Chapter 22 — The Bracelet

The grand engagement ceremony was being held at the luxurious Imperial Crown Hotel, one of the most expensive properties in Bangalore. Crystal chandeliers glittered above the ballroom while politicians, businessmen, and elite families filled the venue with fake smiles and expensive conversations.

At the center of it all stood Poornima Rathore.

Dressed in a simple white gown that flowed elegantly around her, she looked breathtaking without even trying. Small diamond studs rested against her ears, and a delicate bracelet circled her wrist — the same bracelet she had worn since childhood.

No heavy makeup.

No dramatic jewelry.

Just quiet elegance.

But her face remained emotionless.

No happiness.

No excitement.

Nothing.

She stood beside her family like a beautifully decorated statue while cameras flashed around her endlessly.

Inside, she felt empty.

Completely numb.

Because after last night, this entire engagement suddenly felt unbearable.

Across the ballroom, the Dreewan family entered.

The atmosphere shifted immediately.

Power followed them naturally.

Mrs. Dreewan’s eyes instantly searched for Poornima the moment she stepped inside. And when she finally saw her standing near the stage, her expression softened painfully.

“She doesn’t remember me,” Mrs. Dreewan whispered quietly to her husband.

Mr. Dreewan followed her gaze.

Then his eyes landed on Poornima’s bracelet.

A faint sadness crossed his face.

“She still wears it.”

Mrs. Dreewan looked at him silently.

Years ago, after Zoya and Poornima became inseparable as children, Mr. Dreewan had gifted them matching platinum bracelets on their birthdays.

One for Zoya.

One for Poornima.

Zoya’s bracelet had disappeared after her death.

But Poornima still wore hers every single day without fail.

Even now.

Even without remembering properly.

Mr. Dreewan gently held his wife’s hand. “Don’t worry. Everything will be alright one day.”

Mrs. Dreewan’s eyes became emotional as she looked toward Poornima again.

“She’ll remember us.”

Meanwhile, Poornima stood silently near the stage, completely unaware of the emotions surrounding her.

Her gaze slowly moved toward Mr. and Mrs. Dreewan.

She recognized them.

Knew they looked familiar somehow.

But her expression didn’t change at all.

No warmth.

No memory.

Nothing.

And somewhere across the ballroom—

Veeresh Dreewan watched her in silence, realizing something terrifying.

The woman standing there looked alive.

But parts of her soul still remained trapped somewhere in the past.