The music played softly in the background as Ranvijay sat among the guests, his eyes fixed on her—the fragile girl who would soon be his. There was a quiet satisfaction in the way he watched her, a proud possessiveness that came from knowing she was finally slipping into his world. His gaze lingered on her, his heart swelling with the certainty that she would be his, no matter what.
Everything is falling into place, he thought, his mind briefly drifting to the conversation he'd had with her stepmother. Play along, gain their trust, and when the time is right, I'll expose them. Everything will be just as it should be.
But even with this certainty, something about Myra unsettled him. She was beautiful, vulnerable—like a flower trapped in a storm. He could see the unease in her eyes at times, and he couldn't help but wonder if she knew what was truly happening.
His chain of thought was suddenly broken by a round of applause that filled the hall, the performance having just concluded. Ranvijay snapped back to the present, searching for her with desperate eyes, his chest tightening when he couldn't find her.
His gaze swept across the room, but she was nowhere to be seen. Panic tightened his grip for a moment, but before he could dwell on the worry, the host's voice called out, bringing him back to the center of attention.
"Now, please welcome, the couple, Ranvijay and Myra, for their performance!"
The crowd turned their attention to the entrance as the doors opened, and there she was—Myra.
She walked in, a vision in blue and pink, the gown swirling with each graceful step. The sight of her struck him, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade. She moved toward him like a force of nature, her beauty almost ethereal, as if angels themselves were paying tribute to her arrival.
His heart skipped a beat.
She met his gaze, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw something flicker in her eyes—something he couldn't quite place. It was bold, but fleeting. Perhaps she's just nervous, he reasoned, as the music began to play softly.
The opening chords of "Main Agar Kahoon" rang through the hall, and he extended his hand to her, smiling reassuringly.
"Shall we?" he asked, his voice gentle, trying to offer her a sense of calm.
Her eyes flickered—there was something in them, a trace of resistance—but she placed her hand in his. She was hesitant, but she gave in.
As they began to dance, the chemistry between them was undeniable. Their bodies moved in sync, though there was tension in every step. For Ranvijay, the moment felt like it was all coming together—this was his chance to show her how much he cared, how much he wanted her. His touch was firm but tender, guiding her through the dance as they circled each other, lost in the music.
But for Myra, every step felt like a battle. Her body moved with the rhythm, but her mind was far from it. She had never wanted this—never wanted to be here, in this moment, trapped in a dance with him. Her gaze, though softened by the gentleness of the moment, was still filled with a quiet rage—a burning desire to escape. But Ranvijay couldn't see that. To him, it seemed like the natural nervousness of someone new to the stage, new to the life they were being thrust into.
Her movements were sharp, filled with an energy that didn't match the elegance of the dance. But Ranvijay only thought she was still adjusting to the grand expectations of the event. She's not used to all of this yet, he mused, but she'll come around. She has to.
His eyes remained fixed on hers, full of tenderness and longing, oblivious to the storm that brewed beneath her calm exterior. Her thoughts were a whirlwind—her mind was focused on one thing: escape. But he only saw the beauty in her, the fragile soul he was so determined to protect and possess.
Their dance, though seemingly beautiful, was laced with undercurrents of something darker. For him, it was a symbol of the love he was sure would eventually overpower all the obstacles. For her, it was a reminder of the cage she was being locked into, the man who would control her world whether she wanted it or not.
In the heat of their dance, their minds were filled with thoughts that contrasted as sharply as their movements. His was a love so consuming that it threatened to burn everything in its path, while hers was an all-consuming hatred, a desire for escape and freedom from the cage he unknowingly had built for her.
The song reached its crescendo, and their movements became more intense. Ranvijay pulled her closer, the heat of their bodies mingling. He was so close now, his breath shallow, his heart racing. They were locked in an unspoken understanding. She was his.
The rhythm of their movements spoke of something deeper—something neither of them was ready to face: love, hate, obsession, and sin, all tangled together in a dance of fate.
The music faded, but neither of them moved. They stood there, face-to-face, only inches apart, each breath mingling between them. His eyes never left hers, a look of triumph in his gaze. But Myra's eyes—cold and full of determination—held nothing but a silent promise: This isn't over.
For Ranvijay, there was nothing but the overwhelming feeling that she was finally beginning to understand. But what he didn't know was that, while he danced with her, her heart was already preparing for her escape.