~ Once the heart gets too heavy with pain, people don't cry.They just turn silent, completely silent. ~

The Thakur mansion was decorated to perfection.

The grand hall, which usually carried a heavy air of tension and bitterness, now looked warm and inviting - a carefully crafted illusion. Chandeliers gleamed, flower arrangements were placed elegantly, and a spread of rich delicacies covered the dining table.

Aaradhya sat silently in her room, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

She knew why they had gone to such lengths. The Rajvansh family was coming.

Her future in-laws.

Or, more accurately—the people who would unknowingly become her next set of captors.

Her heart was numb.

She didn't care who they were. She didn't care about this marriage.

Because in the end—her choices didn't matter.

---

The chatter of voices and clinking teacups echoed through the house.

The Rajvansh family had arrived.

She was ready in a perfect peach colored suit with minimal jewelry and more minimal makeup, As she didn't want to overdo it. she was sitting in her bed clutching the file that her father had given her the first day they announced she was getting married, it contains all the information about her future husband, but she couldn't bring herself to open it till now because she was busy planning her escape. She was staring at it lost in her thoughts, thinking whether to open or not.

Downstairs, her parents were undoubtedly putting on a show, welcoming their guests with warm smiles and pretending to be the perfect family.

But up here, in her dimly lit room, Aaradhya sat on the edge of her bed, motionless.

A marriage proposal. A future she had never chosen.

She had always known her life was never hers to decide.

But it still hurt.

Her fingers tightened around the folds of her dupatta as a sharp knock jolted her from her thoughts.

Then came the voice.

"Come out. They're here."

Siya.

Aaradhya didn't react.

She should have expected this.

The door creaked open, and Siya stepped inside—uninvited, as always.

She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"You're seriously just sitting here? Pathetic," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You should be grateful, you know? It's a miracle someone actually wants to marry you."

Aaradhya said nothing.

But the way her grip tightened ever so slightly didn't go unnoticed.

Siya smirked. "Oh? Did that offend you?" She stepped forward, circling Aaradhya like a predator. "Poor Aaru, always so quiet, so obedient. But look where that got you—nothing. You have no life, no choices, no one who actually wants you."

Aaradhya lowered her eyes, her nails digging into her palms.

Siya's words weren't new.

She had heard them a thousand times before.

But tonight, for some reason... they hurt a little more.

Siya tilted her head, watching her carefully. "Still no response?" she mocked. "Figures. You never had a backbone."

Aaradhya didn't flinch, but the faintest flicker of pain crossed her features.

Siya noticed.

And for some reason, it didn't feel as satisfying as usual.

Still, she rolled her eyes and grabbed Aaradhya's wrist, yanking her up.

"Enough wasting time. Mom and Dad want you downstairs now," she ordered, her nails digging slightly into Aaradhya's skin.

Aaradhya didn't fight. She never did.

But as Siya pulled her toward the door, her voice was almost a whisper.

"I don't understand what I did wrong..."

Siya froze.

Aaradhya wasn't looking at her.

She was looking at the floor, her expression blank, but her voice carried something heavy.

Something that almost sounded like defeat.

Siya's grip loosened slightly.

For a second—just a second—she wanted to say something.

Something other than cruelty.

But then she remembered the years of resentment, the jealousy she had buried deep inside.

And so, she scoffed, shoving those emotions aside before dragging her away.

And for the first time, Aaradhya let a tear slip.

---

After Siya dragged Aaradhya out of her dimly lit room, the narrow corridor between the staircase and the main hall became an unwilling stage for their confrontation. The soft hum of distant voices and clinking china from downstairs barely registered as the two sisters stood face-to-face in the cold, dim light.

Aaradhya's Voice, Quivering Yet Determined asked her sister "Siya... why do you hate me so much?"

Her words were barely above a whisper, heavy with years of accumulated hurt and silent suffering. In that moment, every past slight, every bitter remark echoed in her mind.

Siya's eyes flashed—a storm of conflicting emotions that she quickly masked with a sneer. "Hate you? Don't be absurd," she snapped, though her tone wavered ever so slightly. "It's not about hate. It's about the truth. You existed, Aaradhya. You always have—a constant reminder of everything I'm not."

For one heart-stopping moment, the corridor was silent. Aaradhya's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she searched Siya's face for any hint of warmth, any crack in the cruelty. Instead, all she saw was a reflection of the resentment that had been fed to her since childhood.

Aaradhya's Soft, Cracked Response "Maybe... maybe I deserve to be here. Maybe I am just the shadow you prefer over the light I bring."

