A room once filled with light — because its owner never liked darkness — now stood in complete silence, except for the sharp clatter of utensils, the crash of glass shattering, and the echo of those sounds through the empty walls.

The once “cute petite one” was now burning with anger. Her hands were red, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears — but she refused to let them fall. She didn’t want to be seen as an emotional fool.

She kept breaking things. Her room was a reflection of her — scattered, broken, sharp in pieces. Shards of glass pierced through her sensitive skin, crimson drops staining her palms.

God knows how long she had been doing this. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she stopped. The mad lady — yes, that’s what she looked like — washed her hands, called the servants to clean the room, and then quietly made herself a soothing, comforting meal.

She ate in silence.

But soon, her silence was broken. Footsteps echoed loudly in the hall, disturbing the stillness of the house. She didn’t care — until the queen of the house spoke.

“Jaan sakti hu doctor sahiba ko kya hua hoyi?”

(“May I know what happened to Doctor Madam?”)

Shashi lifted her gaze from the plate. Seeing her elder sister, she immediately stood up. But her smile faltered when she noticed another woman standing beside her sister. She tried to smile politely, but before she could say anything, the guest approached her with a beaming face.

“Congratulations, soon-to-be sister-in-law.”

Shashi’s eyes widened. What? How could this be possible? She had just received that letter. Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed when the woman hugged her and said:

“Finally, my idiot devar (younger brother-in-law) agreed!”

Her already wide eyes nearly popped out of her head. Before she could say a word, her sister patted her cheek and said,

“Congrats, doctor.”

Now Shashi couldn’t even breathe, let alone speak. She collapsed back into her chair, clutching her hair, rubbing her face, terrified that her sister might notice her distressed stare. Quickly, she stood again and said,

“Thank you, Mrs. Rajput.”

Aakriti Rajput looked at her and smiled.

“You are also going to be a Rajput soon, you know.”

Shashi gave a faint smile.

“Okay, Mrs. Rajput,” Laksha interrupted, “could you please come with me? We need to discuss the deal.”

Aakriti nodded, and they walked toward the study, guards trailing behind — except one.

Left alone, Shashi placed her head in her hands and groaned loudly. She tilted her head and found herself looking straight at a man, standing tall, expression unreadable.

“Why are your hands red, Shashi?” he asked. “I know they should be yellow with haldi, since you’re getting married. But in your case…”

“Le-Yoon,” she interrupted, “could you help me with something?”

He nodded silently.

“You must already know about the mess in my room.”

“Yes.”

“Please… don’t let her know.”

She looked at him with pleading eyes. He gave a small nod — expressionless — and left. Shashi sighed in relief and finally retreated to bed, unable to make sense of anything happening around her.

---

Shashi’s POV

I woke up early the next morning, dressed for the day ahead. Serving patients had become my life. Cooking for myself, however, was a luxury I had abandoned — the Queen wouldn’t allow me to do any work. She led the servants like a commander, always hovering.

It felt strange. For the past six years, I had lived alone in Delhi, studying, cooking, surviving. And now suddenly, she had appeared out of nowhere, forcing me into this huge mansion five months ago.

I hated this place. The high ceilings, the empty halls — they made me feel lonelier. But what could I do?

Most days, I skipped breakfast out of laziness or rush. But today, I woke up early and made myself something joyful — creamy white sauce pasta. No matter how broken I was inside, good food always healed me.

Hours later, I returned from the hospital. My seniors had scolded me again, patients had drained my energy, and by the time I reached home, it was 8 PM. Too tired to cook, too tired to think, I went straight for a warm shower.

Changing into my oversized shirt and shorts, I dimmed the lights, turned on the music, and collapsed into my bed. The soft mattress pulled me in. The song’s lyrics floated in the air, soothing my restless heart.

---

Song playing:

Haan Ek Din,

Kabhi Koi,

Jab Bhi Padhe,

Kahaani Teri…

(“Yes, one day, if anyone ever reads your story…”)

Lagta Mujhe,

Mere Naam Ka,

Zikr Kahin,

Bhi Hoga Nahi…

(“I feel like… nowhere in it… will my name be mentioned.”)

Dekho Yeh Dil Ka Haal Kya,

Hothon Se Hota Naa Bayaan…

(“Look at the state of my heart — something my lips can never explain.”)

Milke Bhi Naa Mujhe Mila…

(“Even after meeting, I never truly had you.”)

---

The lyrics were right: “I have a faith that is not mine.”

I didn’t realize when sleep took over.

Morning sunlight streamed in through my balcony, waking me gently. I smiled at the sunrise — so beautiful, so calm. I stood there admiring it for a few minutes, but the moment ended when my stomach growled. I had skipped dinner last night.

It was 6 AM — unusual for me. As I went to the kitchen to grab food, I was surprised to see him again.

“Bhai, who cooks at this hour?”

Le-Yoon chuckled. “I wake up this early every day.”

“Oh yes, the fitness freak,” I teased. “Must be working out, right?”

We were still talking when didu entered after her morning run.

“Hey! How did you wake up so early?”

“I was hungry. I skipped dinner,” I admitted.

“Why do you always skip meals?” she scolded.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, didu. I was too tired.”

She chuckled while I quickly grabbed something to eat. Meanwhile, Le-Yoon and didu were already discussing a party. As usual, they insisted I join them. As usual, I refused. But this time, somehow, they won.

So tonight, I had no choice but to accompany them.

After a long exhausting day at the hospital, I rushed home, showered quickly, and changed into a black dress — simple, not too revealing, paired with small heels. I straightened my hair, applied moisturizer, then lipstick. I considered eyeliner, but since I never learned how to apply it properly, I skipped it.



By the time I reached the venue, my social anxiety hit hard. Eyes turned toward me, weighing me down. I hated it. Standing in a corner, scrolling my phone for distraction, I tried to disappear.

But Le-Yoon approached. “Di is calling you — she wants you to meet someone.”

I followed him.

And then, I froze.

There they stood.,

'The Rajput family.'

My so-called soon-to-be in-laws.

___________________________________

💌 Hello lovelies,

Did you like this chapter? If you felt confused anywhere, feel free to ask!

You have full authority to pinpoint my mistakes — it will only help me improve my writing.

See you in the next chapter.

A heartfelt thanks for reading this book.

Bye…