The Sacred Shackle
The cool night air on the terrace didn’t touch the fire in Arnav’s blood. It was boiling, thick with a venom he hadn’t known he was capable of carrying. He had seen them—Shyam and Khushi. The image was burned into his retinas: his brother-in-law’s hands on her, and Khushi’s voice, sharp and pleading.
“Why don’t you leave Anjali ji then?” The words were a death sentence.
“Only Rani saheba is standing between me and Kushiji now.” Shyam’s Voice cut through him.
And then, the crushing weight of the news : Anjali was pregnant. His sister, his Di, was carrying a child while her husband was professing love to another woman in the shadows.
Arnav didn’t wait for the world to make sense. He didn’t think. He found Kushi near the stairs reached out and dragged her toward the poolside, his grip like a vice, his fingers bruising the soft skin of her arm
“You have to marry me Kushi Kumari Gupta,” he spat, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Six months. No, make it a year. One year contract marriage. You will marry me tonight.”
Khushi gasped, her eyes wide with terror. “Aap yeh kya keh rahe hain, Arnav ji? Shaadi? Contract? Kyun?”
“Don’t play innocent!” He slammed her back against the cold stone wall, pinning her there with the sheer force of his presence. “I know what you are. If you don’t agree, I will go downstairs right now and stop Akash and Payal’s wedding.”
““And you know very well, Akash won’t breathe without my permission.”” He added with a devilish smirk.
Khushi’s breath hitched. Payal. Her Jiji’s happiness was finally within reach , the one thing she had prayed for—was being held as a ransom.
She looked at Arnav’s stony face and realized he wasn’t bluffing. She looked into his eyes and saw no trace of the man who had kissed her a few days ago here in this very poolside , no trace of a man who served the guest at Gupta house. There was only ASR— cold ruthless.
But then, a flicker of her old spirit sparked through the fear. If she was to be a prisoner, she would not be an invisible one
“Theek hai,” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm. “I will marry you. But with all the rituals Pheron ke saath and it should be legally registered.”
Arnav let out a harsh laugh. “You are in no position to negotiate.”
“I am,” Khushi said, squaring her shoulders ,heart hammering against her ribs. “I will not enter Shantivan as your mistress or some secret mistake. If this marriage happens, it will be with all the rituals..
Arnav’s eyes darkened. “No. I don’t believe in rituals. We’ll just sign a paper.”
“Then go ahead,” Khushi challenged, “tell Nani ji, Anjali ji, and Akash jiju that you’re calling off the wedding an hour before the mahurat. Give them a reason that doesn’t ruin your own family’s reputation.”
“Because if you don’t marry me properly, I’m not moving a step.”
Arnav’s fist hit the wall inches from her head.. He knew she was right. He couldn’t hurt Anjali right now—not in her condition. He couldn’t face Nani’s questions without a solid lie. He cannot ruin Akash’s happiness without giving him a valid reason for.
“Fine,” he hissed. “It will be arranged. We’ll go to the temple after the ceremony is done. But don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone. Samjhi tum?”
Khushi nodded slowly. She watched him walk away, his silhouette sharp against the moonlight. She didn’t know what happened in the span of a few hours for him to change from her soft Arnavji to his old ASR version, but she also knew he was fiercely protective of his family. If he was willing to go this far, his reason must be massive. She just didn’t know the reason yet.
The temple was quiet, smelling of incense and old stone. Aman was there, looking uncomfortable, alongside Mr. Roy, the family lawyer.
The priest droned through the mantras, his voice a haunting background to the internal screaming in Khushi’s head. Arnav sat beside her, a statue carved from ice. When he lifted the mangalsutra, his hand hesitated for a fraction of a second—a glitch in his mechanical cruelty—before he snapped it around her neck.
When he applied the sindoor, his thumb was rough, branding her with a red mark that felt like fire. The fire crackled, a silent witness to a union built on hate.
“Sign here, Mr. Raizada. And here, Ms. Gupta,” Mr. Roy said, handing over the legal documents.
Arnav signed with a violent flourish. Khushi’s signature was small and jagged. Aman and Roy signed as witnesses. It was done. Legally, spiritually, and miserably, she was Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada.
