"Reborn in the Movie Universe: Continuation"

[3RD PERSON POV]

The evening sun dipped lower, its golden glow slowly surrendering to the soft hues of orange and purple that bled into the sky. The clouds drifted lazily, veiling the sun's retreat like curtains drawn at the end of a play. A gentle breeze swept through Amaravathi, carrying with it the crisp coolness of twilight. Birds flitted across the sky in rhythmic formations, their calls fading into the distance as they returned to their nests. The city seemed to exhale, embracing the calm that came with the approaching night.

But the peace of the outside world did not reach inside Satyapriya's house.

The living room, though modestly lit by a warm ceiling lamp, felt cold and heavy. Satyapriya sat on the edge of a beige sofa, her posture tense, her eyes fixed on the TV screen with a gaze that saw more than what was being broadcast. Her fingers were intertwined, her thumbs nervously twirling against each other. Her brows knitted together, a crease forming on her otherwise serene face. It was the look of a woman burdened with unanswered questions.

Her phone lay on the coffee table, face up, screen black and still. No calls. No messages. No updates.

Her heart felt like a taut string, pulled to its limit, ready to snap at any moment. Her sister, Jhanvi, was still missing. Hours had passed, but there was no news from the police, no signs of her whereabouts. Every second of silence gnawed at her, feeding her fears. "Where is she? Is she safe? Is she hurt?" These questions echoed in her mind in an endless loop, each one more suffocating than the last.

Yet, beneath that storm of worry, there was a strange, inexplicable calm—a quiet whisper in the back of her mind. It wasn't something she could explain with logic, but it was there, like the faint glow of a lantern in the fog. "She's okay," the whisper insisted. "She's safe."

Her fingers stopped twirling.

"Why…?" she muttered to herself, her voice soft but sharp in the silence of the room. "Why do I feel like that? How can I be sure?" Her eyes flickered with doubt. Was it blind hope? Or was it something more? Her lips pressed into a thin line as she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, hands cradling her chin.

Her gaze returned to the television. The television buzzed softly in the background, its glow flickering across the dimly lit room. On the screen, Krishna's press conference played on repeat. His confident smile, his calm demeanor, and his words — sharp, calculated, and perfectly timed — echoed through the living room.

"I am not behind Jhanvi's kidnapping. And if Satyapriya decides to step up as CM, I will wholeheartedly support her. She is more than capable."

The news then shifted to a segment about ACP Indrajeet's corruption and criminal activities. Video clips and still images of Indrajeet in handcuffs flashed on the screen. Reporters swarmed him like vultures, shoving microphones in his face as he tried to avoid eye contact with the cameras. "Suspended, arrested, and exposed," the anchor's voice declared. "ACP Indrajeet falls from grace."

Satyapriya sighed heavily, her chest rising and falling with the weight of everything pressing down on her. She leaned back on the sofa, her head resting on the cushion as her eyes drifted to the ceiling. The soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint chirping of birds outside only amplified the silence inside her heart.

She raised her hands to her face, her fingers pressing against her eyes, hoping to rub away the ache forming in her head. But it wasn't just physical pain. Her thoughts were tangled in a knot she couldn't untie.

Her mind replayed Krishna's words like a broken record. "I am not behind Jhanvi's kidnapping."

Her heart twisted with doubt. "He's lying," she told herself firmly. "He has to be." But a tiny voice inside her whispered something else — something unsettling. "If Jhanvi is with him, she's safe."

Her eyes squeezed shut. Why was she feeling this way? Why did her heart refuse to accept what her mind already believed?

Her thoughts drifted to the moment she found Jhanvi's phone. It was buried under her pillow, as if she had hidden it on purpose. The phone had been locked, but Satyapriya knew her sister's password. She had opened it without thinking.

And then she saw them.

Photos.

One after another, dozens of photos of Krishna. Some were from news articles, others were candid shots — like Jhanvi had taken them herself. There were pictures of Krishna giving speeches and even a photo of him laughing at a private gathering.

Her heart had grown cold when she saw them. Her fingers hovered over the screen, and for a moment, she considered deleting them. But she didn't. She scrolled through them, her breathing shallow, her chest tight.

