The party hall sparkled with golden chandeliers, laughter, and clinking glasses. Everyone seemed drowned in the shimmer of luxury, but for Prisha, it was nothing less than a battlefield. Her husband’s cold eyes, his careless taunts, and the invisible wall he built between them pressed heavily on her chest. She stood quietly in the corner, trying not to attract attention, her soft pink saree blending with the shadows.

Riaan Kapoor, her husband, the man she had been forced to marry, stood across the room. His black suit fit him like a second skin, sharp and commanding, his presence dominating every inch of the place. His laughter was rare, but when it came, women in the hall turned to look, captivated. But for Prisha, his smile was only a reminder—of his cruelty, of his taunts, of the way he dismissed her existence.