Sahil's lips curled into a victorious smile the moment Guru stepped toward Sanjay and took the key from his hand.

"Janta tha tu yahi chunega - aakhirkar teri maa ka badla hi toh tera maqsad hai,"

(I knew you'd choose this - after all, avenging your mother is your only goal,)

Sanjay said, his voice flat and satisfied, a slow, cruel smile tugging at his lips.

"Woh mere guest house mein hain..." (he is in my guest house...)They had locked Avni's father far away from the village, in such a place that even if Guru changed his mind, he wouldn't be able to reach Avni quickly.

.

It was midnight, and the party was at its peak. The music pounded through the hall, dancers swayed on the floor with seductive grace, and men sat back with glasses in hand, their eyes wandering-measuring, deciding which one to take for the night. On the other side, women whispered in clusters, their laughter and gossip weaving another kind of rhythm into the chaos.

Sahil poured another drink for his father, sliding the glass across with a half-smirk.

"Tere liye itni badi party rakhi hai, itni saari ladkiyan bulwayi hai, aur tu yahan laga apne baap ke saath..." (I've thrown such a grand party for you, brought so many girls, and here you are sitting with your father...)

Sanjay chuckled at the mockery, the gravel in his voice thick as he leaned back with his drink. Sahil only scoffed, raising his glass.

"Yeh sab toh milta rahega, par aapke saath yeh waqt kabhi nahi milega, Papa. Aur rahi baat ladkiyon aur jashn ki... toh woh tab pasand aayega jab mera gift mere paas hoga."

(This will always be there, but time with you won't. And as for girls and celebration... I'll only enjoy them when my gift is in my hands.)

His words ended with a sharp smirk, eyes glinting with something unspoken. Sanjay shook his head slowly, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, amused by his son's hunger.

Sahil leaned closer, his tone laced with mockery.

"Aap kyun nahi pakad lete kisi ko..." (Why don't you just take one for yourself...)

Sanjay let out a low laugh, sipping from his glass, but his gaze drifted again-back to the dancer on the floor, her body catching the dim lights, every sway pulling his attention tighter. His eyes darkened, lingering, before he finally looked back at his son.

"Jo aapko pasand aati hai, woh mujhe bhi pasand aati hai... aisa kyun hota hai?"

(The ones you like, I end up liking too... why does that happen?)

Sahil asked slyly, his eyes following the same dancer his father had been staring at just moments ago.

Sanjay's lips curled into a teasing grin. "Aaj tera din hai... tu le ja ise pehle." (Today is your day... you take her before me.) He gave Sahil's shoulder a playful shove, his laughter echoing harsh and gravelly-only to break into a ragged cough that shook his old chest. After a moment, the cough subsided, and his eyes, still sharp despite the years, flicked to his son. He raised a hand and gestured to his men.

At once, they moved, dragging the dancer toward them. She came swaying with forced seduction, her painted lips curved in a practiced smile. She slid her hand onto Sahil's shoulder, leaning closer, but before her fingers could graze his cheek, Sahil caught her wrist in midair. His grip tightened.

"Par itne saalon ke baad yeh din mila hai... aapne ek gift mujhe diya, toh main yeh toh de hi sakta hoon." (After so many years, I finally got this day... you gave me a gift, so this at least I can give back to you.) His voice was low, steady, laced with a cold mockery.

With a flick of his eyes, he signaled his men. One of them shoved the woman forward, sending her stumbling down at Sanjay's feet. She collapsed, her bangles clattering against the marble floor.

Sanjay threw his head back and laughed-a guttural, half-drunk roar, echoing like madness through the hall. His old voice, thick with alcohol and power, filled the air as the dancer trembled at his feet.

The room was dark, the air heavy with the stench of alcohol and sweat. His wrinkled neck pressed against the woman beneath him, his old body hovering as his trembling fingers holding women neck. But before he could go further, a sudden force yanked him back-his body thrown harshly off the bed.

