As the echo of Abhimanyu's footsteps faded down the Haveli corridor, silence swelled in the room like a tide—thick, unbearable, cruel.
And then it shattered.
Meera fell to her knees with a dull thud, her trembling hands covering her face.
A broken sob tore out of her throat—raw, cracked, and uncontainable. Her whole body shook violently, like the weight of the world had finally crushed her spine.
"I can't… I can't do this," she gasped between sobs. "What is this… what is happening to me?"
Zahra instinctively rushed to her side, trying to pull her into a hug, but Meera pushed her arms away without meaning to. Isha crouched beside her, her eyes wide, helpless. None of them had ever seen Meera like this. Not even on her worst days.
"Meera, just breathe—baby, you have to—"
"I don't want to marry him!" she screamed. "I don't even know him!"
Her words hit the marble floor like thunder. The room around her blurred with her tears—her father's office, the scent of sandalwood still lingering in the walls, the antique table now holding papers that would decide her fate.
Meera clutched her chest as her sobs turned to shallow gasps. "He said… he'll make my life a living hell…"
And the truth of it was—she believed him.
Isha looked up at Dhriti, eyes begging her to say something. To fix this. To give them hope.
Dhriti, for once, had none.
Her fists were clenched. She had already fought the fight she could with Daksh last night. She knew her brother. When his mind was made up—and when Abhimanyu backed it—there was nothing she could do.
So she walked slowly to Meera and crouched down, pulling her face gently into her hands.
"Meera… meri taraf dekh."
Meera blinked through the tears. Her eyes were swollen, red, terrified.
Dhriti's voice was softer than she had meant it to be. "Sun na… please."
Meera just stared at her, shaking.
"Shaadi toh tujhe karni hi padegi." Dhriti said, her tone heavier now. "It's either him… or that old creep. You know Anita won't let this go. And Daksh… he's already signed off. I fought. I did. But he's not going to change his mind."
Meera opened her mouth to protest but no words came out.
Dhriti gently pushed a lock of hair behind Meera's ear.
"Listen to me very carefully now," she said. "Abhimanyu is not the monster you think he is."
Meera let out a bitter laugh through the tears. "He just threatened me. He literally said he'll ruin me."
"I know what he said," Dhriti admitted. "But he's like that. He reacts before he thinks. He's cold, calculated… but he's not cruel."
Meera didn't answer.
"I grew up with him. He's my cousin. He lost his parents when he was seven. He was broken for years, Meera. He doesn't show his emotions like we do. But trust me, underneath that cold, silent shell? There is so much warmth."
"Then why… why would he do this to me?" Meera whispered.
"Because he thinks he's still fighting his own war. With your father. With the past. With himself." Dhriti's voice cracked. "But you can handle him. You're not weak. And maybe… maybe you're the only one who can soften him."
Meera looked away.
"Do you think I'll be safe with him?" she asked, finally. Her voice was a whisper.
Dhriti cupped her face again.
"I know you will. Because no matter what he says now… he would never hurt you. Not like Anita. Not like that old man. You'll be angry. You'll feel trapped. But you won't be unsafe."
Meera let her tears fall freely again. There was too much. Too fast. Too painful.
Zahra rubbed her shoulder, and Isha gripped her hand tightly.
"You don't have to love him," Dhriti said softly. "Just survive him… until he learns to love again."
Meera closed her eyes.
For a moment, she saw her father's face—smiling, proud, full of dreams about the Haveli and the legacy her mother left behind. If she didn't fight for it… it would be gone. To people who didn't care.
Maybe she didn't want this marriage.
Maybe she hated the very thought of it.
But she couldn't let her mother's Haveli slip away. Not like this.
She wiped her tears slowly, nodding once. Weakly.
"I'll do it," she whispered. "But not because I forgive him. Not because I trust him. I'm doing it… because this Haveli is mine. And I'll never let Anita win."
Dhriti let out a long breath, eyes closing in silent relief.
They had all made impossible choices in their lives before.
But this… this was the one Meera would remember forever.
What followed was a blur.
A cold, sterile room at the marriage registrar's office.
