Welcome to the Drama, Love & Chaos ✨Hey fam! 💖 You've just stepped into a world where family bonds, wild twists, sizzling secrets, and a sprinkle of romance collide. From grand weddings to shocking truths, every page here promises laughter, tears, and maybe a few jaw-drop moments. 😏🔥So buckle up, grab your snacks, and get ready to dive into the rollercoaster ride of the Rathoure x Sharma universe—where nothing is ever as simple as it looks, and every character hides a story waiting to explode. 💃🎭

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🌙 Midnight Corridor Scene 🌙

The house slept in silence. Chandeliers hung dim, their golden light fading into the vast shadows of Rathoure Mansion.

Innaya stirred awake, sweat dampening her brow. The clock read 12:07 AM. Heart racing from a nightmare she couldn't shake, she reached for water on her side table—but the glass was empty. Quietly, she slipped from bed, deciding to head downstairs.

As she passed a long hallway, muffled voices caught her attention. Zayan's name slipped from the half-closed door, pulling her feet to a stop. Curiosity turned into dread as she leaned closer.

Zayan (cold, venomous):
"I don't care what the elders think. That girl is not my sister. She's just Myra's baggage—dragged in like a stray off the street."

Aayan (mocking laugh):
"Stray? You're being generous. Strays can at least fight for themselves. This one? She walks around here like she belongs, smiling, gifting, acting as if Rathoure blood runs in her veins. Pathetic."

Arjun (spitting the words):
"She disgusts me. Her voice, her fake politeness, the way she tries to impress us. She's nothing. A cheap replacement for family."

Zayan (dark growl):
"And Myra... clever woman. She's using that girl like a shield. Step by step, she's planting her roots in this mansion, using Innaya's presence as her excuse. But I see through her games."

Aayan (harshly):
"And the audacity—Innaya dares to call this place home. Did you see her at breakfast? Sitting there, as if she were born in our bloodline. The nerve. She's an intruder. An actress. And I swear... one day, she'll slip, and I'll crush her illusion myself."

Arjun (chuckling cruelly):
"She can hide behind gifts, behind her little smiles, but she'll never be one of us. Not in this lifetime. Not even if she begs."

Zayan (final, cutting like a blade):
"To me, she's not family. She never will be. She's a guest—one who's overstayed her welcome. And if she thinks she's our 'sister'... she's delusional."

🌌 Innaya's Breakdown 🌌

The words slammed into her chest like hammers. Her breath hitched, vision blurred. She staggered back, pressing trembling fingers against her lips to stop the sobs. But she couldn't hold it.

Her steps turned frantic as she rushed to her chamber, shutting the door behind her. The walls closed in.

And then... she laughed. Hollow, broken, the sound echoing off the marble.

Innaya (sobbing, whispering to herself):
"A guest. Just... baggage. A stray. That's all I am to them. Not a daughter. Not a sister. Just... nothing."

Her phone buzzed. A notification. Ved's name lit up her screen.
"I'm here at Malhotra Mansion. Don't worry, Innaya. I'll stay until you come. You'll always have a place with me."

Tears streamed harder, but a tiny, fragile smile curved her lips.

Innaya (whispering, shaking):
"At least someone wants me. At least someone... chooses me."

She glanced at the small case on her table. Three vials. Three sleeping injections. With trembling hands, she pressed one into her arm, the sting numbing her chest, her mind.

Innaya (before slipping into sleep, voice cracking):
"Tomorrow... I'll leave. Tomorrow... I'll disappear from here."

🌅 The Morning 🌅

When Myra entered the next morning, Innaya's face was pale, her skin damp with fever. Dark circles bruised her eyes.

Myra (softly, worried):
"Innaya, come for breakfast, beti."

Innaya (weak smile):
"No, Mom... not today. I just... I want to go to Malhotra Mansion. Please."

Myra opened her mouth to protest, to comfort, but her eyes landed on the side table. Three empty vials. Her chest tightened. Understanding silenced her. She brushed Innaya's hair back and nodded gently.

Myra (soft, pained whisper):
"Alright... but promise me you'll come back for the reception."

Innaya (hoarse whisper):
"I will."

🌅 The Next Morning in the Dining Hall 🌅

The long mahogany table was laid with silver cutlery and steaming dishes, sunlight spilling through the tall windows. The Rathoure family slowly gathered for breakfast—one by one, the chairs filled.

But one remained empty.

Samyukta (glancing at Myra, her voice calm but sharp as glass):
"Where is Innaya? This is her first proper morning in the mansion. Why is her chair empty?"

Myra hesitated, eyes flicking down.
"She... she isn't feeling well. A slight fever. She said she'd eat later."

The words were soft, but Abhinay's eyes narrowed. He wasn't a man easily fooled.

Abhinay (stern, voice carrying weight):
"Fever doesn't come in one night without reason. That girl looked bright yesterday. Something happened."

The younger members exchanged quick glances, some shifting uncomfortably. Aayan and Zayan looked especially tense, though they hid it behind their usual cold expressions.

Samyukta (with quiet steel):
"Children don't fall ill overnight, Abhimanyu. They break when something inside them shatters. Mark my words—Innaya is hurting. And it's not the fever that worries me, it's the silence."

Her words hung heavy in the air.

Abhimanyu clenched his jaw, guilt flickering in his eyes, though he tried to mask it with composure. Kabir looked genuinely worried, fiddling with his fork, muttering:

Kabir (softly):
"Bhai, maybe someone should check on her... she's new here. She must feel... alone."

But the older brothers remained stone-faced.

Abhinay's gaze swept across the table, lingering just a moment too long on Zayan, Aayan, and Arjun. He didn't speak further, but the unspoken warning was clear: he could see through them.

Abhinay (final, commanding):
"I want her well by the reception. And until then—no one will give her reason to doubt this house is hers. Understood?"

Everyone nodded, though unease lingered.

Meanwhile upstairs, Innaya's world had already shifted. Her decision was made. She was leaving, no matter what warmth the elders tried to offer.

🌌 Innaya's Departure 🌌

The mansion was buzzing with the usual morning rhythm—maids polishing silver, cooks clattering in the kitchen, men in crisp suits preparing for business. Amidst it all, one soul moved quietly, unseen.

Innaya, wrapped in a pale lavender shawl to hide her fragile frame, slipped through the golden corridors with her suitcase. Every step echoed in her ears like a goodbye.

At the main door, she paused. The towering pillars and chandeliers behind her gleamed, as though mocking her presence. Her chest tightened, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Innaya (softly, to herself):
"This was never my home... so why does it hurt to leave?"

Her cab was waiting outside. The driver opened the door, but she lingered, her gaze fixed on the towering gates of Rathoure Mansion. For the world, they were gates of pride and legacy. For her, they had become walls of rejection.

With one last trembling look, Innaya stepped inside the cab. The door shut, the engine roared, and in moments she disappeared into the city—leaving behind not just a mansion, but the pieces of her shattered heart.

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