The night stretched endlessly over Rajawat Haveli. Long, dark, and unbearably still.

But inside one small room, sleep did not come.

Naintara sat curled up on the edge of her bed, her knees drawn close to her chest, her dupatta clutched tightly between trembling fingers.

She had spent countless nights awake in this house before…. waiting for her father to return from the fields, worrying about his health, or silently praying for rain when the harvest was failing. But tonight was different.

Tonight, she wasn’t waiting for anything. Tonight, she stood on the edge of everything she had ever known, and the ground beneath her feet was slowly giving way.

Her eyes had not closed even once.

How could they?

Every time she tried, the memories returned vivid and merciless. The strangers’ mocking faces, the sound of their boots striking against the courtyard stones, and those cruel words that refused to stop echoing inside her head:

“Land… or girl.”

She could still feel their eyes crawling over her skin, the weight of their threats pressing down on her chest. She could still feel the sting of that moment when fear had crushed her voice and left her trembling on the ground like a child.

But worst of all was the image that she could not erase, her father falling. Beaten. Humiliated. Unable to protect her.

That was the memory that hurt the most and maybe haunt her entire life.

Her father, her hero, her protector, her whole world lying helpless before her eyes and she… she had just stood there, sobbing, powerless, weak.

She had never seen him like that before. The man who had always been her pillar, strong, certain, unshakable had crumbled like dry earth.

And deep down, she knew it was because of her.

Her mind replayed the last few hours like a cruel, unending film. The sound of his voice breaking as he begged, the way his shoulders shook when he said he had no choice, the way he couldn’t bring himself to look into her eyes.

Tears welled up again, hot and bitter, but she wiped them away quickly with the back of her hand. There had been too many of them already tonight.

She rose from the bed and crossed the room to the small wooden window, pushing it open to let in the cold night air.

Outside, the village slept peacefully under a pale, indifferent moon unaware that inside one girl’s heart, a storm was raging.

How strange, she thought. The world could look so calm, so ordinary, while inside someone’s soul, everything was falling apart.

Her gaze drifted to the tulsi courtyard below, where she had once played hide-and-seek with her mother.

Now, those same stones bore the memory of her fear.

Her embroidery threads…. scattered and torn.

Her dignity….threatened.

Her childhood… slipping away.

Because her father’s decision had been made.

The proposal that once felt like a chain now loomed over her like a shield… a shield she had not chosen.

Her hands twisted nervously in her lap as she sank to the floor beside the window, her back pressed to the cold wall. Every now and then she would rise, pace the room in circles, then sit again. There was no peace in her body, no calm in her breath.

Her hands trembled as anxiety clawed at her chest, and her heart raced as she remembered the name she had seen staring back at her in this morning's newspaper: Shekhar Raichand, …the man destined to become her protector, someone she doesn’t even know and someone who has no idea she’s the one he’s meant to protect.

Her chest tightened painfully as the realisation settled deeper: this was no longer just about land. It wasn’t even about fear anymore. This was about her.

Her safety.

Her future.

Her father’s desperation.

And the price for all of it… was marriage.

Marriage.

The word itself felt strange, almost foreign, on her tongue. She had seen girls from the village leave their homes as brides… shy, tearful, their bangles clinking softly as they stepped into a new life. She had often wondered what they must have felt in those final moments. Excitement? Hope? A quiet, steady happiness?

But she felt none of those things.

For her, this wasn’t the beginning of a dream. It felt like the end of something sacred, the life she had built in this house, the little world that belonged only to her and her father.

The thought of leaving it all behind clawed at her chest until she thought she might break.

This courtyard where she had taken her first steps. These walls that had echoed with her childhood laughter. That small wooden swing where she and her mother had once sat.

Would all of it soon become just memories?

And what of her father?

The man who had woken before dawn every single day of her life to make sure she never went to bed hungry.

The man who had worked his hands raw so she could smile, so she could dream.

The man who, even in anger, had never once raised his voice at her.

How was she supposed to walk away from him?

