Chapter 1
Chapter 1
The Life She Lost
The rain had not stopped that night.
Lightning flashed across the dark Jaipur highway while expensive cars moved slowly through the storm. Inside one of them sat Krishna Rathore, staring blankly through the glass window.
Her bridal bangles were gone.
Only the thin gold chain around her neck remained.
Two years.
Two years since she married Shiva Singh Rathore.
And even after two years, guilt still sat heavily inside her chest.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Memories came rushing back again.
—
When Krishna first married Shiva, she never accepted him.
Not because he was cruel.
Not because he mistreated her.
But because she never wanted the marriage.
Her father had folded his hands before her that day.
“Krishna… this marriage will protect our family. Shiva is a good man. Trust me once.”
She had agreed unwillingly.
At twenty-two, Krishna entered the Rathore mansion carrying resentment in her heart.
But Shiva…
Shiva never forced anything on her.
Never raised his voice.
Never demanded love.
He only cared for her silently.
Like a man who knew love could not be begged for.
—
Shiva Singh Rathore.
One of Rajasthan’s most powerful businessmen.
Cold in the business world.
Respected.
Feared.
But at home…
He was simply an exhausted elder brother trying to raise three siblings alone.
His parents died in an accident when the youngest child was born.
From that day, Shiva became father, mother, and brother all at once.
At twenty-nine, the weight on his shoulders was already crushing.
Yet he never complained.
His world revolved around four people.
Rudra — the eldest younger brother, twenty-five, mature and calm, already working beside Shiva.
Vikram — fifteen, mischievous but sharp.
Little Rajveer — five years old, innocent and deeply attached to Shiva.
And Krishna.
The wife who never truly looked at him.
—
Still…
Shiva loved her.
In small ways.
Quiet ways.
He remembered what she liked eating.
He noticed when she skipped meals.
Every winter morning, he silently warmed her side of the bed before she woke up.
When she had nightmares, he stayed awake beside her without touching her.
When she cried missing her parents, he stood outside the room the entire night.
But Krishna misunderstood everything.
She believed his care came from duty.
Not love.
And slowly…
She built walls around herself.
Walls even Shiva stopped trying to break.
—
One evening changed everything.
Krishna had a fever.
A severe one.
The doctor warned that her condition could worsen.
Shiva canceled an international business meeting worth crores without hesitation.
For three nights, he stayed beside her bed.
Without sleep.
Without rest.
Krishna woke up once in the middle of the night.
Her blurry eyes saw Shiva sitting beside her, still wearing his office suit, his head resting near her hand.
Exhausted.
His fingers still holding the wet cloth placed on her forehead.
That was the first crack in her misunderstanding.
But pride is cruel.
She ignored the warmth growing in her heart.
Ignored the pain hidden in Shiva’s tired eyes.
Ignored the love standing silently before her.
Until it became too late.
—
The accident happened during the monsoon.
Krishna still remembered the sound.
Brakes screeching.
Glass shattering.
People screaming.
Blood.
So much blood.
Her vision blurred as rain mixed with the crimson flowing across the road.
Far away…
She heard Shiva screaming her name.
For the first time in two years…
His voice broke completely.
“KRISHNA!”
That voice carried fear.
Despair.
Love.
The kind of love she failed to understand while alive.
—
Hospital lights burned her eyes.
Machines beeped endlessly.
Krishna struggled to breathe.
And there he was.
Shiva.
Thirty-one years old.
A man feared by thousands.
Now shattered beside her hospital bed.
His hands trembled violently as he held hers.
His eyes were red.
Broken.
“Please…” he whispered. “Don’t leave me.”
Krishna cried weakly.
For the first time, she saw everything clearly.
Every silent act.
Every sacrifice.
Every moment he loved her without expecting anything back.
And she realized something horrifying.
She loved him too.
Desperately.
But realization came at the edge of death.
Tears rolled down her face.
“Shiva…” her voice cracked softly.