Her voice was frail, carrying not only resignation but also a faint plea for understanding—a plea that had never been answered.

Siya's grip tightened on Aaradhya's wrist, the sound of her nails scraping against delicate skin a harsh punctuation in the tension-filled air. "You're weak, Aaradhya. Weak and always so soft. You think your quiet little questions will change anything? You think... you're important?"

Aaradhya's mind raced with memories—the whispered remarks, the cruel comparisons, the isolation that left her feeling less than human. But now, amid this confrontation, a spark of defiance glimmered in her eyes even as tears welled up.

"I'm not important to you," she replied, her tone steadier now. "But I'm important to myself. I've lived in your shadow for too long, and I'm tired of feeling like I don't exist on my own."

Siya's eyes betrayed a flicker of something unreadable - regret? Confusion? - but she quickly masked it with bitter laughter. "You're delusional if you think you have any worth beyond what Mom and Dad say. You're nothing without their control."

Aaradhya's voice softened, trembling as she added, "Maybe... maybe I never asked for your approval, or anyone's, not in this twisted world. I just wanted to be seen for who I am."

For a brief heartbeat, the harsh edge of their conversation softened. The raw pain of the words lingered in the air, as if both sisters, despite the years of cruelty and neglect, shared an unspoken grief.

But the moment was shattered as Siya's expression hardened once again. "Spare me your self-pity. I don't have time for your weak excuses." With that, she tugged Aaradhya toward the door. "We have to go downstairs now, before they notice we're still here."

As They Walked Down the Corridor Aaradhya's tears formed but she blinked them silently, not only for the cruelty of her sister's words but for the realization that no matter how many questions she asked, the answer remained a bitter truth. Siya's harsh grip on her wrist was both a physical and emotional chain—reminding her that in this family, escape was not an option, not yet.

Even as they neared the grand hall, where forced smiles and hollow promises awaited, Aaradhya's mind churned with a mixture of despair and a tiny, defiant ember of hope. Perhaps someday, she would break free of this cycle. But tonight, in that oppressive corridor, the weight of her past and present pressed down upon her, leaving her both shattered and determined to one day reclaim the light she so desperately craved.

---

The moment Aaradhya and Siya stepped into the grand hall, all eyes turned to them. The murmur of polite conversation paused as the guests took in the sight of the quiet, withdrawn girl who had been summoned like an unwilling participant in her own fate.

The Rajvansh family sat with composed elegance—an aura of power surrounding them.

Aaradhya's parents wasted no time in pushing her forward with forced smiles.

"Come, Aaradhya," Aditi cooed, her tone deceptively sweet. "Greet our esteemed guests properly."

Aaradhya's hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she forced herself to move forward. Her voice was soft but steady. "Namaste." She folded her hands in greeting, barely glancing at anyone before lowering her gaze.

Suryavardhan Singh Rajvansh, the family patriarch, observed her with a quiet intensity. Meera, Shivansh's mother, offered her a kind smile.

"Aaradhya beta, come, sit here. let's Get to know each other a little," she suggested warmly. asking her to sit at the empty space beside her and another lady which she got to know is his aunt.

Before Aaradhya could react, Suraj's grip on her wrist tightened ever so slightly—a silent warning. Aditi's gaze hardened, a wordless threat in her sharp eyes.

Behave. Do not disappoint us.

Aaradhya swallowed. She knew what that meant.

With a small nod, she turned toward her, with a slow measured movement she cae and sat beside her who quickily started engaging her in conversations with his family. she soon got to know that the younger ones of the family are not here and that they are at home but will be so happy to meet her.

"You have such delicate hands, beta," Meera murmured with a soft smile. "I hope you'll be happy with us."

The words should have felt reassuring. But happiness wasn't something Aaradhya had ever been allowed to hope for.

Vardaan Singh Rajvansh, Shivansh's father, cleared his throat and spoke. "I believe there's no need to delay. We would like to officially announce the engagement."

Aaradhya felt her breath hitch.

She stole a glance at everyone around her. his family was beaming with happiness which looked true, while hers had perfected fake demeanor.

Suraj smiled grandly. "Of course. We are honored."

The words felt like a noose tightening around her throat.

Meera beamed. "Then it's settled. The engagement will be held in two weeks."

Aaradhya barely registered the rest of the conversation. The walls blurred around her, the voices melting into background noise.

This was it.

Her fate had been sealed.

And no one had even asked if she wanted it.

~~~