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Power may bend and force you into painful compromises today,
But no amount of suppression can ever extinguish the fire fighting for justice within.

The morning air felt heavy, thick with the sterile scent of the hospital that seemed to follow Riya home. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, her mind was a chaotic blur. She was still desperately trying to process the agonizing reality of Raghav-her rock, her pillar-lying completely motionless in a cold ICU bed, trapped in a deep coma.

​Before she could even ground herself, her phone buzzed violently. It was a call from Pralay's legal team. Their tone was dripping with masked arrogance, demanding she pull back the charges immediately.

​"I am not taking back the case," Riya said, her voice shaking with a dangerous mixture of grief and rage.

"Do you understand me? Never. And tell your boss does not dare to call this number again." She slammed the phone down, her knuckles turning white.

​On the other side of the city, inside a plush luxury office, Pralay Rathore's secretary nervously narrated the conversation to his boss.

​Pralay's eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor instantly evaporating into cold irritation.

"Ab ye chote chote kaam bhi mein hi dekho? Phir tumko kyun rakha hai?" (Am I supposed to look into these trivial matters too? Why have I kept you then?)

​His gaze became dead serious, piercing through the trembling employee. "Kisne kiya complaint?" (Who filed the complaint?)

​"Riya... Riya Arora," the secretary stammered.

​Pralay let out a dark, mocking scoff. "Ek ladki se haar maan gaye tum? You are fired." (You lost to a single girl?)

​Without giving the man a second glance, Pralay grabbed his coat and walked out to his waiting car. He looked at his driver, his voice flat and ominous.

"Take the car. Drive directly to that Arora girl's house."

​At the Arora household, the front door was slightly ajar. Inside, the shadow of the catastrophe they were enduring hung heavily over the living room. Riya was kneeling on the floor, softly consoling Sarala, whose eyes were red from weeping, while young Sunny sat quietly by, his face pale with confusion and fear.

​Suddenly, a booming, arrogant voice cut through the quiet grief. "Koi hai?" (Is anyone here?)

​Hearing the intrusion, Riya stood up instantly, stepping into the hall. Sarala and Sunny followed closely behind. Standing in their doorway was a tall, heavily built man with an aura of absolute lawlessness.

​"Aap kaun?" (Who are you?) Riya demanded, her posture rigid.

​"I am Pralay Rathore. Brother of Ritik," he replied, a smug, fearless smile touching his lips.

​The moment the name left his mouth, Riya's eyes turned a fierce, burning red. The sheer audacity of this man standing in her home after what his family had done sent a wave of raw fury through her veins.

"You are not welcome in this house. Just leave! Dafa hojao yahan se!"(Get out from here)

​Sarala, already shattered by her husband's condition and petrified of the sheer power the Rathores wielded, panicked. Seeing her daughter getting into a direct conflict with a dangerous man, she desperately pulled Riya back by her arm, trying to shield her.

​Pralay noticed the movement and chuckled darkly.

"See? Mata ji ko samajh hai ki kisse kaise pesh aate hai."
(See? Your mother understands how to behave.)

He then turned his cold, judgmental eyes back to Sarala.

"Thodi tameez apni beti ko bhi sikha diya hota, ki ghar aaye mehmaan ka kaise swagat karte hai."
(You should have taught your daughter some manners on how to welcome a guest.)

​Sarala's voice trembled, but she forced the words out.

"Why did you come here?"

​"Ab aaye na mudde ki baat par," Pralay said, stepping further into the room. "I need this girl to take her case back."
(Now you came on the topic)

​"Mein case wapas bilkul nahi lungi!" Riya yelled, stepping out from behind her mother.
(I won't take the case back)

"Because of your brother, my father is in a coma! He deserves to pay for what he did, and he will pay!"

​Pralay didn't flinch. He slowly turned his gaze from Riya to Sarala, his silence carrying a heavy, threatening weight.

"Is this your final decision?"

​"Yes, Abhi jao tum yahan se!" (Just leave right now!) Riya snapped.

