Author's pov

The moment Jaanki stepped out of the car, a blinding flash exploded across her vision. For a second, she couldn't even see. Voices crashed into her from every direction.

"Miss Jaanki! Is it true you're involved with Mr. Rathore?"

"Are you in a relationship with him?"

"Did you spend the night together?"

Her head snapped up. There were cameras everywhere. Microphones, Reporters. People pushing forward without giving her room to breathe. Her heartbeat stumbled.

"W-What...?"

Before she could process a single question, another voice cut through the crowd.

"Sources claim you were seen entering a cottage with Mr. Rathore. What do you have to say about that?"

"Miss Jaanki, why are you hiding the truth?"

The crowd surged forward. Jaanki instinctively stepped back. Her fingers tightened around the rose.

"I didn't-"

Nobody listened. Nobody cared. Questions kept flying at her like stones.

Then one reporter pointed directly at her neck.

"What about that mark, Miss Jaanki? Was it given by Mr. Rathore?"

Her hand flew to her neck automatically. The small bruise. The one caused by the pain she had felt during the party. But the cameras didn't know that. And they didn't want to know.

The flashes became harsher. The accusations are uglier.

"Why are you silent?"

"Are you ashamed?"

"You're the daughter of a chief minister. Is this the example you want to set?"

The words hit harder than they should have. Her throat tightened. Tears burned behind her eyes. The world around her felt louder. Crueler. Then suddenly... A familiar voice rose above the chaos.

Filled with venom.

"I knew it all from before."

The crowd immediately turned. Vishakha Shekhawat stepped forward. Her eyes settled on Jaanki with open contempt.

"Such a shameless girl"

A murmur spread through the media instantly. Every camera swung toward her. Every microphone followed.

"Mrs. Shekhawat, are you confirming the rumors?"

"Do you know anything about Mr. Rathore and Jaanki?"

Vishakha didn't miss the opportunity.
Not for a second.

"God knows She slept with how many-"

The sentence never finished. A loud crack echoed through the driveway.
Everyone froze. Vishakha stumbled sideways, her hand flying to her cheek, Standing in front of her was Vikram Shekhawat.

His face was terrifyingly calm. Which somehow made him look even more dangerous.

"Ek shabd aur." His voice was low. "Sirf ek shabd aur meri beti ke khilaaf bola na..."

His jaw tightened.

"Zubaan kheench lunga."

(Just say one more word...just one, and I'll pull your tongue out.)

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Even the reporters fell silent. Jaanki stared at him. Then something inside her finally broke.

"Chachu..." Her voice trembled.

She ran to him. Vikram immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The second she buried her face against him, the tears she'd been fighting spilled over.

"Chachu, maine kuch nahi kiya..." Her voice cracked. "I swear, I didn't do anything."

Vikram placed a kiss on her forehead.
His hand rested protectively on her head.

"I know, baccha."

Just three words. Yet somehow they steadied her more than anything else. At that moment another car pulled into the driveway. Siya and Abhimanyu stepped out.

The moment they saw the media, their expressions darkened.

"What is going on?"

Vikram explained everything in a few short sentences. Abhimanyu's face became frighteningly still. The kind of stillness that came before storms. His gaze swept across the reporters.

"If anyone speaks another word against my daughter without proof..."

His voice carried effortlessly through the crowd.

"...I will make sure every single person responsible regrets it."

The reporters shifted uneasily. Then suddenly one of them looked down at his phone. A slow smile spread across his face.

"Then perhaps you'd like to explain this, Mr. Shekhawat."

The crowd stirred again. The reporter raised his phone. A video began playing. Jaanki's blood turned cold.

The footage showed Raghav standing close to her at the party. His hand was reaching toward her neck. The angle was wrong. Deliberately wrong. From a distance it looked intimate.

The crowd erupted instantly. Before anyone could react, another video appeared. Jaanki and Raghav are entering the same car.

Another.

The cottage.

Another.

And then Jaanki stopped breathing.
A blurry image. She's resting against Raghav, his arm around her.

The cameras flashed harder.Questions exploded from every direction.

"Mr. Shekhawat, is there anything left you want to say now? Your daughter is ruining the society. Such a shameless woman."

Abimanyu snatched his camera.

"I believe in her. No camera and nothing can make me go against her, and you're talking about this? My daughter loves someone else."

As soon as Abhimanyu says it, Jaanki's heart starts beating fast. No, no. They still think they're in a relationship with Aditya, if Abhimanyu confessed it infront of media then she would have to go back to him for his reputation.

She was about to stop him then she saw a black car pulled up following three cars.

Raghav came out wearing sunglasses.
___________

Raghav's pov

The moment I stepped out of the car, my eyes found hers. Everything else seemed to disappear. The shouting reporters, the relentless camera flashes, the crowd pressing against one another... none of it mattered anymore.

All I could see was her. Her eyes were red. Not because she was weak, because she had been standing alone while strangers tore her dignity apart piece by piece.

