"Let's go to the basement first," Aarohi said suddenly.

Siddharth stopped for a fraction of a second, clearly confused by the unexpected request. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her expression, trying to understand why she would choose that place first out of everything.

Still, he nodded slowly.

He had already realized by now that if he didn't cooperate and prove things step by step, there was no way her trust would come back. And if this continued for the next few days, not just for him but for the Sisodia family as well, things could easily turn into chaos. He could still see it clearly in her eyes—the doubt, sharp and unshaken, like it had settled permanently there.

Without arguing further, he turned and started walking toward the staircase leading down to the ground floor.

Aarohi followed behind him quietly.

Her steps were slow, measured, as her eyes carefully scanned everything around her while she walked. Every corner of the mansion still felt familiar in a disturbing way, as if her mind was constantly trying to match reality with something buried deeper inside her memories.

Then, as they descended the stairs, a thought suddenly formed inside her mind.

Careful. Calculated.

She raised her voice again, but this time differently—controlled, almost strategic.

"Do you know anyone named Ishita?" she asked.

Siddharth immediately paused mid-step.

The reaction was instant.

His shoulders stiffened slightly before he turned his head just enough to look at her over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his face for a brief moment.

"Why did you ask that?" he said, his voice lower than before.

Aarohi noticed the shift immediately, but she forced herself to remain calm.

Nothing in her expression changed as she responded casually, though her mind was carefully observing his reaction.

"Tell me," she said, "who is Ishita?"

For a moment, Siddharth didn't answer.

He resumed walking slowly again, but his tone had already changed—more cautious now.

"As far as I know," he said after a short pause, "there is only one Ishita."

He glanced at her again, this time more carefully.

"And that's your cousin."

Aarohi froze slightly.

Her steps almost faltered for a second, but she recovered quickly, though her expression tightened.

"My cousin or your cousin?" she repeated slowly.

Siddharth paused once, continuing down the stairs.

"Your cousin."

Aarohi's mind immediately started working faster than before, trying to connect this new piece of information with everything else she had been hearing. Her suspicion didn't disappear—in fact, it only grew sharper—but now it had changed direction slightly, becoming more focused, more specific.

Siddharth noticed her silence but didn't press further. He simply continued walking, leading her toward the basement, while the name she had just asked about lingered in the air between them like something neither of them fully understood yet.

Aarohi suddenly grabbed his hand and turned him around harshly.

Her grip tightened immediately, almost shaking with frustration as her eyes burned into his face.

"Liar," she said sharply. "You told me it was your cousin."

Siddharth looked at her for a second, genuinely confused by the accusation, before something in his memory clicked into place. His expression shifted slightly as he exhaled, realizing what she was referring to.

"Ah..." he said slowly, as if piecing it together. Then he shook his head once.

"Well... that's what you assumed about me."

Aarohi frowned instantly, her grip still firm, her confusion now replacing anger for a brief moment.

"What?" she asked, her voice lower now, unsure.

Siddharth gently but firmly loosened her hold on his hand, carefully removing her fingers one by one since her grip was tighter than he expected. Once free, he rubbed his wrist lightly and sighed.

"Listen carefully," he said, his tone calmer now, but slightly tired.

Then he started explaining, step by step, as if trying to reconstruct something he himself had never paid attention to properly at that time.

"As I told you," he continued, "I was never interested in this marriage in the beginning."

A brief pause followed as they both stood on the staircase landing, the dim light from the hallway falling over them.

"So on the engagement day... I actually forgot your name."

He said it plainly, almost embarrassingly honest.

"I was just standing there beside you without even properly knowing it."

Aarohi's eyes narrowed slightly, still listening.

Siddharth continued, gesturing faintly as he spoke.

"And I didn't even bother to read the name properly at the reception entrance either."

Another pause.

"After the function ended, I was sitting on the couch using my phone when your mother came in and called out a name—'Ishita.'"

His gaze flickered briefly toward Aarohi to make sure she was following.

"She wasn't calling you," he clarified quickly. "She was calling your cousin for some work."

He exhaled lightly.

