27

" Haldi"

Kartik pov :

Ever since my eyes had fallen on the sindoor streaked across her hairline and the mangalsutra around her neck, it felt like my whole world had been thrown into reverse. My throat went dry. Sweat slicked down my spine. My heart hammered in a frantic rhythm, and my mind
 my mind was shutting down.

Control slipped out of my hands like water. As I stumbled forward, I bumped into a waiter. The tray rattled. I grabbed the tray  from him—anything to keep my hands from shaking—and gulped it down. One glass became two, then three. By the time I moved away, my steps were no longer steady, my eyes heavy-lidded.

And why should they even open? What was left to see?

A door caught my eye—slightly ajar, a shadow of a room beyond. I slipped inside like a man escaping the noose and slammed it shut behind me, bolting it tight. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. Not their pity. Not their questions. Not their eyes.

The room was pitch-dark. My palms skimmed the walls as I staggered forward until cool tiles told me I’d reached the bathroom. My lungs ached for stillness. My heart begged for the pain to stop. Seven years of holding it in and tonight it was tearing me apart.

Even the liquor couldn’t drown the ache. I just wanted to shut it all off—my heart, my breath, my mind. Anything to silence the memory of her.

I turned on the tap. The bathtub was already filling, water swirling higher and higher. Without thinking, I sank into it, the water swallowing me, the sound of the faucet the only thing left. I leaned back, the cold seeping into my bones. My face tilted toward the ceiling, my body heavy.

And then the memories came.

Fifteen days ago, I’d been in the UK. Fifteen days ago, I’d been happy—so stupidly, blissfully happy. I’d booked my ticket back, rehearsed my confession a hundred times. This time, I told myself, I would tell Nitya everything. This time, we would convince the families. This time, I’d marry her, build our life together.

I’d imagined her waiting at the airport—smiling, running toward me, that familiar warmth lighting up her face. But when I walked out, it wasn’t Nitya who stood there.

It was Vansh. Alone. His driver beside him. His face pale, troubled.

“Finally, I’m back,” I’d said, my voice bright, pretending not to notice the storm in his eyes. “Let’s go.”

He just nodded, and we got into the car.

I talked the whole way. Told him about my plan, the proposal, the wedding, the names of our children, the future. Even teased him to find someone for himself because soon, I’d be gone, married to my Nitya.

And Vansh
 Vansh said nothing. He just sat there, silent, staring out the window.

Then, all at once, he spoke.

“Stop the car,” he told the driver.

We pulled over to an empty road—completely deserted. The world felt eerily still.

Vansh placed his hand gently on my shoulder, his voice low but steady.

“I’m always with you
 even if the whole world flips upside down.”

Something about his tone was off—too still, too heavy. My heart clenched.

“What’s wrong, Vansh?”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes locking into mine like they were bracing me for impact.

“Kartik
 Nitya
” he faltered, his jaw tightening.

“What about Nitya?” My voice rose, sharp and shaky.

“Vansh
 is she okay?”

And then, in one brutal exhale, he said it:

“Nitya is married
 to Dhruv Rathee. The minister.”

The ground tilted beneath my feet. My fingers slipped from his shoulder. A bitter laugh tore out of me—one, then another—until I was laughing so hard my stomach cramped. I dropped to the ground, clutching my sides, the sound echoing like a madman’s.

But Vansh just stood there, dark-eyed, watching me unravel.

I shoved myself upright, voice cracking.

“Vansh, that’s a filthy joke. Don’t you ever—ever—joke like that again.”

I grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the car.

“Come on. We’re late. Even the flowers will wilt at this rate.”

But he didn’t move.

“Vansh, let’s go!” I barked again and again. My voice trembled now. My grip on his hand weakened.

“Please, Vansh
 let’s just leave
”

And then, without a word, he crushed me into his arms. His hands moved up and down my back like he was holding a man on the edge of a cliff.

I tore free, my voice breaking into a scream.

