The flames rose high into the sky.

Crackling.

Devouring.

Final.

Mira stood frozen before the funeral pyre, her white saree clinging to her trembling body. Her eyes were fixed on the fire—

On what was supposed to be Arav.

But her mind refused to accept it.

This isn’t real…

He can’t be gone…

Beside her, Rani Sa broke down completely, wailing in grief.

“My son… my Arav…” she cried, her voice echoing painfully through the cremation ground.

The fire burned brighter.

And with it—

Everything Mira had ever known turned into ashes.

---

By evening, the Rathod mansion had fallen into a suffocating silence.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

Mira sat on the floor of her room, staring blankly at nothing. She hadn’t cried anymore.

She hadn’t even blinked much.

Shock had taken over her completely.

Rani Sa sat in another corner of the house, equally broken—but her grief had turned into anger.

---

Sandeep entered Mira’s room quietly.

He stood there for a moment, watching her fragile state.

Guilt crept into his chest.

If I hadn’t shown those fake messages…

If I hadn’t provoked Arav…

But the thought disappeared as quickly as it came.

Because another desire overpowered it.

Mira…

He stepped closer.

“Mira…” he said softly.

Mira didn’t respond.

He tried again, reaching out to touch her shoulder—

But suddenly—

Mira pushed him away.

Hard.

Sandeep stumbled back, hitting the edge of the table.

Pain flashed across his face.

“Have you lost your mind?!” he snapped angrily.

His voice echoed in the silent room.

Mira looked at him with hollow eyes.

“You killed him…” she whispered.

Sandeep froze.

The anger on his face slowly faded.

Regret replaced it.

He took a step back, running a hand through his hair.

“I… I didn’t mean…” he muttered.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology felt weak.

Empty.

Because even he knew—

Something irreversible had already happened.

---

Hours passed.

Night fell.

Neither Mira nor Rani Sa had eaten anything.

The house remained lifeless.

Sandeep returned again, this time carrying a tray of food.

“Please eat something,” he said gently, placing it in front of Mira.

There was pulao.

Aloo curry.

Paneer.

Food from the previous night. Today nobody cooked anything.

Mira looked at it for a moment.

Then her breathing suddenly became uneven.

Her chest tightened.

Her vision blurred.

She clutched her saree, gasping.

A panic attack.

“I… I can’t…” she whispered, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Just then—

Rani Sa entered the room.

Her eyes fell on the tray.

And instantly—

Rage consumed her.

She walked forward and threw the plate away.

The food scattered across the floor.

“You have no shame?” she shouted.

“She is a widow now! And you’re feeding her this?”

Mira flinched.

Rani Sa pointed at her with trembling fingers.

“She has no right to eat luxurious food anymore!”

Her voice broke with anger.

“She will eat roti and onion only!”

Then she added bitterly—

“She has already eaten my son.”

The words hit Mira like a dagger.

“I don’t want to eat anything…” Mira whispered faintly.

“Not roti… not this… nothing…”

Sandeep stepped forward, trying to control the situation.

“She just recovered from an operation,” he said firmly. “She needs protein.”

Rani Sa turned toward him furiously.

“Oh, she needs protein?” she mocked.

“And my son?”

“He died because of you… and this filthy girl!”

Her voice shook with fury.

“Get out! I don’t want to see my son’s murderers in this house!”

Before either of them could react—

Rani Sa grabbed Mira’s arm and dragged her toward the door.

Mira stumbled and fell to her knees.

“Please…” she cried, clutching Rani Sa’s feet. “I don’t want to go with him…”

Her voice broke completely.

Rani Sa looked down at her.

“If you don’t go with him,” she said coldly, “then you will follow every widow ritual in this house.”

Mira froze.

Her entire body trembled.

Sandeep stepped forward quickly.

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t let her live like that.”

Rani Sa laughed bitterly.

“You have no right to decide anything here.”

The tension between them thickened.

And Mira—

Was trapped between two worlds.

Neither of which felt like home anymore.

---

Meanwhile…

In a quiet hospital room—

Machines beeped steadily.

A man lay on the bed, his body covered in bandages.

A 32-year-old woman sat outside the room, anxiously waiting.

Finally, the doctor stepped out.

“The patient is stable now,” he said.

Relief washed over her face.

She immediately walked inside.

The man’s eyes slowly opened.

She stepped closer.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly.

He looked at her blankly.

Confused.

Lost.

“What’s your name?” she asked gently.

The man frowned, trying to think.

His breathing became uneven.

His heart rate increased.

“I… I…” he struggled.

A sudden panic rose inside him.

“I don’t know…”

The woman quickly held his hand.

“Hey… relax,” she said softly. “Don’t force yourself.”

The man closed his eyes tightly.

Because somewhere inside him—

A name was trying to surface.

But it remained buried.

Just like his past.