Present Day

The house stood as if it had everything—tall glass windows, marble floors cold as silence, chandeliers dripping in gold. And yet, it felt empty in a way luxury could never fix.

Every corner was perfect. Untouched. Unlived.

The air carried a scent that lingered far too long—coffee, but not the comforting kind. It was bitter, heavy… like something reheated too many times, like alcohol clinging to the breath of someone trying to forget. It seeped into the velvet couches, curled around the grand staircase, and clung to the walls as if it, too, was waiting.

Waiting for something that never came.

There were signs of life—an unfinished cup on the table, a book left open mid-sentence, a piano untouched for weeks. The curtains remained drawn even during the day, as though the house itself refused to let light in without permission.

Because it is remembered.

It remembered laughter echoing against its high ceilings. Soft footsteps running across its floors. A smile that once made the entire place feel warm… alive… real.

Now, it held onto that memory like a secret it could never let go of.

At night, the silence grew louder. The ticking clock turned intrusive. Even the walls seemed to lean inward, listening for a voice that never returned.

The house wasn’t abandoned.

It was waiting.

Longing—for a single smile to walk back through the door and make it a home again.

“Hum humesha saath rahenge na, Ashu?” the girl asked softly, her head resting in his lap as his fingers gently caressed her hair.
[We’ll stay together forever, right, Ashu?]

“Humesha, Kritu.” He pressed a tender kiss to her crown.
[Forever, Kritu.]

Now, the lonely mansion held nothing but her fading scent… and the owner’s tears.

“Sir? Coffee?” a servant asked hesitantly.

“Aap isko aise hi coffee pila-pila kar pagal bana do aur!” a voice roared, making the maid flinch and rush out.
[Yes, keep feeding him coffee like this and drive him insane completely!]

“Ashvik Singh Rajput!” the same voice thundered.

“You have a throne to look after, and here you are—sitting with memories of your lover as if she was the only oxygen you needed to survive!”

“She was,” Ashvik whispered, his voice barely alive.

“Damn it! You have no energy left, and you’re still drinking coffee after coffee like it’s whiskey!” he snapped.

“She doesn’t like it when I drink alcohol,” Ashvik murmured.

“Will you stop mentioning her after everything? Bhai, you still have a life!”
[Brother, you still have a life!]

“SHE. IS. MY. LIFE!” Ashvik’s voice exploded, echoing through the hollow mansion.
“And don’t you dare say a word against her!”

Shlok stood frozen in front of him.

Ashvik sat on the floor, his back resting against the couch. His eyes were hollow, exhausted—his body begging for food, for rest, for anything that resembled life.

But he gave it nothing.

Shlok’s gaze followed his—landing on the massive portrait that dominated the wall.

Krutadnya.

She was smiling in it. Alive in it.

And that made it worse.

“Woh meri jeene ki wajah hai, Shlok… agar woh nahi, toh zindagi nahi… mar jaaunga main.” Ashvik’s voice cracked.
[She is the reason I live, Shlok… if she isn’t there, there is no life… I will die.]

Shlok slowly knelt in front of him, his own chest tightening painfully.

“Ashu…” he whispered.

“It’s Ashvik for you,” he replied through clenched teeth, jaw tight with restrained fury.

“Ashvik… teri zindagi hai, tera empire hai… please meri baat samajhne ki koshish toh kar.”
[Ashvik… you have a life, an empire… please at least try to understand what I’m saying.]

“Shlok… mujhse nahi saha jaa raha ab…”
[Shlok… I can’t bear this anymore…]

His head dropped back against the floor.

Shlok’s breath hitched—but he stayed silent.

“Woh meri thi na… humesha se. Humara janam hi ek dusre ke liye hua tha na… phir kyun? Kyu?”
[She was mine… always. We were born for each other… then why? Why?]

His voice broke into something unrecognizable.

“Woh itna vishwas rakhti hai na apne bappa par… par unhe toh humein saza dene ke alawa kuch nahi chahiye!”
[She had so much faith in her Bappa… but all He wants is to punish us!]

“Bas bhi karo… ab baksh do mujhe…”
[Enough… please spare me now…]

Ashvik’s body shook violently as sobs tore through him.

“Ashvik…” Shlok whispered helplessly.

“Ro lene de mujhe!” he screamed.
[Let me cry!]

“Har chuka hoon main… aur jeet gaya hai uska bappa!”
[I’ve lost… and her God has won!]

