Chapter 15 : Duniya Mein Loghon Ko...Dhokha Kabhi Ho Jata Hai

It was finally the D-day for Rudra and Palki’s wedding. Inside Maysha’s suite, Maysha was nearly ready, her heavy bridal-party lehenga catching the light, but she was struggling with the intricate dori at her back.

A sharp knock echoed through the room. Startled, Maysha quickly pulled her dupatta over her shoulders to cover her back.Assuming it was Maira returning from the ceremony preparations, she hurried to the door and pulled it open. Without even looking up to see who stood there, she immediately turned around and walked back toward her vanity.

"Di, I'm so glad you’re here... help me with the dori, will you? By the way, has Rudra already gone down for the photo session with his groomsmen?"

"I’m not on the groom’s side. I’m here for the bride’s side."

The husky, unmistakable timber of Ayush’s voice made her heart stop. She spun around, her eyes widening.

"Ayush..." she breathed, her voice a mix of shock and caution. "You shouldn't be here, lurking around the rooms assigned to the groom’s family. Especially not when... well, given our past."

Ayush didn't move. He stood by the door, his gaze intense. "I just came to check on you, Maysha. After yesterday... you know what I mean. I wanted to be certain you took the pill and that there were no side effects. I know it was your first time taking it, and I couldn't just sit downstairs wondering."

Maysha softened for a fraction of a second, her hand fluttering to her throat. "Ayush, thank you for the concern. I’m fine, really. But you could have just messaged me. Why risk coming up here?"

"I needed to see for myself that you were okay," he replied, his voice dropping an octave.

"I am," she whispered, the walls of the room feeling suddenly closer. "But you should go now, Ayush. Please."

"And your dori?"

Ayush took a step forward.

Maysha instinctively took a step back. "Ayush," she warned softly, but her voice lacked conviction. For every step he took, she retreated, her pulse drumming in her ears. "Maira Di will be here any second..."

"Maira Di is downstairs overseeing the varmala arrangements," Ayush countered calmly, his shadow falling over her as she finally hit the edge of the dressing table.

He didn't wait for her to protest further. Gently, he placed his hands on her waist and turned her to face the mirror. The reflection hit Maysha like a wave of déjà vu; she was reliving the heat of the moments they had shared just hours ago. Only this time, he wasn't undoing her clothes—he was finishing them.

With agonizing slowness, he moved her dupatta aside. He gathered her hair, draped it over one shoulder to expose the curve of her neck, and reached for the silken threads of her dori. As he pulled the strings taut to tie them, their eyes remained locked in the mirror’s reflection. The silence between them was louder than the wedding music drifting up from the courtyard below.

"There," he whispered, the task finished. "It’s tied."

He lingered for only a heartbeat longer, the air between them still crackling with everything left unsaid. "I’ll take my leave now."

Without another word, he turned and exited the suite, leaving Maysha alone with the ghost of his touch and the weight of a final goodbye.

*

Maysha was hurrying down the grand, sandstone corridors of the palace, the heavy embroidery of her lehenga rustling against the marble floor. She pressed her phone to her ear, finishing a quick call with her sister.

"Haan Di, I’m almost at the mandap... I’m coming now. Bye!"

She clicked the phone shut, but before she could take another step, a hand reached out from the shadows of an arched pillar. With a sudden, firm tug, she was pulled off the main path and pinned gently but surely against the cool corridor wall.

Maysha gasped, her heart leaping into her throat, only to find Maan leaning over her with a devastatingly handsome smirk.

"Hey, beautiful," he whispered, his eyes scanning her face with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "Ready? Ready to tell the world that we’re dating?"

Maysha’s eyes widened, her mind racing back to the quiet, heavy moment she had just shared with Ayush in her suite. "Maan? Right now? Here?"

"Don't overthink it," Maan countered, his voice smooth and full of an easy, infectious confidence. "It’s the wedding day, isn't it? Whether we make it official after the ceremony or right now, what’s the difference? Let’s give them something else to celebrate."

He straightened his sherwani, smoothing out the fabric before offering his elbow to her with a charming, courtly flourish. "Now, let’s go. We’re already running late for the varmala."

Maysha hesitated for a heartbeat. Her mind was a whirlwind of uncertainty—the "goodbye" Ayush had just given her felt like a lead weight in her chest. Making things official with Maan while Ayush was still around felt like a dangerous game, but Maan’s expectant gaze left her little room to retreat.

Slowly, she slipped her arm through his, her fingers trembling slightly against the rich fabric of his sleeve. She forced a smile, though her heart remained miles away.

"Let's go," she whispered, stepping back into the light at his side.

