The grand palace was bathed in an opulent glow, decorated so extravagantly that it resembled a breathtaking bride. Inside, the air hummed with the chatter of elite guests, everyone whispering in awe of the sheer wealth on display. At the heart of the venue stood a massive, heavily adorned wedding mandap.

Beneath the canopy, the head priest sat chanting holy mantras, stoking the sacred fire. Next to him sat the groom, Viraj Rathore. Dressed in a royal, meticulously tailored sherwani, he looked dangerously handsome. His sharp features and magnetic aura drew the eyes of every young woman in the hall, yet an icy, impenetrable distance surrounded him. He wasn't just a billionaire businessman; he was the enigmatic eldest son of the powerful Rathore empire, and tonight, he looked more like a conquering king than a happy groom.

"Bring the bride forward. The auspicious hour has arrived," the priest’s voice echoed through the ritual music.

A sudden hush fell over the crowd as all eyes turned toward the grand staircase.

Reet walked down slowly, the heavy maroon designer lehenga brushing against the marble. Golden bangles chimed softly around her delicate wrists, and a flawless diamond necklace caught the light, matching the intricate maang-tikka resting on her forehead. To the world, she looked like a queen. But beneath the heavy veil, Reet’s heart was hammering against her ribs. She was just a middle-class girl, fiercely devoted to her dreams and her family—a family that was now sacrificing her into this gilded cage.

As she was guided into the mandap and seated beside Viraj, neither of them looked at each other. There was no joy, no blushing smiles. Both stared blankly into the dancing flames of the Havan, as if watching their own fates burn.

"Tie the nuptial knot," the priest instructed.

Riya, Viraj’s eighteen-year-old cousin, stepped forward with a warm but curious smile, tying the sacred cloth that bound Reet to Viraj. Reet’s hands trembled slightly. She could feel the silent gaze of her parents, Satish and Sandhya Mishra, standing near the edge of the mandap alongside her nineteen-year-old brother, Adit. Their faces were pale, etched with absolute desperation.

On the other side stood the formidable Rathore clan—Viraj’s authoritative parents, Rajvardhan and Amrita Rathore; his uncle and aunt, Harshvardhan and Radhika; his stern aunt Vimla; his siblings, Vanshika and Vivaan; and his cousins, Riya and Riaan. They stood like a royal court, watching a transaction disguise itself as a wedding.

After the emotional ritual of Kanyadaan, the priest announced, "Bride and groom, please stand for the pheras."

Silence.

Neither Viraj nor Reet moved. They remained glued to their seats, staring straight ahead. A thick, suffocating tension filled the mandap. The family members exchanged panicked glances, and a low, mocking gossip broke out among the guests.

Hearing the whispers, Rajvardhan Rathore gave a sharp, warning look to his wife. Amrita Rathore immediately stepped into the mandap, placing a firm, heavy hand on Viraj’s shoulder. The moment Viraj felt the touch, his jaw tightened, his posture turning rigid. Slowly, he stood up, his towering frame casting a shadow over the fire. Amrita then gently but firmly pulled Reet to her feet.

Bound by the knot, the two walked around the holy fire, their footsteps perfectly out of sync, yet bound by law.

Once seated, Viraj picked up the traditional mangalsutra, reaching beneath Reet’s veil to slip it around her neck. His fingers accidentally brushed against her skin, and a strange, unnatural coldness shot through Reet—a chill so intense it made her gasp silently. Next, he picked up the sindoor box. With an expressionless face, he parted her hair and filled her maang with the crimson powder, sealing her fate forever.

"The wedding is complete. Take the blessings of the elders," the priest proclaimed.

Mechanically, they touched the feet of the Rathore and Mishra elders. Then came the moment Reet dreaded the most—the Vidaai.

Breaking down, Reet threw her arms around her parents. Her father, Satish, held her tightly, his tears soaking her veil. "Forgive us, my child," he whispered, his voice cracking with a hidden, heavy guilt. "We never wanted this for you... it was our ultimate compulsion." He cupped her tear-stained face, staring into her eyes with absolute urgency. "No matter how dark the circumstances get in that house, promise me you will try your best to keep this marriage alive."

Unable to speak, Reet simply nodded, her heart breaking. She hugged her mother, who kissed her forehead, whispering, "Take care of yourself, Reet." Finally, she turned to her brother. Adit hugged her tightly, choking back tears. "I’ll miss you, Di."

"I’ll miss you too," Reet wept as she was led away.

Two hours later, the sleek fleet of luxury cars belonging to the Rathore family pulled up outside a colossal, ancient estate.

The heavy iron gates opened into a dark, sprawling property. Reet stepped out of the car, her eyes looking up at the massive building where the words "RATHORE BHAWAN" were engraved in stone. The architecture looked grand, yet it carried an eerie, ancient stillness that made the hairs on her arms stand up.

Amrita performed the welcoming aarti at the threshold. "Reet, gently kick the urn with your right foot and step inside, my dear," she instructed gently.

Reet obeyed, her trembling foot tilting the rice urn as she crossed the threshold into her new life.

But the moment her feet touched the interior floor, Viraj abruptly turned around. Without a single word, a glance, or a gesture toward his new bride, he walked away, disappearing down the dimly lit corridor toward his private study. The family watched him go in accustomed silence.

Trying to break the awkward tension, Riya stepped forward and enveloped Reet in a brief hug. "Welcome to the Rathore family, Bhabhi!" she said cheerfully. Realizing Reet looked completely lost, Riya quickly pointed out the family members again, formally introducing everyone.

Reet stood there like a statue, nodding politely, her mind entirely numb. Sensing the girl's exhaustion, Radhika ji intervened, softly telling Riya, "Take Reet to her room, Riya. She has had a long day and needs some rest."

"Right, sorry Bhabhi! Come, let me show you to your room," Riya smiled, leading Reet up the grand, winding staircase.

When they reached the master bedroom, Riya opened the door to reveal a massive, luxuriously decorated suite, complete with red roses and lit candles. Wishing her a good night, Riya stepped out and closed the heavy oak door, leaving Reet entirely alone.

Reet stood in the center of the silent room, the suffocating weight of the heavy lehenga pressing down on her. Slowly, she walked toward the large French windows that overlooked the dense, dark woods surrounding the estate.

As she stared out into the pitch-black night, a sudden, unnatural wind rattled the glass panes. The candles in the room flickered violently, casting long, twisted shadows across the walls. At that exact moment, the faint, unmistakable sound of a wolf howling echoed from the deep woods, followed by a strange, heavy scratching sound coming from the ceiling right above her head.

Reet gasped, stepping back as a sudden wave of primal fear washed over her.

This wasn’t just a wealthy household. There was something deeply wrong with Rathore Bhawan... and something terrifyingly unnatural about the man she had just married.