That's when it hit her.

"Jhanvi… you like him, don't you?"

Her hands balled into fists at the memory. Even now, sitting on the sofa, that realization stirred something deep inside her — something sharp, something she didn't want to acknowledge. She couldn't understand it, but it was there, gnawing at her.

"Why does it hurt?" she wondered. "Why does it feel like I'm being betrayed?"

Her eyes blinked open, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answer. She hated it. She hated this feeling. It was irrational. She had no right to feel this way, yet the pain was undeniable. Her heart throbbed in a way that was unfamiliar and unsettling. "This is stupid," she told herself, shaking her head. "I shouldn't feel this way. I shouldn't care."

But she did.

Her temples throbbed. The headache she had been ignoring now pounded against her skull like a hammer. She massaged her forehead, trying to soothe the ache, but the storm in her mind wouldn't calm.

And then—

Thump.

Her eyes shot open. Her body tensed instantly, her heart racing like a drum. The sound had come from her room.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Thump.

Again. It wasn't her imagination. It was real.

Her eyes darted toward the hallway leading to her bedroom. Her pulse quickened, a cold sweat forming on the back of her neck. Her mind immediately calculated every possibility. "Did someone break in?" she thought, her body moving on instinct.

Her eyes scanned the room. She spotted the heavy brass vase on the side table. Without hesitation, she reached for it, her fingers curling tightly around the cool, solid metal. It wasn't much, but it would do.

Satyapriya's footsteps were slow, calculated, and silent as she moved toward her room. The cool brass vase in her hand felt heavier than it should, but she gripped it tightly, her palms slightly sweaty. Her heart thudded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears like a war drum. Her eyes were sharp, scanning every inch of the hallway ahead.

Her breaths were shallow, her muscles tense. "Stay calm," she told herself. "It's probably nothing… just a noise. Maybe something fell." But her instincts told her otherwise.

Her hand hovered over the door handle for a moment longer than necessary. Her heart begged her to wait, but her mind knew waiting wouldn't solve anything. With a slow breath in, she turned the handle. The faint creak of the door felt deafening in the stillness of the house.

The door swung open slowly, revealing the dim glow of the setting sun filtering through the curtains. The orange hue bathed the room in a soft, eerie glow. Her eyes darted around, scanning every corner, every shadow, every space where someone — or something — could be hiding. Her heart was like a ticking clock, each beat louder than the last.

The bed was untouched, the pillows neatly arranged. The chair near the study table was exactly as she had left it. The books on the shelf were in perfect order. No signs of forced entry. No signs of anyone hiding.

Her brow furrowed.

"Weird... everything looks okay," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced over her shoulder once, making sure no one was behind her. Slowly, she crouched down and set the brass vase on the floor, still glancing around cautiously. Her nerves were still on edge.

Her eyes swept the room again, taking in every detail. Her gaze moved from the bed to the window, from the window to the closet, and finally to the small drawer in the corner of the room — her private drawer. Her gaze stopped.

Her eyes narrowed. Something was off.

On the ground, just beside the drawer, lay a Rubik's Cube. Her heart skipped a beat.

She recognized it instantly. It was the one Krishna had given her. She had kept it on the top shelf of her drawer, a place she rarely touched. Her fingers twitched as she stared at it, unease growing in her chest. It wasn't supposed to be there. It couldn't have fallen on its own.

Her gaze shifted.

Just a few inches away from the Rubik's Cube, something else caught her eye. A single, delicate object lying softly on the floor.

A peacock feather.

Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened.

Her feet remained frozen as if invisible chains bound her to the ground. She stared at the feather like it didn't belong in this world. Her throat tightened, and a cold chill ran down her spine. Her fingers curled into her palms as her mind tried to process what she was seeing.

Her thoughts flashed back to that day — that day when she had heard the mysterious, melodious sound of a flute echoing through her home. That day she found this peacock feather in her room.

