It was a calm Sunday morning. Shivani was getting ready to visit the temple, sitting at her dressing table, carefully applying vermilion to her hairline. Jai was on the bed, focused on his laptop, when his gaze drifted towards her reflection in the mirror. Seeing the vibrant red streak of vermilion filled in her parting, memories of Sanjana flooded his mind. In all the years they were married, he had never seen Sanjana willingly put vermilion in her hair. She used to despise even the mention of it. He recalled the one time he had tried to apply it—she had erupted in fury, her reaction volcanic, as if he had crossed an unspeakable line.
Lost in these thoughts, Jai snapped back to reality when Shivani approached him, fully dressed and ready. "Sir, I'm going to the temple. I'll be back in an hour," she said softly.
Jai nodded. "Alright, I'll inform the driver. He'll drop you off. And make sure to take the bodyguards with you. Don't forget," he reminded her firmly.
Shivani acknowledged with a nod and left for the temple.
At the Temple
Shivani was praying with her hands joined before the idol of the goddess when she suddenly noticed a pregnant woman collapse while circling the shrine. The temple was nearly empty, with only a few worshippers present. Shivani rushed to her side, gently lifting the woman's head onto her lap, tapping her cheeks in an attempt to revive her. When the woman did not respond, Shivani hurried to fetch the holy water pot, sprinkling droplets over her face.
The woman slowly opened her eyes, blinking in confusion as she stared up at Shivani. Relief washed over Shivani's face. She helped the woman sit up and asked gently, "Didi, are you alright?"
The woman nodded weakly. As she tried to stand, dizziness overcame her again. Shivani caught her just in time. "Didi, you don't seem well. Is anyone from your family here?" Shivani asked, concern etched on her face.
The woman shook her head. "No, nobody from my house is here. My home is just a little distance away. I can walk," she replied with a heavy South Indian accent.
Shivani wasn't convinced. "You don't look well enough to walk. Come with me. I'll drop you home in my car," she insisted.
Without waiting for a protest, Shivani called the bodyguards Jai had arranged for her. They gently helped the woman into the back seat of the car, and Shivani joined her. A short drive later, they reached the address the woman provided.
As the woman stepped out, she invited Shivani inside with heartfelt sincerity. Shivani, sensing her need for company, accepted and walked inside the modest yet welcoming home.
They had barely exchanged a few words when an elderly man entered. Shivani's eyes lit up with recognition. "Uncle, you!" she exclaimed.
The elderly man, Somesh Ji, recognized her instantly and walked towards her with a wide smile. "Ah, Shivani!" he said, glancing around. "Is Jai with you?"
Shivani shook her head and shared the series of events. Listening carefully, Somesh Ji approached the woman, gently placing his hand on her head. "Are you alright, Lakshmi?" he asked with fatherly affection.
The woman, Lakshmi, smiled faintly. "I am fine, Appa," she replied softly.
Somesh Ji turned to Shivani, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, my dear."
Shivani smiled warmly. "Uncle, you don't thank daughters. You bless them."
Just then, a little boy of about six came running out of a room, calling "Amma, Amma!" before leaping into Lakshmi's lap, chattering away in excitement.
Somesh Ji smiled and said, "You two talk; I'll bring you something to eat."
Shivani tried to decline, but he interrupted her with a grin. "Today, you'll taste authentic South Indian food, made with my own hands," he promised, disappearing into the kitchen to prepare dosas.
Turning back to Lakshmi, Shivani asked, "Is Somesh Uncle your father?"
Lakshmi shook her head. "No," she replied.
Shivani tried again, "Is he your father-in-law?"
Lakshmi, puzzled, asked, "Father-in-law? What does that mean?"
Shivani chuckled. "It means your husband's father."
Lakshmi laughed and replied, "No, he is my husband's mentor."
Intrigued, Shivani listened as Lakshmi began her story. "Have you heard of the pharmaceutical company 'Relief'? That was my Appa's company," she began, her voice laced with nostalgia.
Lakshmi continued, "I was my parents' only daughter. After completing my intermediate exams, I got into the best college in the state. But I struggled to understand anything taught there. I had a friend named Vidya. Her brother's friend, Narayan Krishnamurthy, had been the topper of that very college. At Vidya's request, Narayan started tutoring me. Not only did I pass with flying colors, but I also topped the college. My father was overjoyed. He threw a grand party and even invited Narayan."
Lakshmi paused, her eyes moistening with emotion. "My father was so proud. He told me I could ask for anything I wanted. So, I told him I wanted to marry Narayan. His response..." she faltered, her voice breaking. "He slapped me, locked me in my room, and humiliated Narayan at the party, declaring he wasn't worthy of me. That very night, Narayan left the city."