“You’re lying, Vansh! This can’t be true. She loves me! Do you hear me? She loves me! You’re mistaken—completely mistaken!”

Silence. His eyes only grew darker.

I stepped closer, desperation clawing up my throat.

“Swear on me, Vansh. Put your hand on my head—swear it’s a lie! Please
 just once. My life depends on it. I will die without her. Say it, Vansh. Say it’s a joke.”

He didn’t say a word.

And in that silence, my world fell apart.

Everything slowed—the sound of the road, the hum of traffic, even my own heartbeat. My vision blurred. Flashes of Nitya’s smile, her eyes, her laugh—all of it—cut through my head like lightning.

My hands slipped from Vansh’s. My knees buckled.

The last thing I felt was Vansh’s voice breaking as he called my name.

And then, darkness swallowed me whole as I collapsed onto the cold road.

"Pyar h ya saja ae mere dil bata

Tutta kyu nhi dard ka silsila "

Vansh, Pranav, and the entire security team were tearing through the mansion like madmen. Room after room, corridor after corridor, they searched for Kartik. Not a single camera showed him leaving the premises.

Vansh grabbed staff by their collars, his voice like a whip. “Where is he?!”

Finally, a trembling waiter stammered, “Sir
 he went to that room. He’d been drinking
 a lot.”

Without wasting a breath, Vansh and his men sprinted. The door was locked. “Break it,” Vansh barked. Wood splintered under the guards’ kicks. Lights flickered on.

Empty.

Vansh’s heart slammed against his ribs. He rushed to the bathroom—only to freeze.

Kartik lay submerged in the bathtub, motionless, his body pale and cold under the water.

“Kartik!” Vansh’s scream cracked the marble walls as he lunged forward, dragging him out. Water splashed everywhere as Vansh slapped his cheeks, frantic. “Open your eyes! Damn it, Kartik, look at me!”

“Pranav!” he roared. “Call the doctor. And Ritika—now!”

They laid Kartik on the floor, Vansh pumping his chest, trying to push the water out. But Kartik was limp, numb—lost somewhere far away. Vansh’s hands trembled as he pressed down again and again, whispering curses and prayers.

At last, they moved him to the bed just as the doctor burst in. Pranav’s voice cracked. “Dr. Ritika’s flight lands in Mumbai in a while—she’s on her way.”

The doctor bent over Kartik, changing his wet clothes, injecting him with something. After what felt like hours, he looked up at Vansh. “He’s out of danger. The injection will stabilise him. By morning, he should regain consciousness. Mr. Singhania
 you arrived at the right time. A minute later, we wouldn’t have been able to save Mr. Dixit.”

The words punched the air out of Vansh’s lungs. He sank to the floor beside Kartik’s bed, his palm still pressed to the cold sheets, eyes locked on the lifeless face of the man who once laughed like a storm.

Pranav led the doctor out. One by one, the guards disappeared, leaving only Vansh in the silent room—just him and Kartik’s shallow, stubborn breaths.

By the time Ritika arrived, the room was heavy with the smell of water and fear. Her eyes darted from Vansh to the man lying unconscious on the bed, and for a second, her breath hitched.

Seven years ago.

It was the exact same image.

Vansh, storming into the hospital with Kartik limp in his arms, his voice breaking as he begged the staff to save him. Back then, her seniors had handed the case over to her. Back then, she’d become his therapist And from that moment, Kartik became more than just a patient to her.

And back then, that same night, Kartik had clung to Vansh like a lost child, sobbing against his chest. “She was my home
 now I’m homeless. My heart’s been shattered into pieces I can’t even pick up. I’ve died while still alive.”

The memory made Ritika’s throat tighten. She’d seen the panic attacks, the self-destructive spirals, the countless attempts to numb his pain. She’d watched him convince himself, again and again, that Nitya would return. That one day he’d open a door and she’d be there, waiting.

But she never was.

