| Raghav Suri |

1 5  J U N E  2 0 2 5

My therapist gave me four rules—to stick by. .

1. Never contact Isha. 

2. Never be alone with her even for a second.

3. Never trust her.  

4. Never forget who she is - A psychotic criminal, manipulative woman who never loved me only used me to slip into my family... and if I ever lower my guard, even once, she will manipulate me into committing murder again.

But here I was, glass shards digging into my back, the chandelier lying shattered beside us, my body curved over hers, shielding her, making sure not a single sliver of crystal touched her skin. At the end of the day, she's the woman I once loved. Not that it matters. I would've done the same for anyone trapped under a falling chandelier... that's what I tell myself, anyway.

Pain throbs through every nerve as I try to push myself up—then I feel it.
A warm hand sliding over my chest, right above my heart like she wants to feel my heartbeat, racing.

Her wide, doe-like eyes stare up at me, soft, innocent—her favourite mask. But I know better. I've seen the rot under the sweetness.

"I knew you'd save me," she whispers, lips curving into a smile that shouldn't exist on a face like hers—something slow, knowing, menacing.

Psycho.

. . .

As one doctor stitched and wrapped my wounds, the other tended to Isha. Now I stood outside her room with my family.

I shouldn’t be here.
I shouldn’t be here.
I. Shouldn’t. Be. Here.

The doctor stepped out—her expression twisted into the most disgusted look she could muster. Her eyes swept across us like we were something crap or more disgusting. “I can’t believe it,” she said, voice sharp. “Such an educated family… and you can’t even look after a pregnant lady properly.”

The words hit me like a slap. My gaze darted to my family—every face frozen in shock.

“She’s… pregnant?” Maa whispered.

“12 weeks.” the doctor replied bluntly.

“She never said anything to us. And she didn’t look—”  Ria placed a hand on Maa’s arm, stopping her before she said something worse.

“It’s your family matter.” the doctor continued, “but this is extremely disappointing. Her whole body is weak. I’ve put her on IV. And for a woman in early pregnancy, this body condition is highly unhealthy.”

She kept talking—but my mind drifted.

My family? Neglecting her? Hurting her?

No. No, they hate her, yes, but they’re not cruel.

Or… is this just another one of her psycho games?

Before the thought could settle, Papa walked in. Every spine in the hallway curved instantly—heads lowered, breaths held. No one dared meet his eyes.

Even the doctor stiffened.

Papa’s voice was calm, deadly calm. “How is my daughter-in-law?”

Maa swallowed hard before answering. “She… she is weak because of the pregnancy. We didn’t know, ji…”

“Doctor saheb,” Papa said, looking angrily towards maa, “Is there anything more needed?”

“Nothing else, sir.” the doctor muttered.

“You may leave. Nandini or Ria will update you by morning on Isha.”

“Of course. Take care.” she said quickly, bowing her head before walking away.

“Nandini!” Papa barked, his voice slicing through the air. “What kind of pathetic homemaker are you? You didn’t even know your daughter-in-law is pregnant.”

“No, I… I knew…” Mumma whispered.

He stepped toward her, rage rolling off him in waves. Mumma kept her head bowed, shrinking into herself. “Don’t lie to me, you bitch,” he spat. “If you’d known earlier, you’d have told me or taken care of it. But no—tamasha dekhne mein hi mazza aata hai tumhe.” ( Don’t lie to me, you bitch. If you’d known earlier, you’d have told me or taken care of it. But no… you enjoy watching this house turn into a circus.)

Tears fell from her eyes, silent and constant.  Ria and I stood frozen. Nothing new.

Every time he degraded Mumma, my fists clenched… but the truth was brutal— if not her, the target would shift to me, or Nia… or worse, little Aaryan. We all knew the drill. His belt. His ashtray. His mood.

Aaryan hid behind his mom’s dupatta, trembling.

“Nahi ji…” Mumma collapsed to her knees, clutching his legs.  “Aap mauka dijiye, ye sab theek kar dungi.” (Please give me a chance… I will fix everything.)

Fix… what?

“Mom, you know she’s twelve weeks pregnant. Nothing can be done now,” Nia said, voice trembling but steady.

Papa’s head snapped toward Mumma. A new, vicious rage flared.

He grabbed Mumma by her hair and yanked her upright. Her scream tore through the corridor.

“Kaise karogi theek ab? Meri izzat bech ke? Ya khud ki? Kya kahenge log? Uska pati gayab hai—pata nahi kahan mar gaya. Mil bhi nahi raha, harami. Ek baar mil jaye… khud haath se maar dunga.” (How will you fix it now? By selling my honor? Or your own? What will people say? Her husband is missing—God knows where he died. We can’t even find him, that bastard. If I ever find him… I’ll kill him with my own hands.)

I stepped forward just as Mumma’s face turned red from pain.

“Papa… bas…”(Papa… stop.)

