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Meera stood under the shower, the warm water cascading down her body, washing away the remnants of the night. But no amount of water could cleanse the turmoil inside her.

Every moment from the event replayed in her mind, each memory a fresh wound that reopened with every thought.

Her tears mingled with the water, indistinguishable from the streams pouring over her face, but they burned with the pain only she could feel.

Her hands trembled as she cupped her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape, but the dam broke, and she cried her heart out.

The sound of her anguish echoed off the tiled walls, a symphony of pain that only the silent bathroom bore witness to.

How could her father, the man who was supposed to protect her, do this to her?

He was supposed to shield her from the world's evils, yet he was the one pushing her into the arms of a monster like Bhushan.

Meera slumped down onto the shower floor, her knees hitting the tiles as she cried louder, her sobs wracking her body. Her hands moved over her skin, scrubbing furiously as if she could erase the memory of Bhushan's touch.

But no matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't get rid of the feeling of his hands on her, the vile way he had claimed her as if she were nothing more than an object.

A scream tore from her throat, raw and primal, filled with the helplessness that had been festering inside her for so long.

Everyone saw her as strong, a pillar of resilience and determination, but it was all a facade.

She wasn’t strong; she was just pretending, pretending for her sake, for her little brother’s sake, for her mother’s sake.

But inside, she was exhausted, drained by the constant fight to keep it all together.

She pounded her fists against the shower wall, her voice hoarse as she shouted, “I’m not a fucking piece of wood! I’m a human being, with emotions, with feelings!”

The words hung in the air, a desperate plea to a world that didn’t seem to care.

After what felt like an eternity, the strength left her, and she slowly stood up, her body heavy with the weight of her despair. She turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around herself, her movements robotic, devoid of the fire that once fueled her.

She walked toward the bed, each step a struggle, and collapsed onto the mattress, her damp hair fanning out on the pillow.

But the tears didn’t stop. They filled her eyes once more, blurring her vision until all she could see was the darkness that seemed to envelop her life. She had no one to turn to, no one to lean on, and the loneliness was suffocating.

Then, as if out of nowhere, Abhimanyu’s image flashed in her mind. His calm, composed demeanor, the way he had looked at her with understanding rather than judgment. He had been nothing but a gentleman, showing her respect even when she had been rude to him. He had understood her without her having to say a word, and that thought alone made her feel a twinge of shame.

How could she have treated him so poorly?

When they had first met at the bar, she had been cold and dismissive, and again during the ad shoot. But despite everything, he had remained kind, never once retaliating or showing any sign of resentment.

Meera buried her face in the pillow, her tears soaking into the fabric. She needed to apologize to him, to make things right.

But more than that, she needed to figure out a way to reclaim her life, to stop being a puppet in her father’s and Bhushan’s cruel game.

Abhimanyu’s unexpected kindness had shown her that not everyone was out to use her, that there were still people in the world who could see her for who she truly was.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of hope. It was small, almost insignificant, but it was there, a tiny light in the overwhelming darkness. And she clung to it with everything she had.

-------

Abhimanyu and Raina returned home, the tension from the evening still heavy in the air. The moment they stepped inside, Shourya, who was sitting in the living room, looked up from his documents.

“Hey, how was the event?” he asked, but his voice trailed off as he saw Abhimanyu stride past him without a word, his face a storm of emotions.

Raina, noticing Shourya’s confusion, offered a reassuring smile. “Just leave him alone for a while,” he suggested, watching as Abhimanyu disappeared down the hallway to his room.

Shourya’s brows furrowed with concern. “What happened?” he asked, standing up as Raina walked toward him.

Raina hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Nothing much. He saw some asshole harassing a woman, and it really got to him.”

Shourya nodded slowly, his expression softening with understanding. “Yeah, I know Abhi. He might have had a reputation as a playboy once, but he’s never disrespected a woman in his life.”

Raina stopped mid-step, turning to face him fully. “Your brother stopped flirting with girls a long time ago,” he said, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Shourya’s eyes widened in shock. “What? Abhi? The same Abhi who couldn’t go a day without charming someone? You’re serious?”

Raina chuckled at his reaction, shaking his head in amusement. “Surprising, isn’t it? Even I’m amazed at how much he’s changed. It’s like he’s not the same Abhimanyu anymore—at least, not the one we used to know.”

Shourya took a moment to process this, then smiled softly. “That’s right. He’s changed, but for the better. I got him back, Raina. After everything, I have him back in my life, and I’d trade anything to keep it that way.”

Raina paused in the doorway of Shourya’s room, leaning against the frame as he gazed at him, his expression turning playful.