Refusing to let him intimidate her mother any longer, she stepped forward and tried to physically push him toward the exit.

​In a swift, brutal movement, Pralay clamped his hand around Riya's wrists, locking them in a painful, iron grip. He leaned in, his face inches from hers, and raised his index finger right before her eyes.

​"Ek chetavani," he whispered, his voice dripping with venom. "Aaj shaam tak case wapas nahi liya... toh I will handle it in my own way."

(One warning. If the case isn't withdrawn by this evening... I'll handle it my own way.)

​He forcefully released her hands, gave a mocking nod to Sarala, and walked out of the house.

​The moment the door slammed shut, a massive argument erupted between Sarala and Riya. Sarala begged and pleaded, her voice cracking with terror about how powerful and ruthless the Rathores were.

But Riya remained fiercely stubborn. There was no way she was letting the culprit walk free. Justice had to be served.

​Pralay waited until the final rays of the evening sun dipped below the horizon. When his informants confirmed that no case had been cancelled, his patience expired. He picked up his phone, made a few brief calls, and rounded up his gang.

​Late that night, the dark alley outside the Arora house filled with the shadows of armed men. They didn't bother ringing the bell. Instead, using crowbars and brute force, they violently dismantled the lock.

​The loud, splintering crack of wood echoing through the silent house startled Riya and Sarala awake. Sunny was still fast asleep on the sofa, exhausted from the days of crying.

​Sarala froze, completely petrified, as Pralay and his armed men flooded into the living room.

​Riya rushed forward, trying to block them.

"Tum phir se? Jao yahan se! Kaha na, case wapas nahi lengi!"
(You again? Get out! I told you, we won't take the case back!)

​Before she could finish her sentence, Pralay whipped out a heavy, matte-black gun and pressed the cold metal barrel directly against Riya's forehead. An evil, chilling laugh echoed through the room.

​"Ab bata... wapas legi?"
(Tell me now... will you take it back?)

​Riya's heart hammered against her ribs, but her eyes remained defiant.

"Nahi. Bilkul nahi."
(No, Not at all)

​Sarala fell to her knees, weeping hysterically, begging for mercy.

​Pralay's smile vanished, replaced by a cold, psychotic boredom. "Theek hai phir." (Fine then.)

​Slowly, deliberately, he lowered the weapon and pointed the gun directly at Sunny who was sleeping on the sofa.

​The sight broke Riya's defiance instantly. The absolute horror of losing her little brother stopped her breath. "Okay! Okay, I will take the case back!" she gasped out, her voice breaking.

​Her eyes fumed with hot tears, but she stubbornly held them back. She refused to let even a single tear fall in front of these evil creatures.

​Pralay's right-hand man stepped forward, handing over a legal document. Riya's hands shook as she read the retraction lines, her heart shattering into a million pieces as she signed her name at the bottom.

​Pralay took the paper, glancing at the signature, and then looked directly into Riya's eyes. He stepped closer and patronizingly patted her cheek with his hand.

"Pehle hi sign kar deti toh ye sab nahi karta. Nahi samajhte nahi log... phir bolte hain ki mein galat hoon. Ab samjhi?"

(If you had signed earlier, I wouldn't have had to do all this. People just don't understand, and then they claim I'm the bad guy. Understand now?)

​Riya flinched away from his touch, her voice a hollow whisper. "Ab ho gaya na? Leave."

​"Yes, leaving," Pralay said, putting his gun away. "It was nice meeting you and mataji... and of course, sleeping beauty Sunny as well. Bye." With a casual wave, he and his men vanished into the night.

​The moment they left, Riya collapsed to the floor. She felt utterly broken. The agonizing realization that raw power had completely crushed justice suffocated her.

A suffocating guilt washed over her-she felt helpless, knowing that her father's attacker would walk away scot-free without a single punishment.

​Sarala came over, pulling Riya into a tight embrace, weeping softly.

"The world is filled with bad people, beta... we need to be more careful now. Raghav is already in a coma, we can't let these negative energies drain us completely. Focus on your final year now. We need to support Raghav's treatment, and we need to support ourselves first."

