This is the prequel to Mr. Chief Minister but it’s a complete standalone story, as it will focus on Ruhanika’s parents, Shekhar and Naintara. 💫📖 They say marriage is just a word. But only those who live it know how heavy that one word truly is, how much of life, love, and loss it carries in its folds. Naintara understood that weight the day her father whispered two quiet pieces of advice into her ear before her vidaai. His words were simple, yet they stayed with her like invisible chains she would never be able to shake. Now, wrapped in the delicate shimmer of her bridal veil, she waited for the man whose name had become her destiny. Shekhar Raichand. She had only seen his face once, in a black-and-white photograph printed in a newspaper, a few weeks before her wedding. A man of calm eyes and cold posture. And tonight, she was to meet him not as a stranger… but as a wife. Her heart raced at the thought. She could still hear her friends’ teasing laughter, the girlish giggles, the promises that the first night of marriage would be the most beautiful night of her life. Her cheeks turned crimson beneath the veil. Like every young bride, she had dreamed of love that bloomed slowly, tenderly, of hands that would hold her, of a voice that would call her name softly. More than anything, she was happy that she would no longer be alone. Since her mother’s death, her world had been small, just her father, his silence, and her own loneliness. But now, that would change. She would have a family. A home. And someone who will be the reason for all…..him. The man she had never met. The man she was now bound to for life. Her pulse quickened as she heard footsteps outside. For a fleeting second, she lifted her veil and looked toward the door. Then, shyly, she lowered it again, heart thundering in her chest. And then, the door opened. For one fragile, fleeting heartbeat, she imagined everything she’d ever been told, the tenderness, the warmth, the beginning of something beautiful. But what came next was nothing like the stories. A sharp, furious voice cut through the still air like a blade. “What are you doing in my room?” The venom in his tone made her flinch. Before she could even process his words, Shekhar’s hand gripped her wrist, his hold firm, unforgiving. “Wh…what have I done?” she stammered, her voice trembling. He didn’t answer. He dragged her off the bed, his movements cold and mechanical, a man punishing a crime she didn’t understand. She barely managed to catch her breath before he pushed her toward the door. And then, with finality that split her heart in two, he said, “There’s no place for you in my life or my room. You’re only Jagdish Raichand’s daughter-in-law… not my wife.” The door slammed shut.