"But you were the one who answered."

Aarohi's expression shifted slightly, but she stayed silent.

Siddharth continued, his voice steady but now more focused on explaining clearly.

"So at that moment... I assumed your name was Ishita."

A faint pause.

"And about your cousin part..." he added, shaking his head slightly, "that's where the misunderstanding started."

He resumed walking slowly again as they moved down another step, Aarohi following closely behind now, still trying to process everything.

"During our marriage," he said, "since I already thought your name was Ishita, I never bothered to recheck anything properly."

His tone carried mild frustration at his own past carelessness.

"I didn't read the marriage cards properly. I didn't confirm anything. I just... didn't care enough to verify details."

He glanced at her briefly.

"And since we barely talked at all—not on calls, not on messages—there was never any correction from either side."

Aarohi's jaw tightened slightly, but she still didn't interrupt.

Siddharth continued, now slowing his voice as the memory became clearer in his explanation.

"And I also never discussed you in detail with my mother," he added. "So she never realized the confusion either."

They reached another landing, the mansion's silence pressing around them.

Then he spoke again, voice lowering slightly.

"After marriage... one night I was sitting on the balcony talking to a friend."

A pause.

"I said something like... I don't have any option now except to spend my life with Ishita."

He looked at Aarohi briefly, expression slightly awkward now, as if he already knew how wrong it sounded in hindsight.

"I was referring to you," he clarified quickly. "Because at that time I believed your name was Ishita."

Aarohi's eyes narrowed again, but this time there was hesitation in them too.

Siddharth continued, carefully choosing his words now.

"But you overheard that conversation."

Another pause.

"And because my cousin—who is actually very close to my family—was often around during that time, and her name is Ishika..."

He exhaled softly, realizing how messy it sounded even while explaining.

"...you assumed I was talking about her."

He shook his head slightly.

"So for almost two to three weeks after marriage, both of us were living under completely wrong assumptions."

His voice softened a fraction.

"Until one day I accidentally called you by your actual name... and that's when everything got cleared between us."

A brief silence followed.

Only the faint sound of their footsteps echoed in the stairwell.

Siddharth looked at her again, this time more directly.

"See?" he said quietly. "It wasn't manipulation or some hidden intention."

A faint, almost embarrassed sigh left him.

"Just two people making assumptions... and never correcting them at the right time."

He hesitated for a moment before adding, slightly tired now but still honest,

"And somehow those small misunderstandings... turned into a completely different story in your mind."

Siddharth looked at Aarohi again after a brief pause, his expression still calm but slightly expectant now.

"Why did you ask anyway?" he asked, studying her face carefully as they stood near the lower end of the staircase.

Aarohi's eyes narrowed instantly, as if she was already prepared with an answer. Her voice came out sharp.

"Because you used to call me Ishita," she said. "Since you didn't know my real name."

Siddharth blinked once, then suddenly let out a small chuckle, almost amused by how the misunderstanding kept looping back into itself.

"Well," he said lightly, "that actually makes sense then."

He shook his head once as if closing that chapter of confusion in his mind.

"Now come on," he added, turning away. "Let's go to the basement."

Without waiting for her response, he led her toward the far end of the ground-floor corridor.

The space grew quieter the deeper they walked, the polished floor reflecting faint light from the ceiling panels above. At the very end, he stopped in front of a heavy-looking door and reached for the handle.

He opened it.

The light flickered on immediately.

And instead of anything dark or disturbing, instead of anything resembling what Aarohi's mind had been preparing for, the view that unfolded in front of her was almost painfully ordinary.

A wide, clean basement area.

Not a hidden torture room.

Not a blood-stained secret chamber.

Just a functional, organized space.

On one side, there was a neatly arranged laundry setup with baskets stacked properly, detergent bottles aligned, and a washing area that looked recently maintained. On another wall, a tool section was mounted carefully, each item placed in its own designated spot, like someone who valued order more than chaos.

Further inside, the space opened into a garage-like section.

A black Lamborghini stood parked with perfect precision.

Next to it, a Porsche gleamed under the artificial lights.

