Chapter 3: The Bracelet and the Storm

That day—

News came that Yashvardhan and Ananya had fought. I didn’t know the details, but the next day they both appeared at my door.

Ananya noticed that Kabir and I had separate rooms.

She said sweetly that she and Yashvardhan always shared a room, so Kabir and I should too! Her words, light as cream, left a crack in Kabir’s calm mask.

It felt like a test—Ananya testing how far Kabir would go for her.

I imagined: if Ananya asked Kabir to sleep with me, he’d probably do it just to prove his loyalty.

That night, the silence in our room was thick. The ceiling fan whirred, my bangles clinked softly as I adjusted my dupatta, the distant cry of a chaiwala drifted in.

When I climbed onto the bed, I ended up closer to Kabir than usual. He turned away, putting more space between us, and said, "Meera, I won’t restrict your freedom. But you are the mistress of the Kabir family—remember that!"

I laughed, unable to hold it in. Did he think I had some secret lover?

I hadn’t planned to argue, but the moonlight made me bold. "Don’t worry, pati dev, I have no such habits!"

Kabir looked shocked, not expecting a retort from me. His eyes turned cold. He grabbed my wrist and hissed, "What happens between Ananya and me is none of your business. Don’t go ruining her reputation."

Pain shot up my arm, making me gasp. I tried to pull away.

"I didn’t use much force..."

But even as he spoke, blood was already soaking through my kurta. I wrapped my dupatta tighter around my wrist, but Kabir saw the stain.

"What’s going on?"

What could I say? My father, furious that he’d lost his hold on me—and the profit from my marriage—had locked a bracelet around my wrist. On the outside, it glittered with gold and diamonds, but inside, sharp spikes bit into my skin.

The key would only come if I gave him what he wanted next time.

What "most talented woman in the city," what "prestigious family’s noble daughter"? I was just an ornament for the Sharma family’s pride.

It had always been this way.

Kabir saw the blood and the cruel bracelet. With that one jerk, the spikes dug deeper through the cotton I’d used as padding.

The pain throbbed, sharp and hot. I remembered my grandmother’s words: "Daughters are always caught in the middle."

"Who dares to—"

"Can you let go now?" I said, voice low.

Kabir and I spoke at the same time. When he released me, I hurried to tend my wound.

His question was casual, almost offhand. He never brought it up again.

I thought I’d be stuck wearing that bracelet for ages, but fate intervened.

A sudden, violent rainstorm triggered a landslide. Kabir and Ananya were both caught in the disaster!

When they were found, Kabir was shielding Ananya with his body, blocking a fallen banyan branch. Half his kurta was soaked in blood and mud, a cut at his lip.

He hunched over, still protecting her. The world was eerily quiet—no birds, no wind, only the smell of wet earth and the hush of fear.

Then Yashvardhan called out, "Ananya!"

Ananya, as if waking from a spell, wriggled out of Kabir’s arms and ran straight to Yashvardhan, stammering excuses.

She’d entered the hill with Kabir, but I’d left midway, so she was alone with him.

Her words were jumbled, her eyes darting everywhere. Kabir’s eyes slowly dimmed, the last trace of hope snuffed out.

Ananya turned to me: "Meera, isn’t that right? Kabir insisted on taking this road—he’s to blame for all this..."

I ignored her, walking straight to Kabir. He looked up, eyes bleak, and for a second, I remembered how my heart used to flutter for Yashvardhan, and my mother’s warning: "Meera, never settle for a man who sees you as a consolation prize."

The sunlight, finally breaking through the clouds, shone on Kabir’s battered face.

I reached out. After a pause, he took my hand, his grip trembling.

Helpers lifted the branch, and I pulled Kabir free.

As we left, Ananya kept calling for me to vouch for her, but I just raised my brows and smiled: "The affairs of Prince Yashvardhan’s household are none of my business."

I admit, I had my own plans that day. But I never imagined things would turn out so well!

A master jeweller arrived to remove my bracelet. All my dowry maids were sent back to my father’s house.

My father himself was caught in a scandal and demoted three ranks.

Kabir seemed to have finally let go of Ananya.

For two years, I lived in relative peace, surprised by Kabir’s kindness.

I did my best to play the perfect Mrs. Kabir.

Kabir grew gentler with me. Once, on my birthday, he even came home early to make me seviyan kheer!

Kabir, after two pegs of whisky, told me he’d learned the recipe from his nanny. His parents were always dignified, always distant—he’d been raised by servants more than by them.

I pictured the three of them—silent statues in a grand old house.

But what was Kabir doing, confiding in me like this?

We weren’t that close!

Still, I sipped the kheer, tasting the roasted vermicelli and cardamom, and thought: Duniya gol hai—what goes around, comes around.