Jayant lay on the ground, blood pooling around him, his breaths ragged and shallow. His eyes, once filled with arrogance, now held a flicker of desperation—a man realizing he had lost everything.
Satya loomed over him, bruised, panting, but victorious. It was over.
Or so they thought.
A smirk spread across Jayant's cracked lips as he spoke, his voice weak but laced with malice.
"You think you won?" He coughed, spitting out blood. "No, Satya. You haven't won. I've lost to you before. And I will make sure it never happens again."
Satya frowned, his body still tense. "What are you talking about?"
Jayant chuckled darkly, his gaze unfocused, drifting between the past and present.
"I was always meant to have Meera." His voice wavered, but the hatred never left his eyes. "She was mine. Beautiful. Rich. A princess. And my father promised her to me."
The words sent a chill through Saanvi.
Jayant was no ordinary man. He was—he had always been—the minister's son.
"Helping my father in the conspiracy meant claiming what was rightfully mine. She was mine!" Jayant seethed, his teeth gritted in rage. "And then you came along. You. A mere commoner. You ruined everything!"
Satya's mind flashed back—Veer, standing in that very spot, bloodied but defiant.
Jayant had been part of it all along. Veer had died because of him. Because of his obsession.
And just as before, Jayant refused to let go.
A sudden commotion echoed from outside the chamber.
Virender and Aryan had returned— this time with help.
Several high-ranking officials and members of the higher-ups stormed the palace halls, their voices commanding, their presence undeniable. They had been contacted by the professor before his sacrifice. Justice had finally arrived.
Jayant turned sharply at the sound, his grip tightening on the gun at his side.
His eyes flickered to the gun lying on the ground.
Before anyone could react, he grabbed it.
A deafening gunshot rang through the chamber.
Satya staggered back, his breath catching in his throat. A searing pain spread across his chest, hot and merciless.
Saanvi's eyes widened in horror. "No—NO!"
Jayant let out a pained, victorious laugh. His body convulsed, but his grip on the gun tightened.
"You think you can take Meera from me?" he snarled, his voice cracking. "I will never let you have her. Never. She is mine. You, a mere commoner, dared to step in. I will kill you every time you come back. Again. And again. And again."
His words slithered through the air like a curse, twisting fate itself.
Another gunshot.
But this time, Jayant's body went limp. His own gun had ended his life.
He had chosen to die, but not before destroying Meera's life one last time.
Saanvi—Meera—rushed to Satya's side, tears streaming down her face as she cradled him. History was repeating itself.
Virender and Aryan reached them moments too late, pushing through the door, their faces frozen in shock. Officials stormed in after them, taking in the tragic sight.
Satya gasped for breath, his vision blurring. The pain was unbearable, but he forced a small smile.
"Don't… don't cry." His voice was weak, but gentle.
Saanvi choked on a sob. "You can't die again. Not like this. Not like before."
Satya's fingers brushed against her cheek, smearing blood across her skin.
"We'll meet again," he whispered. His breaths were fading, his body growing cold.
Saanvi shook her head frantically. "No, no, please—stay with me! This can't be how it ends again."
Satya's vision darkened. But before the world faded, he smiled.
"In the next life… I'll find you again."
And with that, Satya closed his eyes.
Saanvi screamed, her heart breaking once more.
Fate had played its cruel trick again.