“You’d trade anything for him, huh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shourya met his gaze without hesitation. “Of course. He’s my brother, my idol ever since I was a kid. When I joined high school, Abhi was the one I looked up to. He was good at everything—sports, academics, you name it. Sure, I was jealous of him, but at the same time, I admired him more than anyone.”

Raina’s teasing smile softened as he listened, his eyes reflecting his understanding of the deep bond between the brothers.

“Even with our differences,” Shourya continued, his voice quieter now, “he never stopped caring for me, even if he didn’t always show it. He might not vocalize it much, but he’s really affectionate in his own way.”

Raina tilted his head, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “So, you’d even trade me for your brother?”

Shourya rolled his eyes, the answer coming to him in a heartbeat. “In a second.”

Raina’s mouth fell open in mock offense. “You ungrateful brat…” he muttered, his voice low and playful.

He lunged at Shourya, who ducked under his arm, laughing as he dodged the half-hearted attack.

Shourya bolted inside his room, still chuckling as Raina leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head with a smile.

“One of these days, I’ll catch you,” he called after Shourya, his voice filled with affection despite his playful threat.

But for now, he let the laughter echo in the hallway, a sound that lightened the heaviness of the evening, reminding them both of the bonds that held them together through everything.

------

Abhimanyu lay on his bed, the memories of the night swirling in his mind, but it was Meera who occupied his thoughts the most. The way she looked, the pain in her eyes, her quiet strength—it all stirred something deep within him.

As he drifted off to sleep, his mind took him back to a different time, a different life, where he was not Abhimanyu, but Vikram Singh—a warrior, protector, and most importantly, a man deeply in love with his princess, Meera.

Flashback

The night was dark, the sky covered with thick clouds as Princess Meera toured the flood-affected areas of her kingdom.

Despite the hardships she had witnessed throughout the day, she remained composed, supervising the distribution of grain and overseeing the rehabilitation efforts. The people revered her, their respect and admiration evident in their grateful expressions.

As the day turned to night, Meera was invited to dinner by a group of royals who had been supporting her in the relief efforts.

The gathering seemed cordial at first, but unbeknownst to her, one of the officials, Pratap Rathore, had sinister intentions. He hailed from a neighboring kingdom and had long harbored a desire to control Meera's lands—and her.

During the dinner, Pratap subtly drugged her drink. Meera, unaware, began to feel dizzy, her vision blurring as she struggled to keep herself upright. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Pratap had whisked her away, shoving her into his escort and preparing to flee.

But fate had other plans.

As Pratap mounted his horse, ready to disappear into the night with his unconscious prize, a figure on horseback approached with alarming speed.

It was Vikram Singh, returning from his own patrol. His keen eyes caught sight of the commotion, and something in his gut told him something was wrong. His heart pounded as he urged his horse forward, his hand instinctively reaching for the sword at his side.

"Who’s inside?" Vikram demanded, his voice cold as steel, as he pointed his sword at Pratap's neck.

Pratap, caught off guard, sneered. "None of your concern, Singh. Just one of my mistresses."

Vikram’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing. "Remove the cloth from the window. I want to see for myself."

Pratap hesitated, his hand tightening on the reins. "You dare question me? You insult my honor!"

Without warning, Vikram dismounted and pressed the tip of his sword against Pratap’s throat, his voice a deadly whisper.

"I will not ask again."

In a swift motion, Vikram yanked the cloth away from the escort’s window.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw Princess Meera lying unconscious inside, her normally vibrant face pale and still. A fire ignited in his chest, his rage barely contained.

"You filthy coward," Vikram growled, kicking Pratap off his horse.

The man stumbled, drawing his dagger in desperation, but Vikram was too fast. The two clashed, steel meeting steel in a violent dance of sparks and blood. Vikram’s fury drove him, each strike filled with the promise of vengeance. It wasn’t long before Pratap faltered, coughing blood as he fell to the ground, defeated.

Vikram wasted no time. He called for his men, ordering them to take Pratap away.

"Make sure he never sees the light of day again," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

With Pratap dealt with, Vikram turned his attention back to Meera.

Gently, he opened the door of the escort and climbed inside, gathering her unconscious form into his strong arms. His heart ached as he looked at her tear-stained face, his mind racing with thoughts of what could have happened if he hadn’t arrived in time.

Cradling her close, he carried her to his own vehicle—a grand, elaborately decorated palanquin—and settled her carefully inside, making sure she was comfortable. He ordered his men to take them to his residence immediately.

As they traveled, Vikram tried to wake her, his voice soft, coaxing.

"Meera, can you hear me? It’s Vikram… you’re safe now."

But she remained unresponsive, her head resting heavily against his chest. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. The warmth of her skin was a comfort, but the sight of her tear-streaked face fueled his anger.

