Somewhere in the barren, desolate expanse, where the wind whispered secrets of betrayal and the sun cast long shadows of deceit, Virendar Rathore sat with his legs folded elegantly in a chair. A sly smirk played on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and malice. His voice, smooth as silk yet laced with venom, broke the silence.

"You have done a good job, Tara... oops, I mean Tina!" he said, his tone dripping with mockery. The smirk widened, revealing the cunning mind that had orchestrated it all.

**Flashback** 

The memory unfolded like a dark tapestry. Tina, once a vibrant soul, had been snatched from her life by Virendar Rathore's men. It was no ordinary kidnapping; it was a calculated move in a game of revenge and power. Virendar had a plan, a sinister one. He knew that if anyone was close to the Rajput family, it was Tara. But Tara was not the one he wanted—Tina was.

Tina, broken and vengeful, had agreed to his twisted scheme. She had learned the horrifying truth: her parents had been killed by Rudaraksh, Aarohi's husband. The revelation had ignited a fire of hatred in her heart, a hatred so deep that it consumed her entirely. She despised Aarohi, blaming her for the pain she had endured.

Under Virendar's command, Tina underwent plastic surgery, transforming into Tara's doppelgänger. The plan was flawless. On that fateful day at the college, Tina, disguised as Tara, had stabbed Aarohi. The world believed it was Tara, but in reality, it was Tina. The real Tara had been kidnapped and replaced, her identity erased in a cruel twist of fate.

**Present** 

Virendar Rathore leaned back in his chair, his smirk never fading. "Now, Tina," he began, his voice smooth yet menacing, "you have completed your work. And for that, you must be rewarded."

Tina's eyes lit up with greed, her heart pounding with anticipation. She had played her part perfectly, and now she expected her due. But Virendar's next words shattered her illusions like glass.

"Kill her," he said coldly, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Tina's face paled, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief. "How can you do this to me?!" she screamed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

Virendar's smirk turned into a cruel smile. "Baby doll," he said, his tone almost affectionate yet chilling, "my work is done. You are of no use to me anymore. And I don’t feed useless things."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Tina's greed turned to despair, her dreams of reward crumbling into dust. She had been a pawn in Virendar's game, and now, like a discarded piece, she was to be eliminated.

The barren place seemed to close in around her, the wind howling with a mournful cry. Virendar Rathore's laughter echoed, a sound as cold and unfeeling as the man himself. Tina's world had turned to ashes, and there was no escape from the darkness that now consumed her.

Virendar Rathore leaned back in his chair, the smirk still etched on his face like a predator savoring its prey. With a flick of his hand, he gestured to one of his men, his voice calm but commanding. "Call Rudaraksh Singh Rajput," he ordered, his tone dripping with malice.

The man nodded obediently, dialing the number and handing the phone to Virendar. The room was silent, the tension palpable as the call connected. Virendar's lips curled into a sinister smile as he heard the voice on the other end.

"I hope you received my gift, Mr. Rudaraksh Singh Rajput," Virendar said, his voice smooth yet laced with venom. Without waiting for a response, he abruptly ended the call, the smirk on his face widening. The phone was handed back to his man, and Virendar leaned back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

**On the Other Side** 

Rudaraksh Singh Rajput had just stepped into the hospital, his mind heavy with worry. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air, and the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Suddenly, his phone rang—a private number. He hesitated for a moment before answering.

The voice on the other end sent a chill down his spine. It was cold, calculated, and dripping with mockery. "I hope you received my gift," the voice said, each word slicing through the silence like a knife.

Rudaraksh's heart skipped a beat. His grip tightened on the phone, his mind racing to process the words. "Who is this?!" he demanded, his voice sharp and urgent. But before he could say another word, the call disconnected, leaving him in stunned silence.

The hospital corridor was heavy with tension, the air thick with worry and guilt. Rudaraksh stood there, his heart pounding as he processed the cryptic call from Virendar Rathore. Beside him, Aarav, his loyal brother and confidant, noticed the storm brewing in Rudaraksh's eyes.

"Who was it, Bhai?" Aarav asked, his voice low but urgent, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Rudaraksh's jaw tightened as the name slipped from his lips like a curse. "Virendar Rathore."

Aarav's eyes darkened, his fists clenching instinctively. "Marne ki bohot jaldi hai usko," he growled, his voice dripping with rage. (He’s in a hurry to die.)

But Rudaraksh, ever the strategist, shook his head. "Abhi nahi, Aarav," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. "Right now, Aarohi is our first priority. And haan, security triple karo. Mujhe koi galti nahi chahiye." (Not now, Aarav. Triple the security. I can’t afford any mistakes.)

Aarav nodded, understanding the weight of his brother’s words. "Okay, Bhai," he said before hurrying off to carry out the orders. As he walked away, a pang of guilt twisted in his chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had failed to protect his Bhabhi Maa, the woman who had always treated him like her own brother.

Rudaraksh, meanwhile, took a deep breath and stepped further into the hospital corridor. The scene that greeted him shattered whatever composure he had left. Aarushi, his younger sister, sat on a bench, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. His father, Raghav, stood nearby, his face etched with worry, his usual strong demeanor crumbling under the weight of fear.

And then there was Shera, Rudaraksh’s most trusted bodyguard, who stood at a distance, his head bowed in shame. Shera, who had always been like a brother to the family, now carried the weight of guilt for failing to protect Aarohi, the woman who had always treated him with kindness and respect.

Raghav was the first to notice Rudaraksh. "Beta, tum thik ho? Ye sab kahan gaye the?" he asked, his voice trembling with concern. (Son, are you okay? Where had you gone?)

Aarushi looked up, her tear-streaked face breaking Rudaraksh’s heart even further. "Bhai, Bhabhi Maa ko kuch nahi hoga na?" she pleaded, her voice cracking with fear. (Brother, Bhabhi Maa will be okay, right?)

Rudaraksh’s heart shattered at the sight of his family in such pain. He had always been their pillar of strength, but now, even he felt the weight of his emotions crushing him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he pulled Aarushi into a tight embrace, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nahi, Aarushi. Bhabhi Maa ko kuch nahi hoga. Hum sab uske saath hain." (No, Aarushi. Bhabhi Maa will be fine. We’re all with her.)

Just then, the doors of the ICU swung open, and the doctor stepped out, his face weary but calm. Rudaraksh was the first to rush forward, his voice trembling as he asked, "How is my wife?!"

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "She is out of danger, but I can’t say when she will regain consciousness. Be strong, Mr. Rajput. Your wife needs you."

The words brought a collective sigh of relief, though the battle was far from over. Raghav, Aarushi, and Shera all nodded, their eyes filled with gratitude as they silently thanked God for sparing Aarohi’s life.

Rudaraksh stood there, his heart heavy but resolute. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of relief. Aarohi was alive, and that was all that mattered.

As he looked at his family, he silently vowed to protect them at all costs. Virendar Rathore had struck a blow, but Rudaraksh was far from defeated. The game was far from over, and he would make sure that the next move was his.

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