The ride remained painfully quiet.

Only the faint sound of the engine and the distant noise of traffic filled the silence between them as the car moved steadily through the city roads. Outside the window, the world kept rushing past in blurred fragments of light, crowded streets, moving vehicles, glowing signboards, and familiar-looking buildings disappearing one after another beneath the dull afternoon sky. Aarohi kept looking outside constantly, her eyes studying every corner carefully, trying to make sense of where exactly she was.

By recognizing a few buildings and roads she vaguely remembered seeing before, she slowly came to one conclusion.

Mumbai.

She was somewhere in Mumbai.

And that realization only deepened the confusion already consuming her mind.

Because nothing about it made sense.

According to the fragmented memories and assumptions trapped inside her head, he lived somewhere deep inside the Sundarbans of West Bengal, in some isolated place surrounded by forests and darkness far away from crowded civilization. That image of him had already formed too strongly in her mind—a man hidden in remoteness, away from law, away from people, away from humanity itself.

But this city... this endless chaos of traffic, tall buildings, busy roads, and suffocating urban life felt completely opposite to everything she had imagined about him.

And somehow, that made him even more terrifying.

Aarohi sat stiffly in the passenger seat, pressing herself as close to the window and the door as physically possible, trying desperately to maintain distance between them despite the limited space inside the car. Her shoulder almost remained against the glass the entire time while her fingers stayed curled tightly near her lap. She didn't look at him directly often, but she was painfully aware of him beside her every second.

Meanwhile, Siddharth drove in complete silence, his eyes fixed sharply on the road ahead. His expression remained calm as always, unreadable to the point of becoming unsettling, but every now and then he glanced toward her briefly from the corner of his eye—not enough to appear obvious, yet enough to make it clear he was still watching her carefully.

As if he already knew she was planning something again.

As if he didn't trust her alone even for a second anymore.

Aarohi's eyes kept wandering restlessly around the car, searching for anything useful—an unlocked door, a weak lock, a possible chance to escape while the vehicle slowed down—but every attempt ended in failure. Of course, he had thought about that already. The child lock was on. She checked twice without making it obvious, her fingers subtly testing the handle before realization settled bitterly inside her chest.

She couldn't even open the door herself now.

That only made the suffocating feeling worse.

Gradually, the city around them started fading away.

The tall buildings became fewer.

The traffic reduced slowly, vehicle by vehicle, until the roads no longer carried the loud chaos of Mumbai but instead stretched emptier and quieter beneath the darkening sky. The farther they drove, the more isolated everything became, and Aarohi could physically feel her anxiety rising with every passing minute.

Then, finally, Siddharth turned the car onto a road where there were almost no other vehicles left at all.

Only his car moved through that long, empty stretch.

And that truly terrified her.

A cold wave of fear crawled down her spine as her imagination immediately spiraled into darker possibilities. What if this was it? What if he was taking her somewhere abandoned, somewhere nobody would hear her scream? Somewhere hidden enough to kill her without leaving a trace behind?

Her breathing slowly became uneven again.

The road ahead felt endless.

On one side stood dense rows of tall trees, their shadows merging together into something dark and suffocating, while on the other side, the ocean stretched endlessly beside the road. Waves crashed against the shore repeatedly, creating a strangely beautiful rhythm that under normal circumstances might have felt calming.

But not now.

Now that sound felt horrifying to her.

Like the soundtrack of something terrible waiting ahead.

Her mind betrayed her further, painting gruesome images she couldn't stop—her body cut into smaller pieces, thrown into the ocean where nobody would ever find her, her disappearance swallowed silently by the waves crashing beside them. The more isolated the road became, the more believable those thoughts started feeling inside her head.

Her heartbeat rose violently again.

Slowly, almost nervously, she turned her head to look at him.

And somehow, the calmness on his face scared her more than anything else.

There was no frustration visible anymore. No anger. No sign of emotional disturbance despite everything she had done since morning. He simply drove forward quietly, one hand resting against the steering wheel, his expression composed in a way that felt deeply unnatural to her now.

As though whatever destination waited ahead...

had already been decided long ago.

