Kehte hain, jab do aag takraati hain, toh sirf raakh bachti hai... Par jab aag mitti se mile, toh ya toh mitti jalti hai, ya ~ ek naya roop paati hai..

Sitara X shaan

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The room was a picture of grandeur, bathed in the soft glow of golden lights, yet the air hung heavy with a tension that seemed to freeze time itself. The man, a striking figure in his late twenties, stood near the opulent, king-sized bed. His sherwani, regal and flawless, clung to his broad frame, but it was the storm brewing in his emerald green eyes that commanded attention. His hands rested in his pockets, his posture exuding quiet dominance, as his gaze fixated on the woman lying motionless on the bed.

She was dressed like a dream her bridal lehenga an intricate masterpiece that shimmered against the room's muted hues. Yet, her beauty, radiant and undeniable, seemed almost out of place amidst the hostility crackling in the air. His face was a mask of cold indifference, devoid of warmth or joy, as if mocking the occasion they were bound to celebrate.

"Enough with the act. Wake up," he said, his voice low but laced with icy authority, each syllable slicing through the oppressive silence. The weight of his tone could crush the bravest of souls, but she lay still, her breathing controlled, her lashes motionless. Only the slight twitch of her fingers, gripping the fabric of her lehenga, betrayed her.

A cruel smirk tugged at his lips, sharp and unforgiving. He took a deliberate step forward, his gaze unwavering, and reached for the crystal jug perched on the nightstand. His grip on the handle tightened, his knuckles whitening, before he tipped it without hesitation.

The cold water hit her with a force that sent her bolting upright, a gasp tearing through her lips as the icy liquid soaked her hair, her face, and her intricate bridal ensemble. She shivered, her breath hitching, her bangles chiming with her every frantic movement as she tried to wipe the water from her face. The pristine fabric of her lehenga clung to her skin, the delicate embroidery now heavy and dripping, but her dignity remained intact

When she finally steadied herself, her eyes snapped open, blazing with a ferocity that could have set the entire room ablaze. She rose to her feet in one fluid motion, her slight soaked lehenga swirling around her, the picture of a warrior queen ready for battle.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed, her voice sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. Her glare was piercing, daring him to try her patience again.

Her honey-brown eyes locked onto his piercing emerald green ones without a trace of fear, her defiance shining through like a beacon. She stood tall, her anger simmering beneath the surface, ready to erupt.

He tilted his head slightly, a mocking smirk curving his lips as he closed the distance between them, his steps deliberate and unhurried. "See? That wasn't so difficult, was it?" His voice was a slow drawl, heavy with taunt and ridicule. The emotionless chill in his gaze made her fists clench instinctively, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her lehenga until her knuckles turned white.

But she wasn't one to back down. Not now. Not ever. Her jaw set in defiance as she took a bold step forward, matching his intensity. The air between them crackled with tension, their breaths mingling in the charged space. They stood so close, the world around them seemed to fade into nothingness, leaving only the tempest raging in their locked gazes.

"You think this is a game?" she asked, her voice steady yet sharp, cutting through the suffocating silence like a blade. She pointed to the disheveled bed behind her, her meaning clear. Her words carried the weight of her fury, each syllable dripping with disdain.

Her hair, now loosened and damp from the water, cascaded down her shoulders in wild waves, framing her face with a raw, untamed beauty. The ruined hairstyle only added to her fierce allure, making her look every bit the fiery queen she was. Her soaked bridal lehenga clung to her figure, the vibrant fabric now a testament to her resilience rather than her vulnerability.

He chuckled, the sound low and sardonic as he tilted his head, the light around him casting a golden glow on his sharp, handsome features. His emerald green eyes glinted with a mix of restrained fury and mocking amusement. Slowly, he reached out, his movements measured, and caught a stray strand of her damp hair between his fingers.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, careful even, as though ensuring he didn't overstep his bounds despite the storm raging inside him. His fingers never grazed her skin as he tucked the strand behind her ear with meticulous precision. And yet, his heart betrayed him, flipping for a brief, unguarded moment.

She remained unshaken, her honey-brown gaze unyielding, her clenched jaw radiating defiance. The fierce fire in her eyes hadn't dimmed; if anything, it burned brighter, unfazed by his calculated proximity. Her unwavering stance unsettled him more than he cared to admit, but he buried it beneath a composed exterior.

"Look who's talking about jokes," he said, his voice laced with venom, the anger simmering just beneath his calm facade. His lips twisted into a cold smirk as he stepped back slightly, his gaze hardening. "The one who's turned my marriage into a mockery by posing as my bride..a mere replacement."

The weight of his accusation hung in the air, his tone cutting through her defenses like a knife. The fury in his words was unmistakable, a seething reminder of the betrayal he felt. Her throat tightened, and for the briefest of moments, she faltered, swallowing hard as guilt flickered across her features.

She knew he wasn't wrong. She knew this was a sham a desperate gamble she'd chosen for reasons she couldn't afford to explain. Maybe there had been other choices, better ones, but this wasn't the time to dwell on what-ifs.

This was the time to survive.

She stepped back, her chest tightening as the suffocating tension in the room grew unbearable. "I know it's wrong," she said, her voice trembling but steady. "I know. But do you think this is my dream? To sit here, in your wedding venue, as a replacement bride? Dikhsha... I-" She stopped abruptly, clutching her head as her words faltered, unsure of what to say, or what to leave unsaid.

"Where is my to be wife?" His voice was cold, devoid of any emotion.

