on to the last fragments of composure. But the storm within him was impossible to hide for long.

His eyes, once sharp and confident, now flickered with something unfamiliar—shame. They shifted away from Kiara's piercing gaze, as if he no longer deserved to meet her eyes. He swallowed hard, his throat tightening under the weight of everything she'd just said. His hands, which had remained clenched into fists at his sides, slowly relaxed—not out of peace, but defeat. The kind of defeat that seeps into your bones and stays there.

A quiet sigh left his lips, though he didn't realize it had. It was the sound of a man crumbling from the inside, silently accepting what he had become. His shoulders, once proud, slouched ever so slightly, burdened by guilt too heavy to carry with his usual arrogance. He didn't look at Charu. He couldn't. Not now. The silence between them spoke louder than any confession ever could.

Abhir's gaze fell to the floor, as if looking anywhere else would only make the truth more unbearable. The mask he had worn—the image of the man who thought he had control, who believed he could manage both his worlds—had shattered completely. And now, all that remained was a hollow version of himself, standing amidst the wreckage of his own choices, with no defense left to give.

He didn't speak. He didn't move. He just stood there, surrounded by the silence of everyone who had once believed in him—and the woman he had let down the most.

You know, I honestly don't understand how someone like you could be the grandson of Naira Ma'am." Her voice cracked slightly—not with weakness, but with the overwhelming emotion of speaking a truth that hurt even her to admit. "She was everything you're not—principled, brave, loyal to the people she loved. She fought for her relationships. She would've never betrayed her own family the way you did."

She paused for a moment, her eyes glistening but her gaze unshaken. "If Naira Ma'am were alive today and saw what you've become... she wouldn't have just been disappointed. She would have been devastated. She would have looked at you and wondered where she went wrong."

Kiara stepped forward slightly, as if to close the emotional distance between them, her voice lower but sharper now. "She would have never tolerated this—your lies, your betrayal, your cowardice. The Abhir standing in front of me today is not someone worthy of carrying her name. If she were here... she would've disowned you. And honestly, I wouldn't blame her."

The room fell into a deep silence after her words, as if even the air itself felt heavy with the truth she had spoken. It was no longer just about betrayal in love—it was about legacy, about honor, and about how far someone had strayed from the values of the person whose blood was running in their viens.

Abhira took a step toward Kiara, her expression filled with concern rather than judgment. She could see how deeply Kiara was hurting—how every word, every breath, was coming from a place of raw pain and exhaustion. Placing a gentle hand on Kiara's shoulder, she spoke softly but firmly, trying to appeal to reason.

..................

"Kiara, what's the point of staying in a relationship that's become this toxic?" she asked, her voice quiet yet earnest. "You're hurting yourself more every day by holding on to something that's already broken. Sometimes... letting go is the only way to survive. And in this case, maybe divorce is the only real solution."

But Kiara jerked her shoulder away sharply, her face snapping toward Abhira with a look of fury and disbelief. The pain in her eyes now mixed with something else—betrayal. Her voice, when she spoke next, was no longer quiet. It was sharp and accusing, slicing through the air like a blade.

"Enough, Bhabhi. Just stop right there." Her tone was ice. "You're standing here telling me to walk away from my marriage, to let go like it's the simplest thing in the world. But what about you? What about your own marriage? Isn't that drowning in toxicity too?"

Her voice trembled—not from weakness, but from the sheer force of truth she was forcing out. "If you really believe that divorce is the solution to every toxic relationship, then why haven't you walked away from Armaan Bhai yet? Why haven't you chosen peace for yourself instead of preaching it to me? Don't give me advice you're too afraid to follow yourself."

The room fell into a heavy silence, everyone stunned by the confrontation. Kiara's words hung in the air, echoing louder than any scream. It wasn't just anger—it was a mirror held up to everyone, showing the hypocrisy and double standards they'd long been trying to ignore.

Kiara's voice trembled with intensity as she continued, her eyes now fixed on Abhira—not with hatred, but with a raw need to be understood. There was pain in her tone, but also a challenge, as if she were daring Abhira to really look at her own choices.