Her body jerked forward abruptly when he pressed the brakes, the sudden halt snapping her out of the terrifying thoughts consuming her mind. Instinctively, she looked outside the window to understand why they had stopped—

—and the moment her eyes landed on the sight before her, her entire body went cold.

Her eyes widened in pure horror.

The same house.

The same massive mansion standing beneath the dark sky like something pulled straight out of a nightmare she had desperately tried to forget. The same towering structure hidden behind rows of tall trees that surrounded the property so densely it almost looked isolated from the rest of the world entirely. The same black gate. The same unsettling silence broken only by the distant sound of running water somewhere nearby.

Everything was exactly the same.

And that realization terrified her more than anything else had so far.

No.

No, this couldn't be real.

Her breathing immediately turned shallow as panic clawed violently through her chest. Her fists began sweating while a thin drop of sweat slid slowly down from her forehead despite the cold air inside the car. Her mind refused to process what she was seeing.

If they were in Mumbai... then why was this place here?

Wasn't his house somewhere in the Sundarbans? Somewhere isolated in West Bengal? Had she remembered wrong? Or had her mind created an entirely different version of reality during her memory loss?

The confusion crashed against her thoughts so violently that it became hard to separate fear from imagination anymore.

Before she could process further, the huge gates slowly opened automatically with a deep metallic sound that echoed through the stillness around them, and Siddharth drove the car inside calmly, as if none of this atmosphere carried any darkness at all.

Aarohi immediately turned toward him, her eyes now filled with visible fear and hatred both.

"Why did you bring me here?" she demanded, her voice trembling despite the anger she tried to hold onto. "Huh? What do you want to do now? Weren't you satisfied from las—"

He casually cut her off before she could complete the sentence.

Pulling the car to a stop directly in front of the mansion's massive entrance doors, he finally turned his head toward her properly for the first time since they arrived.

"Because," he said calmly, his voice steady to the point of being unsettling, "this is where we live."

The words hit her like a slap.

She stared at him in disbelief, fear quickly twisting into frustration and panic again.

"I never wanted to live here!" she snapped immediately, her voice cracking under pressure. "You caged me here!" Her breathing became heavier with every word as memories and fear mixed together uncontrollably inside her head. "Look, I had enough of whatever you did to me... I can't bear that again. Please... just let me go."

The last part came out weaker.

More desperate.

Because unlike before—unlike the time when she had woken up confused and broken with missing memories—this time she was fully conscious of her fear. Fully aware of the terror this place brought out inside her.

And that made it worse.

Much worse.

Because now she knew exactly what she was afraid of.

She couldn't survive his torture again.

She couldn't become that helpless version of herself again.

She couldn't return to being his puppet.

Panic finally took complete control over her body. Aarohi immediately turned away from him and grabbed the car door handle desperately, trying to force it open despite already knowing about the child lock. She pulled repeatedly, harder each time, her movements growing more frantic when nothing happened.

"Open!" she shouted breathlessly at the useless door before slamming her palm against the window.

Nothing.

Her breathing became uneven as she started hitting the glass harder with her fists, trying to break it open somehow despite knowing how impossible it was. Fear had completely taken over her logic now. She kept trying anyway, her fists striking against the strong window repeatedly while desperation clouded every movement she made.

But the car remained sealed.

Trapping her inside with him.

Her trembling hands immediately moved toward the dashboard the moment another desperate thought crossed her mind. If he truly was the kind of man she believed him to be—a mafia, a criminal, someone dangerous enough to control people and manipulate police—then surely he would keep something inside the car for protection. A gun. A knife. Anything.

With shaky fingers, she pulled at the compartment hurriedly, her breathing uneven as panic clouded her thoughts completely. For one brief second, hope flashed through her mind. Maybe she could grab something before he noticed. Maybe she could threaten him. Maybe she could escape before he dragged her back into that nightmare.

But the moment the dashboard opened, her hope collapsed instantly.

Empty.

There was nothing inside.

