A day later, they got married in the presence of their elders, family and friends, not to mention the entire population of Palampur. This time too, Darsh made sure only to invite a select few of his acquaintances. Luckily, aunt Swetlana had decided to extend her holiday, and he ensured none of Vicki's friends got the wind of it.

Rajeev alone made the journey to Palampur for the second time in a week. But this time, Darsh wasn't complaining about it. Rajeev's calm and authoritative presence made up for any other absences.

As the time approached, the crowd around him bustled in anticipation. He watched as his bride arrived wearing her mother's wedding saree and jewelry. Needless to say, she looked like a goddess, glowing bright yet solemn, a picture of grace and elegance. As usual, the crowd sucked a collective breath to acknowledge her presence. His heart too went quiet as all his chaos subsided to make way for her.

If ever he had believed in fairytales, it was now. He was floating on clouds, sprinkled with stardust, glowing with a light that shone from within. He had no idea happiness could be this blissful.

As the priests chanted the holy hymns, Darsh eagerly put the red vermillion in her parting. Then came the mangal sutra, then the seven pheras around the holy fire, each for an oath of lifelong bonding and devotion. Some oaths he understood, but the rest went over his head. They did not matter anyway. All that mattered was the bond that tied them together, that established she was his for this life and the next several to come.

The rituals over, they were ushered to a podium where people thronged, congratulating and wishing them luck. A few moments later, someone whispered into his ear about moving his car out of the way to give access to a catering van. Darsh did not pay much attention when he handed his car key and was again pulled back in the bustle. His days of basking in the limelight were starting, and he did not want to miss any of it.

*****

The crowd slowly subsided as the evening drew on. Aditi watched as Darsh was immersed in a passionate discussion with one of Dadaji's friends. The conversation had moved on from wedding pleasantries to new ventures, projects, profits, and stock markets. Aditi exhaled. A businessman is never on holiday, she remembered his words as a small group formed around him, effectively pushing her to a side.

"I think you should go and rest for a while. I don't think your husband will notice," Sonal passed a dry remark, handing Aditi a glass of water. She hadn't taken to Darsh much. Yes, he was handsome, she admitted, and had a knack of sweet-talking anyone he set his sights at. But other than being drool-worthy eye-candy, he hadn't made much impression on Sonal.

Aditi sighed. It was not Sonal's fault. Darsh had given her the same treatment he had granted Aalok - a cursory nod before ignoring her completely. Aditi wished he'd been a bit more cordial, but that was not to be.

"Let him be. It's his first time meeting everyone. He has to be polite."

Sonal humphed and helped her get down the podium, then disappeared into the crowd to find Rohit. Aditi walked up the stairs towards her room as her heart filled with weariness. Her legs were killing her and the heavy attire made her unbearably hot. But more than that, something else bothered her. She could not pinpoint it but it was there nagging her, making her restless. It was a feeling similar to the day she fell at the racecourse, only today it was much worse as if she was walking into heavy traffic with her eyes closed.

She wished Kanta Chachi was here, but Chachi hadn't been able to make it today. They had spoken on the phone, but it wasn't the same. Chachi was worried. Jeevan Chacha's recovery was not going smoothly, and Vandana's college too was getting affected. Aditi naturally offered to help, but that was not enough.

Her heart became laden with guilt as she took the last few steps to her door. That accident had many victims, not just Jeevan Chacha and his family but Vivaan and Nehal too. She herself had escaped lightly. While the others had lost so much, she had gained a husband, a ticket to a new life where all her past worries would be forgotten. And the culprit still roamed free. He could be the man she'd married today.

Her heart filled with irritation. Why was she thinking all this now? What was the use? The deed was done, there was no turning back now. She had decided to trust Dadaji's judgment. She had promised to trust Darsh. And if it meant walking on a highway with her eyes closed, then be it.

"Di..." Someone called her name as she was about to open the door. Aditi turned to find Mohit climbing the stairs hurriedly after her.

"Di, can you please keep this backpack with you? Zorawar found it in Darsh's car." He handed her a black backpack, then gave her a mischievous grin. "By the way, we are decorating the cottage for you two to spend some time there. Any special demands from the new bride?"

Her face heated as she ignored his question and took the bag. It wasn't heavy, but it seemed a zip was broken. As she held it, the zip tore open upending the bag. Aditi watched as the contents fell out. There was a brown file with her name on it. A pouch labeled medicated cannabis that looked partially used. And a small metal pen-like object.

"Wow! That's a laser gun!" Mohit whistled as he picked it up. "That's cool. I didn't know Darsh liked these toys."

He took the lid off and focussed it on the wall behind her. Aditi stared at the bright dot as it slowly burnt a tiny hole in the wallpaper.

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*****

A laser gun. A file with her name. And pouch of cannabis. What did it mean?

Aditi stared in confusion as she stood in her room. It was decorated for her wedding night. Candles were ready to be lit at the right time. White jasmines and primroses trailed along the walls. The silk cushions, the curtains, the bedding everything was new, soft, and pristine. It all looked and smelt heavenly, so sweet that it made her sick.

Why did Darsh need a laser gun? And what did he need the cannabis for? As far as she knew, he did not suffer from any of the diseases where cannabis was used for treatment. She herself was exposed to the substance only once when Darsh gave her the laddu in the Sarai. And now that she thought of it... Her heart nearly stopped.

