The palace had never known such silence.
Not even when mourning.
It wasn't quiet—it was suffocating. It was panic clawing at every breath. It was the hollow ache of something precious ripped away.
Myra was gone.
And they all knew who had taken her.
Aditya.
Not a ghost. Not a memory.
A storm that had been brewing in silence—and finally struck.
----------
Rajeshwari gripped the edge of the pillar in the main corridor, her knuckles white. "He took her," she whispered, voice dry. "It was Aditya."
Anika turned, stunned. "You're sure?"
"I know his madness." Her eyes glistened. "And his obsession."
Shiv exhaled slowly. "We always knew he'd come back… but not like this."
Ranvijay hadn't said a single word.
He stood at the top of the staircase, still in the same kurta from the puja. But now it felt like a war uniform. His eyes didn't blink. His jaw was locked so tight, it looked like it could crack.
---
Flashback — Minutes Before
A call. Brief. Masked voice.
"She was never yours, Rajvansh. She never will be."
Click.
That was it.
No location. No trace.
Just the voice of someone who had disappeared from their lives years ago... and returned only to destroy it all.
---
Present
Dadi Sa sat down slowly on the nearest chair, still too stunned. "But why Myra? Why take her?"
Shiv stepped forward, his voice tight. "He was obsessed. With her. Long before Ranvijay came into the picture."
Rajeshwari nodded grimly. "Even when he was young, there was something… possessive. Not violent. But too intense. Like she was something he had lost long before he ever had her."
Anika's eyes widened. "But they never even met properly—"
"They did." Rajeshwari swallowed. "Once. Years ago. Briefly. He saw her in Jaipur when she was just a little girl. After that… he used to ask questions. Quiet ones. Slipped in between conversation. I never… I never thought he'd carry that into adulthood."
Anika stepped back, shaking her head. "He waited all these years… for her?"
Shiv's hands curled into fists. "This wasn't a spur of the moment. It was planned. Long. Carefully."
Ranvijay finally spoke.
"Then he made the mistake of touching what's mine."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
The kind of calm that came before the worst storms.
---
He turned to Shiv. "Start pulling every name from the old files. Every place he stayed. Everyone who owed him. I want the world shaken."
"And if he went underground?" Shiv asked.
"Then I'll dig him out," Ranvijay growled, "with my bare hands if I have to."
Anika asked in a small voice, "What will he do to her?"
Rajeshwari shut her eyes. "Aditya doesn't want to hurt her. Not physically. He wants to… own her. Make her forget everything. Replace every memory she has with him."
"That's not love," Anika whispered.
"No," Rajeshwari replied. "It's obsession. The most dangerous kind."
---
Scene Shift — Far Away
Aditya stood in a room dimly lit by lanterns, gazing through a pane of glass into the adjoining room where Myra lay on the bed, clutching a red thread in her fist.
"She still remembers nothing," he said softly to himself.
He pressed his hand to the glass. "But she will."
Behind him, on a wall, hung photos. All of Myra.
Some blurry. Some stolen. One—a torn picture of her from a newspaper article on Ranvijay's royal wedding.
"I waited too long," Aditya whispered. "But she's here now. And she'll see what love really is."
---
Back at the Palace
Ranvijay descended the stairs. "If I don't find her in the next 24 hours, no one in this city will sleep."
Shiv asked quietly, "What if she's not in this country?"
Ranvijay turned to him slowly.
"Then pray for the man who took her across a border."
Later that evening, while the chaos had dulled to a low hum outside, Anika sat beside her mother in the quiet of Rajeshwari's private chamber. The golden lamp glowed softly, casting tired shadows across her face.
"Maa," Anika asked hesitantly, "Can I say something… and you won't be angry?"
Rajeshwari looked at her, worn yet alert. "Always."
Anika fidgeted with the edge of her dupatta, her voice low. "Even Ranvijay Bhaiya is obsessed with Myra. I've seen it… the madness in his eyes. The way he watches her. Isn't it the same as Aditya Bhaiya? Then… why does it feel so different? Why didn't Aditya just ask for her hand? Why didn't he come to you… if he saw her first?"
"You remember when I said—Aditya would never hurt her physically?" she began slowly. "I was wrong."
Anika blinked, startled.
Rajeshwari continued, her voice steady but heavy. "Aditya's obsession is not love. It's a disease. He doesn't want Myra because he cherishes her. He wants to own her… because Ranvijay does. This is not about Myra to him—it never was. She's just the weapon in his war."
She paused, her voice lowering like a confession.
"If it comes to it—Aditya would hurt her. Emotionally. Physically. Break her down if it meant proving himself stronger than Ranvijay. That is the kind of love that leaves bruises and doesn't even call them wounds."
Anika looked down, her throat tight.
"But Ranvijay…" Rajeshwari whispered, "he is obsessed, yes. He's consumed. But never to possess her. Ranvijay would give his breath, his kingdom, his blood if it meant keeping her safe. The thought of hurting Myra—even by accident—he would rather slit his own throat than see her cry because of him."
She looked back out the window, eyes shining with a mother's agony. "That's the difference, Anika. One wants to own her. The other wants to worship her—even if it means being hated in return."