A frustrated breath escaped her lips as she shut it back harder than intended, her chest rising and falling rapidly while tears gathered heavily in her eyes now. Fear had already settled too deeply inside her by this point. Her mind kept replaying those painful fragmented scenes over and over again like some cursed cycle she could not stop—dark rooms, helplessness, his voice, her own fear, the suffocating feeling of being trapped inside this place. Every memory, whether real or twisted by her broken mind, kept digging deeper into her until she felt terrified down to her bones.

"Please... I beg—"

"Shut up."

Siddharth's voice exploded loudly through the silence before she could finish speaking.

The sudden harshness of it made her entire body visibly flinch.

"What did I say?" he snapped again, his voice darker now, colder. "Not a single word, right?"

Aarohi immediately pressed her lips tightly together, cutting herself off instantly despite the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Her hands shook visibly in her lap while fear tightened painfully around her chest. The loudness of his voice alone was enough to trigger something instinctive inside her body, making her recoil into herself slightly as though she was preparing for something far worse to follow.

Her eyes had turned glassy now, overflowing with emotions she was trying desperately not to let out.

Then suddenly the driver's side door opened.

Siddharth stepped out of the car without another word, the sound of the door shutting echoing sharply in the silent surroundings outside. Aarohi's breathing immediately became shallower again as she watched him walk around the front of the car toward her side. Every second felt unbearably long.

And when he finally reached her door and opened it—

Aarohi closed her eyes immediately.

Her body stiffened completely, almost instinctively preparing itself for pain.

Because now, in her mind, he knew everything. He knew she remembered. He knew she feared him. And she was convinced that meant he would stop showing whatever little restraint he had before.

She expected roughness.

Violence.

Punishment.

But instead, the moment his hands touched her, confusion flashed through her fear.

His grip wasn't harsh.

Nor was it gentle.

It was something disturbingly controlled in between, firm enough to leave no room for resistance yet careful enough not to hurt her physically. He simply took both of her hands into his and slowly pulled her out of the car, helping her stand properly on her feet outside.

Only Aarohi knew how difficult standing even felt at that moment.

Her legs were weak beneath her, almost numb from fear and tension. She was certain if he let go suddenly, she might collapse right there in front of him. The cold air outside brushed against her skin while the distant sound of water continued echoing somewhere nearby, mixing with the heavy silence hanging around the mansion.

"Let's go."

The words came out rougher than he probably intended them to. Not loud. Not threatening directly. Yet the heaviness in his tone still made her chest tighten painfully.

And finally, one tear escaped her eyes.

Then another.

"Please..." her voice cracked softly now, stripped of anger, stripped of resistance. "I can't face that again." Her breathing became uneven as tears rolled silently down her cheeks. "I'm not that strong... please."

There was something unbearably raw in her voice this time.

Not defiance.

Not hatred.

Just fear. Pure, exhausted fear.

Siddharth's gaze remained fixed on her face for a few long seconds after that.

Completely still.

The air between them felt strange again, heavy with emotions neither of them fully understood anymore. Aarohi looked at him like someone begging for her life without directly saying the words aloud, her eyes silently pleading for mercy she wasn't sure existed inside him.

Meanwhile, Siddharth looked at her with something far more unreadable.

It wasn't anger anymore.

Nor satisfaction.

His eyes searched her face carefully, intensely, as if he was trying to find some hidden clue buried beneath her terror. Trying to understand why she looked at him like a monster. Trying to understand what exactly her mind had turned him into.

And somehow, that silent confusion lingering behind his calm expression felt just as unsettling as his anger ever did.

This time, when Siddharth spoke again, his voice was softer.

Not soft enough to feel comforting. Not gentle enough to erase the fear inside her. But softer than before—controlled, quieter, carrying just enough sternness beneath it to make it clear that refusal was not really an option.

"Come inside."

The words were simple, yet they still settled heavily over her already trembling nerves.

He released one of her hands and turned toward the mansion entrance, beginning to walk forward without waiting for a response from her. But even after letting go partially, his grip on her other hand remained firm enough that Aarohi had no choice except to move with him. It almost felt like he was dragging her inside because her own legs had started giving up beneath her weight again, weakened by panic and the suffocating memories replaying continuously in her mind.

