Singhaniyas: the name itself sent shivers down the people's body. They were powerful and filthy rich. Hotels, diners, pubs, clubs...almost 90 percent of everything in Rajasthan was owned by them. They were surrounded by fame, limelight, money, camer...
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Simran cast a slow, disdainful glance at the person sitting beside her, her eyes peeking from under her veil. Marrying at such a young age was never her fancy, and the tight grip on her hand only intensified the repulsion crawling upon her skin.
A person who once believed that the devil was merely a fallen angel had shattered that notion. Tears glossed her eyes as she stared ahead at the holy fire, its flames mirroring the turmoil within her heart. The irony of the situation struck her — the very thing she wanted was a life far removed from the one fate had thrust upon her.
Her dreams were simple: finish her studies, secure a job, fulfill her passion for dance, and find her long-lost brother. Little did she know that a seemingly ordinary rainy day would alter her life forever. Her innocent dance in the rain proved fatal as the next day, the devil put her parents at gunpoint and forcibly dragged her to Jaipur. Shock reverberated through her.
A warm breath brushed against her ear, and she snapped her head to the side. The devil stared at her with crystal blue eyes, uncommon for an Indian, yet she couldn't bring herself to care.
"You look gorgeous, amore," he uttered, and in that moment, she regretted her own beauty.
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Having been told all her life that she was exceptionally beautiful for an Indian girl, she had never paid it much mind. Now, that beauty seemed to cost her everything. Her tears were forgotten, replaced by a cold stare directed at the devil. He smirked — a gesture that sent chills down her spine.
"Questi occhi mi fanno venire voglia di divorarti in questo momento," he continued in a foreign language, making her eyes cloud with confusion. Her cute, confused face seemed to amuse him even more.
As the vows were exchanged by the priest, Simran's eyes fixated on the fire, while the devil's gaze remained fixed on her. The entire family looked on in shock as the youngest among them was forced into marriage.
Arushi, witnessing the scene, couldn't help but stare at Aryan with disgust. A feminist at heart, the sight of a young girl being coerced into marriage ignited her anger. She approached her nonchalant husband with determination.
"You knew this, right?" Arushi accused, her voice dripping with venom. Ayansh turned to face his wife, and she continued, "You knew but didn't do anything. Why? Another girl falling victim to the monster brother, and everyone stays silent." Her voice, though low, conveyed her righteous anger.
Ayansh looked into her eyes. She was tall, and even with heels, she was almost the same height as him. Observing her blue saree, he remembered the effort it took Siya bhabhi to convince her to wear it. Arushi looked pretty, but he would sooner die than admit it.
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"Do you really think I have any control over it?" Ayansh hissed, his hand gripping Arushi's. She glanced at his hand and then at him, realizing the truth. Fate was never in their hands. The Singhania brothers were known for their coldness, arrogance, and ruthlessness, united by their stubborn nature.
Ayansh noticed her crestfallen expression, and his tight grip loosened slightly. His eyes fell on the red marks on her palms, and his thumb grazed over them. Feeling someone's gaze, he lifted his head to find her looking at him with an emotion other than the usual hate.
"Apply ointment," he said, a rare acknowledgment of guilt. She took her hand back, rubbed the red area, and sighed, gazing ahead.
Siya stood quietly in the corner, watching her brother-in-law marry out of obsession. Being adopted made him feel detached, and she loved him like her own brother. She looked around for her husband and saw him nowhere. He was seething with anger.
While the two younger brothers were disrespectful and careless, Vivaan was the opposite. Strict and a man of his word, he was displeased with Aryan's actions. Siya shifted on her feet, the heels causing her discomfort.
"Open the heels," Vivaan's sudden command made her flinch. The saree end tangled in her heels, and she tripped. A cold hand held her waist from behind, and she shivered at the contact. Glancing back, she saw her husband with a slight smug look.
"You don't have to creep up on me like that," Siya hissed, swatting away his hand and adjusting her saree.
Vivaan raised an eyebrow at his slightly irritated wife. His eyes roamed over her; the green saree contrasted beautifully with her skin.
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Clearing his throat to gain her attention, he said, "What?" Siya barked, making Vivaan twitch in anger. No one dared to talk to him like that. "Watch your tone, Siya," he warned in a cold voice. Siya closed and then opened her eyes, the earlier irritation gone.
"Open those heels and wear these," he said, pushing a pair of sandals toward her. She looked at them and then at Vivaan. Gratitude and happiness gleamed in her eyes as she slipped out of the painful heels and into the sandals. "Thank you," she said.
Vivaan nodded and looked ahead with a stoic face. Anger once again consumed him at the thought of his brother's actions.
