Pratham

I can feel the sweat pooling on my palms despite the coldness of the evening. The edges of my nerves are sharp, like a blade, cutting into my composure with each passing second.

Naman bhaiyya, Yash, and I have been working on this plan for days. We have run through every possibility, patched every weak point, and rehearsed every detail until it's practically burned into our minds.

There should not be any doubt. There should not be room for failure.

But doubt doesn't care about logic, does it?

It claws at my chest, twisting my gut into a knot that no amount of reasoning can untangle. My hands tremble slightly, and I ball them into fists to stop them from betraying my unease.

Everyone is on board. Everyone knows their role, their timing, their responsibilities. Even Nitya. I'd laid it all out for her, every single step. She had nodded and agreed to everything, her eyes showing how much she trusts me.

And that trust-her trust-is what's threatening to tear me apart right now.

If this goes wrong, if a sing thread unravels, I'll lose her.

Nitya. My Nitya. The one person who had become the center of my world, the air in my lungs, the pulse in my veins. The thought of losing her is just unbearable to me.

I rub at my face, trying to dispel the storm in my head, but it doesn't work. I think of her smile-the one that lights up her entire face, the one that's so beautiful and so precious that I can do anything to see it. I think of her quiet determination, the way she has fought through so much and come out stronger. And I think of the way she looks at me, like I'm her safe place.

No. I can't lose her. I just can't.

Taking a deep breath, I steady myself. The plan has to work. It will work. Because failure is not an option. Not when the stakes are this high.

"What are you doing here alone, Pratham?"

My jaw tightens the moment I hear Sandhya's voice. As she steps closer, her perfume-vile, suffocating sweetness-fills the air. And when she sinks beside me on the couch, I have to force myself not to recoil.

She leans in slightly, her body angled toward mine, and my lips curl in disdain. I don't even try to hide it. The sight of her, the way she bats her lashes at me, the way she smiles at me, everything that she does, makes my stomach churn in a very unpleasant way.

"You look exhausted," she coos, her hand reaching toward me, but before it does, I shift away from her, making it clear that I don't want her touch.

"Why are you moving away from me?" She asks. "Why won't you let me take care of you, just like I used to."

Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it down, biting back the urge to tell her exactly where she can shove her offer.

I grit my teeth and stop myself from shouting at her. I need to keep in mind why I'm putting up with her being in my house.

For Nitya. For her justice.

No matter how much I try to calm down, I seem to be unable to do it. Because every moment in Sandhya's presence feels like a punishment to me. She is a cruel reminder of the darkness I had let into my life before I knew what real love was. Before I knew Nitya.

Sandhya slides closer, her voice lowering, dripping with such tone that makes my skin crawl. "We could go back to the way things were before my accident. Do you remember how happy we were back then?"

I nearly laugh, but it's humorless, bitter, and laced with the fury I'm barely containing.

We were happy?

No, we definitely weren't. She was manipulating me into thinking she loved me and I was trying to make it work despite being fed up with her antics, because I was foolish enough to think me breaking off our relationship would leave her heartbroken.

That's why I kept tolerating the relationship until I couldn't do it anymore. Then, that damn accident. And that stupid promise which kept me from my happiness until I finally decided to let it go and live my life with my wife with whom I found the true happiness. The kind that comes from love that's real, pure, and selfless.

"I'm allowing you to stay in my house because I have no other choice," I tell her. "I agreed to Uday's condition because I care about Daksh. But don't you dare expect anything more from me, Sandhya."

Her pout is instant, her facade of sweetness cracking just enough for me to catch a glimpse of the spite underneath. She doesn't like being dismissed this way, and I know she definitely doesn't like that I have built walls so high she can't even see over them anymore.

I remind myself, again and again, why I'm enduring this. Why I'm letting her sit in my house, share my space, breathe the same air as me.

The plan. The endgame. The future where she and Uday are gone for good, and Nitya and I can live our life happily without their shadows.

But God, it's getting harder. Every word Sandhya speaks, every calculated tilt of her head, every moment her gaze lingers on me like she still has a claim over me-it tests my patience.

"Why can't you take me back, Pratham?" She asks in a low, coaxing whisper. Why can't we start fresh, leave everything behind, and be happy again?"

I lean away from her, but she follows, persistent.

"I love you," she says, her voice tinged with desperation. "I have always loved you. I want to be with you, to give you everything you deserve. Everything Nitya can't give you."

My body stiffens hearing her, but she seems oblivious to my rising anger.

"She's not like us," Sandhya continues, her words turning venomous. "she's plain, simple, uneducated. What can she possibly offer you? You and I have the same class. I can match you, challenge you, be your equal."

