Guru’s knuckles tapped against the door—once, twice. Still no sound.

She was silent.

Too silent.

He exhaled sharply, jaw tightening, impatience coiling in his chest like a live wire. The silence wasn’t just unsettling—it was infuriating.

She was testing him.

And Guru was not a man built for tests—especially not of patience.

“Yeh mar toh nahi gayi?”

(Did she die or what?)

he muttered under his breath, this time patting the door a bit more urgently. But still—nothing. Not a word. Not a shuffle from inside.

Enough.

He stepped back, bracing himself. Muscles tensed, breath held, he charged forward to break down the door—

—and it swung open just in time.

The momentum threw him forward. His body hurtled inside the room, and with a thud that echoed off the walls, he landed flat on the cold floor.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

Above him, she stood like a statue—arms folded, eyes unimpressed. She didn’t offer a hand. Not even a twitch of concern.

She watched him fall—and didn’t even blink.

“Bhai... aap jameen pe kya kar rahe ho...” (Brother… what are you doing on the floor?) Soori’s amused voice floated in, followed by Jai’s confused expression. Guru scrambled up, clutching his shoulder where it ached. Great—she made him look like a fool in front of his boys.

Then she spoke—cool and calm, as if nothing happened.

“Mujhe nahana hai.” (I want to take a bath.)

Every head turned toward her in disbelief.

“Raat ke teen baje?” (At three o'clock at night?) Jai’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. She stood her ground, arms still folded, and nodded without hesitation.

“Ha... mere periods aagye hai... I mean woh ladkiyo ko hota hai na wahi.”

(Yeah… I got my periods… you know, that thing girls go through.)

Soori chuckled under his breath.

Guru rolled his eyes, his patience thinning by the second.

“Toh jaa... apun thodi akee nehlayega tujhe.”

(Then go! I’m not the one coming to bathe you.)

His sarcasm sliced the air. But she wasn’t shaken. Her glare, sharp and steady, locked with his.

“Mere pas kapde nahi hai... kidnap karne se pehle khat bheja hota toh packing kar leti.”

(I don’t have clothes… if you had sent me a letter before kidnapping, I would’ve packed.)

Guru’s nostrils flared. His gaze didn’t leave hers.

“Jai, apun ke kapde leke aa.”

(Jai, bring my clothes.)

“Tumhare kapde nahi chahiye.”

(I don’t want your clothes.)

She shot back without missing a beat.

Guru’s fists clenched at his sides.

“Iske liye naye kapde leke aa.”

(Bring her new clothes.)

Soori and Jai turned to go, but her voice lanced the air again.

“Shaadi tumse hui hai un dono se nahi.”

(I got married to you, not to them.)

His back stiffened.

“Apun pagal nahi hai jo raat ke teen baje tere liye kapde khareedne jayega.”

(I’m not mad to go shopping for you at 3 AM.)

He turned to walk away, lips pressed into a bitter line.

Her next words stopped him cold.

“Thik hai mat jao... yaha room pe kisi ki saariya rakhi hai wahi pehen leti hu—”

(Okay fine, don’t go. There’s some sarees in this room—I’ll just wear one of them.)

He snapped.

In a flash, he was on her—grabbing her arm, shoving her against the door with a force that startled even him.

She didn’t cry out. Didn’t flinch. Her eyes flicked down to his hand wrapped around her arm, bruising her skin—and then slowly back up to meet his burning gaze.

She smiled.

Smirked, even.

She knew she had hit exactly where it hurt.

“Apun ne teri khatirdari karne ko shaadi nahi ki hai.”

(I didn’t marry you to serve you.)

She scoffed, voice low but sharp. “Torture karne ke liye ki hai right? Shayad isiliye abhi kuch log mere darwaze ke bahar khade hokar mujhe gandi gandi baatein keh rahe the, aur abhi tum...”

(To torture me, right? Maybe that’s why people were standing outside my door saying filth to me, and now you’re doing this too...)

