Once the car left Dharmagiri, the mansion slowly disappearing behind them, Ram glanced at Rajeev through the rearview mirror. There was a twinkle in his eye as he spoke, his tone carrying a hint of mystery. "Rajeev, you have a lot of surprises ahead in this journey, my friend."
Rajeev frowned slightly, not entirely sure what Ram was hinting at. "What do you mean, Ram?" he asked, curiosity piqued. Ram simply smiled and nodded towards the small package that Rudra had given him earlier. "Why don't you open the cover that dad gave you?" Intrigued, Rajeev carefully unwrapped the package. Inside, he found an envelope containing two plane tickets. Confused, he looked up at Ram. "What are these tickets for?" Ram’s smile widened. "Those are tickets to Manali. You’re not going to Srinagar for your honeymoon; you’re going to Manali instead. And there’s a private flight waiting for you at theAs Rajeev and Gowthami settled into the plush seats of their private jet, Rajeev couldn’t help but let his mind wander. The hum of the plane’s engines and the luxurious surroundings faded into the background as he thought about the enigma that was Gowthami. He had found her near the Dharmagiri forest, battered and unconscious, her memories a blank slate. At first, she had been a mystery, but as she healed, his father, Rudra, had revealed pieces of her past. She was his student, a brilliant mind with a promising future. Rudra had even told Rajeev her original name—Sakhi. But that was all he knew. The rest of her past was a void, one that seemed even more intriguing now after the encounter with Shalini, the air hostess who had recognized her as a former boss. Rajeev replayed the moment in his mind. Shalini’s genuine delight and shock when she had seen Gowthami—or Sakhi, as she had called her—had been undeniable. “We worked together at your previous compa
In the soft, ambient glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the lace curtains, she sat in a modest yet serene room, her ethereal beauty undiminished by the bandages that marked her delicate skin. Her face, a masterpiece of divine craftsmanship, bore features so harmonious and captivating that one might think they belonged to a goddess from the heavens. Long, flowing black hair cascaded down to her waist, a dark river of silk that seemed to shimmer with every breath she took. Despite the bandage wrapped around her head and the few visible on her body, her grace was undeniable, her presence commanding yet gentle. The room itself exuded tranquility, with lush herbal plants adorning the windowsills and various corners, their verdant leaves whispering secrets of healing and hope. At one side of the room, an idol of Lord Krishna stood, exuding a calm and comforting aura. The idol of Lord K
As the door swung open, a man of distinguished age stood in the entrance, his presence commanding attention and respect. He exuded an aura of authority, with an unmistakable air of wisdom and experience that seemed to wrap around him like a cloak. His long beard, peppered with strands of silver, added to his venerable appearance, framing a face weathered by time yet marked with a deep kindness in his eyes. Dressed in a crisp white shirt that contrasted sharply with the richness of his skin tone, he carried himself with a flamboyant manner, each movement purposeful and deliberate. His demeanor spoke of a life lived fully, of challenges faced and overcome, leaving behind a trail of quiet strength and resilience. Upon seeing him, the girl's tense posture softened, a wave of relief washing over her as she recognized the familiar figure. He approached with measured steps, his gaze gentle yet perceptive, and asked politely, "May I enter?
Acharya, his eyes filled with a compassionate curiosity, gently broached the topic. "May I ask about your father, dear Gayatri? Is he also a part of your life?" Gayatri's expression clouded momentarily, a flicker of pain crossing her features before she replied softly, "I would rather not speak about him, Guruji. Some chapters of our lives are better left unopened." Acharya nodded understandingly, his eyes reflecting empathy. "I respect your privacy, Gayatri," he assured her. "You are not obligated to share anything you're not comfortable with." Feeling a sense of gratitude for his understanding, Gayatri shifted the conversation slightly. "Guruji," she began tentatively, "have there been any developments in finding my lost mother? Is there any news?" Acharya's demeanor softened further as he replied, "We continue to search diligently, dear one. Our network of volunteers and well-w
Acharya’s mind raced with countless questions, each more urgent than the last. He needed to understand how Gayatri and her mother had come across the person linked to the symbol. Without further delay, he decided to seek answers from Gayatri herself. With determined steps, he made his way back to Gayatri’s room, Shiva following closely behind. As they approached the room, the air seemed heavy with unspoken worries and the weight of impending revelations. Acharya pushed open the door gently, and they found Gayatri still kneeling before the idol of Lord Krishna, her hands clasped in prayer. Her eyes were closed, and her lips moved silently, a testament to her unwavering hope and faith. The sight of Gayatri in such a poignant moment of vulnerability tugged at Acharya’s heart. He exchanged a brief, solemn glance with Shiva before stepping inside. The room, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the deli
As Gayatri's harrowing tale unfolded, Acharya felt a sinking realization settle in his heart. He knew of a man capable of such brutality—a man who, driven by a twisted desire, would stop at nothing to possess any girl who caught his eye . He knew of a man with a dark reputation—a man who would stop at nothing to possess any girl who caught his eye. This man, shrouded in secrecy, operated under the cover of darkness, leaving no trace and eluding capture every time. Acharya's thoughts turned to Gayatri, her beauty undeniable and striking. It was not difficult to imagine that this man, with his obsessive tendencies, had set his sights on her. The horror of the situation became clearer in Acharya's mind: the man must have seen Gayatri, desired her, and in his unrelenting pursuit, had committed the heinous act of killing her mother. A cold dread settled in Acharya's heart as he considered the implications. He was deeply concerned f
Through her tears, Gayatri turned to Shiva, a desperate glimmer of hope in her eyes,her voice trembling with a mixture of hope and dread,. "Shiva," she asked, her voice trembling, "what about my mother? I need to see her one last time. I need to ask for her forgiveness for not staying with her." Shiva, taken aback by her direct question, shifted uncomfortably, his expression tightened, sorrow and unease evident in his eyes. He did not answer immediately, instead looking toward Guruji for guidance. The silence hung heavily in the room, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on all of them. Gayatri, sensing his hesitation, felt her heart clench with fear. She knew that Shiva had been sent by Guruji to find out what had happened to her mother. She took a step closer to him, her eyes pleading for any shred of comfort. , 'Please, Shiva," she urged" i need to know " Shiva's eyes met Acharya's, his expression a silent
As Gayatri's eyes rolled back and she began to fall, Guruji and Shiva quickly moved to catch her. Their faces were etched with worry as they gently lowered her to the ground. "Gayatri!" Guruji called out, his voice filled with urgent concern. He immediately checked her pulse, his fingers pressing lightly against her wrist. Shiva hovered close, his eyes filled with anxiety. "Is she alright, Guruji?" Guruji felt the steady throb of Gayatri's pulse beneath his fingertips and sighed with relief. "Her pulse is strong. She's just exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She’ll be alright." With great care, they lifted her from the floor. Shiva supported her shoulders while Guruji held her legs, and they carried her to a nearby cot. They laid her down gently, arranging her limbs comfortably and ensuring her head was well supported by a soft pillow. "She needs rest," Guruji said, his voice soft and soothing. He