"Stop it," I warn her, but she doesn't heed it.

Instead, she shifts, pulling at the edge of her sari's pallu, exposing more of herself as she leans in. "Look at me, Pratham. Tell me, don't you want-"

"Enough!" I shout, and in one swift motion, I push her away.

She stumbles, falling from the couch onto the floor, a gasp of shock escaping her lips.

The room is silent for a moment, save for the blood roaring in my ears. I stand, towering over Sandhya, my fists clenched at my sides as I glare down at her.

"Don't you ever speak about my wife like that again," I tell her, my voice trembling with fury. "How dare you belittle my Nitya? How dare you think you have more class than her when you are here, trying to seduce a married man by taking your clothes off? That's not being a classy woman, Sandhya. That's being desperate. That's being pathetic."

She stares at me, shocked, but I don't stop.

"My Nitya is more than you could ever dream of being. She's pure, innocent, kind, selfless, and strong in ways you'll never understand."

I take a few steps back, needing the distance from Sandhya, needing to breathe the air that's not tainted by her. "I love Nitya. Only her. Always her. And no one will ever take her place in my life."

As I look down at her, I see her eyes fill with anger and humiliation. Perhaps she's thinking of retaliation, of a way to get back at me for doing this, but I don't care. She dared to insult Nitya in front of me, and I couldn't just stay silent and let her say such things about my wife.

Third Person's POV

The tension in the room thickens as Sandhya stands, brushing herself off with exaggerated motions, her fury barely contained.

Her lips part, ready to hurl venom at Pratham, but before a single word escapes her mouth, the main door bursts open and Daksh storms in. His face a storm of rage and betrayal.

"How dare you?" Daksh shouts at Pratham. "How dare you throw Dhriti out of this house to live with Yash. You know my parents and I are not happy with her marrying him, and yet you sent her off to live with him, that too before marriage?"

"Daksh! You are here, unharmed. I'm so happy to-"

"Lies!" Daksh spits, cutting Pratham off. "I know you are not at all happy to see me. In fact, you and Naman bhaiyya must have rejoiced after finding out about my abduction." His eyes blaze with a mix of hurt and rage. "Well, the joke's on you because it was all mine and Uday's plan to get Nitya out of this house and Sandhya inside it."

"Look, Daksh, I don't know why you suddenly think of me and Naman bhaiyya as your enemy, but whatever you are thinking is wrong. We are your brothers and we love you."

"All you can do is lie to me!" Daksh bellows, his voice cracking with emotion. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have hurt me by always looking down on me. If you loved me, you would have listened to me when I told you not to let Dhriti marry Yash. You and Naman bhaiyya never loved me, never trusted me, never respected me, never...." He continues rambling, his words frenzied and disjointed.

But then, he suddenly stops, and pulls out a gun from his waistband.

Seeing the gun, Pratham immediately raises his hands in a placating gesture. "Put the gun down, Daksh," he says. "Let's think clearly and talk about this calmly, please."

"I'm finally thinking clearly!" Daksh counters, his hand trembling as he points the gun at Pratham. "You and Naman bhaiyya have always done this. Always made decisions without thinking about anyone else. But I won't let you do it this time."

"I understand you are angry. But this isn't the way to fix anything."

"Don't you talk to me like you care," Daksh snarls. "You and your brother are the reason everything is falling apart."

"Think about our family," Pratham tries again, taking a step closer to Daksh. "Think about what this will do to them. Do you really want to destroy our family's happiness?"

"How dare you say that I'm trying to destroy family's happiness when you have already done that?" With a frustration, Daksh lunges at Pratham, and in the struggle that follows, the room becomes a blur of movement and shouts.

Suddenly, the gun goes off, the deafening sound ringing in everyone's ears.

Daksh stumbles back, his eyes wide with shock as he clutches his side. Blood seeps through his fingers, staining his clothes and pooling on the floor. His knees buckle, and he crumples to the ground, his eyes slowly closing as he lies on the pool of his own blood.

"NO!!" Pratham shouts, his face pale as he rushes to his brother's side. "No, no, no. Stay with me. Stay awake, please."

"This... is your.... f-fault," Daksh whispers, his voice fading with each word.

Pratham presses his hands over the wound, futilely trying to stem the bleeding. "No, please, you can't leave us. Please. Listen to me."

But it's too late. Daksh takes one last, shuddering breath, and goes still in Pratham's arms.

Pratham sits frozen on the floor, his hands stained with his brother's blood. He looks like a man whose world has shattered. And there's no putting the pieces back together. Not now. Not ever.