Chapter 4

Aaradhya's heart pounded against her ribs as she made her way toward the Thakur Haveli. The grand structure loomed ahead, standing tall against the dusky sky, its presence suffocating yet impossible to ignore.

She had spent the entire evening wrestling with her thoughts, trying to make sense of the revelation that had shattered her world. Married. At the age of four. A bond she had never agreed to. A relationship she had never accepted.

And now, she was expected to leave everything behind and step into a life she had never chosen.

No.

She wouldn't let them decide her fate. She wouldn't be a puppet in the name of tradition.

She would end this marriage before it truly began.

With determined steps, she entered the haveli, her hands clenched into fists to keep them from trembling. The air inside was heavy with an unfamiliar authority, and for a brief second, doubt flickered in her mind.

But then her eyes found him.

Thakur Vijayendra Singh.

Standing near the large wooden desk in his study, his tall frame bathed in the dim golden glow of the chandelier above. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, his gaze dark, unreadable.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Aaradhya took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his intense stare.

"I want a divorce."

The words hung in the air, sharp and final.

Vijayendra's expression remained unchanged, but something in the depths of his eyes darkened. A storm brewing beneath his otherwise calm exterior.

He let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Divorce?" He repeated the word as if it were foreign to him.

"Yes," she said firmly, lifting her chin. "I do not accept this marriage. I never agreed to it. You cannot force me into something I do not want."

For the longest time, he simply watched her.

Then, he took a slow step forward.

And another.

Until the space between them was almost nonexistent.

Aaradhya swallowed hard, refusing to step back.

"You don't accept this marriage?" His voice was low, dangerously calm. "But I do."

"That does not matter!" she snapped, pushing back the nervous tremor in her voice. "Marriage is about consent. And I do not consent!"

Vijayendra exhaled sharply, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "Pandra saal intezaar kiya hai, Thaara chodan vaste na. Tujhe apna banane vaste." (I have waited fifteen years, not to leave you. But to make you mine.)

Her breath hitched as his large hand lifted, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His touch was deceptively gentle, but the intensity in his gaze burned through her resolve.

"Tu maari lugai se, maari binani." His voice was thick with possession. (You are my wife, and you will be mine.)

"Toh ab toh ish janam tane na choduga." His fingers trailed along her jawline, making her shiver. (Now, in this lifetime, I will never let you go.)

Aaradhya's lips parted, but no words came out.

The air between them turned suffocatingly electric.

She knew she should push him away. She should run. She should fight.

But she didn't.

Because despite everything, despite the war raging in her mind-her body betrayed her.

She could feel the heat of his palm against her skin, the roughness of his fingers igniting something dangerous inside her.

"You think you can leave?" he murmured, his face inching closer. "You think I will let you?"

Her breathing grew erratic. "You cannot keep me here."

Vijayendra's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Then run."

Aaradhya blinked.

"Run, Aaradhya," he repeated, his voice almost taunting. "But remember one thing-I always get what's mine."

Before she could respond, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Her gasp was swallowed by the warmth of his mouth against hers.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft.

It was raw. Dominating. Claiming.

A demand. A challenge. A battle.

Aaradhya's hands pressed against his chest, trying to push him away. But her strength wavered. He was relentless, his hold tightening as he deepened the kiss, making her knees buckle.

The fire between them was undeniable, consuming them whole.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, she was breathless, dazed.

His fingers brushed against her swollen lips, his voice a mere whisper.

"This marriage is not just a piece of paper, Aaradhya. It is you and me. And no matter how much you fight it... you will always be mine. I will make sure of that."

Aaradhya's heart thundered in her chest.

Because deep down, in the places she refused to acknowledge-she feared he was right.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

"Raja..thakurain ke liye gadi nikal" Vijayendra said to his driver, before walking out.

---

The night passed in a restless blur for Aaradhya. Sleep had been a distant dream, chased away by the storm raging inside her. Vijayendra's words. His touch. That unbearable, consuming kiss. They all haunted her, refusing to let her escape.

She had went to demand a divorce. She had wanted to break the shackles of this forced marriage.

But instead, she had been ensnared deeper into his world.

His declaration echoed in her mind-"Fifteen saal intezaar kiya hai, thaara chodan vaste na."

Had he really been waiting for her all these years?

A shiver ran down her spine.

She shook her head and rose from her bed, determined to clear her thoughts. She wouldn't let herself be overwhelmed.

But fate had other plans.

Because as soon as she stepped out of her room, she found her home filled with strangers.

Men from the Thakur haveli. Women draped in heavy traditional attire.

And at the center of them all-Vijayendra's mother, Rajeshwari Devi.

A dignified woman, her presence alone demanded respect. She sat with her spine straight, a poised smile playing on her lips as she sipped chai from the silver cup served to her.

Aaradhya's steps faltered.

Something was wrong.

Her father, Raghavendra Singh, sat opposite Rajeshwari Devi, his expression unreadable.

And then, she heard the words that made her world tilt.

"Hum aaj Aaradhya ki Rauna karwa kar ushe lene aaye hain." (We have come to do the reception so that we can take Aaradhya home.)

Aaradhya's blood ran cold.

She stared at them, trying to make sense of what she had just heard.

Rauna. The ceremony where a bride was officially taken to her husband's home.

Her rauna.

"No..." The whisper left her lips before she could stop it.

All eyes turned to her.

Rajeshwari Devi's smile did not falter. "Aaradhya binani(Daughter in law)," she called out warmly, gesturing her closer.