“Kar diya na juda humein… aakhir chahta kya hai woh!”
[He separated us, didn’t He… what does He even want!]

His breathing turned uneven, frantic.

“Main jaanta hoon… woh jahan bhi hai… bohot dard mein hai…”
[I know… wherever she is… she’s in immense pain…]

“Pehle hi bohot kuch seh chuki hai woh… ab kis baat ki saza de raha hai use?”
[She has already suffered so much… what is she being punished for now?]

“Khush nahi dekh sakta tha woh humein…”
[He couldn’t see us happy…]

His voice crumbled into nothing.

“Meri… meri Krutadnya ko mujhse hi cheen liya usne…”
[He snatched my Krutadnya away from me…]

“Chhod de tu bhi mujhe mere haal par… nahi chahiye kisi ke ehsaan…”
[You leave me too… I don’t need anyone’s sympathy…]

This time, Shlok didn’t stop his tears.

They fell—quiet, helpless, defeated.

An hour later, the mansion fell silent again.

The echoes of pain faded, leaving behind two broken men lying on the cold wooden floor.

They had everything.

But none of it mattered anymore.

One loved in silence, still breathing for someone who was never his.

The other… was too broken to even try breathing anymore.

Shlok turned his head toward Ashvik—and froze.

His face had gone pale. His breaths… barely there.

“Ashvik!” he called, panic crashing through him as he rushed to his feet and called the doctor.

They carried him to his room.

The faint scent of her still lingered there.

Perhaps… the only reason he was still alive.

“If he continues like this, he won’t survive much longer,” the doctor said quietly.

Shlok swallowed hard. “What exactly is the problem, doctor?”

“Only consuming coffee—with no food or water—will lead to severe dehydration within a week… and death from malnutrition within forty-five days.”

Shlok’s voice trembled.

“It’s already been thirty-nine days.”

The doctor placed a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Hope… is the only thing we have.”

Shlok nodded, even though hope felt fragile… almost unreal.

“I’ll take my leave.”

And just like that—

the room fell silent again.

I’ll refine this into a polished paperback-style scene, keeping your intensity and storyline intact, correcting flow and grammar, and adding natural translations in brackets—without losing the raw emotional weight.

Chiroli Forest, Maharashtra — Present Day

The air in the forests of Chiroli was eerily serene.

A hush lingered between the trees, broken only by the soft whisper of wind brushing against leaves. Dry, brittle foliage carpeted the ground, and each step of the man echoed as a sharp crunch in the stillness as he walked toward the lone house hidden within the woods.

His house.

He stopped at the threshold and knocked on the wooden door.

Once.

Twice.

Then again—harder.

When no answer came, his patience snapped. His fist slammed against the door, the impact making it rattle violently.

“Open the door,” he said coldly.

He inhaled deeply, forcing restraint into his voice.

“I am your husband… not a monster!”

From the other side, faint footsteps approached.

A trembling hand unlatched the door.

Before it could fully open, he shoved it harshly. The door flew ajar.

The girl stood there.

Dressed in a plain light blue suit, white palazzo, and a mismatched dupatta draped carelessly over her shoulders.

Fragile.

Silent.

“Huh… bohot kaam kiya aaj. Bohot thak gaya hoon,” he muttered, walking past her.
[Did a lot of work today. I’m very tired.]

“Pr… suniye…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
[Li… listen…]

“Haan?” His steady tone alone made her toes curl in fear.
[Yes?]

“Mujhe… bukhar hai…” she swallowed nervously.
[I have a fever…]

His hand lifted toward her forehead—but she immediately stepped back.

“Koi darinda nahi hoon main,” he said flatly.
[I’m not a monster.]

Her gaze dropped as tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Rona band karo!”
[Stop crying!]

She quickly wiped her face, folding her hands together.

“Aur chalo room mein,” he ordered.
[Now come to the room.]

“Aaj please… aaj nahi…” She looked up at him, hands clasped, pleading.
[Please… not today…]

“Kuch nahi karunga. Chalo.”
[I won’t do anything. Come.]

She followed him silently.

Inside the bedroom, he gestured for her to sit. She obeyed, sitting stiffly at the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on her lap.

He sat beside her and pulled out a small box from his pocket.

“Yeh main pehnau?” he asked.
[Should I make you wear this?]

She nodded faintly.

He took out a delicate necklace.

“Apne baal aage karo.”
[Move your hair forward.]

She gathered her hair over one shoulder.

As he fastened the necklace, his gaze fell on the scar at the nape of her neck.