He immediately leaned closer.
“I’m here.”
Her fingers weakly tightened around his hand.
“I’m… sorry…”
Shiva shook his head instantly.
“No. Don’t speak.”
But Krishna cried harder.
Because she knew.
She was running out of time.
“I wasted… everything…”
Shiva’s composure finally broke.
He lowered his forehead against her hand like a helpless child.
And for the first time in years…
The powerful Shiva Rathore cried.
Not as a businessman.
Not as a protector.
Just as a husband losing the woman he loved.
“I love you…” Krishna whispered weakly.
Silence filled the room.
Shiva froze.
His breathing stopped for a second.
Those words…
The words he waited two years to hear.
But fate was merciless.
Krishna’s heartbeat monitor began slowing.
Her vision darkened.
Shiva grabbed her hand tighter.
“Krishna!”
Fear entered his voice completely now.
“Krishna, look at me!”
Her tears fell endlessly.
If only she had one more chance.
One more life.
One more beginning.
She would love him properly this time.
She would love his brothers.
His family.
She would become worthy of the love he gave her.
“I love you…” she whispered again with her final breath.
The machine turned flat.
A long, lifeless sound echoed through the room.
Shiva stopped breathing.
For several seconds…
He simply stared.
As if his soul could not understand reality.
Then slowly…
He collapsed beside her bed.
And cried.
Cried like a man who lost the entire meaning of his life.
—
Darkness swallowed Krishna completely.
But somewhere within that darkness…
A voice echoed softly.
“If love remains unfinished… fate sometimes gives another chance.”
—
Present
The sound of wedding bells echoed through the massive Rathore mansion.
Bright lights decorated the haveli beautifully.
Traditional Rajasthani music filled the air while relatives laughed happily.
Krishna slowly opened her eyes.
Her breath trembled.
Alive.
She was alive.
For a moment, panic filled her chest.
Then memories crashed into her mind.
Hospital.
Death.
Shiva crying.
Her confession.
Everything.
Krishna’s eyes widened.
Slowly, she looked down at herself.
Deep crimson bridal lehenga.
Heavy Rajasthani jewelry.
Golden embroidery shining under the lights.
Fresh mehendi dark against her soft hands.
Red choora bangles adorned her wrists beautifully.
A long embroidered veil partially covered her face.
She touched her cheeks shakily.
Warm.
Living.
Real.
Tears instantly filled her eyes.
She had returned.
Returned to the day of her marriage.
Before everything was destroyed.
Before misunderstandings ruined their lives.
Before death separated them.
Her heart began pounding violently.
Then…
She saw him.
Standing a few steps away.
Shiva.
Twenty-nine years old.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Powerful presence.
Dressed in an elegant ivory sherwani with royal Rajasthani embroidery, his appearance carried effortless authority. A crimson safa rested perfectly on his head while a ceremonial sword hung near his side.
But his eyes…
Those same calm eyes.
The eyes that once broke while crying beside her hospital bed.
Krishna’s chest tightened painfully.
He was alive.
Her Shiva was alive.
Completely unaware that his wife had already died once.
—
“Bring the bride forward,” one elder woman said warmly.
Krishna’s hands trembled.
The entrance rituals for her griha pravesh had begun.
Aarti flames flickered softly before her face while married women welcomed her into the Rathore family.
Little Rajveer peeked curiously from behind Rudra’s leg.
Vikram whispered mischievously, “Bhabhi looks like a queen.”
Rudra lightly hit his head.
“Behave.”
For the first time…
Krishna looked at them properly.
Not as strangers.
But as the family she once failed to cherish.
Emotion rose inside her chest so strongly that she nearly cried there itself.
The elder woman placed the kalash before the entrance.
“Right foot first, bahu.”
Krishna looked at the doorway.
In her previous life, she entered this house unwillingly.
Today…
She stepped forward with tears in her eyes.
Not because she was forced.
But because this time—
She had come home.
