“Myra…”
Her mother’s voice made her flinch.
She turned sharply.
Her mother stood at the doorway, her face tight with impatience. Two women stood behind her—one of them the beautician.
“Where is Anaya?” her mother asked.
Myra swallowed.
“She’s… not here,” she said slowly.
Her mother frowned. “What do you mean, not here?”
“I checked the room,” Myra replied, her voice unsteady now. “The bathroom too.”
Her mother stepped past her, eyes scanning every corner, as if Anaya might suddenly appear.
“Anaya!” she called, louder this time.
No answer.
The beautician shifted awkwardly.
“Madam… I was told to start now,” she said hesitantly.
Myra noticed it then.
The untouched saree laid neatly on the bed.
The jewellery boxes unopened.
The dressing table bare.
Her mother’s breathing changed.
“Call her,” she said sharply, though fear had already crept into her voice. “Call her right now.”
Myra reached for her phone.
Her fingers trembled as she dialed.
The line rang.
Once.
Twice.
No answer.
She tried again.
Then—
A faint vibration broke the silence.
All three of them froze.
Myra’s eyes dropped to the bed.
Anaya’s phone lay there, lighting up the dark screen.
Unanswered.
Her mother stared at it, disbelief spreading across her face.
“No…” she whispered. “She wouldn’t…”
Myra felt something cold settle deep in her chest.
Because she already knew.
Anaya was gone.
Her mother turned abruptly and rushed toward her father’s study.
Myra followed slowly, her steps hesitant.
She didn’t dare to open her mouth.
“What?”
Her father’s voice thundered through the room.
“What do you mean—where is Anaya?”
He stepped out sharply, his face darkening as the truth began to sink in. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the maids.
“Search the entire house,” he ordered. “Every room. Now.”
The maids scattered instantly.
“Myra!”
His shout made her flinch.
She jumped, her heart pounding.
“Did Anaya say anything to you?” he demanded.
Myra shook her head silently.
His gaze hardened, sharp and assessing, as if weighing her honesty. But he knew—everyone knew—Myra and Anaya were never close.
Just then, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
Rajveer.
Her father’s hand trembled slightly.
Her mother covered her mouth, fear spilling across her face.
He took a deep breath before answering, forcing calm into his voice.
“Yes… yes. We’re on the way to the hall,” he said. “We’ll be there shortly.”
He ended the call slowly.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Fear lingered in his eyes now—fear mixed with something darker.
Panic.
Myra stood there, frozen. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. So she said nothing at all.
“We’ll go to the hall,” her father finally said, his voice low and strained. “We’ll tell Rajveer everything.”
Her mother nodded stiffly, then turned to Myra.
“Come,” she said softly. “You too.”
They got into the same car.
Myra sat quietly in the backseat, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
Her mother stared straight ahead, visibly shaken.
Her father remained silent, his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the road.
The ride to the wedding hall was heavy with tension.
No one spoke.
And with every passing minute, Myra felt a strange unease settle inside her—
as if she was being driven toward something she could no longer escape.
-------------
The wedding hall stood grand and radiant, drenched in lights and lavish decorations. Crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead, flowers lined every path, and soft music floated through the air. Everything about the place spoke of wealth, celebration, and certainty.
They stepped out of the car.
Rajveer’s parents hurried forward to welcome them, smiles fixed on their faces, unaware.
Guests turned.
Eyes followed.
Whispers began almost instantly.
“Why does the bride look so simple?”
“Is this… the bride?”
“Something feels off.”
Myra walked silently behind her parents, her head lowered, her heart heavy. She felt their stares, sharp and curious, but she didn’t look up.
Then he appeared.
Rajveer walked toward them, his face lit with excitement, a genuine smile playing on his lips.
“Uncle,” he said warmly, placing his hands together in greeting. “Where is Anaya?”
He glanced around instinctively, scanning the entrance.
“She must be coming in the other car,” he added lightly, still smiling. “I’ll go check outside.”
Myra froze.
She had never seen him smile like this before.
Not once.
His smile was effortless—bright, confident. When he smiled, his eyes shone, alive with happiness and anticipation. It was the kind of smile that belonged to a man certain of his future.
Her chest tightened painfully.
She knew.
That smile wouldn’t last.
In a few moments, her father would speak.
And everything Rajveer had built—this grand hall, this perfect wedding, this dream—would shatter.
Myra felt a strange ache spread through her.
She hated that she noticed his smile now.
Hated that she was seeing the best version of him seconds before it was destroyed.
This would be his last smile.
And somehow… knowing that hurt her more than she wanted to admit.
Rajveer turned to leave.
“Raj.”
Her father’s voice stopped him.
“Can we talk… in private?”
Rajveer frowned, confusion flickering across his face. After a brief pause, he nodded calmly.
“Come,” he said. “The groom’s room is this way.”
They followed him inside.
He shut the door behind them.
The sound echoed.
Rajveer turned slowly, arms crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze moving from one face to another.
“What is it?” he asked.
Myra kept her eyes lowered.
She didn’t want to be there.
Didn’t want to witness her parents like this.
“Raj…” her father began, his voice strained.
“We couldn’t find Anaya this morning.”
Rajveer stiffened.
“What?” His voice sharpened instantly.
Myra glanced up through her lashes.
He stepped forward.
“What did you say?” he demanded. “Say it again.”
“She’s gone,” her father said quietly. “We searched the entire house. She wasn’t there.”
“Her phone—” her mother tried to add.
Rajveer didn’t let her finish.
He lunged forward and grabbed her father by the collar.
Myra gasped. Her mother cried out in shock.
“How dare you?” Rajveer roared, his grip tightening. “How dare you and your daughter do this to me?”
The door flew open.
Rajveer’s parents rushed in.
“Raj!” his mother cried. “What are you doing?”
His father stepped forward. “Rajveer, stop!”
Rajveer turned toward them, eyes blazing.
“Anaya is gone,” he said through clenched teeth.
“What?” His parents froze.
Myra’s parents dropped their gazes, shame burning across their faces.
“Did you search properly?” Rajveer’s father asked sharply.
Her father nodded weakly.
Something in Rajveer snapped.
He shoved Myra’s father away and pulled out his phone.
“Find her,” he barked into it. “I want Anaya here. Now. Search everywhere.”
He ended the call violently.
“Raj, calm down,” his mother pleaded softly. “The guests are outside. We must think about our reputation.”
He let out a hollow laugh.
“Calm down?” he whispered. “How do you expect me to calm down now, ma?”
His voice broke for just a second.
“I trusted her,” he said quietly.
“I loved her.”
His jaw tightened.
“She betrayed me.”
With a sudden roar, he slammed his fist onto the wooden table.
The table cracked.
Everyone jumped.
Rajveer turned slowly and walked toward Myra’s father, his eyes cold and merciless.
“If I don’t find her,” he said in a deadly calm voice,
“you will pay for this.”
Then he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving behind silence, fear—
and a future already burning.
To be continued
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