The woman gasped, scrambling to pull her blouse together. Fear widened her eyes as she rushed for the door, her bare feet thudding softly against the floor. But just as her hand stretched out to the latch, a voice cut through the silence-sharp and commanding.

"Aeee... kisne bola bahar jaane ko? Chup-chaap yahin reh." (Who told you to go outside? Stay right here, silently.)

She froze, her trembling hand hovering midair, her breath hitched in her throat.

On the floor, he groaned, opening his bloodshot eyes. He tried to focus in the dim light, but before he could make out the face, a dupatta was flung over him. Someone straddled him, pinning him down with shocking strength. A hand clamped around his throat, squeezing mercilessly.

"Kya hua... saans nahi aa rahi?" (What happened... can't breathe?)

His eyes bulged, his chest heaving as he clawed at the hand crushing his windpipe.

"Papa..."

The voice cut through the struggle, freezing him for a second. His hand twitched, reaching blindly toward the sound. It was Sahil.

"Main bhi aise hi tadpa hoon itne saalon tak..." (I've been suffocating like this for years too...) Sahil's voice dripped with venom, his grip tightening. His face hovered close, eyes burning with the same hunger and hatred.

"Tabhi toh..." Sahil hissed through clenched teeth, his hand pressing harder against Sanjay's throat.

"Jab pata chala ke Reddy ki dusri beti zinda hai... pehli wali ko bhagne diya. Aur dusri beti ko uss Guru ke paas rakhwa diya..."

(That's why... when we found out Reddy's second daughter was alive... we let the first one escape. And the second one-we made sure she ended up with that Guru...)

His eyes widened, veins straining against his wrinkled skin as he struggled for air. His hands trembled, clawing at Sahil's wrist, but the strength in his son's grip only grew crueler.

"Jab mera saath chachu ne diya, toh aapne unhe mujhse door karne ki koshish ki . Aur jis Reddy se aapke dost-urf aapke dushman-se haath milane ki koshish ki, uske bhi haath bandh diye."

He released his father then, stepping back into the dim light as if the room needed to breathe after that confession. His father lay on the floor, coughing and gulping for air, eyes wild . The woman huddled in the corner, pale and shivering.

"Itni aasaani se nahi marunga... saalon tak mujhe tadpaya hai. Bachpan mein jo maanga woh diya... phir kya ho gaya tha, haa?" (I won't die this easily... you made me suffer for years. In childhood, you gave me everything I asked for... then what happened, huh?)

Sahil's eyes burned as his voice rose, trembling with madness. "Yeh sab mujhe chahiye tha... woh ladki bhi jo us Guru ke paas hai... woh bhi mujhe chahiye thi! Aisa lagta hai jaise sab jhooth kha raha hoon main!" (All this should have been mine... even that girl with Guru, she should have been mine! Feels like I've been swallowing lies my whole life!)

Before anyone could even register his words, the knife flashed in his hand. In a sudden, violent thrust, Sahil plunged it into Sanjay's arm.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the room-the woman shrieked, covering her mouth in horror. But Sahil didn't stop. His hand rose and fell again, stabbing in different places, again and again, each strike fueled with years of rage. He wasn't killing instantly-no, he was making his father feel every ounce of agony, dragging out the suffering he believed he'd inherited.

His body jerked with pain, yet a twisted grin spread across his face. He laughed-loud, broken, maniacal-his bloodied mouth turning toward the woman curled by the door, her eyes wide with terror. The sound of his madness made her shrink further into the corner.

And then, with one final, brutal thrust, Sahil buried the knife deep into his father. He didn't even glance down at the lifeless body. Instead, he rose slowly, his chest heaving, and turned his gaze on her. A low, chilling chuckle slipped past his lips as he watched her trembling, her fear feeding his delight.

Sahil's footsteps echoed through the room-slow, heavy, predatory.

