Myra stood frozen, her heartbeat thundering in her chest as the phone screen replayed Anika's muffled cries. The sight of her sister-in-law bound and blindfolded carved terror straight into her veins. Her lips trembled, her palms went clammy, and her breath grew shallow as if the walls of the palace were closing in on her.
What should I do? Her mind screamed in panic. If she told Ranvijay, he would tear the world apart—but what if, in that rage, Anika was hurt before he reached her? If she stayed silent, she risked walking into a trap alone.
Her knees wavered beneath her, and she clutched the edge of the sofa for support. Every instinct in her begged her to run to Ranvijay, to Shiv, to Rajeshwari… to anyone who could protect her. But the venom in Niyati's voice echoed inside her ears— "If you want her alive, don't tell anyone."
Tears pricked her eyes. Anika was more of a sister than her sister who she grew up with; she had been treating Myra with kindness and love like a friend. The thought of her suffering because of Myra's choices twisted her heart into knots.
Her golden bangles jingled faintly as her trembling hands pressed against her chest. A cold dread settled into her stomach, yet beneath it flickered a stubborn spark. I can't let Anika suffer. I won't.
But with each passing second, fear gnawed deeper at her soul—fear of the unknown person waiting for her, fear of Niyati's cruel smirk, fear that she might be walking into her own destruction.
Myra stood frozen in front of the mirror, her trembling fingers resting on the edge of the dressing table. The reflection staring back at her was pale, restless, drowning in an ocean of thoughts. Anika's blindfolded face from the video flashed again and again before her eyes. Her chest tightened—she wanted to scream, to run to Ranvijay, to fall into his arms and beg him to save Anika. But Niyati's warning echoed mercilessly: "If you tell anyone… she dies."
A tear slid down her cheek as she whispered inwardly, "What do I do? How do I save her alone? I'm so afraid…"
Suddenly, she felt it—the shift in air, the heavy warmth behind her. Ranvijay. His presence filled the room without a word. Their eyes met in the mirror—his gaze deep, sharp, yet laced with a softness only she could bring out in him. He stepped closer until his frame shadowed hers, his hand almost reaching for her shoulder but stopping midway, as if sensing her inner storm.
"Myra…" his voice was low, concerned, searching.
Her lips parted, desperation burning to spill the truth. She wanted to tell him everything, to break free of the secret clawing at her chest. Her heart screamed: "Help me. Save Anika." But her mouth refused to move, sealed by fear of risking Anika's life.
Her eyes glistened as she held his gaze in the mirror, silently begging him to understand what her words couldn't say. He searched her expression, his brow furrowing, as though he knew she was hiding something but waiting for her to trust him.
Inside, Myra shattered. "I want to tell you… but I can't. Forgive me, Ranvijay."
She lowered her eyes, pressing her lips together tightly, while Ranvijay, though silent, gently placed his hand over hers, grounding her—unaware of the storm raging inside her.
She swallowed, gathering the last fragments of her strength, and turned slightly away from him. "I… I just need to be alone for a while," she whispered, her voice almost breaking. "I'm feeling… tired."
As the door clicked shut behind her, Myra's tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
Myra sat on the edge of her bed, fingers trembling as she clutched the dupatta in her lap. The echo of Anika's muffled cries from the video wouldn't leave her ears. Her chest rose and fell sharply, the weight of Niyati's warning pressing like chains around her ribs.
She glanced at the door. Ranvijay's men stood guard outside—always, ever watchful. He had caged her for her own safety, but tonight that cage felt like a punishment. If she told him… he'd storm into the fire to save Anika, but what if they hurt Anika before he reached?
Her eyes burned. She rose and moved toward the mirror. Her reflection looked pale, frightened, and yet behind that fragility, a spark of defiance flickered.
"I can't risk Anika's life. This is my burden to carry."
She opened her wardrobe slowly, hands brushing over the sarees until she found the lightest one—something she could run in without drawing attention. She slipped a shawl over her shoulders to cover her face.
Her pulse hammered. She studied the layout in her mind: the side corridor, the service staircase, the rear gate the maids used for deliveries. If she left after midnight, when most of the guards rotated shifts, she might have a chance.
Her fingers tightened around the locket with her mother's picture. "Give me strength, Maa," she whispered, voice breaking.
For the first time in years, Myra felt like she was standing on a cliff's edge—torn between fear of Ranvijay's wrath if he found out, and the dread of losing Anika forever if she hesitated.
The palace had sunk into silence, save for the faint echo of footsteps patrolling the outer corridors. Myra stood near the balcony, her dupatta clenched in trembling fists, her heart racing against her ribs. Every second she waited was another second Anika was in danger.
Her eyes darted to the ornate clock on the wall—it was close to midnight. Ranvijay's men were everywhere, but she knew he trusted her enough to not think she would attempt something reckless. That trust… it burned her inside, but Anika's terrified face from the video wouldn't let her sleep.
She slipped into a simple saree, not her usual heavy attire, and wrapped a shawl around her head to hide her features. Her anklets—those tiny betrayers—were tugged off and placed carefully in the drawer. Tonight, silence was her ally.
With careful steps, she pushed open the side door of her chamber that led to the inner garden. Every shadow looked alive, every rustle of the leaves made her heartbeat spike. She prayed Ranvijay wouldn't come searching for her this late. If he did… she didn't know how she would face his eyes again, carrying such a secret.
Her thoughts whispered—I'm sorry, Ranvijay… I can't let anyone else suffer because of me.
Just as she crossed into the darker edge of the garden, the gate leading out of the palace loomed ahead. Freedom. A chance to save Anika. But also a betrayal of the man who would burn the world to ashes for her safety.