Bhai, apun bhabhi ke sath mandir aaya, unki dekhkar lag raha hai woh kisi ko dhoondh rahi hai..." Soori spoke softly into the phone, eyes carefully watching Avni as she looked around, her brows slightly furrowed in search.

(Brother, I've come to the temple with bhabhi, and looking at her, it seems like she's searching for someone...)

"Sahil bhai aaye the ghar, bhabhi se milne... Amrita didi ke saath..."

(Sahil bhai came home to meet bhabhi... with Amrita didi...)

Soori was about to disconnect the call, noticing Avni approaching him-but Guru's voice came firmly through the phone commanding him to stay on line.

He didn't say why. He didn't need to. He just wanted to hear her. Needed to.

"Aap kisi ko dhoondh rahi thi, bhabhi?" Soori asked as Avni reached him. She paused, shook her head silently, and without a word, walked to the passenger side of the car and sat down.

(Were you looking for someone, bhabhi?)

Soori slid into the driver's seat, glancing at her once before starting the engine. She remained quiet for the (whole ride, her expression distant-almost disturbed.

Her thoughts were a mess. From Sahil... to that woman... and the lingering discomfort that just wouldn't leave her chest.

Sahil.

He had come in the morning, when Soori wasn't home. She was busy getting dressed, draping her saree-and suddenly, she sensed it. That presence.

When she looked up... there he was. Sahil. Standing silently at the door of her room, just watching her. No knock. No voice. Just standing there, staring.

She wasn't someone who left her door open-never. It was a habit she followed strictly. But sometimes, just sometimes, she forgot.

But Guru never entered and somewhere in her heart, she knew-Guru would never walk in without calling her name or knocking. Soori never did. Jai never did. This house, despite everything, had its rules.

But Sahil-

He crossed that.

Yes, he apologized. Said it was a mistake. But his eyes-they weren't apologetic. There was no softness in them. Nothing respectful. Just something... wrong. Something that crawled under her skin.

Even when Guru was drunk and heartbroken that night-she didn't feel unsafe. But with Sahil... a shiver had run down her spine.

And now, her chest tightened with the weight of regret.

Maybe Guru was right.

"Yahan har kisi ko badla lena hai..."

(Everyone here is out for revenge...)

What if Sahil is one of them too?

"Bhabhi..." Soori's voice pulled her slightly back to reality.

"Bhabhi...!!" A bit louder.

"Huh?" she blinked, her gaze turning to him.

"Aap thik hai?" he asked softly.

(Are you okay?)

She looked at him blankly for a moment, as if trying to register his words, then gave a slow nod.

And then-unexpectedly, her voice broke the silence.

"Guru... Guru kab tak aayega?"

(Guru... when will he return?)

The question slipped out low, unsure, but it landed hard-on the ears of the man silently listening on the other end of the call.

Guru didn't say anything.

But something shifted in him.

Something softened. Something clenched.

He had asked Soori to stay on the line just so he could hear her voice... but he didn't expect to hear that. That raw, uncertain concern.

Soori blinked, startled by her question, then quickly glanced at the phone in his shirt pocket knowing Guru was still there on line.

"Bhai... kal subah tak aajayenge."

(Bhai will be back by tomorrow morning.)

"Oh." That was all she said.

•••

Sleep was far away tonight.

Avni lay still, eyes closed, forcing herself to drift off, but her body refused. Everything around her was too quiet-unnaturally quiet. And that silence... it wasn't peaceful. It was heavy. There was something about tonight that felt wrong.

She was alone in the house now. Soori had gotten a call from Sanjay and had rushed out in a hurry, promising to return soon. But minutes felt like hours.

Her eyes flew open when she heard a loud thud sound on her door, like someone was trying to break it.

She sat down on the bed and stared at her door in fear. The loud patting increased, making her skin crawl in terror. Her hand searched around for something to grab for protection, but she didn’t find anything.

She started rummaging through the drawer, panic rising, and finally her fingers gripped a scissor , she closed the door. But before she could even process anything—

the door flew open.

Her eyes widened in fear as she looked at the person standing there. Her gaze scanned his face, something about it tugging at her memory.

"Aap...?" her barely audible voice escaped.

Mukesh.

A man who used to work for her father just fear year younger than her father. She remembered him clearly — because her father had once introduced him, proudly saying how loyal and worthy he was.

Her lips parted to say something more, but before she could —

he pointed a gun at her forehead.

A sharp gasp escaped her mouth. A drop of sweat slid down her temple. Her legs froze.

She swallowed hard, trying to stay steady.

Gathering what little courage she had, she finally asked, “Kyun?”

(Why?)

Mukesh’s face twisted with years of rage.