*

The grand courtyard of Suryagarh Palace was beautifully decorated. Near the ornate mandap, the families formed a tight-knit circle, the air thick with anticipation.

Shaira, Mayank, Rahul, and Diya stood alongside other elder lots—Arvind, Shweta, Dev, Rhea, Sasha, Randhir, and Paridhi.

Nearby, Rishabh and Preeta shared a quiet moment with Sameer and Shristi, while Ishaan and Maira moved gracefully through the mingling guests.

Juhi and Milind—who was cradling his two-year-old son—stood beside Reva, their eyes fixed on the entrance.

However, as Maan and Maysha made their way through the crowd, the charm of their "official" debut began to sour for those watching closely.

A ripple of surprise followed them; no one had expected them to be holding hands so openly. Maira, in particular, was caught off guard by Maan’s boldness.

As the duo passed Rahul, he scrutinized Maan’s every move. He caught the sharp smirk Maan directed at Maira—a pointed, unsettling hint—before the younger man turned his gaze back to Maysha. For Rahul, the sight was haunting. He felt as though he were watching a ghost of his own past; the calculated arrogance and the hidden agendas mirrored the person he once was. The realization hit him with a cold dread: he might be witnessing the birth of "Rahul 2.0."

The atmosphere shifted as the groom, Rudra, finally appeared.

Flanked by his groomsmen, Shayaan and Reyaan, he was escorted to the mandap with royal fanfare. Rudra turned his gaze toward the entrance, his breath catching as Palki appeared.

Salma Sitaaron Wali

Shagna Di Shab Aayi Re

She walked beneath a traditional floral chaddar held high by her brothers, Siraj and Ayush, while Suhana followed closely behind, carefully managing the long drape of her bridal veil.

Banno Se Banne Ki

Milne Ki Jo Root Layi Re

Palki radiated joy, playfully gesturing toward Rudra as she made her grand entry. Once she reached the mandap, the priest initiated the Varmala ceremony. Suhana handed the garland to Palki while Shayaan assisted Rudra.

Shehnai Yoon Goonji

Sabki Aankhein Bhar Aayi Re

Shehnai Yoon Goonji

Sabki Aankhein Bhar Aayi Re

After the exchange, the couple shared a brief, joyful hug before turning to the crowd. In a triumphant display of their union, they raised their joined hands high, drawing a roar of applause.

Amidst the celebration, Maysha managed a bit of mischief. With Ishaan’s help, she successfully whisked away Rudra’s shoes while Suhana was distracted by the ceremony.

As the couple settled for the main rituals, Rishabh and Preeta stepped forward for the Kanyadhan. Preeta’s eyes brimmed with tears, the weight of the moment pulling at her heart. Rishabh offered a comforting arm, though his own composure was fragile; they both felt the profound absence of Karan in that sacred moment.

Maira then stepped forward to perform the Gatbandhan, tying the symbolic knot that joined her brother to Palki with her blessings.

The couple completed their Pheras, circling the holy fire until they were finally husband and wife.

Ho Solah Baras Ke Do Kadam

Chaukhat Ke Baahar Kya Gaye

Teri Kudmayi Ke Din Aa Gaye

Haaye Banno Pardeshiya Ke Desh Ke

Chaubare Tujhko Bha Gaye

Teri Kudmayi Ke Din Aa Gaye

Rudra then performed the final rites, fastening the Mangalsutra around Palki’s neck and applying Sindhoor to her parting.

Le Raha Sau Balayein Teri

Maai Baabul Ka Ghar Baar Hai

Ho Genda Gulabon Se Saji

Doli Teri Taiyar Hai

When the ceremony concluded, Rudra and Palki sought blessings from the elders before approaching Ishaan and Maira. As Maira offered her well-wishes, her gaze involuntarily darted toward Maan and Maysha. Seeing their lingering proximity, a flash of unease crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a polished, practiced smile for the newlyweds and the surrounding guests.

Jhoolon Ke Mausam Woh Tere

Humse Roke Bhi Roke Na Gaye

Teri Kudmayi Ke Din Aa Gaye

Ni Teri Kudmayi Ke Din Aa Gaye

The solemnity of the rituals quickly dissolved into a spirited chaos as the ceremony concluded. Rudra stood up, ready to lead his bride away, only to realize his feet felt suspiciously light.

"Wait... where are my shoes?" Rudra asked, his brow furrowing as he scanned the floor around the mandap.

Maysha stepped forward, a triumphant glint in her eyes. Standing firmly with the groom’s side, she had a different game in mind. "Don't worry, Bhaiya," she said, glancing pointedly at Palki’s brothers. "I’ve got them secured. No one is getting their hands on the groom's dignity today."