He leaned in—and pressed his lips against it.

She shivered.

Her shoulders began to tremble as quiet sobs escaped her.

His hands moved to her waist, pulling her into his lap.

“Suniye na… please…” she tried again.
[Please… listen…]

“Shhh.” His sharp glare silenced her.

He tugged at the fabric of her kurti, pulling it down from her shoulders.

Her body stiffened.

Her torso—barely covered—was marked.

Scars.

Old and new.

Some from belts. Some from burns. Some from teeth.

She broke down in his hold, sobbing uncontrollably.

He simply brushed his lips against her cheek.

“Itna darti ho mujhse?” he murmured.
[Are you that scared of me?]

She nodded.

He chuckled softly.

“Tumhara pura badan garam hai, Krutadnya…”
[Your whole body is burning hot, Krutadnya…]

She looked at him, eyes pleading.

He smiled faintly.

“Par jalta hua badan bhi pasand hai mujhe.”
[But I like a burning body too.]

“Prayan…” she whispered.

“Pati ka naam nahi lete!” he snapped, gripping her waist harshly and scratching her skin.

[You don’t take your husband’s name!]

She winced.

“I’m sorry…”

“Tumne khana khaya?” he asked.
[Did you eat?]

“Aapke bina kaise?”
[How could I without you?]

“Chalo, saath mein khate hain… hmm?”
[Come, let’s eat together.]

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

In the kitchen, he removed his shirt and draped it over her.

“Khana khila doon?”
[Should I feed you?]

“Nahi… main kha lungi…”
[No… I’ll eat myself…]

“Koi baat nahi. Main khila deta hoon.”
[It’s okay. I’ll feed you.]

He served rice onto his plate, poured curry over it, and mixed it slowly.

He formed a morsel and held it to her lips.

She ate quietly, taking a sip of water.

“Thoda… chhota bite…” she whispered.
[Smaller bites…]

He nodded.

Then suddenly fed her again—without warning.

She choked.

A faint chuckle escaped him.

He stood up, washed his hands calmly—

And then, without warning, tilted her chair backward.

Her feet lifted off the ground as she gasped, coughing violently.

Then—

He let go.

The chair crashed down.

Her head struck the floor.

Tears streamed uncontrollably as she struggled to breathe.

He picked up a knife from the table.

Dragged it slowly across the wooden surface.

The sharp sound echoed in the silent kitchen.

Then—

He dropped it near her feet.

The blade grazed her skin, leaving a cut.

“Aaahhh!” she screamed.

“Abhi nahi,” he said softly.
[Not yet.]

She covered her mouth, trying to silence her sobs.

Meanwhile, Canada

Ashvik lay unconscious.

Shlok stood beside him, anxiety written across his face. Knowing Ashvik would never willingly take medicine, he had mixed it into his food.

Just then—

“Ashvik!” Shlok froze as Ashvik jolted awake.

“Nahiiii!”
[No!]

“Ashvik! You’re fine—calm down!” Shlok rushed forward, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Kritu… usse kuch hua hai… Shlok… sun… mujhe jaana hai…”
[Kritu… something has happened to her… Shlok listen… I have to go…]

“Ha, main chalta hoon tere saath.”
[Yes, I’ll come with you.]

“Nahi! Main akela jaunga… aur usse le aunga…”
[No! I’ll go alone… and I’ll bring her back…]

“KAISE JAYEGA?! PAGAL HO GAYA HAI TU?!” Shlok shouted.
[HOW WILL YOU GO?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!]

“Pure paanch mahine ho chuke hain! Ab tak nahi mili woh!”
[It’s been five months! She hasn’t been found!]

“Har din tu nikal padta hai usse dhoondhne… maan ja… woh nahi hai ab!”
[Every day you go out looking for her… accept it… she’s gone!]

The slap echoed sharply across the room.

Shlok fell silent.

Even Ashvik knew—

Those words weren’t entirely wrong.

“Woh meri hai,” Ashvik said quietly.
[She is mine.]

And then—

He walked out.

__________________________________________________________
✨Author’s Note✨

I hope you liked this chapter and decided to add this book to your reading list. Your thoughts truly matter to me, so please let me know how you felt after reading it.

I would also request you not to judge the entire story based only on this prologue—there’s a lot more waiting to unfold.

And yes, I’m still a beginner, learning and growing with every word I write. Your support, patience, and feedback mean everything to me, so I hope you’ll stay with me on this journey.

Thank you for reading