Every step toward the mansion felt wrong.

The closer she got, the heavier her chest became.

The huge structure towered silently before her beneath the darkening sky, the tall walls and black walls making the entire place look less like a home and more like something waiting patiently to swallow her whole. The distant sound of flowing water echoed somewhere behind the mansion while cold wind moved softly through the surrounding trees, creating whispers in the leaves that only deepened the horror inside her mind.

Siddharth finally stopped in front of the massive entrance doors and pressed the bell beside them.

The sound echoed faintly inside.

A few seconds later, footsteps approached from the other side before the door slowly opened.

And the moment Aarohi looked inside—

her fear returned all over again.

Her eyes widened instantly as her breathing caught painfully in her throat.

The interior was exactly the same.

The same grand staircase.

The same dark polished floors reflect the dim golden lights hanging from above. The same furniture is placed in the same corners. The same suffocating atmosphere hidden beneath the luxurious appearance of the mansion.

Everything looked unchanged.

Every single detail matched the terrifying fragments trapped inside her memory.

How was she supposed to believe him now?

How was she supposed to believe any of them?

Everyone kept insisting he was her husband. Her parents had willingly sent her back with him. The police had taken his side. The doctors had spoken to him normally. Yet every corner of this house screamed danger to her the moment she stepped near it.

What if they were all lying?

What if he had manipulated everyone?

What if bringing her back here meant he had already planned something worse this time? Something more brutal. More painful. More impossible to survive.

Her thoughts spiraled rapidly, growing darker with every passing second until even breathing felt difficult.

"Welcome, sir. Welcome, ma'am."

The voice pulled her attention away immediately.

Aarohi's eyes slowly shifted toward the person standing at the door.

And for one horrifying second, her heart almost stopped completely.

It was the maid.

The same girl.

The exact same face Aarohi remembered from those fragmented, disturbing memories. The same person who had once quietly helped apply medicine to her wounds while avoiding eye contact, the same girl whose frightened expression still lingered somewhere in Aarohi's mind.

And then another memory flashed violently through her head.

Siddharth dragging that same girl toward a room to spend a night with.

Closing the door behind them.

The memory was incomplete, fractured, blurred by fear and confusion—but it was enough to make cold terror spread through Aarohi's entire body instantly. She couldn't remember what happened afterward. She couldn't remember whether the girl survived, whether Siddharth had hurt her, or whether her own mind had twisted events into something darker.

But now the girl was standing right in front of her. Alive. Calm. Speaking normally.

And somehow, that scared Aarohi even more.

Because since arriving here, everything kept matching those terrifying memories perfectly, one after another.

The mansion.

The atmosphere.

The maid.

Every similarity accelerated her fear deeper and deeper until it felt embedded into her bones completely, making it impossible for her to tell where reality ended and where her nightmares truly began.

"Riti—beta, stop or else you'll get hurt!"

The sudden voice echoed through the hall before Aarohi could properly process anything around her. It was familiar somehow, strangely warm against the cold atmosphere of the mansion, yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recall where she had heard it before. The familiarity lingered frustratingly at the edge of her memory like a shadow she couldn't fully reach.

Before she could think further, hurried little footsteps came running from the right side of the hall.

The same child.

The same little boy who had called her "mumma" the previous night.

He appeared suddenly, running toward them with the careless speed only children carried, his tiny feet slipping slightly against the polished floor, balancing himself clumsily.

He looked barely four years old, dressed only in a small trunk, his entire body carrying the signs of having just been bathed. Fresh baby powder had been applied across his chest, neck, arms, and back, leaving a soft scent lingering in the air around him, mixing strangely with the heavy atmosphere of the mansion.

His wet hair clung messily across his forehead and temples, tiny droplets of water still trapped in the longer strands, while his unusually long eyelashes looked darker and heavier because of the moisture. Everything about him looked soft, fragile, painfully innocent against the darkness Aarohi associated with this house.

Behind him hurried the elderly woman whose voice she had heard moments earlier, trying to catch up with the child before he slipped and fell. But the moment the boy's eyes landed on Aarohi—

He stopped.