Suhana, who had been orchestrating the bride’s side, narrowed her eyes at the figures standing beside Maysha. "Ishaan jeeju, I saw you helping her! You’re supposed to be neutral, or at least helping the sisters!"

Ishaan held the embroidered mojris tucked safely under his arm and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Sorry, Suhana. I’m Maira’s husband, after all. Since Maira is Rudra's sister, technically that puts me firmly on the groom’s side. Loyalty first."

Beside them, Shayaan and Aarohi moved in like a professional security detail. "Team Groom is a fortress today, Suhana," Shayaan laughed, stepping in front of Ishaan to provide a human shield. Aarohi crossed her arms, a playful but firm smirk on her face. "You’ll have to get through all of us if you want these shoes. And trust me, our 'protection fee' is non-negotiable."

"Not so fast," Ayush countered, lunging forward to snag the shoes from Ishaan’s grip. But as he moved, Maysha stepped directly into his path to block him.

The sudden proximity caught Ayush off guard. He stopped mid-stride, his hand hovering just inches from her arm. For a heartbeat, the noise of the wedding faded into a dull hum. Ayush looked down into Maysha’s eyes, and the competitive fire in his gaze flickered into something far more hesitant and confused. He completely forgot about the mission to steal the shoes; the world narrowed down to the girl standing defiantly in front of him.

Maysha held his gaze, her smirk faltering for just a second before she regained her composure, though her heart hammered against her ribs. The awkward tension between them was palpable to anyone watching.

Seeing the opening, Siraj tried to dive past Shayaan and Aarohi to reach Ishaan, but they coordinated perfectly, blocking his path with synchronized laughter. Suhana tried to sneak around the other side, but with Ayush frozen in place like a statue, the bride’s side lost their momentum.

"Ayush! What are you doing? Grab them!" Suhana hissed, frustrated.

But it was too late. Siraj and Suhana’s desperate grab failed as Ishaan handed the shoes back to a grinning Rudra.

"Bad Luck Team Bride," Maysha said, her voice a bit breathier than usual as she finally stepped back from Ayush.

While just a few distance away, Maira noticing Maan was a bit away from the jhoota chupayi rasam between Ishaan, Suhana,Siraj,Ayush, Mayhsa,Shayaan and Aarohi.She grabbed Maan's arm and pulled him to a secluded corner away from everyone's eyes.

The music from the mandap drifts faintly through the corridor. Laughter, drums, celebration—yet inside, the air feels suffocating.

Maira storms toward him, every step sharp, her eyes blazing.

“You and Maysha?” Her voice is low, measured, but every syllable carries fire.

Maan leans against a pillar, calm. Too calm. His gaze follows her approach like a predator studying its prey.

“Does it bother you?” he asks quietly.

Her eyes flare. “You are twelve years older than her, Maan. She is my younger sister, for God’s sake. ” She stops, a hand brushing her chest as if to contain the anger she’s trying to control. “You don’t get to go near her. Not after everything.”

A low, dry chuckle broke from Maan’s throat, catching her off guard. He straightened slightly, a mocking glint in his eyes. “Twelve years? We both know the entertainment industry, Maira. A decade-plus gap is practically a prerequisite for a power couple these days. It’s common, it’s legal, and frankly, it’s nobody's business.”

“Common for the industry, maybe,” Maira snapped, stepping into his space, her voice trembling with indignation. “But you’re losing the plot, Maan. This isn’t about a headline or a PR stunt. You are dating my younger sister. You don't get to do that—not after having a history with me.”

Maan’s expression shifted from cold to darkly amused. He tilted his head, studying her flushed face. “A history? Is that what we had?” He took a step closer, closing the gap until the tension between them was electric. “Because last I checked, you made it very clear you didn't want to be associated with me. You didn't exactly rush to clear up the 'misunderstandings' that led to a breakup that—if we’re being honest—should never have happened.”

Silence stretches, thick and suffocating.

“You didn’t show up when it mattered, Maan,” she continues, voice brittle. “You didn’t fight for yourself… for us.”

His jaw tightens, a flicker of remembered hurt passing through his eyes.

“But now?” she lets out a hollow laugh, disbelief threading her tone. “After years? After almost marrying the woman who framed you?”

A bitter humor curls at the corner of her lips. “Now you suddenly remember you’re innocent?”

Maan’s gaze darkens. Not with regret. Something colder.

“You already saw that truth,” he murmurs. The memory of the Mehendi day, the innocence video, flickers between them. Her choice to walk away anyway. Ishaan. The silence that followed.