The soft glow of the evening sun bathed the room in hues of orange and gold, casting long shadows on the tiled floor. The warmth of the sunset failed to ease the cold unease settling in Satyapriya's chest. Her eyes lingered on the Rubik's Cube and peacock feather resting in her palm, her brows knitting together in confusion.

Her gaze darted toward the drawer. It was firmly shut, just as she had left it. Her lips parted as she muttered, "Weird… how did these things get out? I don't remember putting them on the floor." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she glanced around the room once more. No one was there. The silence only made her heart feel heavier.

She shook her head, letting out a long, weary sigh. "Maybe I'm just overthinking," she whispered to herself. "Stress is getting to me. I'm forgetting things… hallucinating, even." Her fingers rubbed her temples, trying to massage away the dull ache that had been bothering her all day. It wasn't the first time she'd felt this way. Ever since Jhanvi's disappearance, her mind had been on edge. Nightmares, overthinking, and the constant buzz of news channels had taken a toll on her.

Satyapriya glanced down at the two objects once more. Her gaze lingered on the Rubik's Cube, her fingers tracing the edges of the colorful blocks. It felt familiar yet foreign, like a puzzle that held something more than just a solution.

Her eyes flickered with recollection.

"When you feel alone, lost, or when you can't seem to find the answers to your questions… solve it."

Krishna's words echoed in her mind, clear and distinct, as though he was standing right beside her. She remembered the playful grin on his face when he handed it to her. As she stared at the Rubik's Cube, her heartbeat quickened.

Her gaze shifted to the peacock feather, its soft, shimmering colors reflecting a hypnotic glow in the evening light. She didn't know why, but the feather always gave her a strange sense of calm — a stillness that settled her anxious thoughts.

"One thing at a time," she muttered to herself, carefully placing the peacock feather back into the drawer. As she closed it, she glanced once more at the feather inside, feeling as though it was watching her. She shook the feeling away and sat on the edge of her bed, the Rubik's Cube firm in her hands.

Her fingers hovered over it for a moment. A hesitant pause. "Why am I doing this?" she thought, but something deep inside urged her forward. Slowly, she pressed her thumbs against the cube, twisting and turning it with practiced motions. The cube clicked and spun, its colors shifting with each movement.

Her focus sharpened. The world around her grew quiet. Her breathing slowed, her eyes locked onto the puzzle as if nothing else existed. Her fingers moved with precision, muscle memory taking over as she tried to align the colors. Her mind became calm, her thoughts clear — as though solving the cube was untangling the knots in her heart.

Time felt strange. It moved both fast and slow. Each twist, each turn felt deliberate yet instinctual. The clack of the pieces echoed softly in the quiet room.

Blue.

Green.

Red.

Yellow.

The pieces slowly clicked into place, and her fingers stopped. Her breath hitched.

"Done."

She blinked at the solved Rubik's Cube in her hands, the colors perfectly aligned on all six sides. A small, tired smile tugged at her lips. "That wasn't so hard." Her voice was soft, filled with a sense of small accomplishment.

But just as she was about to set it aside, she heard it.

Click.

Her eyes shot back to the cube.

Click-click.

The sound wasn't from her imagination. It was real. She watched in shock as the Rubik's Cube shifted in her hands. The top layer spun on its own. Her fingers instinctively pulled away, her eyes widening with disbelief. "What… what is this?" she muttered, her breath growing shallow.

Her heart pounded like a drum. She gripped the edge of the bed as she watched the cube rotate, its seams glowing faintly with a soft blue light. The twisting stopped, and with a soft, mechanical whir, the cube split open like the petals of a blooming flower.

Nestled in the center of the open Rubik's Cube was a small, silver pendrive.

Satyapriya's eyes widened in shock. Her heart pounded in her chest like a drum. For a moment, she just sat there, frozen, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing.

"What... the hell?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. She leaned forward slowly, her gaze fixed on the tiny device gleaming under the dim orange glow of the evening sun. Her fingers trembled as she reached for it.

The silver pendrive felt colder than it should have. It lay in Satyapriya's palm like a fragment of a secret too heavy to bear. She stared at it for a long moment, her brows furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin, tense line. Her thoughts spiraled in all directions.