Ritika blinked the tears away, put a steadying hand on Vansh’s shoulder. “Mr. Singhania
 are you okay?”

Vansh stood abruptly, like her touch had jolted him. “I’m fine. Just
 just check Kartik.”

She bent over Kartik, checking his vitals, brushing a strand of wet hair from his forehead. “He’s stable for now,” she said softly. “But we’ll only know his real condition in the morning, when he regains consciousness.”

She glanced up at Vansh, whose voice was now barely a whisper. “Do you think Kartik will ever forget Nitya? Will he ever be happy again? Because
 if I’m ever late—”

His words broke, his body trembling despite himself.

Ritika looked back at Kartik, her chest heavy. “He doesn’t want to forget her,” she said quietly. “He skips therapy, he refuses his medication. But I’ll keep trying. I promise. He’ll heal. He’ll move on. Don’t lose hope.”

She said  “I should go. Call me the moment he wakes up.”

Nitya tossed and turned restlessly, her blanket twisted in knots. Sleep had abandoned her completely—her chest weighed down with only one thought: Kartik. Ever since Vansh had spiraled into panic searching for him, the uneasiness had been eating her alive.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She padded across the cold floor and knocked on Riddhima’s door.

Riddhima opened the gate

“Sorry
 did I wake you?” Nitya asked softly.

Riddhima shook her head. “No. I couldn’t sleep either. Come in.”

Nitya sat down on the bed, her fingers twisting nervously. “Riddhi
 I don’t know why but I’m terrified. Something’s wrong with Vansh and Kartik. Have you heard anything?”

Riddhima sighed, her face mirroring Nitya’s concern. “No
 but I’m worried too. About Kartik.”

“Then call Vansh. Please.”

Riddhima hesitated, exhaling sharply. “Fine. Only because of you.” She dialed Vansh’s number and put it on speaker.

On the other end, Vansh sat in the darkness of kartik's room his  head resting against the wall eyes shut tight. His face was pale, troubled, and damp with unshed tears. The phone buzzing in his hand dragged him back. He glanced at the screen—“Headache:  With a deep breath, he finally answered.

“Hi,” Riddhima said.

“Hi,” came Vansh’s voice—low, heavy, and laced with exhaustion. The sadness and strain in it were impossible to miss.

“Any news about Kartik?” Riddhima asked quickly.

“He’s fine,” Vansh replied after a pause. “Just a bit of fever. He’ll be better by tomorrow. I’ll see you both tomorrow. Goodnight.”

And just like that, he cut the call.

Nitya stood up quietly, about to leave, but Riddhima caught her hand. “Nitya, stay here tonight. Sleep with me.”

Nitya nodded, lying down beside her. But Riddhima’s mind kept racing. Something about Vansh’s reaction gnawed at her—why did he sound so panicked for something as ordinary as a fever?

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains, its golden rays fell softly on Kartik’s face. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, only to find Vansh asleep on the chair right beside his bed. A faint smile tugged at Kartik’s lips as he saw him, but the moment he tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through his head, forcing a pained “ahh” from his mouth.

The sound was enough to wake Vansh instantly. He rushed to his side, concern etched all over his face.

“Are you okay now?” he asked urgently.

Kartik managed a weak nod. “Yes
 I’m fine.”

Just then, Ritika walked in, checked his vitals with practiced ease, handed him some medicines, and administered another injection. Looking at Vansh, she said firmly, “Kartik needs complete rest today.”

Vansh sighed and replied, “Alright then
 we’ll postpone the haldi ceremony.”

But Kartik quickly shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’ve troubled you enough already. You go ahead with the ritual.” He glanced at Ritika and added with a faint smile, “Besides, Ritika is here with me.”

Vansh searched Ritika’s eyes for reassurance. “Are you sure?”

Ritika gave a small nod and a gentle smile. “I’m here. Don’t worry—you can go.”