​The final, fourth year of college commenced under a cloud of unspoken trauma.

​Arohi and Sandeep had finally started seeing each other, choosing to take things slow and build a steady foundation. One afternoon, Sandeep quietly informed Yash that Riya had officially withdrawn the case.

​Confused and troubled, Yash approached Riya during a break. "Why, Riya? Why did you pull back?"

​Riya looked away, her posture rigid. "It's complicated, Yash. Right now, my only focus is my career and my family. I can't drain on my energy on them."

​Though her voice was controlled, her eyes fumed with a silent, volatile anger. She hadn't forgotten a single second of that horrific night when she had felt her entire world crushed by that devil.

Yash noticed the intense pain and fury hidden behind her calm facade and quietly acknowledged her response, choosing not to push her further.

​Meanwhile, life kept moving forward like an unstoppable river. Akshat was deeply struggling, putting all his energy into getting a breakthrough for his career, while Purvi's focus had completely drifted away from her CAT preparation.

​Soon, the high-stakes campus placements commenced. The atmosphere on campus was electric with tension. Out of the entire batch, Isha and Shivansh emerged as the top two contenders. However, there was only one prestigious offer available to join Hegwarts, the dream company.

​Isha was fiercely adamant about securing the offer, having poured years of sweat and tears into her academics. What she didn't know was that behind the scenes, Vidyut had heavily influenced one of the senior panel members to secure the job for his son, completely bypassing isha chance.

​While walking near the placement cells, Isha accidentally caught the tail end of a hushed conversation. She froze behind the corridor wall, overhearing the interviewer speaking directly with Vidyut over the phone, confirming the rigged selection.

​Suddenly, the interviewer turned around and spotted her standing there. Realizing she had heard everything, a look of panic crossed his face. He quickly spoke into the phone, informing Vidyut about the slip-up.

​On the other end, Vidyut's voice sharpened. "Give the phone to Isha."

​The interviewer extended the phone toward a stunned Isha. Her heart racing, she slowly took it and placed it to her ear.

"Hello?"

​"Hello, beta. Pehchana?" Vidyut's calm, calculated voice came through the receiver.

"I am Shivansh's papa. Jo bhi conversation apne yahan suna, usse yahi tak rakhiye. Shivansh ko batane ki zaroorat nahi hai."

(Whatever conversation you heard here, keep it to yourself. There is no need to tell Shivansh.)

​Isha opened her mouth to protest, but Vidyut cut her off smoothly.

"Aur bhoolo mat... wo mein hi tha jiske wajah se aapki mom ka CCTV footage mila tha. Thodi gratitude toh de hi sakti ho."

(And don't forget... it was because of me that your mother's CCTV footage was found. You can at least show this much gratitude.)

​The words hit Isha like a physical blow. A deep, agonizing ache formed in her chest. It was a brutal truth-Vidyut's immense influence had been the sole reason they found the evidence to save her mother.

​She felt deeply hurt and betrayed. All her hard work, her sleepless nights, and her merit were being effortlessly cast aside just because someone else had the right connections. Yet, bound by the heavy debt of gratitude, she realized she had to stay silent.

​When the results were announced, Shivansh secured the prestigious placement.

​The campus erupted in cheers. Everyone crowded around, congratulating a beaming Shivansh. Isha walked up to him, forcing a tight smile. "Congrats, Shivansh."

​"Thanks, Isha! Are you okay?" Shivansh asked, noticing the profound sadness clouding her eyes.

​"Yeah... I just have a really bad headache. I'll leave now," she muttered quietly, turning away before he could ask more questions.

​She rushed all the way home, tears blurring her vision the moment she stepped through the front door. Seeing Neha, Isha completely broke down, throwing her arms around her mother and crying bitterly.

Despite the immense pain of losing her dream, she kept the truth tightly locked away inside her heart. She couldn't reveal what Vidyut had done-she simply couldn't bear to let her mother carry the burden it.

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