The day after the satsang had been a whirlwind of whispered praises and concealed judgment. Meher had played her part well, but she knew that her real test had only just begun.
Early morning light filtered through the silk curtains of her room, casting soft shadows on the ornate wooden furniture. She sat before the dressing table, adjusting the delicate golden jhumkas Rajveer’s mother had gifted her. Her fingers traced the intricate patterns on the jewelry absentmindedly, but her thoughts were elsewhere—on the man who was now her husband-to-be.
Rajveer Rathore was a mystery wrapped in arrogance, hidden behind a mask of cold indifference. But yesterday, for a fleeting moment, he had shown something else—a silent promise, a whisper of unexpected support.
A knock on the door disrupted her thoughts. A maid entered, bowing slightly. "Maharani Sa requests your presence in the Baithak, Meher Baisa."
Meher inhaled deeply, straightening her posture. It was time to face the family once again.
---
The Baithak—the formal sitting room of the Rathore mansion—was a blend of old and new, much like the family itself. Velvet cushions lay arranged around an intricately carved teakwood center table, and antique chandeliers adorned the high ceilings. The air smelled of rosewater and incense, a scent that had already become familiar.
Meher stepped inside to find the entire family seated. Rajveer sat at the head of the room, dressed in an ink-blue kurta, his posture relaxed yet commanding. Beside him, Maharani Sa, Daadi Sa, and Rajveer’s younger cousins observed her with varying expressions.
“Meher,” Maharani Sa spoke first, her voice calm but firm. “There is something important we must discuss.”
Meher lowered her gaze respectfully. “Yes, Maharani Sa?”
Daadi Sa took over, her wrinkled hands resting on her bejeweled cane. “The mehendi and sangeet will be held at the palace next week. It is tradition for the bahu to wear the ancestral khaandani haar at her first function.”
Meher nodded, sensing a tension in the air. “Of course, Daadi Sa. I would be honored.”
An uncomfortable silence followed before Maharani Sa sighed. “There is… a complication. The necklace was last seen in the family treasury, but it has gone missing.”
Meher’s brows knitted in confusion. “Missing?”
“Yes.” Rajveer’s voice was steady but laced with an edge. “And until it is found, there will be whispers. You know how this family is, Meher. They will speculate, they will question. It is better if we find it before the mehendi.”
Meher exhaled. A missing heirloom? This was more than just family tradition—it was about reputation, about power. And if she was to be a part of this world, she would have to prove herself.
---
The search for the khaandani haar began immediately. Servants combed through the locked vaults, the storehouses, even the private chambers of the palace, but the necklace remained elusive.
As Meher passed by the long corridor leading to the library, she found herself deep in thought. The Rathores were too careful with their legacy—this was no mere case of misplacement. Someone had taken the necklace.
She was about to turn back when she heard hushed voices from inside the library.
“You shouldn’t have done this. If Rajveer finds out—”
“I had no choice! If I didn’t take it, he would have. This was the only way to—”
Meher’s breath caught in her throat. She pushed the heavy oak doors open just enough to peek inside.
Two figures stood near the bookshelves—Rajveer’s cousin, Kunal, and his sister, Trisha.
Trisha’s fingers clutched the fabric of her dupatta nervously. “I swear, I was only trying to keep it safe.”
Kunal exhaled sharply. “This is not a game, Trisha. That necklace belongs to the family. If you have it, give it back before things get worse.”
Meher’s pulse quickened. She had stumbled upon a secret she wasn’t meant to hear.
---
That evening, as she prepared to head downstairs for dinner, a knock at her door startled her.
Rajveer entered, his expression unreadable. “Come with me.”
She followed him silently through the mansion until they reached the private terrace. The city lights shimmered in the distance, the cool breeze carrying the scent of sandalwood and jasmine.
Rajveer turned to face her, his dark eyes piercing. “You heard them, didn’t you?”
Meher’s breath hitched. “You knew?”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I had my suspicions.”
“Why didn’t you confront them?”
He smirked, but there was no amusement in his gaze. “Because in this family, things are never what they seem. A direct confrontation would do more harm than good.”
Meher crossed her arms. “And what do you suggest? That we pretend nothing happened?”
Rajveer stepped closer, his voice low. “No. We play their game… but on our terms.”
Meher swallowed. She had stepped into a world of power, secrets, and silent battles.
And she wasn’t backing down.
---
The next morning, she walked into the Baithak with newfound confidence.
“Daadi Sa,” she said, her voice steady, “I will find the khaandani haar before the mehendi. You have my word.”
Rajveer watched her from across the room, his expression unreadable.
And for the first time, Meher felt like she belonged.
This wasn’t just a test anymore.
This was war.