14th November — Late Night
The auspicious hour had arrived.
The mandap glowed under golden lights, flowers draped in perfection, every detail screaming grandeur. Guests filled the venue, their whispers blending with the soft chants of mantras that had just begun.
At the center of it all sat Aarav Khanna.
Dressed as a groom, yet carrying the aura of a businessman—his posture straight, his expression stoic. Years of discipline, patience, and control reflected in the way he sat there, waiting. Not restless. Not eager. Just… composed.
His bride was yet to arrive.
“Anandi ji,” Pandit ji called, adjusting his glasses slightly, “kripya dulhan ko lekar aaiye.”
(Please bring the bride)
Anandi Verma nodded, forcing a faint smile as she stood up. Her steps were calm, but there was a certain tension beneath them—a mother’s quiet anticipation.
She made her way toward Misthi’s room.
But before she could reach—
Everything went dark.
The lights flickered once… and then completely shut off.
A collective murmur spread across the venue. Confusion. Unease.
In the dim chaos, Gaurav Verma remained seated for a second, his expression tightening just slightly before he stood up.
“Security,” he said calmly, his voice firm enough to cut through the noise, “check what the issue is.”
“Ji, sir.”
(Yes, sir)
The guards immediately moved, disappearing into the darkness to inspect the situation.
But something about the sudden blackout—
the timing, the silence that followed—
didn’t feel like a simple technical problem.
As one of the security guards rushed toward the main power control, his steps hurried but focused, a hand already reaching out to fix the sudden blackout—
A shadow moved.
Before he could react, a firm grip seized him from behind. In one swift motion, he was yanked back and thrown to the ground, the impact knocking the breath out of him.
A low groan escaped his lips as pain shot through his body.
For a moment, everything blurred.
But as he forced his eyes open—
He saw her.
A woman stood in the darkness, still as a shadow itself.
Dressed in a black hoodie, her face concealed behind a ninja-style balaclava, only her eyes visible—sharp, cold, and completely unafraid.
The dim emergency light barely caught her silhouette.
Before the guard could fully process what was happening—
Another figure emerged from the shadows.
She was dressed the same—black hoodie, face concealed behind a balaclava—but unlike the first, there was something almost… playful about her presence.
A grin.
Not visible entirely, yet unmistakable in the way her eyes curved, in the way her head tilted slightly as if she was enjoying the moment.
In her hand—
A baseball bat.
She swung it once in the air, testing its weight, the faint whoosh slicing through the silence.
The guard’s breath hitched.
And then
Without hesitation,
She brought it down hard.
A sharp impact.
The world around him blurred instantly, darkness swallowing his vision as his body went limp against the cold floor.
Silence returned.
The girl rested the bat on her shoulder, rolling it casually as if it was nothing more than a routine task.
Then her gaze shifted to the other masked woman.
Even without words—
It was clear.
They were working together.
And this chaos?
It had only just begun.
The mandap, once glowing with warmth and celebration, had now dissolved into murmurs and unease.
Guests huddled in small groups, whispering anxiously—
“Shaadi ke time lights chali jaana… shubh nahi hota…”
(It is not good for light to go off in such an auspicious day...)
“Kuch toh gadbad hai…”
(Something is not good...)
Superstitions crept in faster than logic, turning a simple blackout into something far more unsettling.
In the middle of it all, Gaurav Verma stood still.
His expression remained calm—too calm—his mind working faster than the chaos around him. One hand held his phone, already scanning through contacts, security feeds, possible solutions.
He wasn’t panicking.
He was calculating.
And then—
A thought struck.
Misthi.
His grip on the phone tightened ever so slightly.
She was still in her room. Alone.
Without wasting a second, he dialed Anandi.
“Check on Misthi,” he said the moment she answered, his voice low but firm.
On the other side, Anandi, already halfway down the corridor, responded quickly, “Haan, main dekh rahi hoon.”
(Yes, I'm looking)
A few seconds passed—
Long enough to stretch tension thin.
Then her voice came again, steady, reassuring—
“Woh theek hai.”
(She is ok)
Gaurav exhaled slowly, his jaw unclenching just a fraction.
Gaurav’s sharp gaze swept across the venue once again, slower this time—more deliberate.
The chaos, the whispers, the flickering tension in the air—none of it distracted him.
His eyes moved to the mandap.
The fire in the havan kund still burned steadily, its glow casting restless shadows around. The pandit stood there, visibly unsettled, looking around for the essential items, muttering under his breath as if trying to hold the ritual together despite everything falling apart.
But something was off.
Gaurav’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Aarav Khanna—
Wasn’t there.
The mandap was empty.
No groom. No movement. No sign of him anywhere in the immediate vicinity.
For a fraction of a second, silence settled inside Gaurav’s mind—sharp, alert.
Then he acted.
He pulled out his phone, dialing security without changing the calm expression on his face.
“Yes, sir?”
“Discreetly search for the groom,” Gaurav said, his tone controlled, leaving no room for panic. “No announcements. No attention.”
“Understood, sir.”
The call ended.
From the outside, nothing had changed—guests still murmured, the mandap still stood, the rituals still waited.
But beneath it all—
Another crack had formed.
Because now—
Not just the lights, not just the timing—
Even the groom had disappeared.
Somewhere above the chaos—
On the terrace, away from the noise, away from the lights—
Everything was… still.
Rudranshi stood there, her expression blank, almost emotionless as her gaze rested on Aarav Khanna.
And Aarav—
Matched her perfectly.
No panic. No anger. No confusion.
Just silence.
Two minds standing across each other, both calculating, both unreadable.
As if this wasn’t a disruption—
but a meeting.
And then—
“Sajan ji ghar aaye…”
The moment broke.
Rudrima twirled into the scene, completely out of place yet somehow perfectly fitting into the madness. She spun around Aarav, her hands in the air, singing dramatically, her voice echoing in the open night.
“Sajan ji ghar aaye, dulhan kyun sharmaaye…”
She circled him like he was the center of her stage, her steps light, her energy wild—completely opposite to the deadly calm between the other two.
Aarav didn’t react.
Rudranshi didn’t move.
But Rudrima—
She danced like chaos itself had taken form.
A grin played on her lips as she leaned slightly closer to Aarav mid-spin, her eyes glinting with something far from innocent.
Because while she sang like it was a celebration.
The night was anything but that.
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