A shaky signature.
The sharp scrape of pens against paper.
And silence—deafening, oppressive silence.
Meera stood there, wearing a pale pink kurta, something her mother had once bought for her. Her hands were trembling as she clutched the pen. Her skin was pale, her lips dry, her eyes swollen. She couldn't remember if she had even eaten in the last two days. The words on the marriage certificate swam before her eyes.
Meera Singhania weds Abhimanyu Rathore.
Dhriti stood next to her, a hand gently placed on her back for support. Zahra and Isha were on either side—silent witnesses to their best friend's coerced marriage.
Abhimanyu stood tall beside her. Unmoved. Sharp jawline, black shirt, dark eyes. His secretary—Meghna—stood behind him with a neutral expression and a file folder tucked in her hands.
Anita, of course, signed as a smug witness. Her lips curled in victory.
No rings.
No flowers.
No "you may now kiss the bride."
Just a judge, four signatures, and a cold stamp that sealed her fate.
The papers of the Haveli—her mother's Haveli—were handed over to Abhimanyu the moment the marriage was registered. He opened the file in front of everyone, his eyes scanning each clause with surgical precision. Satisfied, he clicked it shut.
It was his now. The Haveli. The legacy. The past.
He turned his gaze toward Meera.
She looked like she could collapse any second.
Her posture was slumped, her eyes vacant. Her fingers twitched at her sides. She didn't cry—she had run out of tears. What replaced them was numbness. A kind of hollow quiet that screamed louder than any wail.
And for a brief second, Abhimanyu's eyes lingered on her.
She wasn't the same girl he saw in that photo.
Not the same girl who had stormed out of the Haveli barefoot.
Not the girl who had stared at him in stunned silence the day before.
Now she looked like… a shell.
A small, broken shell of someone who once fought for things she loved.
He didn't know whether he felt pity. Or guilt. Or nothing at all.
She was his wife now.
Legally.
Bound to his name, bound to his war.
Not that he cared.
Not that he should care.
He looked away first.
"Get the car ready," he said sharply to Meghna, before walking out of the office like the entire event had been a mere business deal.
Abhimanyu's eyes didn't leave her for even a second.
As Meghna nodded and walked off to arrange the car, his gaze flicked back to Meera. Her shoulders had curled inwards, her arms hung limply at her sides, and her eyes stared blankly at the ground—as though she was trying to disappear into it.
His voice cut through the suffocating air like a blade.
"Get up."
Meera slowly looked up, startled.
His tone was colder than before—clipped, no emotion, no softness.
"We're leaving for the palace. That's your new house now. I live there with my uncle and aunt and my cousin, Dhriti. They will want to meet you."
She swallowed, but he continued—his voice turning sharper with each word.
"So get your act straight. Whatever… drama you're feeling, whatever pain you're carrying—leave it at the door. You will smile. You will nod. You will speak only when spoken to. Because I'm not letting them know what this marriage really is."
His eyes bore into hers—daring her to defy him.
Meera's mouth parted slightly, as if to protest, but no words came. She knew better. He wouldn't budge. This wasn't a man who left room for negotiation.
Then, he turned his eyes to Dhriti.
"You too. You're coming." His tone was final. Not a request. A decision.
Dhriti gave him a stiff nod. But her eyes burned with quiet rebellion. This was her brother in every way but blood—but he was crossing a line, and she knew it.
Behind them, Zahra crossed her arms, her eyes cold and frustrated.
"This is too messed up," Zahra muttered, walking past them toward the door. "I'm going home, Dhriti. I need to clear my head. I need to breathe."
Isha stepped forward, holding Dhriti's hand for a second.
"I'll go with her. Mira… just—just hold on, okay?" Her voice cracked slightly.
Meera gave a faint nod. She wanted to ask them not to leave, to stay, but she didn't even know what she was asking for anymore. Everything was slipping too fast.
With one final glance at Meera, Zahra and Isha walked out.
And just like that, Meera was left standing beside a man she had married under force, a friend who couldn't stop it, and a silence that stretched far beyond the confines of that sterile registrar's office.