Something inside me snapped. Not loudly. Quietly. Like the last thread holding back years of restraint had finally given way.

My fingers curled into fists so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Whoever had made her cry, whoever had stood there and questioned her dignity, whoever had planned this entire spectacle.. they had just signed their own death warrant.

As the reporters noticed me. Their attention shifted in an instant as microphones turned toward me and questions crashed into one another.

"Mr. Rathore! Are the videos real?"

"Did Miss Shekhawat spend the night with you?"

"What exactly is your relationship with her?"

I didn't answer a single question. I simply walked past them, and somehow that silence unsettled them far more than any reply ever could.

The crowd parted on its own, as though nobody wanted to be the person standing in my path. When I finally stopped in front of her, she looked up at me with wide, confused eyes. Relief flickered across her face for the briefest second before it was swallowed by disbelief.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered.

Her voice was barely audible beneath the noise around us, but I heard it anyway. I noticed the slight tremble in her hands and, without thinking, reached out to hold one gently between mine.

"You don't have to answer them," I said quietly before turning toward the crowd. "If your questions are about that night, then ask me. Unlike all of you, I was actually there."

Silence spread almost instantly.

One of the reporters stepped forward, gathering enough courage to ask,

"Then explain the videos."

A humourless smile touched my lips.

"Which part would you like me to explain?"

"The part where Miss Shekhawat spent the night with you."

"That part?" I nodded once. "Yes, she did."

The courtyard exploded with noise.
Questions came flying from every direction, but I waited until they exhausted themselves before speaking again.

"The roads were blocked because of the storm. We couldn't leave. The cottage belonged to an elderly woman who gave us shelter for the night."

I let my gaze travel slowly across the reporters before continuing.

"Now I'd like to ask all of you something."

My gaze swept across the crowd.

"When two people are trapped by a natural disaster...does that suddenly give the entire country permission to drag a woman's character through the mud?"

I continued, my voice remaining calm despite the anger burning beneath it.

"You've replayed those videos hundreds of times. You've questioned her upbringing, her dignity, and her family,"

I looked directly into the nearest camera.

"Interesting." The word left my mouth quietly. "Because unless I'm mistaken...I was in those videos too."

The silence deepened.

"If spending one night inside that cottage makes her character questionable then question mine first."

Her fingers tightened around mine so hard that her nails dug into my skin, but l didn't let go. If holding my hand was the only thing keeping her standing, then she could break every bone in it

"But don't stand here pretending that your concern is morality. It isn't. You simply found an easier target. Because you know that question a woman's character is very easy."

The silence that followed was heavier than anything they had shouted before.

Another reporter finally spoke.

"what exactly is your relationship with Miss Shekhawat?"

For the first time, I looked back at her.
She was staring at me, completely unaware of the battle raging inside my own head. I knew exactly what would happen the moment I answered. There would be no taking those words back. The entire country would hear them.

But if it meant protecting her...The decision had already been made. I drew a slow breath before looking back into the nearest camera.

"You want a name for our relationship?" I asked quietly. "Fine."

My eyes briefly met Abhimanyu's, then Vikram's, before returning to her.

"She is the woman I intend to marry."

The courtyard fell silent.

Not a single camera clicked.

Even the reporters seemed to forget how to breathe.

Then I finished the sentence.

"Hone wali Mrs. Jaanki Raghav Singh Rathore and I'll be Raghav Jaanki Singh Rathore."

The silence shattered. Questions exploded from every direction.

"Did Mr. Rathore just announce their marriage?"

"Is this true?"

I ignored every single one of them.
Because I wasn't looking at the media anymore. I was looking at her.

Shock. Disbelief. Anger.

Every emotion crossed her face within seconds. She stared at me as though she had never seen me before.

The gates finally closed behind the retreating reporters.The cameras disappeared. The shouting faded.Only silence remained.

She reached me before anyone else did.

"What exactly was that?"

Her voice trembled. Not with fear.
With anger.

"What do you think you've done?"

I held her gaze.

"I did what was necessary."

"You announced our marriage in front of the entire country!"

"I announced the only thing that made them stop tearing you apart."

"You didn't even ask me."

""If l had asked." l held her gaze. "..you would've protected everyone except yourself."

She opened her mouth. The argument died before it could leave her lips. Because we both knew it was true.
Before either of us could say another word...

A single voice cut through the silence.

"Enough."

Every head turned. Abhimanyu stepped forward slowly. His face revealed nothing. Which somehow made him more intimidating than if he had been shouting.

"The media has left." His eyes settled on me. "Now..."

He stopped only an arm's length away.

"I would appreciate an explanation."

Before I could answer...The sound of dhol echoed through the gates. Loud.
Celebratory. Everyone turned together.

A convoy of decorated luxury cars rolled into the driveway one after another. Men carrying silver trays stepped out first.

My heartbeat slowed. I looked at her
,Colour drained from her face.

She whispered only one word.

"No..."

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