The thought alone was unbearable. Her throat tightened and tears spilled over before she could stop them. She pressed her face into her dupatta, trying to muffle the sound of her sobs, but they came anyway, deep, shaking sobs that seemed to tear their way out of her chest.

“Madhav…” she whispered into the darkness, lifting her gaze to the small Krishna picture hanging on the wall, her vision blurred. “Why are you testing me like this? Why?”

She closed her eyes and tried to pray, but the words refused to form. Instead, what came was a flood of questions, relentless and cruel.

Would her father eat alone after she left?

Would he still wait for her voice to call him for dinner?

Would the house feel hollow without her laughter echoing through it?

Who would look after him and his things in her absence?

Who would make sure he had his meals before leaving the house?

Who would wait for him in this big, empty house?

Would he miss her the same way she knew she would miss him in every quiet corner and every empty chair after stepping into her new life?

Would she still be his Naintara, or would she become someone else’s responsibility, someone else’s shadow?

The idea of becoming someone’s wife felt terrifying, not because she didn’t understand it, but because she understood it too well.

A wife belonged to her husband’s home, his family, his world and that meant leaving behind her own.

And yet… she knew there was no other way. She has to leave her Bauji.

This marriage wasn’t a choice. It was a shield, the only way to keep her father’s head held high, the only way to protect herself from the darkness that now lurked just beyond their door.

So she sat there, beneath the indifferent gaze of the moon, torn apart by a war she could not fight.

A part of her longed to cling to her father and beg him not to let her go.

Another part…the quieter, braver part knew that if this was what it took to keep them both safe, then she would go. Even if it broke her. Even if it shattered everything she was.

Her body felt heavy and hollow all at once. The silence around her was deafening, yet inside her, a thousand thoughts screamed.

“Why am I so weak?” The thought pierced through her as she pressed a trembling palm against the cold stone floor. “Why did you make me like this? Why didn’t you make me someone who could fight for Bauji?”

If only she had been stronger. If only she had not cried. If only she had been born a son… maybe her father wouldn’t have to bow his head. Maybe Maheshwari’s men wouldn’t have dared step into their home. These are the only what ifs now echoing in her mind.

Her throat tightened painfully as fresh tears burned her eyes. “Madhav…” she whispered again into the night, her voice barely a breath. “Please…make this stop.”

But the silence that answered her was the same silence that had always answered.. deep, patient, and unmoving.

And so, the night went on.

The moon crossed the sky. The stars burned and dimmed and inside that little room, one girl sat wide awake, her heart breaking and mending itself over and over again knowing that when morning came, nothing in her life would ever be the same again.

Meanwhile, in Raichand Mansion, Shekhar came downstairs the moment he heard the visitor’s car gone. He was done being patient, he needed answers.

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on in this house?” he demanded, striding into the hall. “Why was Kulbhushan Rajawat here, crying and begging for his daughter’s hand in marriage? How dare you, Dad? Have you started treating my life like a business deal so much so that you fixed my marriage in exchange for a piece of land?”

His voice rose with every sentence, anger sharpening like a blade with each breath. The sight of Kulbhushan standing in his house moments ago paired with his father’s sudden talk of marriage, now pointed to only one inevitable truth in his mind.

That it's an exchange. A bargain. A deal.

“Her full name is Naintara Rajawat, isn’t it? That’s why you refused to tell me anything about her because if I had known, I’d never have agreed to this marriage. So instead, you planned to keep me in the dark and trap me in this bond?”

Shekhar hurled accusation after accusation, barely stopping for breath. Jagdish, however, sat silently in his rocking chair, lighting a cigar and puffing calmly, his face unreadable.

Seeing him so composed only fuelled Shekhar’s anger further. Rajlaxmi tried desperately to calm him down, but he refused to listen.

“Shekhar calm down….”

“Please don’t interrupt, Maa. I’m talking to your husband right now.” he interrupted her and then turned to his father.

The shouting was so loud that Kalyani woke up and came downstairs. She stopped in shock, watching her grandson stand there and shout at his father like that.