He swore silently to himself that Pratap would pay dearly for this.

When they finally reached his residence, Vikram carried Meera inside, issuing quick orders to his trusted men.

"Inform her maid that she’s safe with me. They can come for her in the morning. No need to worry."

His men nodded and hurried off to carry out his instructions. Vikram entered his private chambers, laying Meera gently on the soft mattress of his bed. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, the deep affection and worry in his gaze betraying the stoic demeanor he usually maintained.

He called for the maids, instructing them to prepare a hangover soup, knowing it would help her recover from whatever drug she had been given. As they hurried away to fulfill his request, Vikram sat beside Meera, his hand resting on her cheek.

She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to open her eyes.

"Vikram?" she whispered, her voice weak, her head heavy as she struggled to focus.

"I’m here, Meera," he replied softly, his voice filled with tenderness. "You’re safe now."

She blinked up at him, her confusion evident as she tried to piece together what had happened. The room spun around her, but Vikram’s presence was a steady anchor.

"What… what happened?" she mumbled, her voice trembling.

"Rest now," he urged gently. "You’ve been through enough tonight. We’ll talk in the morning."

Meera’s eyes filled with tears, the emotional and physical exhaustion overwhelming her. But the sight of Vikram, his face etched with concern, brought her a measure of comfort she hadn’t expected.

She nodded weakly, too drained to argue, and closed her eyes again, her body sinking into the soft bed.

Vikram watched her for a long time, his heart heavy with unspoken feelings. He had always known he cared deeply for Meera, but tonight had shown him just how far he would go to protect her. As she drifted off to sleep, he silently vowed that he would never let anyone harm her again.

Flashback ended

Abhimanyu’s mind slowly returned from the vivid memories of his past life as Vikram Singh. The images of Princess Meera, helpless and vulnerable, still lingered in his thoughts as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

His heart was heavy with the weight of those memories, and he couldn’t help but draw parallels to the present.

The way his Meera, from another lifetime, had looked to him for protection was strikingly similar to how the modern-day Meera had seemed tonight—lost, trapped, and in need of rescue.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his damp hair. The past and the present were colliding in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Abhimanyu felt an inexplicable pull toward Meera, not just because she reminded him of his lost love, but because he could sense the same strength and vulnerability in her that had drawn him to the princess so many lifetimes ago.

The thought of Bhushan Deshpande, that vile man, touching Meera filled him with a deep-seated rage. It mirrored the anger he had felt toward Pratap Rathore all those years ago.

The desire to protect her was almost overwhelming, but this time, it was different. He was no longer a warrior in a distant past; he was Abhimanyu Mehrotra, and the rules of this world were different. But the feelings were the same, raw and powerful.

As he lay there, his thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on his door. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, but then he sat up, knowing that sleep would be elusive anyway.

"Come in," he called out.

The door creaked open, and Raina stepped inside, his expression cautious as he approached the bed.

"You okay?" he asked, concern lacing her voice.

Abhimanyu nodded, though his thoughts were still far away. "Just... thinking."

Raina took a seat at the edge of the bed, studying his face. "You’re thinking about her, aren’t you? Meera."

He didn’t need to answer; the look in his eyes said it all. Raina had known him long enough to understand that something deeper was going on, something beyond the surface of what they had seen tonight.

"You were different with her," Raina continued, his voice soft. "More than just polite... you were protective."

Abhimanyu leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes. "I can’t help it, Raina. There’s something about her... something that reminds me of someone I once knew. I can’t explain it, but I feel like I’m meant to protect her."

Raina listened quietly, sensing the depth of his emotions. "I’ve never seen you like this," he admitted. "You’re usually so... detached. But with her, it’s different."

He opened his eyes, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and resolve. "It is different. I don’t know who she is, it's just... I can’t stand the thought of her being hurt, especially by someone like Bhushan."

Raina sighed, nodding in agreement. "I get it. That guy is scum, and she deserves better. But Abhi, you need to be careful. This isn't fictional, and we’re not in some grand epic. We have to play this smart if we’re going to help her."

"I know," Abhimanyu replied, his voice firm. "But I won’t let her suffer because of that bastard or her father. I’m going to find a way to help her, to get her out of that situation."

Raina smiled faintly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "You’re a good man, Abhi. Just remember, you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, and so is Shourya. We’ve got your back."

He returned the smile, grateful for her support. "I know."

He stood up, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Get some rest. We’ll figure this out together."

As Raina left the room, Abhimanyu lay back down, his mind still racing but his resolve stronger than ever. He didn’t know what the future held, but one thing was certain—he wouldn’t let history repeat itself. He would protect Meera, no matter what it took.

******

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