The opulent Raisinghan mansion, once a haven, now felt stifling. Ridhima sat on the plush sofa, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. Angre stood by the window, a silent sentinel ever-present since Vansh had entrusted him with her safety.

"He wants me to... divorce you," she finally whispered, the words catching in her throat.
Angre stiffened, his hand instinctively going to his concealed weapon. But Ridhima placed a calming hand on his arm.

The call from her father, days after her return from their idyllic getaway with Vansh, had shattered their fragile peace. Rajinder's voice, laced with cold fury, had demanded her immediate return, a decree she couldn't ignore. Now, the weight of her father's ultimatum hung heavy in the air.

Vansh, his face etched with concern, sat beside her, his hand a warm refuge in the storm raging inside her. "He can't do that, Ridhima," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Our marriage..."

"Isn't recognized by them," she finished bitterly. "They see it as a childish rebellion, a business liability."
Vansh's grip on her hand tightened. "They don't understand what we have, Ridhima. Our love..."

"Is exactly what they want to control," she interjected, a tear tracing a path down her cheek. "They want me to marry someone... suitable. Someone who can prop up our failing business."
Vansh's jaw clenched. "And what do you want, Ridhima?"

She looked into his eyes, a deep well of love and pain reflected back. "I want you, Vansh. I can't imagine my life without you. But..."

Her voice trailed off, the weight of her responsibility crushing down on her. This wasn't just about love; it was about her family, her legacy.
"But what, Ridhima?" Vansh urged, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.
"I have to try, Vansh. For my mother, for the family business. Maybe, just maybe, I can reason with him."
A flicker of doubt passed through Vansh's eyes, but seeing the steely resolve in hers, he knew arguing was futile. He squeezed her hand, his voice heavy.
"Then let me come with you. I'll face him with you."

Ridhima shook her head. "It's best I handle this alone. Trust me, Vansh. I'll fight for us."

An unsettling silence descended upon them, broken only by the labored breaths of their intertwined hearts. The decision to return to Punjab had been gut-wrenching, but it was a battle she had to face alone, for now.

The following morning, with a heavy heart, Ridhima boarded the plane back to her hometown. Angre, entrusted with Vansh's unwavering support, stayed behind. As the plane soared through the clouds, she couldn't help but look back at the city that held her love, a silent vow echoing in her heart - she would return, not as a defeated daughter, but as a woman who had fought for her love and won.

Reaching her childhood home, she was greeted by the worried eyes of her mother. But within those tired eyes, she saw a flicker of recognition, a silent support for the daughter who dared to defy.
The following days were a blur of strained conversations and tearful outbursts. Ridhima tried everything - logic, pleas, even threats to leave the business entirely. Her father remained unyielding, his voice laced with a desperate hope.

"This marriage is ruining your future, Ridhima. This Raisinghan... he's not good for you."

Ridhima held his gaze, refusing to back down. "He loves me, Papa. And I love him. That's the only thing that matters."
But her words seemed to hit a wall. As days turned into weeks, it became clear that logic wouldn't win this battle. Ridhima knew she needed a new approach, a way to bridge the chasm that divided her family.

One evening, sitting with her mother, she confided in her, pouring out the story of their love, the bond she shared with Vansh. Her mother listened intently, a silent tear rolling down her cheek.
"He seems like a good man, Ridhima," her mother said softly. "But your father... he's worried about the business, about your future."

Ridhima knew then that the path forward lay not in changing her father's mind, but in changing his perspective. She had to find a way to prove to him that Vansh was an asset, not a liability.
With a newfound determination, Ridhima set out to gather information about Vansh's business ventures, his successes. She needed to show

The grand mahogany door of her childhood bedroom shut with a resounding thud, a physical manifestation of the emotional distance between her and her family. Tears welled up in Ridhima's eyes, blurring the familiar sights of her room - the lavender silk curtains, the worn teddy bear on the armchair, the framed picture of her and Vansh on their first date, their faces beaming with a carefree joy that now felt like a distant memory.

Collapsing onto the plush bed, she clutched the picture to her chest, the scent of his cologne, a faint whisper on the paper, sending a fresh wave of longing crashing over her. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt suffocating, filled with the echoes of his laughter and the warmth of his embrace.

Memories flooded her mind - their stolen kisses under the starlit sky in Goa, the playful banter during their weekend getaway, the way his hand fit perfectly in hers during their long walks along the beach. A choked sob escaped her lips as the emptiness of his absence pressed down on her like a physical weight.
She picked up her phone, the screen displaying countless missed calls and unread texts from Vansh. Each one a silent testament to his unwavering love and concern, a lifeline in the storm she was weathering alone. But a pang of guilt stabbed at her heart. He deserved more than stolen calls and hurried messages. He deserved a future, a life they could build together, something she couldn't offer him right now.

The weight of her father's words echoed in her head - "love is a luxury we can't afford right now." Yet, as she stared at the picture, a fierce possessiveness rose within her. This love wasn't a luxury; it was a necessity, the very air she needed to breathe.

Reaching for her laptop, she opened a video call. Vansh's face materialized on the screen, his concern morphing into a hesitant smile as he saw her tear-streaked cheeks.

"Ridhima," he said, his voice laced with worry. "What's wrong?"
Taking a shaky breath, she poured her heart out, the frustration of her situation, the fear of losing him, the unwavering love that held her together. Vansh listened patiently, his face a mask of empathy.

"I miss you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Every corner of this house feels empty without you."
His words were a balm to her soul, a confirmation of the bond they shared. They spent the next hour talking, sharing stories, and offering each other silent support. Even though miles separated them, the virtual connection felt like a lifeline, a fragile thread tethering them together.

As the call ended, a sense of calm settled over Ridhima. She knew the fight for their future wouldn't be easy, but with Vansh by her side, even if only virtually, she possessed the strength to face anything her family threw at her. She would bridge the distance, break down the walls, and prove to them that love could not be contained by societal expectations or business deals.

Wiping away her tears, Ridhima picked up the framed picture. Her eyes, though red-rimmed, gleamed with a newfound determination. This wasn't just about her; it was about proving that love and family could co-exist, that her future could be built on the foundation of both. She looked at Vansh's smiling face, a silent vow escaping her lips. They would be together, no matter the obstacles that lay ahead.

So I hope you all havebread the announcements that I did on my message board