Page 9 of Mrs. Rathore

And then everything disappeared like smoke through my fingers.

If only I hadn’t taken that shortcut. If only I’d left ten minutes earlier. If only that bastard hadn’t been driving drunk.

If only.

I closed my eyes, and the memory returned uninvited, the blinding headlights, the screech of tires, my scream drowned in silence. Then darkness.

That one moment snatched everything away.

I would have been on stage that evening, wrapped in applause and the rhythm of my ghungroos. Instead, I was lying in a hospital bed with white bandage around my legs and pain stitched into my bones. The stage was gone. My future was stolen.

“Avi…” Papa sat beside me and gently took my hand. His warmth was familiar, grounding but I couldn’t return the gesture.

“What’s more important,” he said, voice softer now, “is that you’re still alive.”

I turned to him, eyes burning. “It would’ve been better if I’d died in that accident.”

His hand stiffened around mine.

“Why did God leave me alive, Papa? Just to watch everything I worked for crumble? Why is He always so unfair with us? Why can’t we just have a normal life and peaceful life without pain for once?” My voice cracked, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. I wouldn’t cry. Not now. I’d done enough of that when I first woke up in this bed.

Since I was ten, my life had been one long, uphill battle. When Mummy got sick, everything changed. I gave up school. I cleaned, cooked, took care of her, and in between all that, I clung to my dance. Kathak was the only place where I could be free, where I didn’t feel like a caretaker or a broken child.

I gave it everything.

And now even that was gone.

“The doctors said with the right therapy…” Papa began.

“They also said I can’t dance anymore,” I cut him off, voice rising. “Not like before. They said my legs won’t be able to handle the force of Kathak. What kind of life is that for me, Papa? Don’t you see? I’ve lost everything.”

He went quiet, and I looked away again. He didn’t understand. No one did.

But I did. I understood the depth of this loss, and I knew the only thing that would help me sleep at night was revenge.

The Rathores took my dream. And I was going to take something from them in return.

I’d heard about Aryan Rathore’s upcoming wedding to his long-time girlfriend. A perfect love story about to unfold until I ruined it. His father, Lieutenant General Vijay Rathore, came to my hospital room, hat in hand, pleading with me to drop the charges. Instead, I named my price - his son.

Let the world think what it wanted. I smirked at the thought of Aryan’s livid face when he heard the deal. So much power, so much honor and yet completely powerless in front of a middle-class girl like me.

Aryan Rathore, you wrecked my life, and now I’ll destroy yours. You’ll be shackled to a wife you never chose. I’ll turn you against your father, make him regret the day he let you behind the wheel. I’ll tarnish that shiny reputation of yours until the world sees the monster you really are.

His father told me about his upcoming promotion. He was supposed to become a major soon. A national hero, they said. But to me, he’d always be the villain.

And I would never, ever forgive him.

“You can’t just force him to marry you, Avi,” Papa interrupted my thoughts, his voice taut with worry. “There’s no comparisonbetween our families. You’ve seen where we live. You must have seen their villa, miles out of the city, covered in glass and marble. They’re not like us.”

“I know exactly who they are,” I replied coldly.

“I’ve known Marshal Vijay Rathore and Aryan. They’re good men. Brave souls. They’ve given so much for this country. It was an accident, sweetheart. Aryan didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Seriously, Papa?” I said, feeling my blood boil. “You’ve seen the condition of my legs.”

“The doctors…”

“They said I’ll recover, yes,” I interrupted. “But they also said I’ll never dance again. Do you even understand what that means to me? Kathak was my identity.”

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