The woman, cornered and trembling, pressed herself against the wall, tears streaking down her pale cheeks. Her lips quivered, trying to beg, but fear had stolen her voice.

He reached her. His fingers twisted harshly into her hair, jerking her up until she gasped in pain. Her knees shook as she joined her hands in front of him, pleading soundlessly. He only smirked, his breath uneven, his eyes red and wild in the dark.

The room was drenched in shadows; only her tear-glossed eyes and his bloodshot ones glimmered faintly-like two broken souls trapped in the same nightmare.

Sahil leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her neck. His lips were about to touch her skin when-a sting.

Sharp. Sudden. Precise.

A needle buried itself into his neck. His breath caught, eyes widening as the pain shot through his veins. She shoved him back with surprising strength.

For a heartbeat, there was silence-her shallow breathing, his confused gasp.

Then, slowly, her face changed.

The fear that had drowned her moments ago melted into something else.

Something colder.

Her trembling eyes hardened; her mouth twisted into a faint scoff. Without breaking her gaze from him, she turned, feeling along the wall until her fingers brushed a switch.

Click.

The light exploded across the room.

Sahil flinched, throwing his arm over his eyes as the brightness tore through the darkness. He staggered, disoriented, his breath ragged. His vision blurred-the walls seemed to tilt, the floor to spin.

And then, through the blinding haze-he saw it.

In the far corner, between the thick curtains, a shadow sat still. Motionless. Watching.

The light barely touched the figure, outlining only the edge of a boot...

Sahil blinked, trying to focus, but his body felt heavier with every breath.

The air grew thick, colder.

He squinted harder-

And that's when he saw the eyes.

Two calm, steady eyes staring right at him from the darkness.

Unmoving. Unblinking.

The woman didn't move.

The figure didn't speak.

And Sahil-suddenly, terrifyingly-realized, he was no longer the predator in this room.

Sahil's eyes flicked between the still body on the floor and the figure sitting across from him, trying to make sense of the impossible. His head throbbed, vision blurred, and the room spun like a carousel dipped in blood.

Step by trembling step, he moved toward the body, knees buckling as he reached it. His fingers brushed the face - and suddenly froze. Something cold, hard pressed against his neck. His hand slid downward, tracing the familiar curve of a pendant.

A-

It wasn't his father. It was his uncle.

The man who had stood by him when his own father had abandoned him, the man who had taught him, guided him, protected him. And today... today Sahil had killed him with his own hands.

Guilt hit like a storm. Pain sharpened every nerve. His hands trembled, slick with blood that wasn't just his uncle's but now part of his own, a stain that would never wash away. He looked down at the drops, each one falling slower than the last, each one a silent accusation.

His mind reeled. His father - the one he had thought dead - had played him, orchestrating the chaos so perfectly that Sahil had become the weapon of his own undoing. He had thought himself in control, the avenger, the punisher. How could he have forgotten the most obvious truth? The true evil had been standing right there all along.

And then it clicked - the resemblance. His father and uncle had shared a line, a shadow of the same face, the same posture, the same quiet menace. In the darkness, with the dim flickering of the lights, and the identical clothing his father had forced onto his uncle, Sahil had not a single chance to distinguish them.

The realization crashed into him, heavier than the blows he had just delivered. Every heartbeat rang like a death bell. Every memory of the man he had trusted twisted into betrayal. The weight of the truth settled in, suffocating, bitter, and irreversible.

Sahil sank further onto his knees, head bowed, hands trembling. The room was silent except for the faint, cruel laughter of shadows he hadn't noticed before - the game wasn't over, and the real player had been smiling the entire time.

Sahil's eyes fluttered, vision blurring as his knees gave way. He stumbled, barely keeping upright, before collapsing to the floor. Through the haze, a figure emerged from behind the curtain. Calm, silentWf and impossibly precise. Sahil's gaze locked on him - Guru, the true player behind it all. The weight of realization hit; the game had never been his.