Completely.

His tiny steps slowed instantly before fading altogether, his body freezing in place while fear slowly appeared across his little face. Aarohi noticed it immediately. The hesitation. The uncertainty. The way his excitement suddenly disappeared the second he truly looked at her.

Meanwhile, the older woman finally looked up fully and saw Aarohi standing there.

And unlike the child, her reaction was completely different.

A wide smile immediately spread across the woman's face, so genuine and emotional that it startled Aarohi even more. Before she could react, the woman quickly walked toward her, reaching out and cupping her cheeks lovingly as if seeing her after years. Then she leaned forward and kissed Aarohi's forehead gently before pulling her into a warm embrace.

The sudden affection confused Aarohi deeply.

Her body stiffened automatically inside the hug while her mind struggled to understand what exactly was happening around her.

Why was this woman here?

Why was that child here?

And more importantly—why did they both seem connected to her in a house she associated only with fear, pain, and darkness?

Nothing made sense anymore.

Because in Aarohi's mind, this mansion was not a home. It was a place where monsters lived. A place where terrible things happened behind closed doors. A place belonging to a man she believed was capable of sins dark enough to terrify even the devil himself.

Yet standing inside that same horrifying mansion now was a child smelling of baby powder and innocence... and an elderly woman hugging her like family.

It shattered the terrifying image in her head just enough to confuse her further instead of comforting her.

Everything about this place still felt the same.

The walls.

The atmosphere.

The suffocating tension hidden beneath the silence.

Everything except these two people.

Ritvik, however, still looked frightened of her. Slowly, hesitantly, the little boy lowered his eyes and walked timidly toward Siddharth instead, almost hiding beside him before finally lifting his tiny arms slightly. Siddharth immediately bent down and picked him up effortlessly into his arms.

And the moment he did, the child clung to him naturally.

Siddharth kissed the boy's cheeks softly, instinctively, while Ritvik buried his face near his shoulder quietly, still glancing nervously toward Aarohi every few seconds.

The sight disturbed Aarohi in ways she couldn't explain.

Because nothing about Siddharth looked fake in that moment.

Not the way he held the child.

Not the way the child trusted him without hesitation.

And that only made the confusion inside her worse.

Then she heard it—

a faint sob.

Aarohi looked toward the elderly woman again and realized tears had gathered in her eyes. The woman quickly pulled away from the hug after a few seconds, wiping at the corner of her eyes emotionally, just as Siddharth cleared his throat softly from nearby.

The sound wasn't loud, but it carried a subtle reminder within it.

A reminder about Aarohi's condition.

About her memory loss.

The elderly woman's expression immediately shifted after that, her emotions softening into something quieter, more restrained, while Aarohi stood there in complete silence, trapped once again between fear and confusion, unable to understand whether this mansion truly held monsters... or whether her own memories had turned everything into something far darker than reality itself.

The elderly woman quickly nodded, suddenly looking slightly embarrassed after realizing her emotions had overwhelmed her. She stepped back slowly, trying to give Aarohi some space now instead of suffocating her further with affection she clearly did not understand. Her fingers moved toward her face as she wiped away the tears gathered near her eyes using her knuckles and fingertips, quietly composing herself while forcing a softer smile afterward.

Meanwhile, Aarohi simply stood there silently, her eyes moving between all of them one by one, trying desperately to understand who these people actually were.

Who was this woman?

Who was that child?

And what terrible mistake had they committed in life that they were forced to stay beside a man like Siddharth?

Because no matter how much confusion filled her mind, one thing had slowly become painfully clear to her by now—these people were somehow deeply connected to him. And somehow... connected to her too.

Her thoughts halted suddenly when something near the entrance caught her attention from the corner of her eye.

A small family photo frame rested near the shoe rack beside the wall.

Almost instinctively, her eyes drifted toward it fully.

And the moment she looked carefully at the picture, her breath slowed.

The frame contained Siddharth.

That elderly woman.

The little boy.

And her.

Aarohi stared at the photograph in complete disbelief.