“So this isn’t about that anymore,” he says. A step closer, measured, deliberate. “This is about what you didn’t give me.”

Her brows knit. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you never trusted me,” he replies, quiet but lethal. “You didn’t wait. You didn’t question it long enough to find out the truth.”

Her eyes flash. “Don’t—”

“You believed someone else over me,” he cuts in. “And I… I stopped trying to prove you wrong.”

A beat. His hand lifts the phone, small, precise movements, as though it’s the only extension of his fury.

Her eyes narrow. “Maan… what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer. He unlocks the phone. Turns the screen toward her. Presses play.

At first, she doesn’t register. Then the air drops out of her lungs. Her eyes widen, her breath catching in disbelief.

Her shock isn’t that he’s with Maysha—it’s that he dared to record their consummation. That moments ago, he had publicly made it official in front of the crowd, and now he’s weaponizing it, turning intimacy into leverage.

FLASHBACK

Maan spotted Maysha slipping into Maira’s room like a shadow. Seizing the window of opportunity, he darted toward the dome pavilion.

With practiced precision, he tucked his phone into a hidden crevice of the structure, angling the camera to capture every movement within the pavilion. He had only seconds to spare. Just as the sound of Maysha’s footsteps approached, Maan vanished, retreating into the dark corridor.

He waited before stepping back into the open. Adjusting his shirt, he strolled toward the pavilion as if he just walked in.

FLASBACK ENDS

“You recorded it?” she whispers, incredulous.

Her eyes widen, disbelief giving way to fire.

“How dare you, Maan…” Her voice trembles, shaking with controlled fury. “…she trusted you. And now you’ve stooped this low—using her just to prove a point to me?”

Without thinking, she raises her hand and slaps him across the face. The sound echoes sharply in the corridor, a punctuation to her anger.

Maan touches his cheek, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t flinch away.

Her breathing is fast, harsh. Her chest rises and falls as her eyes bore into him.

“You violated her trust… her consent… her dignity!” she hisses.

The air between them crackles. Every heartbeat is heavy. Every second stretches.

Maan’s expression is unreadable. Cold. Calculated.

“You think I wanted this?” he asks softly. “Do you think I chose this path for fun?”

Her fists clench. “You’re sick.”

He tilts the phone slightly, enough for her to see, not aggressively, but intentionally.

“No,” he whispers. “I’m not sick. I’m… precise. You never gave me a chance to prove myself. You walked away, believed someone else, and married him.”

The words cut.

“Divorce him,” he says quietly, deliberately. “End it with Ishaan. You know it’s never been real. And if you still love me…” His thumb hovers over the phone. “…then you won’t stay in a marriage built on a lie .I heard you talking to your mother last night—about how you’re being pushed to have a baby. I know what’s happening, Maira. You’re trying to use a child as a tether to a man you don't love just to keep everyone happy.”

He watches her, his eyes full of a dark, misguided pity. He is convinced her reluctance toward motherhood is simply because her heart isn't in her marriage—he has no idea that Maira’s aversion to being a mother is a deep, personal choice, and that her "compromise" is a sacrifice of her own identity for the sake of her family and her genuine love for Ishaan. To him, the baby is just a desperate tool; to her, it is the ultimate loss of self.

“I can make this video vanish forever, Maira,” he continues. “It’s your call: your sister’s dignity, or your hollow marriage.”

Her stomach knots. “You’re blackmailing me.”

He doesn’t answer. He just steps closer, close enough that the weight of his presence presses against her, controlled, measured, terrifying.

“If you loved me… you wouldn’t have believed strangers over me… you wouldn’t have walked away… and you definitely wouldn’t have married him.”

A pause. Her hands clench into fists.

“You think this will make me choose you?” she asks, cold and sharp.

“No,” he says softly. “I think this will make you stop lying to yourself.”

Her eyes flash with fury. “You’re threatening my life, my marriage… my sister’s dignity.”

He flinches. Barely. But she sees it.

She steps back, deliberately, creating space between them. For the first time, she chooses distance, not weakness.

“You didn’t lose me because I didn’t trust you,” she says quietly, ice in her tone. “You lost me because you didn’t fight hard enough to reach me.”

A pause. Her gaze flickers to the phone one last time. Then back to him.

“…You’ve made sure I never will.”

She turns and walks away.

Maan remains, phone in hand, the unsaid threat hanging in the air. His control, for now, is absolute—with the cost seeming to be almost clear if she does as told.