"Why would Krishna hide this in a Rubik's Cube? What could be inside?" The questions buzzed like relentless mosquitoes in her mind. Her fingers tightened around the pendrive. Part of her wanted to ignore it, to pretend it didn't exist. But something deeper — an instinct she had learned to trust over the years — urged her to see it through.

With a slow breath, she stood up, walking to the study table. Her legs felt heavier with each step. Every footfall echoed louder than it should have in the quiet house. Her gaze shifted briefly to the window. The sky outside was now a deep orange, shadows growing longer as the sun dipped behind the clouds. The chirping of birds faded, replaced by the soft hum of the evening breeze.

She grabbed her laptop, her fingers moving mechanically, like she was on autopilot. As she sat back on the bed, her heart thudded with an uncomfortable rhythm. "Calm down" she muttered, trying to steady her breathing. "It's probably nothing..."

Her fingers hovered over the laptop's USB port. For a brief moment, doubt crept in. "What if it's a trick? What if it's something that'll make things worse?" But it was too late to turn back now. With a sharp inhale, she slid the pendrive into the port.

A soft chime echoed as the laptop detected the device. Her screen flickered, and a new folder appeared, named in bold, plain letters:

> "TRUTH"

Her throat felt dry. "Truth?" she whispered, her eyes narrowing. Slowly, she clicked on it. Inside were several files — PDFs, images, and most unsettling of all — videos.

Her finger hesitated on the touchpad. Her instincts told her that whatever was inside, it would change everything. But she couldn't stop herself. Her heart pushed her forward. She clicked on the first video.

The screen went black for a second before flickering to life. The camera was shaky at first, as if someone was trying to position it. Then, the frame steadied, and she recognized a familiar face.

Jaidev. Her husband.

Satyapriya's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "No... it can't be..." Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

In the video, Jaidev was sitting on a lavish leather couch, a woman beside him — someone she didn't recognize. Her face was clear, her smile flirtatious. Jaidev leaned in close to the woman, whispering something in her ear, his hand resting on her thigh. Satyapriya's fingers dug into the edge of the laptop. Her nails bit into the metal, her chest rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths.

"This... this must be old. This has to be from before we were married," she told herself, clinging to that hope. But as the video played on, her heart sank deeper into despair.

The timestamps in the corner of the screen were from last month. Last month.

Her eyes darted to the next file. Her breathing grew uneven as she clicked on it. Another video. Different place, different woman. This time it wasn't just flirtation. Jaidev was seen taking her into a room, closing the door behind them.

Her world crumbled.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn't blink them away. Her vision blurred, her heart shattered, and her soul felt like it was being crushed under the weight of betrayal.

"Why...?" she muttered in a voice so small it was barely a whisper. Her chest heaved, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips as she wiped at her face with trembling hands. But the tears kept falling, one after another, as if the dam she'd built to protect herself had finally broken.

Her body felt cold. Her hands went numb. The warmth of her home, the comfort she had once felt in her marriage, all of it vanished. "How could you do this, Jaidev?" she thought, her teeth gritting, anger beginning to boil beneath her grief.

Her fingers moved on their own, opening more files. More evidence. More betrayals.

PDFs detailing illegal land deals under Jaidev's name. Images of cash exchanges in dark alleys. Receipts of offshore bank accounts under shell companies she had never heard of. Satyapriya's eyes scanned each line with growing disbelief.

This wasn't just infidelity. This was corruption. This was crime.

Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling faster as realization dawned on her. Her husband — the man she trusted, the man she believed in — was a fraud. A liar. A criminal.

Her hand shook so much that the cursor jumped across the screen. Her world, once so structured and predictable, had crumbled into chaos.

Her vision blurred with fresh tears, but she wiped them away roughly. Her jaw clenched, and she let out a sharp, shaky breath. "I gave up so much for you, Jaidev..." Her voice cracked, bitterness and pain woven into every word. "I trusted you. I fought for you. And this... this is what you give me?"

Her eyes returned to the Rubik's Cube on the bed, still open like a puzzle that had finally been solved.