Aaradhya remained rooted in place. Her heart pounded like a war drum against her ribs.

Her father turned toward her with a neutral expression, but there was something firm in his gaze-something final.

"Go freshen up," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "You will be leaving soon."

"No!" Aaradhya finally found her voice, stepping forward. "I am not going anywhere!"

Rajeshwari Devi simply sighed, placing her cup down gently on the table. "Chori, this is not something to refuse. This is your homecoming as a married woman. Your rightful place is with your husband."

"I do not accept this marriage!" Aaradhya snapped.

A moment of tense silence followed.

And then Rajeshwari Devi chuckled. "Acceptance is not a choice, especially not for woman. A wife belongs in her husband's house. That is the way of the world."

Aaradhya turned to her father, desperate. "Baba-sa, please!"

But Raghavendra Singh's expression remained unmoving.

"This is the truth, Aaradhya," he said. "You were married at four. And now, it is time to fulfill that bond."

Aaradhya's hands trembled.

How could her own father do this to her?

"At least ask me once if I want this!" she screamed, her voice shaking.

Rajeshwari Devi stood, her gaze sharp but controlled. "It was never a matter of want, chori(girl). It is a matter of duty."

Aaradhya's stomach twisted.

She was trapped.

She wanted to fight, to resist-but what could she do against the weight of generations-old traditions? Against a family who had already decided her fate?

A lump rose in her throat.

Rajeshwari Devi stepped closer, brushing a gentle hand over Aaradhya's head as if pacifying a child. "Be ready in an hour. Your husband is waiting for you."

Aaradhya flinched.

Husband.

The word felt suffocating.

Her fate was sealed.

She was going to the Thakur haveli-whether she wanted to or not.

.

.

Later That afternoon.

Dressed in a traditional maroon and gold lehenga, Aaradhya sat inside the beautifully adorned palanquin, her heart hammering.

The journey to the Thakur haveli felt like a march toward prison.

The weight of the heavy jewelry and intricate veil felt nothing compared to the burden of her fate.

Her fingers curled tightly into fists as she heard the loud beating of dhols, the celebratory cheers of villagers, the sound of horses trotting alongside.

Vijayendra had sent his men, his family, his traditions to claim her.

But he had not come himself.

That thought twisted something inside her.

Had he really been waiting all these years?

Or was she simply a possession being delivered to its owner?

She was lost in her thoughts when she felt her palanquin halted and then she felt the crowd get silenced, making her confused due to the sudden change in environment but before she could ask anything she heard his voice.

"Sanata kyu ho gaya? Thakur khandaan ki nayi thakurain ka swagat nahi karoge?" Vijayendra asked, standing at the entrance looking at villagers standing outside , meanwhile his men were waiting for his command. When the crowd screamed.

"Start the celebration. Taki saare ilake ko pata chal jaye ki thakur khaandan ki nayi thakurain aayi hai" he said and the dimly light sky was exploded into a spectacle of shimmering colors. Fireworks burst into brilliant reds, golds, and silvers, illuminating the dark heavens with a grand display. The loud cracks echoed through the air, mixing with the deep thunder of gunshots fired into the sky—a mark of power, a tradition of the Thakur clan to welcome their Thakurain.

She flinched slightly at the deafening sound of the gunshots, each one a reminder of where she was—who she now belonged to.

Outside, the crowd was again cheering, clapping, celebrating. The entire Thakur Haveli was decorated with different flowers,  Marigold garlands hung from every pillar, the sweet scent of roses and incense filling the air.

It was a welcome fit for a queen.

Except she wasn’t stepping into this palace as a queen.

She was stepping in as a prisoner.

Her fingers dug into the heavy silk folds of her saree, her breath coming short as she heard the chants of the villagers.

"Thakurain Sa aagai!"

"Thakurain ki jai!"

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to shove away the curtains of the palanquin, to run far, far away from this place where a fate had been forced upon her without her will.

But she knew there was no escape.

The moment the palanquin bearers lowered her to the ground, a dozen women rushed forward, lifting the silk drapes to reveal her.

And the first thing she saw…

Was him.

Vijayendra Rathore.

Standing tall at the top of the grand staircase, his face bathed in the golden glow of the torches, his dark, piercing eyes locked onto her.

He was dressed in a royal black sherwani, embroidered with golden threads, the fabric hugging his broad chest, the high collar adding to his regal presence.

His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture radiating dominance, power, possession.

And that smirk—a smirk of victory, of pride, of complete control.

She swallowed hard.

The very ground beneath her feet felt like a trap, pulling her deeper into his world, into his rules.

Aaradhya’s fingers curled into fists.

This wasn’t a celebration.

It was a spectacle. A declaration.

A way for Vijayendra Rathore to tell the world that she belonged to him.

The sound of dhols reverberated through the courtyard as she stepped forward with rigid movements, her gaze lowered, refusing to meet the eyes of those around her.

Then, she heard his voice.

Deep. Rough. Unapologetically authoritative.

"Welcome home, Aaradhya."

Her eyes snapped up.

And there he was-Vijayendra Singh.

Standing at the entrance of the haveli, with a smirk playing on his lips.

His gaze burned into her, possessive and unwavering.

Aaradhya felt her chest tighten.

She had come to fight for her freedom.

But now, standing before the man who claimed to have waited fifteen years for her-she realized something terrifying.

The real battle had only just begun.

---

To Be Continued.

Lots of love to you all

Love you all

Itsyourblackrose