Vedshree quietly stepped away from the gathering, the distant sounds of celebration fading behind her. She stood near the mandir, phone pressed to her ear, her fingers unconsciously tightening around it.
"Tabeezi ji," she said softly once the call connected. "The priest has fixed the wedding. Three days from now."
On the other end, Tabeezi was silent for a beat—long enough for Vedshree's heart to thud uneasily.
"That is good," Tabeezi finally said, her voice calm but edged with warning. "But remember this, Vedshree. If Mohana learns of this marriage, she will not stay silent. A wedding is a doorway. She may try to turn it into an obstacle."
Vedshree's expression hardened. "We will be careful," she replied firmly. "We won't let anything happen."
"See that you don't," Tabeezi said. "Because the closer the wedding comes, the more restless the darkness will become."
The call ended.
Vedshree stood there for a moment longer, staring at the glowing diya, trying to steady the unease settling in her chest.
---
Meanwhile, in Tabeezi's apartment, Siya watched her mother closely.
"Mom," Siya asked quietly, "will Arnav really marry Ruby… believing she is Rivanshi?"
Tabeezi didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she crossed the room and pulled out an old, leather-bound book from a locked shelf. Its pages were yellowed, the ink dark with age. She opened it slowly, as if the book itself carried weight.
A sketch lay within.
Two figures.
A man and a woman.
Separated by a jagged divide—fate carved sharply between them.
Siya leaned closer, her breath catching. "That's… Arnav. And Pranati."
Tabeezi's fingers hovered over the page, not quite touching it. "This," she said quietly, "is the moment everything balances on."
She looked up at Siya, her eyes grave.
"Fate has not chosen its path yet," she continued. "It can either bind them together… or tear them apart beyond repair."
Siya swallowed. "Into enemies?"
Tabeezi nodded slowly.
"Daavansh," she said, her voice heavy with ancient truth, "the harbinger of darkness."
Her finger drifted to the other figure.
"And Rivanshi," she finished, "the radiant one."
The room felt colder.
"Which path unfolds," Tabeezi said softly, closing the book, "will be decided very soon."
---
Meanwhile, at the chawl…
Pranati guided Jassi forward carefully, her hands firm but gentle on her arm.
"Bas, thoda aur," Pranati said, smiling despite the cloth tied securely over Jassi's eyes. "Don't peek. I know you'll cheat."
"I'm not cheating," Jassi muttered, though her fingers twitched as if itching to lift the blindfold. "Why are you making such a big mystery? If this is another one of your 'surprises'—"
"It is," Pranati interrupted lightly. "But this one… just wait."
They stopped.
The sounds around them had changed—voices, murmurs, the clink of steel utensils, the faint smell of spices hanging in the air.
Pranati reached up slowly and untied the blindfold.
"Okay," she said softly. "Now look."
Jassi blinked, adjusting to the light.
And then she froze.
In front of her stood a food truck—bright, freshly painted, its metal gleaming under the chawl lights. Bold letters stretched across the side:
"Jassi & Pranati Kaur – Spice & Chutney"
For a moment, Jassi didn't breathe.
"What… is this?" she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse.
Pranati stepped beside her, eyes shining—not with pride, but with quiet resolve.
"It's ours," she said simply. "My delivery work, your cooking… everything we've done till now. I saved. I planned. I bought it."
Jassi laughed reflexively, sharp and disbelieving. "You bought a truck?" Then her gaze returned to the name painted there. Her name. First. "You put my name too?"
"Yes," Pranati replied without hesitation. "Because no matter what… you're my mom."
Something flickered across Jassi's face.
Greed stirred first—the calculation, the possibilities. But beneath it, something older surfaced. Something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.
Emotion.
Her eyes stung. She looked away quickly, scoffing. "You think this makes up for everything?"
Pranati didn't argue. She simply said, "I just wanted you to have something of your own. Something no one can take away."
The chawl residents began gathering, curious whispers turning into smiles. Someone clapped. Someone else cheered.
Siya arrived, eyes widening. "Pranati… you did this?"
Pranati nodded, a little shy now. "I wanted today to mean something good."
Jassi swallowed hard.
Pranati turned to her then, holding out a small plate with kumkum and flowers. "Mom," she said gently, "you should do the opening. It's your right."
Jassi stared at the plate. At the truck. At the people watching.
Her hands trembled as she took it.
For the first time in a long while, she didn't see money first.
She saw dignity.
She stepped forward slowly, performing the ritual—touching the truck, whispering a blessing under her breath she hadn't spoken in years.
The crowd clapped.
Pranati watched, her smile soft, hopeful… unaware that while she was building a future with light, shadows elsewhere were already shifting.
To be continued.....