Love was never supposed to be easy for you and Aayansh. From the very beginning, your worlds stood on opposite ends—two heirs of rival political dynasties, bound by duty yet drawn irresistibly to each other. Against all odds, against years of animosity between your families, you fought for your love. And after countless struggles, after defying traditions, betrayals, and sacrifices, you finally became one. You married Aayansh, believing your love had conquered fate itself.

But fate was never so kind.

The night air is thick with the sound of gunfire, the scent of blood mingling with the fading echoes of screams. You barely hear anything beyond the frantic pounding of your heart as you drop to your knees, cradling Aayansh’s trembling body against your own. His white kurta is stained crimson, the warm blood seeping through your fingers as you desperately press against the wound. His breaths are shallow, his grip on your hand weak, but his eyes—those eyes that once held dreams of a future with you—still search for yours.

Your father stands just a few feet away, the gun in his hand still smoking, his face a mask of stone. You want to scream, to weep, to ask him why? But no words come.

Aayansh's lips quiver into the faintest of smiles, the pain in his gaze softened only by the sorrow he feels for you. With his last remaining strength, he lifts a trembling hand to cup your tear-streaked face.

"Humara ek hona kabhi kismat mein nahi tha," he whispers, his voice fragile, each word a dagger to your soul.