A large G-Wagon sat slightly apart, clean and polished like it had barely been driven.

On the opposite side, a Royal Enfield and a Harley Davidson were parked with equal care, both looking expensive and well-maintained, nothing about them suggesting neglect or secrecy.

The entire basement looked less like a place of horror and more like a structured, wealthy storage and utility space.

Siddharth stepped inside first and turned slightly to look at her reaction.

"Find anything fishy?" he asked calmly.

Aarohi didn't answer immediately.

Her eyes moved slowly across the entire room, scanning every corner, every shadow, every possible hiding place her mind could imagine. Suspicion still lingered in her gaze, refusing to disappear just because the visible reality looked normal.

Then she walked forward.

Her steps were slow, cautious.

She moved toward the tool wall first, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied it closely. Without saying a word, she reached out and picked up a scraper tool from the rack.

Siddharth's brows lifted slightly in confusion as he watched her.

But she didn't look at him.

Instead, she turned toward a section of the wall she seemed to have mentally marked the moment she entered.

Without hesitation, she pressed the scraper against it.

And began scraping.

At first, only a faint layer of dust and paint came off.

Then another layer.

Then another.

Her movements became more deliberate, more focused, almost as if she was convinced that something hidden would eventually appear if she kept going long enough.

Siddharth stood behind her now, completely silent, watching her with a mixture of disbelief and concern.

The wall slowly revealed itself beneath the scraped surface.

White plaster.

Then cement beneath it.

Clean. Solid. Ordinary.

No stains.

No cracks suggesting concealment.

No hidden signs of anything she had been expecting to find.

Aarohi didn't stop immediately.

She kept scraping a little more, as if refusing to accept what her eyes were showing her.

But the result remained the same.

Nothing.

Just a normal wall that had clearly been renovated properly at some point, but nothing remotely suspicious or alarming.

Siddharth exhaled quietly behind her, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

Not because of relief at proving something—

but because of the exhaustion of watching her mind refuse to accept anything that didn't fit her version of reality.

His gaze moved to the scraped section of the wall, then back to her.

He looked mildly frustrated for a second...

But it softened almost immediately when he saw her expression.

Not angry now.

Not confidence.

Just... uncertainty.

Like she was searching for something that refused to exist in front of her.

He sighed again, quieter this time, realizing she had just damaged an expensive finish for nothing, yet also understanding why she did it.

Because in her mind, she wasn't looking for a wall.

She was looking for proof.

And for the first time since they had entered the basement, that proof was not showing up anywhere.

"Aarohi, if you are done, then let's go upstairs," Siddharth said after a moment, his tone calmer again as he tried to bring some normalcy back into the situation. "You should take a bath and eat something. It's also time for your medication."

Aarohi turned sharply toward him.

"How can someone act so innocent?" she said immediately, her voice tightening again with suspicion. "I know you definitely have something you're hiding. I know you are not the one you are trying to show."

Siddharth closed his eyes for a brief second and pressed the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to control his frustration before it surfaced again.

"Fine," he said finally, exhaling slowly. "Then tell me what else you need to see to trust me."

Aarohi didn't hesitate this time. Her mind was already running through possibilities, no matter how irrational they sounded to anyone else.

She tilted her head slightly.

"Your fridge," she said.

A pause.

"I am sure you probably have something... like frozen human inside."

Siddharth stared at her for a full second, completely still.

Then, without saying anything, he just turned and walked after her.

Aarohi didn't wait.

She moved quickly upstairs, her steps faster now as if proving her own theory required urgency. She entered the kitchen where maids were quietly cleaning dishes and wiping counters, the normal household sounds continuing as if nothing unusual was happening at all.

Without warning, she rushed toward the refrigerator.

One maid paused mid-movement, confused.

Siddharth appeared a second later behind her, his expression already shifting into something between disbelief and helplessness as he realized what she was about to do.

But Aarohi had already pulled the fridge door open.

Cold air spilled out immediately.

She scanned everything inside quickly—shelves neatly arranged, bottles of water, containers, vegetables, milk packets, and neatly packed groceries.