The  Palace courtyard was transformed into a golden paradise. Near the shimmering poolside, marigold strings draped from carved jharokhas, while fresh yellow roses floated on the water. Brass urns brimmed with turmeric paste and rose petals, their fragrance mingling with the palace breeze. Sunlight bounced off the marble, making the whole setup glow like a royal fairytale.

Everyone was dressed in White colour clothes except kartik because now everyone got to know through Vansh that he is sick

Vansh walked out in a mustard-yellow kurta with subtle golden thread embroidery running along the neckline and cuffs. His kurta was paired with a crisp white churidar,  he draped a light dupatta in pastel yellow with golden zari edges, casually resting on his shoulder.

Riddhima stepped out in a sunshine yellow lehenga—lightweight, flowing, and adorned with delicate gota-patti work. The blouse was sleeveless with subtle embroidery, while a sheer dupatta in pastel yellow with golden borders rested softly over her shoulder.

Her Floral jewelry set in fresh white jasmine and yellow marigold

A dainty floral maang tikka gracing her forehead Small flower earrings brushing her cheeks A delicate haathphool  made of tiny blossoms wrapping around her wrists

Soft dewy base that let her natural glow shine through

Both of them sat side by side for the haldi ritual. From the moment Vansh laid his eyes on Riddhima, he couldn’t stop staring. He tried, oh he tried, but his gaze kept slipping back to her like gravity itself was conspiring against him. In his head he muttered, Bas kar Vansh stop staring, or she’ll snap again—‘why are you glaring at me, Mr. Singhania?’

Riddhima, catching his look, bit back a smile. Well
 whatever else, Prannath does know how to dress.

The music burst alive and laughter filled the air. Saumya smeared haldi on Vansh first, and then Shaili carried that same haldi towards Riddhima. But before touching her, everyone began teasing Shaili—

“Today you can ask your bhabhi anything you want
 after all, it’s a sister-in-law’s duty!”

Riddhima smiled warmly, looking at the younger girl. “Whatever you want, you can ask me.”

Shaili hesitated, glancing around nervously, then whispered, “Can I
 can I call you Tai?”(elder sister in marathi)

The room went silent for a heartbeat, eyes darting between them. And then Riddhima opened her arms, pulling Shaili into a hug.

Watching them, Vansh felt no jealousy only a rare, unshakable happiness that tightened in his chest.

But watching everyone laugh together  Saumya’s smile soured. Leaning toward Ishita, she hissed under her breath, “Yesterday, this wedding could have broken but I don’t know what spell the Raichands cast on Papa ji

Shaili gently applied turmeric to Riddhima’s cheeks and hands. Rajeshwari’s voice carried a teasing warmth as she said, “You called her your elder sister
 so it’s only right that you be the first to bless her with haldi.”

As the haldi spread across Riddhima’s skin, her face seemed to bloom with a golden glow, her beauty radiant and untamed. Beside her, Vansh’s sharp features softened, his green eyes gleaming like emeralds against the touch of turmeric, refusing to look anywhere but her. Together, they looked less like a couple in a ritual and more like fire meeting sunlight impossible to ignore.

Everyone was playing games, dancing, clicking pictures, and enjoying the function. Riddhima kept touching the spots where the haldi had been applied—her face, hands, legs, neck—and she was still enjoying the function.

Suddenly, Vansh looked at her, grabbed her hand, and forcefully pulled her up.

“Pranath! What kind of misbehavior is this?” Riddhima snapped, but Vansh didn’t say a word. He kept moving forward, almost dragging her along, and suddenly pushed her straight into the pool.

The function stopped instantly. Everyone rushed toward the pool, and Vansh himself jumped in.

Riddhima surfaced, water cascading down her face. Before she could even blink, Vansh’s hands cupped her cheeks. His chest pressed close, his arm circling her waist, pulling her against him in the water. He began scrubbing off the haldi with a desperate urgency, his fingers tracing her skin

Nobody could understand what he was doing.

