Chapter 33 The Game Has Just Begun
In Australia, inside a grand and heavily secured hall, tension crackles in the air like a storm about to break. Armed bodyguards stand at every corner, guns trained on a lone wooden chair placed under a single spotlight. Sitting tied to that chair is Drishti Khanna, clad in a short skirt and designer top, her hair disheveled, her eyes burning with anger and panic.
Across from her, seated on an elegant throne-like chair, is Vihan. His gaze is sharp, unwavering, full of rage and heartbreak that festers for years. His clenched fists rest on the armrests, yet his eyes never leave Drishti’s face, demanding answers without a single word.
Drishti shouts, her voice echoing through the cold hall, “Vihan! Why have you locked me up like this?! Let me go! You’ve lost your mind!”
Vihan’s voice is low but menacing, filled with bitterness and a storm of emotions, “No. First, you answer me. If you were alive all this time, why didn’t you come back to me? Do you know how madly I search for you? How much I love you? And you.. you marry someone else?”
Drishti’s face twists with anger and disdain, “So what? Should I have ruined my life for you? Should I have sacrificed my career and stayed trapped with you? I have dreams, Vihan dreams of becoming famous, a top model. I can’t waste my life living like some wife with you!”
Vihan’s eyes flare with fury. He slams his hand down on the armrest, making everyone flinch. “Wife? You think I would have kept you caged? I would have given you the world, Drishti! But you choose fame over love. You betray me!”
Drishti scoffs, tossing her head arrogantly. “Love? Your love would have suffocated me. You are always small, small dreams, small world. I don’t want to rot in your shadow. I need to rise, to shine! And you… you are in my way.”
Vihan stands abruptly and walks toward her, his eyes blazing with hurt, “I am in your way? I give up everything for you! My name, my family, everything! You use me and walk away… just like that?”
Drishti glares back defiantly, “Yes! I am a stepping stone, Vihan. And when people outgrow their past, they move forward. I move on. You should too!”
Vihan steps forward slowly, his face cold as ice, but his eyes burn with fire, the fire of revenge. He halts right in front of Drishti, who trembles, and stares directly into her eyes. Then, in a dark, dangerous tone, he says, “You have no idea how dangerous I am, Drishti. You only see the side of me that loves you… now, you see the side that will destroy you.”
Drishti’s face goes pale instantly. All defiance vanishes in a second. Sweat gathers on her forehead, her voice falters, “Vihan what are you going to do? This this is madness!”
Vihan takes one more step closer, his presence alone making her breath hitch. He whispers with cold fury, “From today your countdown begins. Every moment, every second of your life, will be shadowed by my hatred. You betray me, Drishti. You leave me for your ambition, but I become the end of everything you care about.”
Drishti tries to step back in fear, but her feet freeze. She is trapped emotionally, mentally, and physically.
Without a word, Vihan lifts his hand and makes a small gesture. The bodyguards immediately move toward Drishti, untie her from the chair, and roughly grab her arms.
“Vihan, please don’t do this! You can’t treat me like this!” Drishti shouts in panic, but Vihan turns his face away. For him, she is nothing more than a name now a mistake to erase.
The guards drag her across the hall floor and throw her out of the grand room. She stumbles and falls hard to the ground, her clothes covered in dust. She looks back in horror. Vihan sits back in his chair, calm and cold. A dark, poisonous smile curves his lips. “The game has just begun.”
In the grand luxury mall showroom, Sunaina’s eyes sparkle with excitement, while Shorya’s face holds a hint of weariness and quiet unease. Still, when Sunaina pouts sweetly and says, "Oops, I forgot my purse at home the bill is just 80,000. Can you please pay, baby?" Shorya doesn’t hesitate for even a second.
He simply looks at her, takes a deep breath, and without asking a single question, pulls out his wallet. No words, no doubts, no conditions.
The card is swiped, and the transaction is done. Sunaina’s face lights up with a victorious smile as if taking money from him is a subtle game, a charming habit, and Shorya is willingly caught in it.
She picks up her shopping bags, walks over to him, and with a fake sweetness says, "Aww Shorya, I love you the world feels perfect because of you." Shorya just nods silently, his heart heavy but his lips sealed.
A short while later, a car stops outside Shekhawat Mansion. Shorya returns home, looking tired, though he hides the exhaustion behind a faint smile. Without wasting time, he freshens up quickly and makes his way to the dining table, where Mr. Shekhawat is already waiting.
A maid arrives and begins to serve dinner. Shorya glances around, but there is no sign of Neeti anywhere.
He immediately asks, "Where is Neeti?"
The maid respectfully replies, "She’s in the kitchen, sir."
Without saying another word, Shorya gets up and walks straight to the kitchen. There, Neeti stands in a corner, quietly cleaning. She seems to bury her pain in the menial tasks around her, lost in the act of tidying up as if it can shield her from something heavier weighing on her heart.
As soon as Shorya sees her, he asks in surprise, "Why are you doing all this? There are plenty of servants."
Neeti doesn’t even look at him. Her voice is cold, emotionless. "If there are so many servants, then let them make dinner too."
Shorya gives a small laugh, tinged with pain. "No, you cook the best dinner. No one else can bring that same taste."
Neeti doesn’t respond. She remains silent, hiding her tears as she places the crockery away.
Shorya steps closer, leans against the counter, and softly asks, "Aren’t you going to eat dinner?"
Neeti, still not looking at him, answers quietly, "I’m not hungry."
Sensing her irritation, Shorya gently asks, "Are you upset?"
Neeti keeps putting away the dishes and replies curtly, "No."
Shorya comes even closer, gently takes her hand, and says, "Come on, let’s eat dinner… quietly."
Neeti immediately pulls her hand away, her voice rising in frustration, "I already said no! Should I start breathing only when you allow it? Will you tell me when to do what too?"
Shorya stares at her in disbelief, shocked by her sudden outburst. "Neeti, what’s wrong with you? Why are you reacting like this?"
Wiping her tears away quickly, Neeti resumes wiping the kitchen counter and says, "Nothing’s wrong just leave me alone."
She throws herself back into her work, clearly trying to hide her pain beneath the routine. Shorya realizes that saying more would only make it worse, so he quietly leaves and returns to the dining table. His face shows visible sadness.
Mr. Shekhawat notices and says softly, "She’s upset hasn’t eaten anything since morning. No breakfast, no lunch."
Shorya listens silently, then speaks with some bitterness, "Dad this is all your fault. If you hadn’t forced her to marry me, she wouldn’t be this miserable."
Mr. Shekhawat lets out a long sigh, regret filling his eyes. "Yes I made a mistake. How was I to know that you wouldn’t get over Sunaina’s obsession?"
Shorya glares at him. "So now what?"
Mr. Shekhawat, lost in deep thought, replies, "I’ll fix my mistake when the time is right, I’ll tell you how."
Shorya doesn’t respond. He simply picks up his spoon and begins eating dinner.