Nothing unusual.

No hidden compartments.

No disturbing contents.

No signs of anything remotely suspicious.

Just an ordinary, well-stocked refrigerator in a wealthy household.

Aarohi stood frozen for a second, staring into it as if expecting something else to appear if she kept looking long enough.

Her breath slowly became uneven.

Then she checked again.

Moved items slightly.

Looked deeper into corners.

Still nothing.

Not even a single item that matched the violent imagination she had built in her mind.

No meat hanging.

No frozen anything unnatural.

Not even anything that could be misinterpreted in a dark way.

Just normal life.

Ordinary.

Real.

Aarohi suddenly stepped back from the fridge and ran a hand through her hair in frustration, gripping it tightly for a moment as her breathing became heavier.

Her thoughts started spiraling again.

If this wasn't here...

Then where was the truth?

Or worse—

What if there was no truth, the way she believed it existed?

Behind her, Siddharth stood silently for a moment, watching her reaction.

Not angry anymore.

Not defensive either.

Just tired.

Because he could see it now—clearly.

She wasn't searching the house anymore.

She was searching for something inside her own mind that refused to match reality.

Her breathing turned heavier almost immediately, her hands beginning to shake as if her body was reacting faster than her mind could control. Siddharth noticed the change at once. His expression shifted instantly from frustration to concern as he stepped closer, carefully reaching out for her hand.

"Hey—calm down," he said softly, trying to steady her. His other hand moved carefully to the side of her cheek, grounding her gently. "You can check everything you want... just don't take tension, okay—"

But Aarohi suddenly jerked his hand away.

Her eyes darkened again, but not with logic anymore—this time it was pure emotional overload. Her mind was flooding with fragments, broken images, overlapping memories that refused to stay still. Fear, anger, confusion, and something deeper she couldn't even name all crashed together inside her head.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, her voice breaking slightly. "You bastard... don't you even dare to—"

Siddharth's expression changed instantly.

This wasn't an argument anymore.

This was a loss of control.

He could see it in the way her body started wavering slightly, her balance slipping as her breathing became uneven and unstable.

Without thinking further, he stepped in quickly.

This time, he didn't hesitate.

He gently but firmly took both of her hands in his, not forceful but steady, trying to ground her before she collapsed. In the same motion, he pulled her closer just enough so she wouldn't fall backward.

One hand shifted to support her waist carefully while the other moved to the back of her head, holding her in place with controlled gentleness so she wouldn't hurt herself.

His eyes flicked immediately toward the maids.

"Water," he said sharply, voice low but urgent.

The maids froze for a split second, shocked to see Aarohi like this, before quickly rushing to obey. One of them returned almost immediately, hands trembling slightly as she handed over a glass.

Siddharth took it without looking away from Aarohi, guiding it carefully toward her lips.

"Hey... shh," he said again, this time softer. "Calm down. Just breathe. Drink it slowly."

For a moment, Aarohi resisted.

Her mind still wanted to push him away, still wanted to fight, still wanted to refuse everything about him.

But her body wasn't cooperating anymore.

Her strength was slipping.

And somewhere in that chaos, his voice—low, steady, controlled—cut through the noise just enough for her to react.

Her lips parted slightly.

She took a small sip.

Then another.

Slowly, unevenly.

Her breathing didn't fully stabilize, but the sharp edge of panic began to dull, her body losing the intense resistance it had been holding onto.

The tension didn't disappear.

But it loosened just enough for exhaustion to take over.

Siddharth noticed it immediately.

Her weight shifted subtly against him, her strength fading as her body started to give in to fatigue rather than fear.

Without hesitation, he adjusted his hold, carefully lifting her into his arms in a bridal carry so she wouldn't collapse completely.

Aarohi's eyes fluttered slightly, still conscious but barely responsive, her mind too drained to fight back properly.

She wanted to push him away.

She wanted to say something.

But even her thoughts felt far away now.

Siddharth didn't say anything further.

He simply carried her out of the kitchen, moving steadily through the corridor and toward the stairs, his steps controlled and careful so she wouldn't feel any sudden movement.