Her eyes glistened with tears. "My father arranged my engagement to his friend's son. But just a few days later, there was a terrible fire at our pharmaceutical company. My father had taken an LIC on the company, and when he went to collect the insurance money from the office...
The LIC Office:
Laxmi's father sat tensely across from the LIC officer. His hands clutched the sides of the chair as if it were his last anchor to reality. The officer's expression was unreadable, his fingers tapping lightly on the wooden desk before sliding a tablet towards him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Iyer, but we cannot release the insurance money," the officer declared firmly, his voice heavy with finality.
Laxmi's father stared back, disbelief clouding his eyes. "What? But why? We lost everything in that fire," he stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of desperation.
The officer tapped the screen of the tablet, and a grainy surveillance video began to play. Shadows crept along the side of the building, five figures slipping through the back entrance of the pharmaceutical company. In their hands gleamed metal cans, the sheen unmistakable. Kerosene. Laxmi's father watched in horror as the figures poured the liquid around the warehouse and vanished into the night. Moments later, flames erupted, devouring the structure with monstrous hunger.
The officer's gaze remained steady. "I'm afraid this wasn't an accident. The fire was deliberate. And until the investigation is complete, no claims can be processed."
Laxmi's father fell back in his chair, the color draining from his face. He knew, deep down, who was behind it. His own brother. The man he had trusted. His hands shook, the reality settling over him like a shroud of despair.
The Downfall:
The fire was just the beginning. With Relief Pharmaceuticals in ashes, Laxmi's father's empire crumbled. The banks came knocking, demanding repayment of the massive loans he had taken. His properties were seized one by one. Those who once called him friend now turned away, unwilling to be associated with failure. Even Laxmi's marriage was called off, her fiancé's family no longer interested in joining hands with a ruined man.
Within weeks, the grand mansion was replaced by a makeshift hut on the city's edge. Pride had once defined Laxmi's father, but now he was just another face among the broken. His health, already fragile, deteriorated rapidly under the weight of stress and heartbreak. Despite Laxmi's efforts, working tirelessly as a tutor, there was never enough money.
The illness finally claimed him. Pride, wealth, and now his life—all gone. Grief-stricken, Laxmi's mother followed soon after, leaving Laxmi alone in a world that had turned its back on her.
A New Home:
Before passing, Laxmi's mother had given her an address—a last hope, a final connection. Her aunt and uncle lived in a modest home, far from the luxuries Laxmi had once known. Her aunt embraced her warmly, but her uncle remained cold, a shadow of resentment in his eyes. He hadn't forgotten how Laxmi's father had refused him help during his time of need. Bitterness clung to him, his gaze sharp whenever it landed on her.
Her aunt, a teacher at a primary school, worked tirelessly to support her three children, and now Laxmi too. Laxmi resumed her tutoring, bringing in what little she could to lighten the burden. Life was hard, but it was manageable.
The Threat:
One evening, when her aunt had gone to the market, a man in his fifties appeared at the door. His voice was low and threatening as he spoke with her uncle, their conversation laced with tension. As the man turned to leave, his eyes caught sight of Laxmi. His gaze lingered, appraising her before he walked out the door.
Something changed after that day. Her uncle, once distant and cold, began showing her kindness. It was sudden, almost unsettling. But Laxmi, starved for affection, welcomed it.
But the change was a mask—a trap disguised as kindness. And Laxmi was about to discover the cost of trust.
The Ordeal:
When her aunt and cousins left for a school trip, Laxmi's uncle asked her to deliver an order to that very man's house. She went reluctantly, her instincts whispering that something was wrong. But she trusted her uncle's newfound warmth.
Inside the man's house, she collected the package, eager to leave, but the door slammed shut behind her. His hands were on her wrists before she could scream, dragging her towards the bed. Terror flashed in her eyes, but survival instincts kicked in. Grabbing a flowerpot, she smashed it against his head, watching him stagger back in shock. She fled, but not before he snatched the locket from her neck—the last memory of her parents.
Desperation fueled her strength. She wrestled the locket back, shoving him away and bolting through the door. But her freedom was short-lived. Police cars surrounded her, and she was dragged away in handcuffs, accused of theft.
Her cries of innocence fell on deaf ears until a tall figure stepped forward—IPS Officer Narayan Krishnamurthy. His eyes widened in recognition. "Laxmi?"
In hours, the truth unraveled. Her uncle and the man were exposed, and Laxmi was freed. Narayan returned the locket to her himself, his gaze filled with unspoken emotion.
From that moment, her life took a turn she never expected. In a grand ceremony, Laxmi became Mrs. Narayan Krishnamurthy, embraced as a daughter by Somesh Ji and Sambhavi Ji, who performed her Kanyadaan with pride.
Her past had been a tale of betrayal and ashes, but now she stood tall—reborn in love and acceptance.