She was standing there beside them in the picture as if she truly belonged with them, as if she had willingly stood there smiling for a family portrait they all shared together naturally. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember taking that picture. She couldn't remember standing beside them like family. She couldn't remember smiling in this mansion.

Nothing came back.

Not a single memory.

The woman gently took the small boy into her arms then, breaking Aarohi's attention away from the frame. Her voice softened warmly as she adjusted the child properly against her shoulder.

"Let's go wear clothes first," she told him gently. "Then we'll meet her again, okay? Say bye now."

There was understanding hidden behind her words. She clearly knew whatever had happened the previous night had frightened the child deeply, maybe even left him temporarily traumatized. So instead of forcing the situation further, she chose to leave quietly and give Aarohi some time to adjust, some time to absorb everything around her slowly without pressure suffocating her from every side.

Ritvik, however, still looked uncertain.

The little boy hesitated while looking toward Aarohi, clearly remembering the frightening events from before. But somehow, after being convinced repeatedly by both his dadi and Siddharth's carefully created explanation from last night—that his mother had only scolded him because she was upset he hadn't visited her properly in the morning—the innocent child had slowly accepted the story without questioning it much further.

After all, children trusted love more easily than fear.

Gathering a tiny bit of courage, Ritvik finally lifted his small hand timidly and waved toward Aarohi.

"Bye, mumma..." he whispered softly.

Aarohi froze.

Completely confused.

Her eyes remained fixed on the child while her own hand twitched faintly beside her, uncertainty flooding her mind again. She didn't know whether she should wave back or not. The word "mumma" still felt unfamiliar, almost unreal whenever it reached her ears, yet something about the way the little boy looked at her made it impossible to react.

So she simply stood there silently, trapped between confusion and hesitation once again, while the innocent child waited for a response from a woman who could not even remember whether she truly belonged in his life or not.

"Let's go and freshen up first," Siddharth said finally, his voice quieter now after the uncomfortable silence settling through the hall. "Eat something... then we'll answer all your questi—"

Before he could finish, Aarohi abruptly shook her head and pulled her hand away from his grip. The movement was sharp, desperate, almost emotional rather than angry. Without saying anything further, she walked straight toward the small photo frame resting near the shoe rack.

Her fingers wrapped around it slowly before she picked it up with trembling hands.

For a few long seconds, she simply stared at the picture again.

The image felt unreal in her hands.

A family portrait that looked normal to everyone else somehow felt horrifying to her instead. Her own smiling face in the frame disturbed her deeply because she couldn't remember any of it. Not the moment. Not the memory. Not the emotions behind that smile.

Then slowly, she looked up at Siddharth.

Her eyes were teary now, overflowing with confusion so raw it almost looked painful to witness.

"Why am I in this picture?" she asked, her voice shaking faintly. "Why was that lady crying?" Her grip on the frame tightened harder. "Why the fuck does that kid keep calling me mom?"

The questions started pouring out faster now, years of fear and confusion crashing together uncontrollably inside her chest.

"Why the hell is everyone calling you my fucking husband?" Her breathing turned uneven again while tears blurred her vision. "How the hell am I alive when you killed me?"

The next words came out broken. Terrified.

"How can I still see... when you took out my eyeballs...?"

The room fell silent immediately after her words.

Siddharth stared at her with visible confusion crossing his face for the first time since bringing her back home. Real confusion. Not irritation. Not calm control. Her words genuinely made no sense to him, and it showed clearly in the way his brows furrowed slowly while he tried to understand what exactly she was saying.

Amnesia itself wasn't shocking anymore. The doctors had already explained enough about memory loss after coma and trauma. Forgetting people, forgetting relationships, forgetting parts of life—those things were understandable.

But this?

These accusations?

These horrifying details?

None of it aligned with reality in his mind.

Before she could continue spiraling further into panic, he finally cut her off midway.

"I killed you?" he repeated slowly, disbelief clear in his voice now. "I took out your eyes?" His expression darkened with confusion rather than anger. "Do you even know what you're saying?"

But Aarohi barely seemed to hear him properly anymore.