The mansion around them remained quiet again, the normalcy returning as if nothing had happened.

He took her upstairs and gently laid her down on the bed in his room on the first floor, making sure she was stable before stepping back slightly.

Aarohi lay there, breathing unevenly, her eyes half-open but unfocused, still caught between awareness and exhaustion.

She wanted to move.

She wanted to reject everything again.

But her body refused to listen.

And for the first time in a long while, silence settled around her mind—not peace, not trust, just a temporary pause in the storm she had been fighting alone.

Aarohi's tired eyes slowly moved across the room, scanning everything with a dull, unfocused awareness as if she was trying to confirm whether this place was real or just another fragment of something her mind had created.

The room looked the same.

Dark themed, heavy in its atmosphere, yet strangely orderly. The large glass window on one side showed rain falling steadily outside, droplets running down the surface in uneven trails. On the left, tall trees stood like silent shadows, partially hiding the dense forest beyond them. On the right, the vast ocean stretched endlessly, its surface constantly disturbed by the rain, waves crashing against the shore in a slow, rhythmic violence that somehow matched her inner state.

Everything felt unchanged.

The wardrobe placement.

The bathroom door position.

Even the smallest details her eyes could register.

It all triggered something uncomfortable inside her mind—like familiarity without certainty, recognition without trust.

Siddharth sat beside her on the bed quietly, his hand gently moving through her hair, pushing it back from her face with a careful, almost instinctive softness. His touch was steady, controlled, not forceful—just grounding enough to keep her from slipping further into panic or confusion.

He watched her closely, noticing things he hadn't allowed himself to think about earlier.

How her face had changed.

How her jawline looked sharper now.

How her cheeks had lost the fullness they once had.

Her body, once healthier and fuller after her post-pregnancy phase, now looked noticeably thinner, as if months of stillness had taken something away from her. He remembered how she used to complain about her weight casually, promising him every other day that she would start exercising "from tomorrow," only to get distracted by work, fatigue, or simply her own laziness.

Those memories felt strangely distant now.

Because the person lying here wasn't that version of her anymore.

After waking up from a coma after almost a year, her body had changed drastically. Her features looked more fragile, her hands thinner than before, her cheekbones slightly more visible. Even the way she breathed felt different—less stable, more delicate, as if her body was still trying to adjust to being alive again.

Siddharth leaned down slightly and pressed a soft, brief kiss to her hair.

Not possessive.

Not demanding.

Just... tired affection, mixed with concern.

He stayed like that for a second before slowly pulling away.

Then he stood up and stepped aside, taking out his phone. His expression shifted back into control as he dialed the doctor's number.

"I think we need to start her therapy from tomorrow," he said firmly once the call connected, pacing slightly as he spoke in a low voice. "Her condition is unstable. It's only been a few hours since we brought her home, and she's already spiraling."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line as the doctor responded.

Siddharth listened, jaw tightening slightly.

Then he added, more quietly but with clear concern, "If we don't stabilize her now, this could get worse."

The doctor's voice came through again, explaining the seriousness of her mental state, the risks of overstimulation, and the fragile balance her recovery required.

Siddharth's grip on the phone tightened slightly.

"...coma again?" he repeated slowly, the words landing heavier than expected.

A brief silence followed.

For a moment, something flickered in his expression—shock, fear, and something deeper he immediately tried to suppress.

Then he exhaled sharply and nodded once, even though the doctor couldn't see it.

"Alright," he said finally, voice steadying again. "We'll be careful."

He ended the call.

For a few seconds, he just stood there in silence, staring at the floor as if processing what had just been said.

Then he looked back at Aarohi.

She was still lying on the bed, eyes half-closed, her body finally giving in to exhaustion after everything she had been through in the last few hours.

Siddharth's expression softened slightly.

Not relief.

Not peace.

Just the weight of responsibility settling back on his shoulders again.

He stepped back toward the bed slowly, watching her for a moment longer.

Because whatever was happening inside her mind...

He knew one thing for sure now—

He couldn't afford to lose her again.