It could not be. He would never do it, it did not make sense!

With shaking fingers, she picked up the folder and opened it. There were her name, age, qualifications, and hobbies; they took the first few lines of the first page. On a side was a small passport-sized photo that was probably from her college admission form. What she did not understand was the angry red cross on her photo. Whoever had done it must hate her with a passion; they had nearly stabbed her with the pen.

The air turned frigid as a deadly chill rose through her spine. She wished she could breathe; she wished she could blink, but her body did not comply. Her feet stayed glued to the floor, and her eyes to the pages of the folder in front of her.

A scalding burn started in her heart as her eyes moved to the next bit. They were her property details - her bank accounts, the details of her father's investments, and her Dadaji's innumerable assets. It was a lot. She had never seen it put together like that. In the margin at the top was her net worth, encircled a couple of times with a bold red pen, probably to emphasize how much the writer valued it.

She stared at the number. She never knew she was worth so much. Or so little!

The pain in her heart ripped through her body. The folder dropped to the floor as she lurched sideways, grabbing a side table for support. What was this, she did not know. It felt like so far she had been walking through a fog - a magical haze, a glamour that created the images for her to see. Now that it was suddenly cleared, her eyes were blinded by the dazzling light.

So was this the ultimate truth after all? That her husband was a sham, his love was a bigger sham. All he wanted was money. If there was another rich girl in her place, he would have readily married her.

Her breath stuck in her chest, her mind went blank. Yet an insane laughter bubbled through her throat. But this was amazing! It only proved you cannot run from your fate. She had escaped the clutches of Vivaan only to land with Darsh. She had escaped one fortune hunter only to be trapped by another.

It was a revelation indeed, and at what an opportune time! She was just married but still a few hours away from her wedding night. Maybe she still had time to do something...but what would she do?

Well, she could do nothing, her brain assured her calmly as if watching the scene from afar. It was her surgeon's brain, calmly assessing the damage, weighing the options, and calculating the chances of her survival. Telling Dadaji the truth was not an option, it assured her, nor was running away. She could confront Darsh, but that was unlikely to end well. The house was full of guests and her Dadaji was ill. A small misstep would send everything up in smoke.

She felt another hapless giggle building but suppressed it quickly. She should not laugh like this. It was pathetic, insane. This was a serious matter. She should be crying, wailing, cursing Darsh for his deceit. But she could not help it. It was so bad it was almost funny. Aditi Sharma, the Golden Girl of Palampur, the beautiful and rich heiress of unimaginable wealth was hunted down by a common fortune hunter. Nothing could save her, neither her wealth nor her famous family.

Time stood still as she stood there trying to work out her own mind. It was confused, she knew that much. A part of her was laughing, mocking her viciously. Another part was sad, overwhelmed, trying to understand what just happened. Another part stayed quiet observing her carefully while another part tried to console her desperately.

Things could not be this bad. She should not lose hope. She shouldn't talk to Darsh. Give him a chance to explain.

She wondered if this was what her parents would say if they were here. But they were not with her today. Perhaps they were too embarrassed now and preferred to stay hidden.

Her thoughts vacillated between dead and living. Truth and false, brittle hope and sadness. She did not know how long she stood there when there was a knock on the door and a young maid peeped in.

"Di, they are asking for you. The dinner is going to start soon."

Her stomach churned. The charade was not over yet. The drama was still on. The stage was set and she was needed for the climax. She was the main character - the heroine- a stupid, gullible, helpless but beautiful girl - a perfect heroine material. And he was her knight in shining armor who had come to rescue her from the villains. All she had to do was be ready to be swept away and ride with him in the sunset. Now that didn't require much work, did it?

How perfect it was, how idyllic and elegant. All she had to do now was to play her part like a good girl. To be a perfect heroine and say her lines. Smile where she was required and be quiet the rest of the time. That's what good heroines did, didn't they? They did not ask questions, they did not demand answers. They did what they were told and lived happily ever after.

Anger bubbled inside her, an insane urge to break something, hurt someone coiled her heart like a snake. Her face burned an ugly red, her nails stuck in her palm to draw blood.

Maybe this was why her Dadaji had made her promise. Maybe he knew this all along. A clever and resourceful man like him would never be blindsided. Maybe this was what he meant by hardworking, ambitious, and cunning. The promise was probably more to protect his surrogate son than his rash granddaughter.

Bitterness, anger, frustration- a myriad of emotions swirled around her, driving her crazy. A strangled scream escaped her throat, loud enough to alarm the maid, who hesitantly peeped again.

"Di..?"

"I'm coming!" She spat out a venomous response that drained the color of the girl's face. She scurried away in haste as Aditi watched her like a hungry beast. Hungry, yet caged. Hunted down cruelly by a prize hunter. All that remained now was to chop the head off to hang on a wall.

A dreadful calm consumed her. If that was what he wanted, he was in for a ride. She would not give up. She would find a way. Darsh Rathore would pay for this. In this life and the next several to come.

Ten minutes later, when she came down, her face was lit with a coy bridal smile. Her makeup was fixed, her hair was re-done. She was ready to play her part. She smiled as she took her place next to her husband and fed him a bite. The climax was far away, this was just the interval. She would write her own script and make sure he followed it to the end.

***** *****