“I’m sorry,” Shekhar spat bitterly, “but I’m not one of your trained soldiers who has to accept every decision you make… right or wrong, as the ultimate truth. I will not marry that girl….”

“You will marry Naintara,” Jagdish interrupted him smoothly, taking another drag from his cigar.

“Absolutely not! This is my life, not one of your battlefields where you can use me as collateral damage!” Shekhar shouted, his voice trembling with fury.

“Lower your voice!” Jagdish roared back, and the two women in the room flinched in fear at the sight of father and son clashing so fiercely. “Never forget that you are standing before your father!”

“And being my father gives you the right to destroy my life?” Shekhar shot back.

“This attitude of yours!” Jagdish barked, standing up and walking closer to him. “You think too highly of yourself, yet you have the sense of a child. That’s why I didn’t tell you anything. I knew you would react like this. But the truth is… I chose Naintara as my daughter-in-law before I ever found out she was Kulbhushan Rajawat’s daughter. I only learned that part later.”

For a brief moment, Shekhar fell silent. The lie was so perfectly crafted that even Shekhar Raichand, the man who could sniff out dishonesty in anyone, couldn’t detect it. Perhaps because the one man who had taught him how to recognise lies was now the one telling them.

“I liked Naintara from the very beginning and that’s the truth,” Jagdish said firmly. “Just like you, her father also believed this marriage was about land…”

“Then why was he on his knees, begging you tonight?” Shekhar cut in sharply.

“Because, just like you, Sudheer Maheshwari wants that land too,” Jagdish shot back. “But unlike you, he doesn’t throw money around, he flexes his power. Today, he sent goons. He had that man beaten and threatened that if the land wasn’t signed over by tomorrow morning, he would take away Naintara ….So, my dear son,” Jagdish’s voice dropped to a cold, hard edge,

“I don’t need a lecture from you on how to protect my future daughter-in-law. And since you think you’re such a brilliant businessman, I’ll step back. You go and win this war against Maheshwari. Because that poor father, he’s not strong enough to protect both his daughter and his land. Whatever happens to them… happens. But you, my brilliant, all-powerful son, consider this your first defeat, in advance.”

Jagdish knew exactly how to push his son’s buttons and Shekhar’s silence told him the blow had landed.

Shekhar said nothing. His father’s words rang in his head, each one sharper than the last. Maheshwari, the one name in the world Shekhar despised with every fibre of his being.

“Did her father really refuse the marriage proposal?” he finally asked, his voice quieter now.

“Go and ask him yourself,” Jagdish replied coolly. “Since you clearly don’t trust your father.”

“Shekhar beta,” Rajlaxmi spoke gently now, “the land got caught in the middle, but your father truly did choose Naintara for you before he knew she was Kulbhushan Rajawat’s daughter.”

And that much was true… Jagdish had liked Naintara when he first saw her near the village border. But the thought of marrying her to Shekhar had come later, when he saw that scandalous article linking his son to Aaradhya.

And now, Maheshwari’s desperation had only turned the whole situation even more in his favour.

“She’s a grounded, graceful, cultured girl from a good family, Shekhar. She has values.” Jagdish said, his voice gentler now. “Don’t let your anger or your misunderstandings make you lose a gem like her. I know you want someone in your life who cares for you, not your money or your status and Naintara is exactly that woman.”

The hall was silent. Every pair of eyes was on Shekhar, waiting for his answer, who was quietly listening to his father's every word. His mind was still swirling with his father’s words, Kulbhushan’s tearful face, the sight of a girl crying in that car, who he wasn't able to see clearly because of the darkness and the image of a helpless father begging for his daughter’s safety.

Finally, he broke the silence, though his expression remained unreadable.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “Then go tomorrow and take your future daughter-in-law’s proposal to her home. But I’m not coming with you…”

“Shekhar…..” Rajlaxmi tried to reason with him, but his next words cut her off.

“I have to settle a score with Maheshwari, for what he did to my future wife.”

With that, Shekhar turned and walked away. And for the first time that night, a small, victorious smile tugged at the corners of Jagdish Raichand’s lips.