Chapter 1
I don’t know… we raised you, cared for you till you turned 18, and now look at you—acting all stubborn. What have we ever denied you? A good proposal has come, just say yes!
The girl standing near the kitchen was wearing an old, worn-out black suit. Her eyes were red from crying.
I don’t want to get married… not now. Let me complete my graduation first… just one more year, then…
She was cut off by the same arrogant lady wearing heavy jewellery.
“No,” she snapped.
“You know Rajwardhan’s son is crazy in love with you, don’t you? So why not get married? You’ll be happy! And one more thing—listen carefully! My respect in society matters, and I will never let Kalyani Tripathi’s honour sink because of you in whole mathura.”
“The wedding is in two days and your haldi ceremony is ready. Come downstairs right now—no more drama, understood?”
With that, she left, leaving the girl alone.
~
“I’m not going to marry him! I’ll run away from here!” she cried, wiping her tears.
She hurried to her almirah, packing all her certificates and everything she might need.
Night fell faster than she expected, her heart racing in her chest.
The girls giggled nearby. “You look amazing! Beauty like yours is rare,” they whispered.
Roop stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t afford to be fragile now.
“Very well done, girls! Today, our Roop looks completely ready,” Kalyani Tripathi said with a smile.
Roop nodded, and Kalyani stepped outside.
The wedding procession had arrived. “Let’s go see! You all go ahead, I’ll stay here,” one of the girls said, still giggling.
Roop closed her eyes, glancing at the girl busy taking selfies.
“I feel dizzy. Could you get me some lemonade?” Roop asked.
The girl nodded and stepped away. Roop thanked the stars above, got up, and closed the door behind her.
In the bathroom, she grabbed a stool and an iron rod, prying the window open. “Jai Bajrang Bali!” she whispered under her breath.
She moved to the back terrace, but her dupatta got caught. She threw it aside.
She also tossed the saree she had hidden in the morning down the stairs, using it for support as she climbed down the back of the house, her bag slung over her shoulder.
Finally, she took out the ticket and stepped into the night, unaware of the storm of danger still chasing her.
~
“Kanya ko bulaiye,” the priest called.
Karan looked toward the stairs, an evil glow in his eyes. I can’t wait any longer, he thought.
“Roop isn’t in her room,” one of the girls reported.
“What the hell?!” Karan growled, standing at the mandap. “Where is Roop?”
Kalyani Devi bared her teeth. “She can’t have gone far. Find her!”
They took their chief and began searching. “Check every bus station and railway station,” Karan ordered.
I won’t let you go today, Roop Tripathi, he whispered under his breath.
~
Moments later, Roop reached a bus and took a seat, ignoring the fact that she was still in her wedding dress. As the bus started moving, a small measure of relief washed over her.
Suddenly, the bus jolted to a stop. She opened her eyes to see motion on the road.
“Where have we reached?” she asked the passenger next to her.
“Not very far, beta,” the passenger replied.
Her eyes widened as she recognized her chachi’s men—loyal workers of her family.
“Where were you going, bitiya?” the elderly woman asked.
“I was trying to escape from here,” Roop replied. The woman, confused but silent, took Roop’s bag and quietly stepped out. Roop followed cautiously, running into the dark night. The road was deserted—no vehicles, no people.
By now, she knew they must have realized she had gone, judging by the distant roar of approaching cars. Her heart pounded with terror.
The night air, thick with dust and fear, clung to her as she ran along the Mathura highway in her red bridal lehenga. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, and her swollen, tear-streaked eyes scanned the darkness behind her.
She stumbled over loose gravel, her anklets jingling with every step, and suddenly darted straight into the path of an oncoming car.
The driver slammed the brakes; the tires screeched, sparks flying into the night. The car stopped inches from her.
The door swung open, and a young man stepped out. He looked around twenty-four—handsome in a reckless way. His eyes were bloodshot from alcohol but sharp, alert, and instinctive.
Without hesitation, Roop rushed toward him, falling at his feet.
“Please… please save me!” she sobbed, clutching his arm. “They’re after me… those people… they’ll kill me!”
Her eyes darted toward the shadows creeping closer. She froze, paralyzed with terror.
Desperate, she flung herself behind him, clutching his back and whispering prayers.
The men chasing her approached, snarling.
“Give her to us!” one barked. “We don’t care about you! We want the girl!”
“I won’t go with you!” she screamed, struggling.
“Shut up!” another spat. “We’ll take her by force if we have to!”
One thug lunged, grabbing her wrist.
In a flash, the young man twisted, blocking the attack. A fierce fight erupted—fists flew, knees slammed, and dust rose around them.
He struck hard, but a thug swung a wooden stick, hitting him on the side of his head.
“Ahhh!” he groaned, pain shooting through him.
For a moment, he staggered, dazed. The thug’s cruel smile appeared as the stick had cut deep. His strength faltered. His knees buckled, and he collapsed, his head spinning.
Roop, panic-stricken, rushed to his side. She knelt beside him, cradling his head in her lap.
His eyes, glazed with pain, wandered over her face—red lips quivering, swollen eyes lined with kohl, nose adorned with a small sparkling pin, her jasmine fragrance and henna-stained hands jingling with bangles as they trembled.
“Please… wake up…” she whispered, tears spilling like pearls onto his face.
Suddenly, despite his fading consciousness, he grabbed her wrist—his grip strong, unwavering, and determined…