The tears she had been trying to hold back finally spilled down her face completely now, sliding one after another while her breathing trembled unevenly. She looked exhausted—mentally exhausted—as if her own mind had trapped her inside something she could no longer escape from.

"No..." she whispered weakly before shaking her head harder. "No, then tell me everything." Her voice cracked painfully while she looked at him almost desperately now. "Tell me what's happening here, because you're the only one who can answer my questions right now."

Every emotion inside her had finally started breaking apart openly. Fear. Anger. Confusion. Pain. All tangled together until her words themselves began shaking.

"I've been trying to get answers for the past few days since I woke up," she continued, her voice growing louder again through the tears, "but you keep ignoring everything!"

She stepped slightly closer toward him unconsciously, clutching the photo frame tightly against herself like it somehow held proof she couldn't understand.

"Tell me," she demanded again, though now her voice sounded more hurt than angry. "Why did you bring me here, huh?" Her lips trembled visibly. "To make me your slave again?"

The last sentence came out almost broken from her chest.

"To make me call you my swami again?"

The word itself carried unbearable fear behind it.

Her entire body looked unstable now, trembling slightly under the pressure of everything happening around her. Her mind could no longer process the contradictions. One reality showed her family photographs, relationships, a child calling her mother, and people treating Siddharth like her husband.

The other reality inside her head painted him as a monster.

A devil.

A man who tortured her, killed her, destroyed her.

 Siddharth knew he could not avoid her questions any longer.

At this point, her mind was already hanging by a fragile thread, trapped between broken memories, fear, and realities that refused to align with one another. If he kept hiding things from her now, if he continued delaying the truth the way he had been doing since she woke up, then there was a real possibility her condition would worsen beyond repair. He could already see it happening slowly—the panic attacks, the distorted memories, the way her mind kept mixing fear with imagination until she no longer knew what was real anymore.

Without saying anything immediately, he walked toward her slowly and carefully took the photo frame from her trembling hands. His face remained expressionless while he placed it back exactly where it belonged near the entrance, almost mechanically, but internally his thoughts were far less calm than his appearance suggested.

Right now, calming her down mattered more than explaining anything.

Because if she lost consciousness again or spiraled into another severe breakdown, it could damage her mental state even further.

Turning back toward her, he stepped closer once again before gently grabbing both of her hands. Aarohi stiffened immediately, but before she could pull away, he guided her hands around his waist and pulled her closer toward him, pressing her head lightly near the curve of his neck.

The height difference between them became painfully obvious in that moment.

Aarohi's tall 5'9" frame still looked smaller against Siddharth's broad 6'3" figure, his body almost naturally shadowing hers completely as he held her close for those brief few seconds. Her forehead rested near his nape while his arms remained around her carefully, trying to steady her shaking body before she completely broke apart emotionally.

(Sorry guys, I can't remember their exact heights right now, so bear with it. Love you all.)

But not even a second later, Aarohi forcefully pushed him away from herself.

"Don't you even dare to gaslight me!" she snapped immediately, stepping back while wiping her tears harshly. "I'm done with all of this. Tell me who you are and what the hell is happening!"

The desperation in her voice had become almost unbearable now.

Every unanswered question was tearing her apart mentally, and any attempt at comfort from him only felt manipulative to her instead.

Siddharth's patience finally started wearing dangerously thin at her constant interruptions. His jaw tightened visibly before he finally spoke in a sharper tone than before.

"Shut up, Aarohi, and let me speak for one second, would you?"

His voice echoed through the hall heavily enough to make her flinch instantly.

"I wasn't telling you everything because your mind and mental health are weak right now," he continued firmly, trying to control his frustration. "And you wouldn't have been able to handle all of this at once." His eyes stayed fixed directly on hers. "So for once, stop taking stress and calm down. Only then will I be able to tell you anything."

Aarohi's body reacted before her mind could.

She visibly flinched again, her breathing hitching slightly as fear instinctively settled back into her chest. Somehow, no matter how much she fought against it mentally, some part of her body still expected the worst from him every single time his voice darkened.

