The living room of the Bajaj family home crackled with tension, the air thick with the weight of Adhiraj's fury. The patriarch's hands trembled as he seized the newspaper from his lap, crumpling it into a ball before hurling it onto the polished mahogany table with a resounding thud. The sound echoed, silencing the room as all eyes turned to him. His face, etched with decades of control, now twisted with a mix of rage and finality. He fixed his steely gaze on Ari, his voice a low, guttural growl that carried the weight of a death sentence. "Then, just as you wanted, don't divorce him. But know this—you are no longer my granddaughter. From this day onwards, I have nothing to do with you. I am dead to you, and you are dead to me. Not a single penny of my money will go to your father, to you, or anyone in your pitiful circle. You are all dead to me."
Ari stood frozen, her breath catching as the words sank in, the sting of rejection cutting deeper than she'd anticipated. Adhiraj leaned forward, his finger jabbing the air toward her. "There's no need to come for family gatherings, holidays, or anything else from now on. That house you're living in—it's a loan from a friend of mine. I Will ask him to evict you. Go find your own place. Get out—now!" His voice rose to a roar, the command reverberating off the ornate walls, startling even his own sons.
Ari's legs wobbled, but she steadied herself, turning toward Ishaan. Her mother, Lajja, lunged forward, her hand clamping around Ari's wrist with a desperate grip. "Ari, no—don't do this!" she cried, her voice breaking. Misahay joined her, both collapsing to their knees before Adhiraj, their pride shattered. Lajja tugged at Ari's arm, trying to force her down. "Beg him, Ari! Plead with Grandfather! We can fix this!"
Ari resisted, her arm stiffening as she stood tall beside Ishaan, her eyes glistening but unyielding. Lajja and Misahay groveled, their voices a frantic chorus. "Please, Father, forgive her! It's that wretched Ishaan—his fault! We'll make sure he leaves, force a divorce, anything you want!" Lajja's pleas turned venomous, her words laced with profanities. "That lowlife has ruined us! We'll throw him out, I swear!"
Misahay nodded vigorously, his hands clasped in supplication. "We'll distance ourselves from Ari too, if that's what it takes! Just let us stay in the family, keep our share!" Their desperation painted a pitiful scene, tears streaking Lajja's face as she clutched Adhiraj's feet.
Adhiraj's expression remained stone-cold, his lips curling in disgust. "Your groveling changes nothing. That's your choice—to beg or distance yourselves—but my decision stands. You're out. All of you. Leave my sight." His voice was final, a gavel striking down any hope of reconciliation.
Defeated, Lajja and Misahay rose, their faces flushed with shame and anger. Ari, still standing with Ishaan, turned away, her mother opening her mouth to lash out again. But Ari's cold, piercing gaze stopped her mid-sentence. "Enough," Ari said, her voice low but icy. "I'll find a job and support this family, just as I always have. But if you say one more word against Ishaan right now, you'll be on your own. I mean it." The threat hung heavy, and Lajja clamped her mouth shut, her eyes darting away in submission.
With heavy hearts, the family trudged out, the grand doors of the Bajaj villa closing behind them with a resounding clang. They hailed a taxi, the ride back to their current home a somber affair, the silence broken only by the occasional sniffle from Lajja. Inside the cab, Misahay's phone buzzed. He answered, his brother Tanish's voice crackling through. "Father's ordered you to empty the flat within a week. He's done with you." Before Misahay could protest, Tanish hung up, the line going dead.
Back at the Bajaj villa, the atmosphere shifted to triumph. Adhiraj sank into his chair, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as Tanish, Aadiv, and their wives gathered around. "Finally rid of that nuisance," Tanish said, clapping his hands. Aadiv nodded, pouring a celebratory drink. "Ari's share of the property is ours now—split it evenly." Driti giggled, already imagining the extra wealth, while Ranveer toasted to their good fortune. The room filled with laughter, the family reveling in their victory over Ari's defiance.
At their flat, the mood was starkly different. Ari and Ishaan retreated to their bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them. Ari sank onto the bed, her composure crumbling as tears streamed down her face. She buried her head in her hands, her sobs muffled but raw. "Ishaan, my life… it's a mess. All I wanted was a good family, not their money, not their power. But Mother, Father—they only see rupees. Grandfather disowned me because of you, and now we're homeless. What do I do? I acted strong out there, but inside… I'm lost."
Ishaan sat beside her, his heart aching at her distress. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his voice soft but firm. "Ari, listen to me. You're an accomplished, professional person. Your civil engineering degree, your business management post-graduation—you're brilliant. I've seen you handle meetings with precision, plan presentations flawlessly, even manage this chaotic home. I haven't met anyone as hardworking as you. With your skills, you'll find a job in no time. We'll manage."
Ari lifted her tear-streaked face, searching his eyes for hope. Ishaan wanted to tell her about the modeling money, the sales job, the potential lakhs rolling in—enough to secure their future. But he held back, a silent resolve forming in his heart. I'll lay low, build our strength quietly. I'll show everyone—Adhiraj, the uncles, all who looked down on her—how wrong they were. He squeezed her hand, his determination a silent vow. "We'll figure this out together," he said, his voice a beacon in her storm.