"Armaan Bhai was going to leave you, remember?" she began, her voice thick with emotion. "He was ready to marry Ruhi Bhabhi. He walked away from you... and you stood there, heartbroken. But then one day, just like that, he realized he loved you again. And you... you took him back. You forgave him. You chose love over self-respect, and no one questioned it."

She stepped closer now, the emotion building in her chest. "And even after that—after you gave him a second chance—he went ahead and humiliated you in front of the whole world. Not because he hated you, but because Vidya Taayi Saa asked him to. He questioned your character, your integrity, and worse... he got your license canceled. Your entire career. Your identity. He took it all away, just like that."

Kiara's voice cracked, not from weakness, but from the weight of hypocrisy she could no longer bear. "And yet, you still forgave him. You still stood by his side. You didn't even consider divorce. Why, Bhabhi?" Her eyes searched Abhira's face, looking for an answer that could justify it all.

Abhira stood frozen, the words Kiara had just hurled at her still echoing in her mind like distant thunder. Her eyes widened slightly—not in shock, but in realization, as if something had just pierced through the layers of self-justification she had been holding onto. Her lips parted for a moment, as though she wanted to say something, to defend herself—but no words came out.

She lowered her gaze slowly, her shoulders sagging under the weight of truth she hadn't been ready to face. Her fingers clenched at the palu of her saree, a subconscious effort to ground herself, to hold on to something solid while everything inside her seemed to shift. The room felt heavier now—Kiara's pain, her questions, the rawness of her outburst—it had cracked something within Abhira.

Kiara's voice grew even more biting as she looked at Abhira, her words sharp and filled with the weight of all the years of her own suffering. She couldn't hold back anymore, not when the truth needed to be laid bare for everyone to see.

"Every single time, Bhabhi, when Armaan Bhai needed to choose you, he chose his family." Kiara's words came out with a mixture of disbelief and scorn, as if she was trying to understand how someone could repeatedly sacrifice their own happiness for the sake of someone else's.

"And you? You stood there, again and again, waiting for him to finally choose you. You allowed yourself to stay in this toxic, broken relationship, clinging to the hope that one day he would realize your worth. But every time, he chose his family over you—his priorities, his comfort, his reputation."

Her eyes flashed with a fierce frustration, and she took a step closer, her voice rising slightly with the intensity of her emotions. "You were always there, always sacrificing, always bending over backward for him. Yet, no matter how much you gave, no matter how much you fought for this relationship, he never did the same for you. He never put you first. And still, you remain, trapped in this cycle, telling yourself it will get better. But when will it, Bhabhi? When will you realize that this isn't love? This is just a pattern, a destructive one that keeps repeating, no matter how hard you try to fix it."

Kiara's eyes searched Abhira's face now—not with anger, but with sorrow. "I just don't understand, Bhabhi. Why keep fighting for someone who never fought for you? Why stay in a relationship that has only ever caused you pain?"

Her words were a call for clarity, not just for Abhira, but for herself as well. How could she keep pushing herself for something that seemed so clearly one-sided? How could Abhira, a woman she admired so much, keep enduring such a toxic love? The question lingered in the air, unanswered and painful.'

Kiara's gaze hardened, her voice trembling slightly with a mix of frustration and fear as she spoke. The pain of all her silent struggles, the weight of societal judgment, and her fear of being left alone in the aftermath of everything spilled into her words.

"And what good would divorce do, Bhabhi?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but full of the sharp edge of someone who had been holding their truth back for too long. "Charu Di and Abhir, they'll just come together, they'll find each other and move on. They'll be the ones who get to rebuild, to start fresh. But what about me? What about someone like me?"

She took a deep breath, as if trying to steady herself before continuing. "I'll be tagged as a divorcee, Bhabhi. That's what society will label me. The moment my marriage falls apart, I'll be reduced to nothing more than a failed relationship, a woman who couldn't keep her home intact. I'll be the one blamed. People will talk, they'll whisper about me. They won't look at the situation or the reasons behind it—they'll just see a woman who couldn't make it work, who couldn't hold on to her husband."