The silence afterward stretched heavily between them.

For a few long seconds, neither of them spoke.

Slowly, Aarohi tried forcing her breathing back under control, her chest still rising unevenly while she fought to calm herself enough to even think clearly. The tears on her face had started drying now, leaving behind only exhaustion and confusion.

Finally, once her breathing became somewhat normal again, Siddharth looked at her for another brief moment before speaking quietly this time.

"Come with me."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and started walking toward the left side of the mansion, his footsteps steady against the marble floor.

And this time... Aarohi followed him silently.

Because despite all the fear, despite all the hatred and confusion consuming her mind, she had finally realized one terrifying truth—

Right now, Siddharth was the only person who could answer the questions destroying her from the inside.

Aarohi silently followed him deeper into the mansion until they reached the massive living room. The moment she stepped inside, her heartbeat subtly quickened again.

Everything there felt painfully familiar.

The huge black leather couch placed in the center of the room. The dark wooden furniture arranged perfectly around it. The dim warm lights reflecting against the polished floor. Even the decorative pieces placed around the corners looked exactly the same as the fragments her mind kept replaying repeatedly. Nothing had changed. Not a single thing.

And somehow, that familiarity terrified her more than unfamiliarity ever could.

Because every similarity kept feeding the horrifying belief growing inside her—that whatever she remembered had truly happened.

Siddharth walked toward the large black leather couch and sat down calmly, leaning back slightly while his expression remained unreadable. Aarohi's eyes lingered on the couch for a second longer than necessary. It felt familiar too. Like she had sat there before. Like she had cried there before. Like this room itself held memories her mind refused to show completely.

Then she noticed him gesturing toward the empty space beside him.

"Sit."

The word was calm, neither forceful nor soft.

Aarohi hesitated for a few seconds before slowly walking toward him. Every step carried caution as though she still expected something terrible to happen at any moment. Finally, she sat down beside him, though she intentionally kept a noticeable distance between them, pressing herself slightly toward the opposite side of the couch as if the space itself could protect her somehow.

Siddharth noticed it.

But he said nothing.

He knew forcing closeness right now would only make things worse. She needed space before anything else, especially after the state her mind was currently in. So instead, silence settled between them for a few moments while the heavy atmosphere of the mansion wrapped around both of them once again.

Finally, Siddharth looked toward her and spoke quietly.

"Ask."

Aarohi looked back at him immediately, though hesitation was still visible clearly in her eyes. Trusting him felt impossible. Every instinct inside her warned her against it. Yet at the same time, she desperately needed answers, and right now he was the only person capable of giving them.

Her fingers tightened together nervously in her lap before she finally spoke.

"Tell me from the beginning," she said slowly, her voice still slightly shaky from everything that had happened. "How did we meet?" Her eyes searched his face carefully as if trying to catch even the smallest lie. "Why do they call you my husband?"

The questions started spilling out one after another before she could stop herself.

"Why did that kid call me mom? Who was that lady?" Her breathing slowly became uneven again as the confusion resurfaced. "Why can I still see everything... why are Tanishka and Mohit still alive when you killed them?"

Her eyes filled with tears again while she stared at him almost desperately now.

"Why are you alive when I killed you?"

The last words came out softer. Broken.

"And why am I alive... when you brutally killed me?"

Silence filled the room immediately afterward.

Siddharth looked at her quietly, though internally he was far more confused than he showed outwardly. Her words still made absolutely no sense to him. The details she described sounded impossible, disturbing, completely detached from reality as he knew it.

But instead of stopping to question her further right now, he made a decision.

Her confusion needed answers first.

Only after that would he try understanding where these horrifying memories were even coming from.

He leaned back slightly against the couch before finally speaking in a calmer voice.

"Let's start from the very beginning, okay?"

_____________________

Well, let's keep the truth a little suspended for now...
Want the reveal? Hit 200 votes first. 🤭

Bye. And yes, I know I'm being evil — but honestly, watching you guys lose patience is way too entertaining. 💋
Consider this your punishment for demanding spoilers every five minutes.

Now go vote like your sanity depends on it.