“Vansh! What are you doing? Haldi is not removed like this!” Mamta shouted in panic.

By now, even Riddhima had started rubbing off the haldi herself. When the haldi was finally removed, Vansh held her hand and pulled her out of the pool. Shaili was already there with a towel. Vansh wrapped her carefully, but Riddhima’s face and hands were turning red, burning, and stinging badly.

Before Vansh or anyone else could say anything, before anyone could even go near Riddhima, a man—six feet tall, dusky skin, broad shoulders, perfect physique, dressed in formals with a leather watch on his wrist—stepped forward. He grabbed Riddhima’s hand and pulled her toward himself, slipping her hand away from Vansh’s grip.

It was clear from the look of him that he had just arrived.

He immediately began examining her face, her hands, and her neck, then commanded in a calm but firm voice:

“Cold water, ice, and a fresh towel. Now.”

He sat Riddhima down on the sofa. By then, water had already been brought. He put some ice into a bowl, then told her, “Dip your face into this. Keep it in as long as you can.”

Holding her hair back so it wouldn’t fall on her face, he guided her gently. Everyone around was now deeply worried about Riddhima.

When she lifted her face out of the bowl, he helped her up by the hand and led her into a room. The rest of the family followed them in concern.

“You should change your clothes first,” he said softly. With that, he and everyone else stepped outside, waiting.

Rajeshwari and Ashish approached him, tense.

“What happened to Riddhima? Why is her body turning so warm and red?”

“It’s a reaction to the haldi,” he explained. “I don’t know yet whether it’s an allergy or something else. Could you please bring me the bowl in which the haldi was prepared?”

“I’ll get it,” Shaili replied quickly.

Meanwhile, Riddhima had changed her clothes. Before applying the ointment, he warned her gently, “It will sting, but you’ll get relief soon.”

The moment he touched her face with the ointment, Riddhima gripped his hand so tightly in pain. Vansh was standing there, watching both of them together silently, his jaw tightening.

He applied the medicine carefully, then told her, “Rest now.” After that, everyone came outside again.

By then, Shaili had returned with the haldi. He examined it and asked, “Who prepared this haldi?”

“I did,” Shaili said softly.

“Can you tell me exactly what you mixed in it?”

“Haldi, sandalwood, milk, rosewater. That’s all,” Shaili answered nervously.

“Are you sure? Nothing else?” he pressed.

“Yes, that’s it,” she insisted.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked again.

Just then, Vansh’s voice cut in, sharp and commanding:

“What exactly are you trying to say? Speak clearly.”

“I’m saying this haldi was mixed with a chemical. That’s why Riddhima is in this state.”

Everyone gasped in shock.

Rajeshwari’s voice trembled. “But the same haldi was applied to Vansh as well!”

“Yes,” he replied firmly, “but Riddhima received it later. Which means it was mixed afterward—deliberately.”

“And who had the haldi with them?” he demanded.

“Shaili did,” Saumya immediately pointed out.

Shaili’s eyes welled up with tears. She looked at Vansh with trembling lips, her voice breaking.

“Bhai, I didn’t do it. I swear!”

Just then Rajeshwari rushed to her, hugged her tightly, and stroked her hair.

“I have complete faith. Shaili could never do such a thing. Someone else has done this.”

Ashish’s eyes scanned sharply toward Mamta and Saumya. His voice was like steel.

“And I will find out who it was.”

Then he turned to everyone:

“Now, everyone freshen up. And beta, you should also go freshen up,” he said kindly to the man.

When everyone left, Vansh and that man were still there. The man extended his hand toward Vansh. Vansh clasped it firmly.

“Vihaan Ranawat.”

“Vansh Rai Singhania.”

They introduced themselves

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Thank you

Aapko kya lagtah haldi me chemical kisne milaya hoga ?

Aap kartik ko kon sa hashtag dena chaoge ?

Aur ye vihaan ranawat kon h ?

Comment me jarur btaye ♡

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