The room was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls as the soft glow of the laptop screen illuminated Satyapriya's face. Her eyes, once filled with warmth and hope, were now cold and hollow. Her gaze stayed fixed on the man standing at the door — Jaidev.

He stepped inside slowly, his eyes scanning the room with caution. The air was thick with tension, like the silence before a storm. Outside, the night had fully settled, and the only sound was the faint chirping of crickets.

"Satya..." Jaidev's voice was calm but laced with unease. His eyes narrowed as he tried to read her expression. She didn't react. She didn't even blink. She just sat there, like a statue carved from stone, her gaze piercing straight through him.

Taking a cautious step forward, he tried again. "Satya, I know you're worried about Jhanvi, but don't worry. I've got people looking for her. I'll find her. I promise." His voice was smooth, too smooth, like a practiced lie.

But before he could finish, Satyapriya moved.

With slow, deliberate movements, she reached for the laptop beside her. She tilted the screen toward him and pressed play.

The silence shattered.

The sound of muffled voices, faint laughter, and the shuffle of movement echoed from the speakers. His voice. His face. His betrayal.

Jaidev froze. His eyes locked onto the screen. For a moment, his confident demeanor wavered. His smile stiffened, and his eyes darkened with realization. He knew what she had seen.

But he didn't flinch.

Not even for a second.

Instead, he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing, and slowly, almost mockingly, he smiled.

"So… you found out." His voice was soft, his tone unreadable, like he was talking about an old secret that had finally come to light. He walked forward slowly, his footsteps measured and calm. Too calm.

Satyapriya's eyes followed him like a hawk tracking prey. Her face didn't change, but the storm behind her gaze was unmistakable. Her hands gripped the edge of the bed so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Her voice was low, cracking like brittle glass. "Why, Jaidev? Why did you do all of this? The crimes, the lies, the illegal deals… all of it. I... I trusted you." Her words came out heavy, each one soaked with the weight of her shattered heart. "I trusted you so much."

Jaidev stopped in front of her, just a few feet away. His eyes, once charming and full of false warmth, now looked sharper — colder. The mask had fallen.

"Trust, huh?" He chuckled softly, like he had heard a bad joke. His eyes flickered to the laptop, the screen still playing muted images of his crimes. The women. The bribes. The secrets. It was all there, laid bare.

He didn't deny it. He didn't defend himself. He didn't even try.

"If you know everything, Satya…" He leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. His voice dropped to a whisper, each word slow and deliberate. "Then let me tell you something you don't know."

He let the silence hang for just a moment, watching her reaction like a predator watching prey.

"Do you know why Jhanvi's been acting so strange lately?" His smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with something dark — something cruel. "It's because of drugs, Satya. Your precious sister… she's been taking drugs."

The words hit her like a sledgehammer to the chest. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, her mind went blank. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, her ears ringing from the weight of his words.

The words that escaped Jaidev's lips hung in the air like poison, each syllable dripping with malice. Satyapriya's eyes widened in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest as if it were trying to break free. Her entire world felt like it was crumbling around her, the foundation of everything she had trusted slipping through her fingers.

"Yes, you heard me right." Jaidev's smirk deepened, his eyes cold and calculating. "I've been giving her drugs. Not only that, but her figure is also impressive. But, unfortunately, it's not me who kidnapped her."

The words cut through Satyapriya like a blade. She felt a rush of heat flood her face, her chest tight, and her mind spinning with anger and betrayal. Before she could even process what was happening, a wild surge of rage took over.

Her breath came in shallow, quick gasps as she stood up, her legs shaking but fueled by pure emotion. Without a second thought, she stormed toward Jaidev, the weight of her fury pushing her forward. She didn't think. She didn't care about the consequences.

With all the strength she could muster, she slapped him.

The sound of her hand meeting his face echoed in the room, sharp and loud. The sting of the slap seemed to wake Jaidev from his smugness for just a moment, his eyes flickering with surprise.

But there was no remorse in his gaze.

Satyapriya's hands shook as she grabbed his collar, pulling him down toward her. Her tears fell freely, her chest heaving as she fought to hold her composure.