Kiara paused, her eyes searching Abhira's, but her words were not just directed at her—this was her confession, her cry for understanding. "And I can't let that happen. I can't let the world see me as that. I don't know how to live with that kind of shame. I don't know how to face the world when all they'll see is my failure."

Her voice shook with the weight of her own vulnerability, and for a brief moment, the walls she had built around herself seemed to crumble. It wasn't just about love—it was about the harsh judgment that came with a divorce, the social stigma, the labels that would define her life moving forward.

"They took everything from me, Bhabhi." Kiara's words were sharp, each one cutting through the silence like a blade. She gestured toward Charu and Abhir, her fingers trembling slightly as she pointed at them. "They made me into a shadow of who I used to be, a mere echo of the person I was before all of this. They took my happiness, my peace, my sense of self, and left me broken."

Her chest heaved as she tried to steady herself, but the frustration and hurt in her heart were so overwhelming that her words came out in a rush. "And now, after everything they've done to me—after all the lies, the betrayal, the humiliation—you want me to sit back and let them be happy? You want me to accept that they'll just walk away from this unscathed, while I'm left with nothing but the ruins of my life?"

Kiara's voice grew more intense, filled with a raw, unfiltered pain that seemed to pour out with every word. "How can you expect me to just let them live their lives, to walk off into the sunset as if nothing happened? They've destroyed me, Bhabhi. Do you know what it feels like to lose yourself? To watch everything you held dear crumble at the hands of the people you trusted the most?"

............

Kiara stood there, her body trembling with a mixture of anger, hurt, and something far darker—revenge. Her eyes glinted with a cold, unwavering determination that no one in the room had ever seen before. For a long time, she had been the one in pain, the one left behind, the one who had silently endured everything. But now, there was a fire in her, a spark of something far fiercer than sorrow.

She took a slow, deliberate step forward, her gaze never wavering from Charu and Abhir. The weight of her words seemed to press down on the room like a heavy storm about to break. Her voice was laced with an intensity that made it clear she had reached the end of her tether.

"Jitna inhone mujhe tadpaya hai," Kiara began, her voice low but fierce. She let the words hang in the air, each one coated in years of suppressed anguish. "I, Kiara Poddar Sharma, promise to myself—and to these two people—that I will make them feel the same pain they've caused me. I will make them suffer the way they've made me suffer, tenfold."

Her words were like venom, each syllable dripping with cold fury. Kiara's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her body taut with the force of her emotions. She had been wronged, betrayed, and now she was done being the one to quietly bear the burden of everyone else's mistakes. The pain she had carried for so long was no longer something she would silently endure. It was something she would make them feel, every single day.

Charu and Abhir stood frozen, their faces pale with shock. They had never seen Kiara like this—so full of rage, so ready to turn the tables. The woman they thought they could manipulate, the one they had broken, was now standing before them, stronger than they had ever imagined. Her words weren't just a threat—they were a promise, a warning they both would have to reckon with. And for the first time, Kiara felt a twisted sense of satisfaction in knowing that the tables had turned.

"Divorce toh Abhir ko, main kabhi nahi dungi," Kiara said, her voice cold and filled with a venomous edge. Her eyes locked onto Abhir's, her words like a warning shot that cut through the tension in the room. "You, Charu Bansal," she continued, her attention shifting to Charu, her anger turning to ice, " "Aaj ke baad, agar aap mere pati se mili, ya unhe contact karne ki bhi koshish ki, toh main aap pe maanhaani ka case thauk dungi. Samajh rahi ho aap?"

Her voice was sharp and filled with the kind of authority that only someone who had been pushed too far could muster. "For too long, I've been the sweet Kiara, the one who let things slide, the one who stayed quiet. But don't you dare make me that woman again—the one you think you can walk all over. Don't push me, Charu, because if you do, you'll regret it. I will not be the person you think you can manipulate anymore. I will become something you won't like, something you won't be able to control."

