Vanjeet was sitting in his office, trying hard to focus on his work, but no matter how much he tried, he simply couldn’t concentrate. His fingers moved over the keyboard in a robotic rhythm, typing automatically, yet his mind was completely detached. He glanced at his watch—6:00 p.m. It was already evening. He made another attempt to get back to his work, but ever since morning, countless times, every time he tried to immerse himself in his tasks, the thought of Aavya’s illness would flood his mind again.

He had just returned after getting her admitted to the hospital. He informed his family that he was leaving because he had no desire to stay at the hospital any longer. Since then, he hadn't spoken to anyone, but even after reaching the office, no matter how much he tried to compose himself, he simply couldn’t. Things had now reached a point where sitting in that chair had become unbearable. Frustrated, he abandoned his work, pressed the bridge of his nose gently, inhaled deeply, and yelled at himself in exasperation:

"Damn it… What kind of madness is this… She’s in the hospital, isn’t she? The doctors will look after her. And the people who forced her into my life—they’re there too…"

He quickly got up and walked over to the transparent glass wall, staring out in an attempt to find some peace in the cityscape. But nothing seemed to soothe him. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves, but the very next second, he threw it to the ground and crushed it under his shoe. He continued to stare outside, but all he could hear in his mind was Koyal's voice echoing:

"She might be a mature 20-year-old girl for you, but she isn’t the same for me—and maybe I never even allowed her to become one. I used to enjoy teasing her; I loved it when she circled around me like a little shadow. Before doing anything, she would always come and ask me first. She needed me for everything. Even if she got sick, she didn’t want medicines or rest—she only wanted to sit beside me for an hour, and just my presence would make her feel better. She’s terribly used to me. That’s why she doesn’t like you—not because she hates you, but because she thinks my love is now divided. Please, for my sake, try to understand her."

Vanjeet returned to his seat and slowly sank into deep thought, playing every moment and word in his head. It was as though he was having a conversation with himself.

"Whatever it is, the truth is that none of this is Aavya's fault. I've been observing her for months—this is just how she is. She said something to you, and you accepted it blindly. That’s what I still can’t understand. If something was bothering you, you should’ve told me. We could’ve talked, discussed things. Maybe we could’ve postponed the wedding, or maybe after getting married, we could’ve helped her understand things slowly… There were so many possibilities… But you just left. You broke my heart in the worst way. I never let anyone enter my life—ever. You were the first person who made me believe I could finally settle down, that I had found someone who could understand every part of me. I was ready to understand you too. But you destroyed everything in a single moment."

He quietly pulled out his phone and stared at it for a long time. After a few minutes, he searched for the doctor's number and continued to look at it, as if he were battling with his thoughts about whether to call and inquire about Aavya’s condition. Eventually, he reasoned with himself aloud:

"Vanjeet, that girl is just a guest in your home for a few days. And she’s the sister of the girl who once meant everything to you. For the sake of that past bond, you can at least check on her. There's nothing wrong with that—she’s sick. You're just inquiring about her health."

With that thought, he finally called the doctor. After a few rings, the doctor answered, and Vanjeet immediately asked for an update. The doctor spoke with concern:

"Mr. Rana, Mrs. Rana’s condition have worsened. She isn't eating or drinking anything, and she's vomiting continuously. Her fever has spiked again, reaching dangerously high levels. I'm genuinely worried that if this continues, the fever could affect her brain."

Vanjeet hadn’t expected this. He had admitted her into what he thought was the best hospital with the most advanced care. This news struck him hard. Without wasting another moment, he rushed out of his cabin, fury rising in his chest. Even as he walked briskly to his car, he shouted angrily into the phone:

"What nonsense is this?… You told me to admit her to the hospital, and I did… Even after that, you can’t provide her with proper treatment? She just had a fever, and it's getting worse instead of better? What kind of treatment are you giving her?"

The doctor tried to calm him down and explain the situation, but Vanjeet wasn’t in the state of mind to listen. He kept yelling at the phone while simultaneously starting his car and driving off urgently.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Yogendra and Vishambhar were both present, their faces etched with deep worry. Their expressions showed the weight of guilt and helplessness. Both of them were silently watching Aavya’s worsening condition. Even Sangeeta, who stood nearby, didn’t know what to say. No one was in the state to speak, but everyone knew the truth—they were responsible for this forced marriage. And because of that, they couldn’t expect anything from Vanjeet now.

But the girl lying unconscious—or more accurately, stuck in a state between consciousness and unconsciousness—was getting worse by the minute. She was neither fully awake nor able to rest. Her condition was alarming. Her body burned with fever, yet her lips only moved to mutter the same word again and again.

“Didi… I’m coming…”

Suddenly, Aavya began to call out again, her voice feeble but filled with desperation:

"Move away… Didi, I’m coming..."

Yogendra immediately rushed to her side, deeply disturbed by her worsening state. The fever had consumed her, and now even the strongest medicines weren’t showing any effect. It was as though her body and mind were refusing to respond. And worse—each time her eyes opened, they searched for Koyal—calling, reaching, begging.

Watching this heartbreaking scene, Yogendra turned abruptly toward Sangeeta and shouted,

"Where are her parents?… Why aren’t they here to take care of her?… Someone go and call them—NOW..."

Sangeeta looked at them, and though she didn’t raise her voice at her husband, the fury in her eyes and the sharp words forming on her lips were more than enough to express how angry she was.

