Bride By Mistake

A U T H O R

"No, Ritvika. You don't decide anything here. I do. You go when I say you can go. You stay when I allow you to stay. Until then—don't even think of testing my patience again."

His words cut like steel, leaving no space for argument, his control wrapping around her like chains.

But Ritvika... she did not shrink this time. Her body trembled, yes, but not with fear—this time it was fury. She tilted her face up, her breath unsteady but her eyes blazing. And when she finally spoke, her voice was powerful, piercing the silence like a dagger.

"No, Vidyut. I will leave. And I will leave with Tara."

Her words hit him harder than any slap. Vidyut's eyes widened, his jaw locking in sheer disbelief. His grip tightened even more, his voice a dangerous growl.

"You are not going. Not with my daughter."

But Ritvika snapped back, her tone like thunder, raw and unyielding—
"Correction, Mr. Rajvansh. My daughter. Not yours. How many times should I tell you, hmm? You are remembering too soon that we are married. Where was this love for Tara when—when everyone treated her like a stranger in this house? Tell me!"

Her chest heaved as tears burned her eyes, but her voice only grew stronger, trembling with pain but fierce with truth.
"I thought... I really thought that day, when you took my side in front of your buaa, that maybe... maybe life would finally be kinder to me. That maybe my daughter would finally know what a father's care feels like. But what a fool I was, Vidyut. You proved me wrong yesterday. Completely wrong."

Her lips quivered, but her words sliced through the air.
"Where was this 'father' when your mother—the same woman who parades as my mother-in-law—looked me in the eye and said Tara is only my daughter? Where were you, Vidyut? Why didn't you correct her? Why didn't you stand by your daughter then? No—you stayed silent. Worse, you stood by her side. Always their side."

She let out a bitter laugh, hollow and broken.
"You know, when I first entered this house, your family said Tara was their grandchild now, that they would love her, protect her, cherish her. But it was all fake, Vidyut. Every single word. Yesterday... yesterday they showed exactly what Tara means to them—nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Her voice cracked now, but the rage still carried it forward.
"And you—don't you dare call my daughter yours again. You are not her father. You don't deserve to be. A father protects, a father cares, a father makes sure his child never suffers. But you? You and your family didn't even ask yesterday if we had eaten. Do you even know, Vidyut, that my daughter went to bed starving? Do you know that my poor child's stomach was empty while your family enjoyed their dinner, their laughter, their full plates?"

Her tears finally spilled, streaming down her face, her voice breaking as she whispered the words that cut deepest of all—
"Not even a single bite... not even a single piece of food was left for her, Vidyut. My baby... my innocent Tara was starving. And you... you didn't even notice

"What the hell are you saying, Ritvika?" he asked, his voice still heavy but tinged with disbelief. "Do you even realize what you're talking about?"

Ritvika let out a bitter laugh, one that didn't reach her eyes. Her lips curved in mock amusement, but the pain glistened beneath. "Oh, don't act like you don't know, Vidyut." Her tone dripped with sarcasm, her voice trembling yet sharp. "You, of all people, pretending to be clueless? Spare me the drama."

Her words sliced through the tension, and for a moment, Vidyut's entire expression froze. He stared at her, confusion flickering across his face, before he spoke again, his voice low, almost dangerous.