The night before the wedding was unnaturally silent.
Kashvi stood by the window, city lights flickering against the glass. Her reflection stared back at her—calm, blank, unreadable. No tears. No fear. No hesitation.
She held the phone to her ear.
"Yes," she said softly.
"Around that time."
There was a pause.
She listened.
Then continued, her voice steady, almost detached.
"He leaves the house early. Always the same route."
Another pause.
"Yes… the afternoon is unpredictable. Meetings. Calls. But by evening—he's alone."
Her fingers rested lightly on the window frame.
"No," she added calmly. "He won't suspect anything."
Silence again.
She turned slightly, watching the traffic below, her expression unchanged.
"The wedding venue will be crowded. Noise. Distraction."
A breath. Controlled.
"That's when it's easiest."
The voice on the other end said something she didn't react to.
"I understand," Kashvi replied. "Just be there."
She ended the call.
And stood there for a long moment—phone still in her hand—like she had just discussed groceries instead of fate.
Behind her, the door creaked.
Krish stepped inside.
"You should sleep," he said. "Big day tomorrow."
Kashvi nodded.
"I will."
He smiled, satisfied. Confident.
He had no idea that the woman standing in front of him had already left—mentally, emotionally, permanently.
Later that night, Kashvi sat beside Kriday as he slept.
She brushed his hair back gently.
"You're brave," she whispered. "Even when you don't know it."
Kriday stirred. "Mumma… you're not sad anymore."
She froze.
Then smiled. A real one. Small. Final.
"No," she said softly. "I'm not."
She kissed his forehead and turned off the light.
Across the city, Ved stared at his phone, a message half-typed and unsent.
Something was wrong.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just… irreversible.
The next day would be filled with music, rituals, smiles, and promises.
Everyone believed it would mark the beginning of a marriage.
No one knew—
It would mark the end of something much older.
Something buried.
Something controlled.
Something that had finally decided to strike back.
And when the wedding day arrived—
It wouldn't be remembered for vows.
It would be remembered for what Kashvi took away.