"Why?" she cried, her voice raw, each word breaking like glass. "Why did you do this to my sister? You got her addicted to drugs just so you could use her?" She shook him, desperate for some answer that would make sense, something that could explain why the man she had loved and trusted would betray her in such a way.

Her heart ached. This wasn't just betrayal—it was cruelty.

Jaidev, however, merely smiled—a twisted, cold smile. His expression didn't falter. He didn't flinch. He didn't even seem fazed by the anger and tears that wracked her body.

"Of course I did." His voice was almost dismissive, as if he were speaking about something trivial. "But do you really think I got her addicted to drugs for such a small reason?" His words were slow and deliberate, each one punctuated by a calmness that unnerved her.

Satyapriya's grip on his collar tightened, but Jaidev, with a calculated motion, threw her head back, forcing her to release him. She stumbled back, disoriented, her hands pressed to her forehead as the weight of his words crashed down on her.

Satyapriya was shaken to the core. The anger still burned within her, but now there was a cold dread creeping in, something darker than she had ever imagined. What did he mean by that? What could be worse than what he had already done?

Jaidev's smirk deepened, an unsettling grin that sent shivers down Satyapriya's spine. He took a slow step toward her, his eyes filled with something cold and calculating. His voice, when he spoke, dripped with arrogance and malice.

"I am very focused, Satya." His words cut through the silence, each syllable precise and chilling. "Whether it was getting married to you or getting Jhanvi addicted to drugs, I had a single agenda behind all of this. To be the CM. POWER. For that power, I killed your ex-fiancé, married you, and stayed by your father's side."

Satyapriya froze, her mind reeling as if her world had just been torn apart. Every word Jaidev spoke pierced her heart like a thousand daggers. The man she had trusted above all, had been using her for his own ambitions—his own power. Her entire life with him, every moment of their marriage, was a lie.

As Jaidev moved closer, he pushed Satyapriya back onto the bed. She sat there, her hands trembling, her heart racing. Her eyes were wide with shock and disbelief, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably. How could he say these things? How could he have hidden his true intentions behind such a perfect mask?

He leaned over her, his presence overwhelming. His voice dropped into a harsh whisper, filled with venom and a twisted sense of satisfaction.

"What if something went wrong? What if one day my secret gets revealed? I got Jhanvi addicted to drugs so you and PKR would have no choice but to shut your mouths. The plan is simple, Satya. Sometimes, it's not wrong to betray those who trust you—especially if it benefits you. In politics, everything is fair in love and war. And in this war, my only army is myself."

His words twisted in the air, wrapping around her heart like a vice. She wanted to scream, to shout, but no sound came from her lips. How could he speak of betrayal with such casual cruelty? How could he stand there, so close to her, and reveal this monstrosity with such ease?

Tears continued to fall from her eyes, but she could not look away. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, to let him see the devastation he had caused. His voice, louder now, grew even more frantic, desperate, as if he had been waiting to release this dark truth for far too long.

"Do you know what kind of hell I've been through? Having to stay with you, pretending to be your husband?" Jaidev's voice broke, but it wasn't from pain—it was from rage. "I couldn't even taste you, Satya. You never let me touch you."

He shouted those words, as if they were an accusation, as if her lack of affection was some deep betrayal on her part. Satyapriya flinched at his words, her chest tightening. The who had promised to be her partner, was now twisting her every action into something wrong.

"You used me as a weapon against Brahma," Jaidev continued, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction, "and I used you as a weapon to become CM. It's mutual."

Satyapriya's mind was in chaos. He had never loved her—this was clear now. She was just a stepping stone in his ruthless climb to power. All those years, all those moments of tenderness, the vows they had exchanged—they had all been a lie, a part of his calculated plan.

Jaidev took a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking again. His voice, though calm, carried a chilling weight as he finally said, "Satya, it's more difficult to pretend to be a good guy than actually being one. And I did my best."

