Prologue
“You’re fucking vile, Mrs. Chauhan,” he taunted, dragging out the last word in a way that made his jaw twist even harder. His eyes burned like molten coal, every muscle in his body locked with fury. He looked ready to tear me apart at any moment, ready to skin me, kill me,and destroy me.
God! Maybe I deserved it. I was using him. I was using my own husband for my benefit.
“I’m more than vile,” I said with a sad smile, though my chest felt tight. “You’ll find out soon. I’m more than everything, Saurav… ”
“Don’t you dare,” he warned, stepping closer, his voice low and lethal. “Don’t you dare take my name with your filthy mouth.” His eyes, those eyes I once adored, glowered into mine. “You’re a curse. My curse. And also …” He leaned in, every word slicing into me, “…your family’s. Your family should have killed you the day you were born, because they don’t know what price they still have to pay for having you as their daughter. I really pity your parents.”
I swallowed hard as my chin trembled, but I refused to look away.
He was saying this because he didn’t know. He didn’t know what my family truly was. He had no idea how much I was already paying just to be their daughter.
I had traded Saurav Chauhan, my husband, for them.
I had traded my love for them.
“You don’t have to pity them,” I said slowly, forcing the words past the ache in my throat. “They’re glad they have me.”
“God, you’re so fucking disgusting!” Saurav spat, turning away sharply. He ran a hand through his hair, breathing hard, like he was trying to control a volcano on the verge of eruption. “Your father was right. Whatever you touch becomes a curse. I wish I could replay history and erase you. I never should have invited you that day.”
My fingers curled into tight fists. My heart felt unbearably heavy, like it was sinking straight into my stomach. My chin wobbled, my vision burned but I wouldn’t break in front of him. I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t beg.
I was still doing what I had done since childhood. I had been tolerating my family’s shit, swallowing pain with a smile and surviving quietly.
I was startled when Saurav stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him as hard as he could. The sound echoed long after he was gone. I stood there, staring at the empty space where he’d just been, my body frozen.
Then my breath hitched.
A broken sound tore out of me as I collapsed into tears, clutching my red lehenga in my fists, squeezing the fabric like it was the only thing keeping me upright. Sometimes I wanted to kill myself. But even that would feel like giving my family a victory.
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Chapter 1
SAURAV
After months, I finally came home. It was a place I hated every fibre of my being. Not because of the marble floors or the silent hallways, not because of the servants who moved like ghosts through the villa, but because of the man who lived there.
A man who hated my presence, my existence, my job, everything I stood for. Mr. Shaurya Chauhan. To the world, he was a visionary. A genius who owned one of the largest aerospace industries in the country. A man, people admired, feared, respected. To me, he was just my father. And he couldn’t forgive me. He wanted me to inherit his legacy, to sit in air-conditioned boardrooms, to manage contracts, satellites, aircraft designs, and billion-dollar deals. He wanted me to carry the Chauhan name forward in the way he had built it.
But I chose to serve my country.
I chose to wear a uniform instead of a suit. I chose cockpits over conference rooms. I chose the sky over spreadsheets. I wanted to fly aircraft. I wanted to feel the roar of engines beneath my hands, the pull of gravity against my bones, the terrifying freedom of being thousands of feet above the ground. I wanted to follow my mother’s path.
And that was the moment everything between us began to rot.
He hated me for becoming a soldier. For working under the government. For risking my life for something that didn’t earn profit or applause from shareholders. He said I was wasting myself. Throwing away privilege. Throwing away the empire he had built for me. I said nothing and he said everything.
Since then, our relationship had only worsened. It was not with loud fights or broken furniture, but with silence. The kind that grows slowly, poisonously, until it fills every room. He never tried to talk to me and I never tried to confront him.
Years had passed since we last had dinner together. Real dinner, where plates were shared and conversations existed. Years since we watched a movie sprawled on the couch, his phone was forgotten, my head thrown back in laughter. Years since we swam together in the enormous pool behind the villa, racing like children, arguing over who cheated. Now the pool was empty. The dining table was longer and the living room was colder.
I loved him. I truly did. But he loved his company more than me. And maybe he always had. I used to love him more than my mother. But everything changed with time.
There was nothing left for me in the villa but echoes, so I left. I came to the club, drowned myself in noise, lights, and strangers. I ordered a drink. Then another. I laughed with people who didn’t know my name, danced with people who didn’t care about my past, and listened to stories that had nothing to do with legacy or disappointment. Because strangers were easier and kinder. They gave their time without demanding anything in exchange.
My parents had always demanded something, success, obedience, perfection, a version of me that fit neatly intotheir expectations. For their approval, their pride, even their attention, there was always a price. But slowly, I learned to refuse.