I pulled Mumma out of his grip. She collapsed into my arms, sobbing. My wounds burned on back as her weight pressed against me, but I held her tighter.

Papa’s voice thundered over us.

“Tumhein bataun kaise theek karte hain?” (Shall I tell you how to fix it?)

His eyes locked onto mine.

“Marry that witch.”

The word detonated in my skull.

From behind us, Ria and Aarman gasped. Even Mumma’s sobs stuttered to a halt.

“Papa!” I snapped, but he wasn’t listening.

Ria stepped forward. “Papa… why are you acting like this? Police are still investigating. Viraj is missing. Why are you acting like he doesn’t exist? Isha is his wife.”

Papa’s expression didn’t shift—only hardened further.

“It’s been twelve days,” he said coldly. “Aur main usko apni biwi ke paas nahi dekh raha.” He looked me directly in the eyes. “Toh chahe wapas aa bhi jaye… woh harami mere liye mar chuka hai.”( And I don’t see him standing beside his wife.So even if he returns… that bastard is dead to me.)

“Papa. He is your child,” I said, breath shaking. “And this is wrong. Completely wrong. And over my dead body—I am not marrying that girl.”

The slap came so fast, so sharp, it stole the air from my lungs. For a second, everything went black.

If I believed my family could never hurt her… I was a fool.
They don’t even think twice about hurting their own children—then who is she to them?
My father didn’t care that little Aaryan was standing there, terrified.
He didn’t care how cruel it is to slap your grown child.
He didn’t care that he had practically wished death upon his own son.

Papa leaned close, voice low and poisonous. “Keep talking… and your own police will be the ones finding your dead body.”

My cheek throbbed, but my voice stayed steady.

“I’m still not marrying her.”

His rage trembled. “Do you even understand? Next week is the rally. And your insolent behaviour—this nonsense—do you know how it affects my election? What will people say? That I can’t even handle my own family?”

“My brother is still missing,” I said, louder this time.“There is still hope. And I’m not marrying his wife behind his back. Even if he gave me his blessing—I will not marry her.”

Papa’s head snapped toward Mumma.

“Fix this, you bitch.”

Mumma collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Papa didn’t look back as he walked away towards his room. I turned to Aaryan and crouched in front of him. “Aaryan… I have lots of chocolates in my suitcase and plushie toys too. I brought them for you from Banaras. Why don’t you go and see?”

“But… mummu,” he whispered, leaning to me, “I’m scared to be alone.”

“Don’t worry. Rina di will be with you. I’ll come right behind you, okay?”

“Yes, Aaryan. I’ll follow you there too.” Ria said, her smile forced.

I looked at his nanny, silently asking her to take him away. Aaryan walked off, gripping the corner of her dupatta, his small steps heavy with fear. I exhaled—

—and then the corridor shattered with a loud bang.

I spun around.

Mumma was gone. Isha’s door stood slammed shut.

Realisation hit like a blade. Mumma locked herself inside with Isha.

Instinct took over me.

I slammed my fists against the door. “Mumma, open the door. Meri kasam, agar aapne kuch kiya toh—”

Silence.

Ria fumbled with a bundle of keys, her hands shaking. 

“Hurry…” I barked.

“I’m trying—” she panicked.

Aarman snatched the keys from her hand and forced the lock open.

As the door flew open, mumma was already at Isha’s bedside—her hands wrapped around Isha’s throat.

“Isha—!” I lunged forward, grabbing mumma and dragging her back. Isha gasped, clawing at her neck, her face draining of color. The IV line trembled as her hand shook against her skin.

“Mummaaa….” Aarman rushed in, pulling her farther away.

“Move aside.” she hissed.

I stepped in front of Isha without thinking. I glanced back once, her fingers pressed to her throat, red marks blooming beneath the IV tape.

“Have you lost your mind, mumma? What were you thinking?”

“I was fixing a problem.” Her eyes burned. “Now move. That bitch destroyed my house. Nothing will stop me.”

“I will.” My voice shook, but I didn’t move.

She stopped inches from me. “Because of her, my son is missing and you’re still protecting her?” Her gaze slid past me to Isha. “Chudail. Kaunsa kala jaadu kar rakha hai tune?”

“Mumma—”

She turned sharply. “Raghav. Arrest her. Take this black shadow out of my house. Or I swear, I’ll haunt her. I’ll strangle her myself.”

The room went silent.

“The way you’re behaving, I should call the police on you,” I said. “You tried to kill her. Are you even hearing yourself?”

She broke then, clutching my arm. “Bacha… she’ll eat us alive. I warned your brother. Look at him now, missing.” Her grip tightened. “There’s no way I’ll let you marry her. No, Raghav. Never.”

“I’m not marrying her.” I pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair, trying to calm the storm.

She went still in my arms.

Then she whispered, cold and steady—“Then let me kill her child. If not her.”