She turned her gaze back to Charu, her eyes colder now, her voice like ice as it cut through the air. " "I've had enough, Charu. You pushed me to this point. Now, I'm warning you. Stay away from my husband, or face the consequences. Don't think I'm the same person you used to know. You have no idea what I'm capable of when I'm pushed to my limits."

Her words were a final warning, and as she spoke them, the air in the room grew heavier, more charged. Charu, taken aback by the force in Kiara's words, stood there in stunned silence, unsure of how to respond.

Abhir, too, looked at her, unable to fully process the change he was seeing in Kiara. The woman who had once been patient and quiet was now fierce, defiant—and determined to make them both pay for what they had done to her.

Kaveri's words hung in the air, sharp and accusatory, as she turned to Manish. "Dekha Manish ji, aapke naati ki wajah se do beheno ke beech darar aa gayi," she said, as if laying the blame entirely on Abhir. The implication that the rift between the two sisters was solely due to Abhir's actions felt like a final blow, and Kiara couldn't hold back anymore.

With a deep breath, Kiara turned to face her grandmother, the frustration and anger that had been building up for so long finally bursting to the surface. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Kaveri, her voice steady but laced with an undeniable firmness.

"Enough, Daadi Saa." She let the words hang in the air, making it clear that she had had enough of Kaveri's biased judgments and false accusations. "Your own granddaughter, Charu, isn't some innocent angel either. She knew exactly what she was doing. She's not blameless in this mess. If anyone should be blamed, it's her just as much as Abhir."

"And one more thing," Kiara said, her voice steady yet assertive, "I don't give anyone, not even you, the right to speak to my bade papa in that kind of tone. It's not just about what's being said, but how it's said. Respect is crucial in every conversation, especially when it involves family. So, I would really appreciate it if next time, when you speak to bade papa, you make sure to be mindful of both your voice and the words you choose."

Kiara stood in the grand hallway of the Poddar mansion, her eyes briefly locking with Abhir and Charu. The silence between them was thick with unspoken emotions, each of them feeling the weight of the situation in their own way.

Kiara's gaze was unwavering, filled with a quiet determination, as if to say that she wouldn't tolerate any more disrespect. She had made her stand, and now, without another word, she turned and walked toward the door.

Her back was straight, her head held high, and her every step radiated a quiet confidence. She wasn't going to let this moment break her—if anything, it had only strengthened her resolve.

Behind her, Abhir walked, his head hung low, unable to meet her gaze. The guilt inside him was suffocating, and every step he took felt heavier than the last. He had failed to protect her, to stand by her when she needed him the most, and now, as she walked away from the mansion, he felt the sting of his own regret.

The man he once thought he was had shattered in that very moment. The guilt was too much to bear, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize yet, too ashamed of his actions to even speak. All he could do was walk behind her, his eyes fixed on the floor, wishing things had turned out differently.

Charu remained standing in the same spot, frozen in place, as the reality of the situation sank in. She watched Kiara leave, her heart heavy with regret. She had seen Kiara as the source of the conflict, but in that moment, Charu realized it wasn't Kiara who was the problem—it was her own choices.

The bitter truth was that her jealousy, her pride, had clouded her judgment. Kiara had always been strong, and Charu had failed to see that strength until it was too late. Now, standing alone in the hall, she could only feel the weight of her mistakes pressing down on her chest, a deep regret that would linger long after Kiara had left.

Manisha and Swarna, who had been silently watching the exchange, exchanged glances before following their daughter-in-law. Their expressions were a mix of pride and admiration. They had always known the kind of woman Kiara was—strong, poised, and never one to back down from what was right.

As they walked behind her, a quiet smile tugged at the corners of their lips. In a family filled with complicated relationships and unresolved tensions, Kiara had shown them what true strength looked like.

..................

so this was the one shot based on the upcoming track, hope you guys liked it... do comment down, and do vote.