She looked at the smiling Devi Maiyya , and whispered “jo hua uska mathlab tho nahi pata , agar aapki yahi marzi hai tho hum iss rasthe pe chalenge , lekin hamare sharthon pe.” [“I don’t know the purpose of this , but if this is what is chosen for me then I’m ready to walk this path. However , on my own terms.”]
She signed and followed out of the temple towards her new home , with faith that Devi Maiyya has got her back , she always had!!
Shantivan was a storm of confusion when they entered. The wedding of Akash and Payal was over, but the air was thick with the panic of the missing.
When they stepped into the light, the hall fell into a deafening silence. The bright red sindoor on Khushi’s forehead was a siren, screaming of a secret union.
Garima rushed forward. Her face was twisted with shame and anger. “Yeh kya badtameezi hai, Khushi? Aise gayab ho jaana— aur yeh” She raised her hand to slap Khushi.
Before the blow could land, Arnav’s hand shot out, catching Garima’s wrist mid-air.
“Bas,” Arnav said, his voice cold and commanding. “She is my wife now. I won’t allow anyone to lay a hand on her.”
Khushi looked at his profile, stunned. The man who had just threatened to destroy her was standing as her fortress.
“Chote? Yeh sab kya hai?” Anjali asked, her voice trembling.
Arnav let go of Garima and stepped in front of Khushi, shielding her. He donned the mask of the ruthless lover with a terrifying ease “Didn’t you and nani want me married and settled? You both were practically torturing me day and night.”
Anjali blinked, unable to form a response “yes we wanted , but... why like this?”
“I realized I liked Khushi.Arnav said, shrugging as if he were discussing a business merger.
”And I knew if I didn’t act now, you and Nani would have tried to set her up with NK. I didn’t want to wait.You know I hate rituals, Di,I didn’t want to sit through hours of drama. So I told Khushi we should do it my way.”
Nani frowned. “But Khushi bitia? How did she agree to skip the family’s presence?”
Kushi looked at him waiting eagerly for his reply , her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
Arnav glanced at Khushi, a dark, predatory smirk ghosting his lips. “I told her if she didn’t marry me tonight, I’d buy out Laxmi Nagar, tear down Buaji’s house, and build a mall. She knew I was capable of it.” He looked at Nani. “Do you think she’d take that risk?”
Devyani Raizada had nothing to say other than nod . Yes she knows his ways and also how Kushi works.
The room went silent. It was a perfect lie because it sounded exactly like the ASR they knew. They relaxed, believing his “arrogant lover” persona. Only Khushi felt the frost behind his words.
Kushi was taken away by Anjali to prepare her for the grahapravesh.
Inside his room, Arnav stood by the French doors, watching the poolside. His mind was a mess.
Why did I stop Garima aunty? he thought, his jaw tightening. I was supposed to make her life hell. Separating her from our family’s support should have been my first move.
But the thought of anyone else hurting her made him want to burn the world down, his blood humming with a strange, ugly possessiveness.
No, he told himself. She is mine to punish , mine to break, her tears, her pain—they all belong to me. Nobody else gets a piece of her.
Inside his room, the door clicked shut. The family was gone.
Khushi stood in the center of the room, her bridal finery feeling like lead. “Arnav ji... what you told them downstairs... was any of it true? About... liking ….?”
Arnav turned around, the mask of the protective husband vanished long back. His eyes were twin flames of loathing.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, stepping into her space until she flinched. “I married you because I hate you. I married you because you’re a gold digger, Khushi. By demanding the legal registration, you just proved it. You wanted a claim to the Raizada fortune.”
He grabbed her arm and marched her toward the poolside.
“You won’t sleep in here. My bed is too clean for a woman like you. You’ll sleep at the poolside. In the cold. Where you belong.”
He shoved her out and moved to slam the glass door. But unexpectedly, a hand caught the frame.
Khushi didn’t stumble. She didn’t cry. She pushed the door back with a steady, deliberate strength and walked back into the room. She stood tall, meeting his hateful gaze with a cold, clear fire of her own.
“I am your wife, Arnav Singh Raizada. By God, and by the Law. You can hate me, and you can try to break me. But you will never push me out of my own room now.”
She didn’t look back as she walked toward the recliner, leaving him standing in the shadows of his own rage.
Both were here—bound by law, separated by hate.