Her eyes dropped again to his hand.

Only then did he realize what he was doing.

He let go.

“Tum dono yahi rehna.” (You both stay here.) he snapped at Jai and Soori before storming out of the room, slamming the door open in his wake.

“Shampoo, conditioner aur bodywash bhi!”

(Shampoo, conditioner, and bodywash too!) she shouted behind him—and burst out laughing when she saw him actually walk out the main door.

Soori and Jai stood frozen, still trying to process everything.

She glanced at them.

“Is ghar mein koi ladki nahi hai?”

(Isn’t there a single girl in this house?)

They both shook their heads.

“Thik hai, mujhe pads bhi chahiye... jao leke aao.”

(Alright, I need pads too… go get them.)

They blinked.

“Store mein jao mil jayega.”

(Go to the store. You’ll find them there.)

“Apun bhai ko bol deta hai—”

(I’ll tell bhai—)

“NAHI!! Mujhe abhi chahiye, use time ho jayega… emergency hai yeh.”

(NO!! I need it now—he’ll take time. It’s an emergency.)

Soori nodded and gestured Jai to stay back. She disappeared into her room, the lock clicking shut behind her.

Jai remained outside, dazed.

He had no idea what was going on—or what would happen next.

---

“Bhai, aap itni raat ko? Mujhse kuch galti ho gayi kya?”

(Bhai, you at this hour? Did I do something wrong?) the shopkeeper stammered, nearly tripping as he rushed forward.

Guru rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling heavily.

“Woh dukan—” (The shop—)

“Dukan? Bhai, dukan chahiye aapko? Aap poori dukan le lijiye!!”

(The shop? You want the whole shop? It’s yours!!)

“Abee nahi!!!” (No, damn it!!) Guru barked.

“Apun ko kapde chahiye... dukan khol.”

(I need clothes. Open the shop.)

The shopkeeper practically fell over himself opening the shutters.

“Kapde? Bhai poori dukan aapki hai… aap jo chahe le lijiye.”

(Clothes? The entire shop is yours—take whatever you want.)

Guru was quickly running out of patience.

“Apun ke liye nahi... woh ek lad-ki ke liye chahiye...”

(Not for me… for a girl.)

The man’s eyes widened.

“Bhai, age kya hai unki jiske liye aapko kapde chahiye?”

(What’s the age of the girl you want clothes for?)

“Pata nahi...”

(I don’t know.)

“Bhai fir main kya dikhaun aapko?”

(Then what should I show you?)

Guru looked around the shop, scanning the shelves.

“Abhi abhi shaadi hui ho toh kya pehnega koi?”

(If someone just got married, what would they wear?)

“Aaj hi shaadi hui hai?” (The wedding was today?)

“Ha...” (Yes.)

“Apki?” (Yours?)

Guru’s glare was enough to silence him.

“Matlab pehli raat hai?”

(You mean it’s her first night?)

“Abee haan, jo bhi hai sab pack kar de. Apun aata hai bas!!”

(Yeah, whatever—just pack it all. I’ll be back.)

He stormed off, already on the phone.

Fifteen minutes later, Guru returned, another bag in hand. He grabbed the packet and reached into his wallet.

“Nahi nahi, main aapse paise nahi le sakta...”

(No no, I can’t take money from you.)

“Toh ab kya, apni Amma ko bulaoon tujhe paise dene ko?”

(Then what now, should I call my mother to give you money?) Guru slapped the money in his hand and left.

He climbed into the car, started the engine. His phone began buzzing—Soori’s name flashing.

He answered. “Apun raste me—” (I’m on the way—)

A scream erupted from the other side.

“KYA?! KAMRE ME NAHI HAI? MATLAB? POORE GHAR ME DEKH!!”

(WHAT?! SHE’S NOT IN THE ROOM? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? CHECK THE ENTIRE HOUSE!!)

Guru’s eyes flew wide.

She was gone.

And hell was about to break loose.