Satyapriya's body went rigid at his words, her heart heavy with the truth she had just uncovered. The betrayal was too much to bear, yet there was still more—so much more. The words felt like an endless storm, and the weight of them crushed her chest. She managed to choke out, almost in disbelief, "You broke bread with us."

Jaidev looked at her, his smirk never faltering. He leaned in slightly, as if savoring the moment, before replying with cold indifference, "What about it? Go on, I agree. I broke bread with you in your house. But you got a taste of my love, your sister tasted my drugs, and your father… my poison."

The words hit her like a slap to the face, and for a moment, Satyapriya couldn't breathe. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Poison? Her mind struggled to comprehend what he had just said. Her father—her father had been poisoned by Jaidev? It felt as if the ground beneath her was crumbling away, taking her with it. Her eyes widened, her breaths shallow and rapid. She felt lightheaded, like the world was spinning, everything blurring into chaos.

Jaidev noticed her trembling, his smirk growing with satisfaction. He continued, his voice low and unwavering, "Yes, I poisoned him, Satya. You always say that whenever you feel there's a vacuum in your life, I'm the one who fills it. But in reality, I'm the one who created that vacuum."

The coldness in his tone sent a shiver down her spine. He wasn't just confessing to a crime—he was reveling in the pain he had caused. Her father, the man who had loved her and protected her, was gone because of him. Satyapriya's chest tightened, her throat closing as the weight of the revelation crashed over her. She had trusted Jaidev so completely. And yet, everything had been a manipulation. A lie.

Jaidev didn't pause; he moved closer, almost looming over her, his words dripping with calculated malice. "Basically, I've made your family dance to my tunes. They were born to make sure I would be the next CM. I have all the details regarding which drug peddler Jhanvi brought her drugs from and who she was in contact with. That evidence is enough for her to spend a minimum of six years under the charge of narcotic use."

Satyapriya's heart lurched, the images of her sister—her innocent, confused sister—falling deeper into a world she never wanted for her. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think straight. She felt dizzy, overwhelmed by everything. How could Jaidev say all of this so easily? His cruelty was suffocating.

Jaidev's voice softened, as though he were trying to comfort her in some twisted way. "But if you tell me you have other plans, it's okay. I'll kill your father. Killing you and your sister isn't that much of a challenge for me."

Each word hit like a brutal punch. Her father, her sister, herself—all pawns in his game of power. He was willing to destroy everything to achieve his goals, to climb higher on the backs of those he claimed to love.

Jaidev's fingers gripped the pendrive with a sense of finality as he stood before the laptop, his eyes narrowed in calculation. He didn't spare Satyapriya another glance, but she could feel the weight of his gaze—the coldness in the air grew thicker. She wanted to speak, to demand what was going on, but her words stuck in her throat.

As he slowly turned to face her, the pendrive dangling from his fingers like a cruel reminder of all that had been shattered, Jaidev's voice broke through the silence. "Who gave you this pendrive?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with expectation. Satyapriya's mind raced, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel the panic rising, the weight of her silence pressing down on her. Should she lie? Should she tell him the truth? The mere thought of revealing who had given her the pendrive seemed too dangerous, too risky. She felt her throat tighten as she clamped her lips together, unwilling to give him the answer he sought.

Jaidev's eyes darkened, his smirk faltering for a moment, before he pressed again, his voice like a blade. "Well, don't tell me. I suppose I found it myself, then."

Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked toward the door, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the room. The air around Satyapriya felt suffocating, her chest tight as she tried to make sense of everything that had just happened.

Her mind was a blur of thoughts—Her father, the pendrive, Jhanvi, Jaidev's threats—everything was spinning, and she couldn't grasp onto any one thing long enough to make a decision. What should she do next? She was running out of options, but there was one person, one person she could trust in this storm of lies and manipulation.

Satyapriya's fingers trembled as she reached for her phone, her heart racing in her chest. She dialed Brahma's number with a sense of urgency, her thoughts scattered, but with the single focus of seeking help. The dial tone echoed in her ear as she waited, the silence only amplifying the pounding of her pulse.

Finally, the line connected, and her heart skipped a beat. "Bhaiyya," she whispered into the phone, her voice shaky and raw.

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