Chapter 33 – In Front of Everyone

Morning came quietly, but the moment felt anything but ordinary.

Ravi woke up first, his arm still around Gayathri. For a second, he didn’t move—just watched her. Peaceful. Close. His.

“Gayu…” he whispered softly.

She stirred, her eyes opening slowly, meeting his.

Without a word, he leaned down and kissed her.

Not rushed.

Not hesitant.

Just… his.

She responded gently, her fingers holding onto him as if she didn’t want the moment to pass.

Ravi pulled back slightly, then without warning, he leaned to her neck and marked her.

“Ravi…” she whispered, a little surprised.

He smirked faintly. “You’re not hiding this.”

She looked at him, confused.

“Go show it to the groom,” he added, his tone teasing—but something deeper sat beneath it.

Gayathri couldn’t help it.

She smiled.

He leaned forward again, pecked her lips softly, and said, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Before she could stop him—

He was already gone.

Through the back door.

Gayathri stood in front of the mirror after getting ready.

Her eyes fell on the mark near her neck.

Her fingers touched it lightly.

A slow smile spread across her face.

Not embarrassment.

Not hesitation.

Something else.

Something she didn’t hide.

Downstairs, the atmosphere was tense.

Her father sat there, already waiting.

Gayathri walked in, calm.

“Dad,” she said.

He looked at her sharply. “You’re getting ready. Good.”

She didn’t respond to that.

Instead, she said clearly, “I will never leave my husband.”

The words hit harder than expected.

Before anyone could react—

The slap came.

Gayathri’s face turned slightly, but she didn’t fall.

And before her father could say another word—

A hand caught his wrist.

Firm.

Unyielding.

Ravi stood there.

His eyes were calm—

But dangerous.

“Her husband is alive,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “How dare you slap my wife?”

Silence filled the room.

Gayathri looked at him.

Ravi didn’t look away from her father.

“She is still Gayathri Ravi Devraj,” he continued. “And she is my wife.”

Her father scoffed. “No—”

Ravi smiled slightly.

Not amused.

Certain.

“In which right did you bring her here?” he asked.

“She is my daughter,” her father snapped.

Ravi’s expression didn’t change.

“Where was that right,” he said slowly, “when she was being humiliated after Rehan’s death?”

No one spoke.

“When everyone blamed her…” he continued, his voice steady but cutting, “when she looked at you for help…”

Gayathri’s eyes filled slightly.

“You stayed silent,” Ravi said.

Her father’s expression hardened.

“And when she needed you the most,” Ravi added, his voice dropping slightly, “you chose your son’s marriage over her dignity.”

The words landed heavy.

“And now,” Ravi finished, “you’re calling her your daughter?”

Silence.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

Ravi stepped closer.

“She is my wife,” he said again, this time softer—but stronger. “And I will take her.”

He paused for a second.

“Tomorrow,” he added. “In front of you.”

Gayathri’s breath caught.

Before anyone could stop him—

Ravi turned, gently but firmly lifting her into his arms.

She didn’t resist.

Her hands moved around him instinctively.

He carried her upstairs.

Not asking.

Not waiting.

Not explaining.

Because this time—

He wasn’t taking her away quietly.

He was taking her—

In front of everyone.