Chapter 4

The Cruel Ritual

Poornima’s cries filled the Shekhawat mansion.

She clung to Akash’s lifeless body, her tears soaking into his shirt. Her fingers trembled as she held his face, as if warmth would return if she just refused to let go.

“Akash… please wake up… please…” she sobbed. “Our baby needs you… I can’t do this alone…”

The air was heavy with grief.

Then slowly, the elderly women of the family gathered around her.

Their faces were not cruel… but conditioned.

One of them bent down and touched Poornima’s shoulder. “Beta… leave him.”

Poornima shook her head desperately. “No… no…”

But hands gently — yet firmly — pulled her away from Akash’s body.

She resisted weakly, still crying.

And then it began.

One woman held her wrist.

Another started removing her glass bangles.

The sound echoed in the hall.

Chhan… chhan… crack.

The bangles broke one by one.

Each shattering sound felt louder than her sobs.

Poornima looked at her wrists in disbelief. “No… please… don’t…”

But no one stopped.

Her flowers were pulled from her hair.

The red kumkum on her forehead was wiped away.

Her mangalsutra… the symbol of her marriage… was slowly removed.

She cried harder, clutching it before it slipped from her fingers.

It felt like they weren’t just removing ornaments.

They were stripping her identity.

Stripping her love.

Stripping her memories.

Veeresh stood a few feet away, watching everything.

His fists clenched.

His jaw tightened.

Society doesn’t change, he thought.

We say we have progressed… but look at this.

A girl is born with bangles, flowers, and kumkum as part of her identity.

And the moment her husband dies… she must remove them all.

As if love only exists while the man breathes.

As if her colors must die with him.

He looked at Poornima.

She sat there, shattered, her empty wrists trembling, her forehead bare, her eyes swollen with grief.

She looked smaller.

Broken.

Alone.

And something inside Veeresh burned.

Not pity.

Not sympathy.

But anger.

Anger at rituals that punish women for fate.

Anger at a society that decides a widow must look like loss.

Poornima bent forward again, crawling back to Akash’s body despite everyone stopping her.

She held his hand tightly and cried like her soul was being torn apart.

And Veeresh realized—

The promise he made wasn’t just about protection.

It was about standing against everything that would try to break her further.

And for the first time, the ruthless industrialist felt something dangerous rising inside him.

Not rivalry.

Not ambition.

But responsibility.