*

The festive echoes of the palace seemed to bounce off the stone walls, mockingly loud against the silence of the secluded corridor. Maira paced, her heels clicking a frantic rhythm that matched her racing heart. She moved from one corner of the mandap couryard to another, her breath coming in shallow hitches.Unbeknownst to Maira, Ishaan noticed his wife going from one corner to another being all tensed and worried and made a move to follow her, but before he could step further he stopped by a guest trying to start a conversation.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the glow of Maan’s phone screen. The weight of the dilemma was crushing. On one side was Maysha—her little sister, whose trust had been violated and whose dignity now hung by a thread. On the other was Ishaan—her doting husband, the man who had stood by her when the world felt like it was crumbling, the man she loved with a depth Maan would never understand.

"One side is my sister... and the other is my husband," she whispered to the shadows, her voice trembling. "I have to save Maysha. I have to. But I can't lose Ishaan. I can't let Maan tear my life apart again."

Her face was a mask of sheer terror and calculation—a look he hadn't seen on her since the darkest days of their past. He knew something had happened, something that had shaken her to her core.

Maira stopped suddenly, her eyes snapping open with a flicker of desperate hope. There was one person who knew the labyrinth of Maan’s mind better than anyone. One person who might still have access to his world.

With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone and dialed.

"Roshni?" Maira’s voice was a frantic whisper as soon as the call connected. "Roshni, please, I need you. I’m in a nightmare."

On the other end, Roshni’s voice was thick with concern. "Maira? What’s wrong? You sound like you’re hyperventilating."

"It’s Maan," Maira choked out, her gaze darting around to ensure she was truly alone. "He’s done something unthinkable. He’s... he’s recorded something. A video of him and Maysha. He’s using it to blackmail me, Roshni. He’s demanding I divorce Ishaan or he’ll ruin her. He’s giving me an ultimatum I can't survive."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Roshni. "He... he did what? Maira, that's monstrous."

"I need a favor," Maira pleaded, her voice cracking. "Once the ceremonies here in Jaisalmer wind up and he returns to Mumbai, you have to find a way. You’re in that house. Please, Roshni. You have to get his phone. Delete that video. Delete it from the cloud, the trash, everywhere. It’s the only way I can save my sister without destroying my marriage."

Maira went silent, waiting. Her entire future—and Maysha’s—now rested on the shoulders of a woman living behind enemy lines.

*

Ishaan stepped into the dim light, his expression softening as he approached Maira. He hadn’t heard a single word of her frantic conversation with Roshni, nor the chilling ultimatum Maan had delivered in the corridor. To him, the world was still celebratory—but he was a man tuned to the frequency of his wife’s soul, and the sight of her pacing like a trapped animal sent a sharp, instinctive chill through his chest.

He didn't need to hear the words to feel the shift in the air. Though he was entirely unaware of the "Rahul 2.0" warning his father-in-law had been harboring, Ishaan’s own intuition was screaming. The very atmosphere felt heavy with the scent of an impending war he couldn't yet name.

Maira’s reflexes were instantaneous. Sensing his presence, she lowered the phone and smoothed her features into a mask of serene exhaustion. The torment that had twisted her face moments ago was buried under a layer of practiced grace.

"Ishaan? You startled me," she said, her voice steady as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"I saw you slip away from the crowd," Ishaan said, stepping closer and searching her eyes. "You looked... distressed from a distance, Maira. Is everything okay?"

She took a slow, shaky breath and let out a long, weary sigh. "I’m just overwhelmed, honestly. Seeing Rudy finally married... it’s a lot to process. Between the emotions of the ceremony and this continuous, long stretch of wedding functions in Jaisalmer, I think the exhaustion is finally catching up to me."

She stepped into his space, resting her forehead against his shoulder for a brief moment, seeking the grounding comfort of the man she loved while her mind was a battlefield of blackmail and desperation. "I just needed a minute of silence away from the drums. My head is spinning."

Ishaan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a protective embrace. He wanted to believe the simple explanation of wedding fatigue, but the way her fingers clutched at his jacket told a story of a deeper, more frantic hunger for safety.

"It has been an exhausting week," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "Why don't we head back, spend a little time more with the family, and then we can retire early? You need rest, Maira."

"Yes," she whispered, leaning into him as they began to walk back toward the vibrant lights and the scent of marigolds. "Rest sounds like exactly what I need."

As they re-entered the wedding courtyard, Maira caught Maan’s gaze from across the room.

He was standing with Maysha, looking every bit the devoted partner, but his eyes were fixed on Maira with a cold, expectant shimmer. She tightened her grip on Ishaan’s hand, a silent vow forming in her mind. She had bought herself time, and she had an ally in Roshni, but the shadow of that phone was a ticking time bomb waiting for them in Mumbai.