Nine Years Ago

Ramgarh, Rajasthan

The village had gone quiet by 9 PM — unusual for a place always buzzing with wedding drums and temple chants.

But inside the Rathore haveli, silence had turned deadly.

Raghav, just 11 then, was hiding behind a broken pillar, his hands shaking as he clutched his mother’s dupatta. Her bangles had blood on them.

His father — Virendra Singh Rathore — had just been dragged out of the house by armed men.

And leading them… was a man Raghav had trusted like an uncle.

Pratap Chauhan. Diya’s father.

“Business mein doka nahi bardaasht karte, Virendra,” Pratap had growled, gun pointed at the sky. “Politics mein toh bilkul nahi.”

His father had been accused of betraying a land deal — a deal that would’ve made Diya’s father the only power in Ramgarh. But Raghav knew the truth.

It was all a setup. A trap.

To erase the Rathores.

That night, the haveli was set on fire.

His mother sent him away with a servant, hidden in a truck. His last glimpse was of the flaming gates of his childhood home.

His last thought… was Diya.

Did she know?

Was she part of it?

He never got to ask.

He never even said goodbye.

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Present Day

Raghav stood near the remains of the old Rathore haveli — now nothing but crumbled stone and dry weeds.

He hadn’t been here in years.

But the memories hadn’t left.

He clenched his jaw, voice low.

“They took everything. Now I’ll take it back — one step at a time.”

And it started… with her.

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End of chapter 3.