“I don’t think her parents ever cared about her—not before, and certainly not now. The fact is simple: this girl is unfortunate, cursed even, and you people forced her into my son’s life. I couldn’t say anything that day because you all had already made your decision. You stood there, announcing your verdict as if it were final. However, during the discussion of Koyal and Vanjeet's marriage, I already discerned the attitudes of this girl's parents. That’s why I spoke to her mother separately—and she didn’t hide anything from me. She told me every single thing, every hardship they had to face because of this girl’s existence, and how much damage they suffered. If this girl's misfortune causes anything to happen to my son, you will be the first one I hold responsible—so listen to me carefully. I am done staying here. I’m going home. Her parents have already left… and I don't think they will come again.”

She turned sharply to leave—only to find Vanjeet standing in the doorway. She gave him a brief smile, but he approached her with a strange, cold smile of his own and asked in a pointed voice:

“The world has reached the moon, but some people’s thinking hasn’t moved an inch. I don’t care about this girl personally, but as a human being, I at least understand that being ‘cursed’ is nothing more than an illusion—superstition fed to us over generations. And now I finally understand why Koyal always showed such deep affection for her sister—because this girl's parents never really did. No matter the circumstances of this marriage, you're an educated woman and a mother. You’re often invited to speak at charitable events. Shouldn’t you consider updating your own thoughts too?”

After delivering his speech, Vanjeet glanced at Vishambhar and Yogendra before swiftly turning and heading towards the ward. From inside, they suddenly heard a commotion:

“Ma’am, please! Ma’am…!”

Yogendra and Vanjeet rushed into the room to find Aavya, her eyes barely able to stay open, struggling to pull out her IV drip. She was muttering something repeatedly under her breath. Vanjeet immediately stepped forward and held her wrist. She had no strength left—not even enough to see who it was or pull her hand away. But she kept whispering faintly:

“Di… Where are you…”

Vanjeet gently held her by her shoulders, trying to stabilize her as the doctor raised her legs and carefully laid her back down on the bed. Though her body rested, her head kept tossing from side to side on the pillow. The doctor began reattaching the IV drip, but Aavya resisted. She tried to push the line away with her frail hand. Vanjeet swiftly gripped her wrist and pinned it gently but firmly to the bed so the drip wouldn’t shift or dislodge.

She was breathing heavily, burning with fever. Vanjeet could feel the heat radiating off her and knew at once that her condition had worsened—possibly even more than the previous night. He didn’t understand much about her illness, but suddenly, he said softly:

“If you want to find Koyal, you’ll have to get better first. In this condition, you can’t look for her, and she won’t be able to come to you either. So take your medicine and get well. After that, I’ll personally help you search for her.”

Aavya slowly tried to open her eyes; it was clearly a monumental task for her, but she was able to understand his words. Barely audible, she whispered:

“Please…”

Vanjeet nodded quickly, like he understood what else she wanted to say.

“Okay, I’ll help you completely. But first, you must get better. Let the doctors do their job. If you keep behaving like this, they won’t be able to treat you, and no one—not even I—will be able to find Koyal if you're lying in this hospital bed.”

His words seemed to reach her. Gradually, she stopped resisting. She became still, and although tears continued to slip from the corners of her eyes, her hands ceased to struggle. Yet her lips continued to mumble weakly:

“Di… Di…”

As the doctor resumed his work, he looked at Vanjeet and said,

“I had informed all of you earlier that her condition was critical. In this state, she should never have left the hospital. But instead, she was taken out, made to sit for hours in an air-conditioned venue, and subjected to more stress. All of these things have contributed to the deterioration of her condition. Her body is no longer responding to the current medications. I've called in a specialist and changed her prescription. If we see improvement by tonight, we’ll be lucky—otherwise, the situation could become very dangerous.”

Vanjeet turned to Yogendra with narrowed eyes—he was the one who had insisted that he had spoken with the doctor. Unfazed, Yogendra responded:

“The press conference was absolutely necessary.”

Vanjeet snapped, voice brimming with sarcasm and rage:

“Oh, really? If this girl dies… if she actually dies, then tomorrow, will you hold another press conference? To inform the world how your daughter-in-law suddenly died in a hospital bed? You already proved today that this wedding was of her own will. But if anything happens to her now, mark my words—the same media that sat silently will come at us like wolves. They'll say we murdered her—because she never wanted this marriage in the first place.”

Yogendra tried to defend himself again.

“I had so many things to handle. All of them were important—”

“Nothing is more important than a person’s life. You taught me that yourself. And it seems you’re the one who’s forgotten it now. Anyway, I’m not here to lecture you. Please leave. Go home. Of course, I have to continue pretending to be the ‘ideal husband,’ don’t I?”

Yogendra could feel the bitterness in his son's tone—a deep, unspoken pain that had now turned to resentment. He turned toward the door, where Vishambhar was standing, leaning on his wooden cane, silently observing his grandson, who hadn’t even glanced at him. He understood why.

One must make instant decisions, even when the consequences are not immediately apparent. But Vanjeet wouldn’t understand that right now—and Vishambhar had no desire to burden him further. His gaze shifted to Aavya, and his heart clenched. Seeing her suffer like this stirred something inside him. Though a man of strong, old-school beliefs, even he couldn't stay indifferent. He turned to the doctor and said,

“Please continue the treatment. This girl is deeply broken from within. She’s suffering more emotionally than physically. But I believe in God. He will not let anything happen to her.”

With that, everyone slowly left. The doctor continued his procedures and then exited the room. Vanjeet sat down on the sofa beside the hospital bed, but his eyes never left Aavya—not even for a second.

He couldn't tear his gaze away from her fragile form. Aavya's constant calls for her sister and the pain she was drowning in were all too much. He couldn’t understand: if the bond between the sisters was so strong, so deeply affectionate, then why had Koyal left like that? Why did she take such a drastic step, knowing very well what it would do to Aavya?

Everything was confusing.