“Kyunki tere baap ne jo dard diya hai mujhe, woh panch saal se jhel raha tha… ab nahi. Tujhe maar ke apna badla poora karunga.”

(Because the pain your father gave me, I’ve suffered for five years… Not anymore. I’ll finish my revenge by killing you.)

Her eyes widened in shock. Revenge? Her father?

None of it made sense. Nothing connected.

Why would someone who was once trusted… want to kill her now?

She sat there, frozen, trying to make sense of a storm she didn’t even know existed.

“Aisa kya kiya—” she barely whispered, but before the words could finish, his hand landed across her cheek — hard, brutal.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as her body hit the cold floor with a thud. Her cheek burned, eyes clenched shut in pain, breath caught between fear and shock.

Before she could move, he crouched down to her level — grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her up, forcing her to sit straight. Her hands trembled, but she didn’t resist. She couldn't.

His breath hitched — rage in his eyes, but his voice cracked with something deeper.

"Jaan basti hai na uski tujhpe... tabhi toh tujhe bachane ke liye khudse door rakha."

(He love you a lot That’s why he kept you safe — kept you away.)

His grip tightened slightly, and his voice dropped to a whisper that shook.

"Meri bhi jaan basti thi... meri beti pe."

(My life also rested in someone… my daughter.)

And then — silence.

His lips parted like he wanted to say more, but the words died in his throat. His eyes glazed as if he wasn’t in that room anymore — as if he was somewhere else, years ago… hearing her scream.

A long, suffocating pause followed. Only the sound of his ragged breathing and Avni’s fearful ones filled the space.

Then he blinked hard — once. Twice. And the rage returned, deeper now… not just angry — broken.

A tear slipped down Avni’s cheek.

Mukesh stood tall, the gun still pointed straight at her. His voice was laced with venom, but his eyes carried something far more dangerous — madness.

“Tere baap ko teri cheekhein sunai deni chahiye…”

(Your father should hear your screams…)

Her heart skipped a beat.

Then her blood turned ice cold.

Her eyes widened in disbelief and horror as he slowly reached for the zip of his pants.

No. No. No.

A wave of nausea hit her, but instinct kicked in — she grabbed the scissor from the floor and tried to run.

But he was faster.

He caught her wrist mid-run and slammed her onto the wooden table, her body crashing with a painful thud.

She struggled, kicked, screamed.

“Nahi… please!” she cried, voice cracked with desperation. (No… please!)

But there was no mercy in his eyes.

His body pressed against hers — and in that one second of unbearable closeness, she saw the face of a monster her father once trusted.

And then— she struck.

With all the strength in her trembling arms, she drove the scissor deep into his shoulder.

“Aaaaghhh!” he roared in agony, stumbling backward, his hand clutching the bleeding wound.

Avni didn’t wait.

Using the moment, she shoved him away with a burst of energy she didn’t know she had and bolted.

Her feet hit the floor hard as she ran across the room, hands shaking as she unlocked the door.

She threw it open and ran outside — barefoot, breathless, blood still screaming in her ears.

But she didn’t stop.

Not even once.

Because this wasn’t just about escape anymore.

It was about survival.

Avni’s steps faltered as her eyes landed on a lone figure standing in front of a small house, clutching something in his hand—glass bangles that shimmered faintly under the dusky light. Her breath hitched.

Through her tear-blurred vision, the silhouette felt painfully familiar. Her heart stuttered.

Is it... him?

A sob escaped her lips as the man turned—and their eyes met.

“Guru…” she whispered, almost inaudibly, before her knees gave in.

He was already running toward her, the bangles slipping from his hands, scattering like shattered memories across the ground. Without wasting a second, he caught her by the arm just before she collapsed.

Her trembling lips tried to form words, but all that came out was a broken gasp. “Guru…” she sobbed, burying her face in his chest, clutching his shirt like her last hope.

She raised her arm with whatever strength she had left and pointed behind him with trembling fingers. He turned slightly to follow her gaze—and his eyes locked on Mukesh.

In that single glance, he understood everything.

Before Avni could turn her face to look back—he gripped the nape of her neck firmly and pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing her head to his chest.

'Don’t look,' his silence seemed to say, a desperate plea hidden in the fierce protectiveness of his hold. He covered her ear not wanting to see, hear anything which will haunt her.

And then—gunfire.

He fired without hesitation. One shot. Two. Three. With each deafening bang, his grip on her tightened. As if every bullet wasn’t just for Mukesh, but an apology to her—for every scar, every fear, every moment of pain she had endured.

Avni wrapped her hand around him tears soaking into his shirt, her heart pounding against his.

But he didn’t let go.

Because in that moment, she wasn’t just someone he had to protect. She was everything he couldn’t afford to lose.