As Samaira stepped toward the door, her suitcase in tow, the tension in the room felt almost suffocating. The family members who had witnessed the drama unfold were silent, their faces etched with shock, disbelief, and a deep, unspoken sadness. Mahendra, who had always been a pillar of support for Samaira, now seemed helpless, his heart torn between the loyalty to his family and the concern for the woman who had become an unexpected part of it.

“Samaira…” Mahendra began, his voice shaky but filled with deep emotion. “You know that Advait… that he hates you, but how could he just let you step out into the dark like this?”

His words hung in the air, charged with a sense of desperation. How had it come to this? He, like everyone else in the room, had believed that the marriage between Samaira and Advait was a second chance at happiness. But now, all that hope seemed to crumble in an instant, shattered by Advait's cold and calculated behavior.

Advait, standing in the distance with his arms crossed, barely spared a glance at his uncle. He turned his face toward the open space, his back still to Samaira. His voice came out as cold and detached as ever. "She’s not my concern anymore," he replied, his words laced with finality. “I did what I wanted. She’s free to go wherever she wants.”

The bitterness in his voice seemed to chill the room further, as if Advait’s words had cut through the last remnants of warmth in the air. He didn’t care, not anymore. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his posture rigid, like a man who had already sealed his fate, and Samaira’s too.

For a moment, no one moved. But then, Samaira, still holding her suitcase, stared at him with burning eyes, her chest tight with emotion. She refused to let him see her falter. Instead, she looked at him with a sardonic, bitter glance, her lips curling into a dry, humorless smile. She muttered, her voice cutting through the silence, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, “Just wait, Advait. Wait for your destruction.”

Her words were venomous, laden with the promise of pain—pain that Advait would soon feel in the depths of his own actions. This wasn’t just a threat; it was a declaration. Samaira wasn’t the same woman who had once stood broken and abandoned at the altar. She wasn’t the woman he had left behind a year ago.

Without giving him another look, she turned away and stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the empty hall like a drumbeat marking the end of something that had never truly begun. But as she reached the door, she heard another set of footsteps behind her.

“Samaira, wait!” Anuja called, her voice filled with hesitation and concern. Samaira stopped in her tracks, sensing the familiarity and comfort that Anuja had given her over the past few days. She didn't turn, though. She couldn't. Her heart was too raw, too full of a pain she didn’t want to acknowledge.

But Anuja, understanding without words, caught up with her. “I know you’re angry,” she said softly, stepping in front of Samaira. “And I won’t ask you to stop, but I can’t let you leave like this. Not in the dark.”

Samaira's chest tightened, and for the first time, her composure wavered. She couldn’t bear the thought of being alone right now, not with the weight of everything Advait had said still pressing on her heart.

“You’re sure about this?” Samaira asked, her voice tinged with sadness. “If Advait finds out, he—”

“I’ll handle him,” Anuja interrupted gently, her voice firm despite the uncertainty in her eyes. “But you can’t leave like this, Samaira. Let me take you somewhere safe. Please.”

Samaira’s eyes softened. She saw the sincerity in Anuja’s eyes, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside Advait's cold mansion was somehow still safe. Still, she hesitated. She knew what leaving meant—it meant stepping into the unknown. But she couldn't stay here, not after everything that had happened. She had to find her own path.

"Fine," Samaira said quietly. "But can you drop me off at a hotel? I can't go back home right now."

Anuja’s eyes softened with understanding. “Of course. I’ll take you anywhere you want. Just let’s get you out of here.”

The ride was silent, the quiet of the night weighing down on them both as they drove through the city streets. The pain was still fresh for Samaira, her heart ached with every passing moment, but with Anuja by her side, she found a glimmer of comfort.

Back inside the mansion, Advait remained unmoved, watching his cousin and Samaira leave through the front door. His gaze was sharp, calculating, but he didn’t flinch as they stepped out. He had done what he wanted. He had shattered her. And that was all that mattered to him. His heart was stone, his emotions buried so deep under layers of bitterness and pride that even he couldn’t decipher them.

It wasn't until the cold night air of the mansion’s grand hallway brushed against his face that Advait felt something stir inside him—a tightness in his chest, a subtle knot forming at the back of his throat. But he quickly brushed it away. He couldn’t afford to let weakness creep in now. Not after everything he had done.

“I can’t stay here anymore,” he muttered under his breath, turning sharply on his heel and heading for the exit. The mansion, which had once felt like his sanctuary, now felt like a tomb. The walls closed in on him as his mind spiraled into dark, turbulent thoughts. It had all been a game. His game. But what had he really won?

His heart thudded loudly in his chest as he reached the garage and climbed into his car. He was angry. Furious. But something else lingered—a strange sense of regret. Had it been worth it? Had breaking Samaira, forcing her to leave, been worth the hollow satisfaction it gave him? No. His mind screamed that it wasn’t. But his pride refused to back down.

The car’s engine roared to life as Advait sped away from the mansion, the mansion that once felt like home now a distant, cold memory. He wasn’t running away. He was simply going where he couldn’t hear the echoes of his decisions. Because deep down, Advait knew that what he had done was unforgivable. But it was done now. The damage was irreversible.