"I don't know," she admitted, her tone laced with frustration. "She promised she'd return after her exams, but the ceremony was about to end, and she still hadn't come back. I don't know what's happening-"

"And so, you pulled the stunt of playing unconscious," he interrupted, his mocking tone cutting her off.

"Of course! I can't marry you, so what else could I have done?" she retorted, her voice rising, as if defending the impossible choice she'd made.

"As if I am desperate to marry you?" he scoffed, his lips curving into a sarcastic smirk.

Her eyes rolled in irritation. "Let's focus on finding a way out of this," she snapped, rubbing her arms as the chill in the air bit at her skin.

"Turn around," he ordered abruptly, his voice low but commanding.

"What?" She frowned, confused by the sudden demand.

"Do as I say," he said, grinding his teeth.

Exhausted and unwilling to argue, she sighed and turned her back to him.

"Do not turn around until I tell you," he warned, pulling out his phone.

"Come in," he barked into the device.

The door creaked open, and a group of people entered, carrying several large boxes. Their gazes remained lowered as they placed the packages on the bed, bowing slightly before exiting without a word. The click of the lock echoed ominously as he sealed the door behind them.

Her throat tightened as she heard the lock turn. Instinctively, she spun around, defying his earlier command.

"You just love disobeying me, don't you?" he taunted, leaning against the door with an infuriating smirk.

"I don't take orders," she shot back, her gaze shifting to the unopened boxes on the bed.

"What's all this now?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.

He walked over to the bed, his movements deliberate, and tugged at the ribbon on one of the boxes. As the wrapping fell away, a stunning bridal lehenga was revealed, its intricate embroidery shimmering under the soft glow of the room.

"Get ready," he announced, his tone laced with authority that brooked no argument. "You're going to be my bride."

Her eyes widened in shock, anger flaring within her. "Are you out of your mind? I am not doing this!" she shouted, grabbing her current lehenga and storming toward the door.

"Devyansh Oberoi," his voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and unyielding. It froze her mid-step, her breath catching in her throat. "The man who killed his own father."

The words struck her like a bolt of lightning. Her world tilted, her pulse roaring in her ears. A memory a dark, suffocating one lurched to the surface, threatening to pull her into its cold embrace. Her steps faltered, a tremor ran down her spine, and her breathing turned ragged.

Slowly, she turned to face him. Her jaw tightened, her eyes aflame with both fear and fury. He stood with his back to her, his stance deceptively calm, yet the menace radiating from him was undeniable.

"How's that for tomorrow's headline, sweetheart?" he drawled, his tone as casual as a predator's before the strike. He cast her a sideways glance, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.

The air in the room thickened, charged with a tension that bordered on suffocating. For a moment, it felt as if the world had shifted, the ground beneath her feet quaking. Fear clawed at her insides, but rage burned just as fiercely. A battle raged within her one between the haunting ghosts of her past and the fierce determination not to crumble.

"That's a lie," she spat, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to appear strong. "What kind of sick joke is this?"

He tilted his head mockingly, his gaze slicing through her composure. "A joke?" He chuckled darkly, taking a deliberate step closer. "Then by all means, let's wait for tomorrow and watch your precious brother burn. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Her fists clenched as tears stung her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. "Who are you? What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice rising as desperation seeped in.

He smiled a victorious, cruel twist of his lips. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between them. Towering over her, he leaned in just enough to unsettle her, his breath grazing her cheek. His gaze dropped to a droplet of water sliding down her temple. Slowly, his finger traced the path of the droplet hovering, never touching and stopped just below her chin.

The flicker of tears in her eyes struck something deep within him, but he buried it ruthlessly. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "I'm a disaster, sweetheart," he said, his smirk widening as her breathing hitched, "and I want your destruction."

With that, he spun on his heel and strode toward the door. His hand gripped the handle, but before he could leave, her voice rang out, steady despite the crackling storm inside her.

"Who will believe you?"

He paused, turning just enough to glance over his shoulder. That mocking smile returned, sharper this time, as if he'd been waiting for her to ask.

"Maybe not me," he said, his tone laced with malice. "But the photograph beside your beautiful bridal lehenga? Oh, that'll do the trick."

Her heart plummeted. It was all planned meticulously, cruelly. She swallowed hard, knowing she was trapped. But even trapped animals fought back. Straightening her spine, she turned toward him, her eyes blazing with renewed fury.

Without warning, she grabbed the water jug from the side table and hurled its contents at him. The cold water splashed against his face and chest, making him flinch. His composure faltered for the briefest moment, but his gaze locked on hers, darker and angrier than ever.

She stepped closer, defiant, her voice cutting through the thick silence. "Go," she commanded, her tone sharp and unwavering, "get ready as my groom." She paused, her finger rising to point at the intricately embroidered sherwani he wore. "This was supposed to be Diksha's groom," she said, her words laced with scorn and defiance.

His jaw clenched, his chest heaving with suppressed rage. For a heartbeat, they stood inches apart, the air crackling with unspoken tension, their gazes locked in a silent war. Then, without a word, he turned and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

She stood there, trembling, yet unbroken. Her heart raced, her mind spinning. This was war. And she would fight for herself.

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Huff 🌚💅🏻💅🏻... and that's a wrap for the prologue!

Don't forget to share your thoughts in the comments .. did you enjoy it? Are you excited for the

first chapter? 👀

And, of course, it's time to pick your side! Whose team are you on?

Team Sitara

or

Team Shaan 🌝🖐️

Vote and drop your comments below! Your excitement wil

l decide how soon I post the first chapter 👉🏻👈🏻

Lots of love to you all!🌷

See you in the next chapter! 👋🏻

~ Your Jerry 💋