Arnav and Khushi turned towards the woman and stood rooted to the grounds.

Well, who wouldn't if they saw the woman appearing from the portrait and talking to ghosts like them?

"Arnav-ji, ye toh Yuvrani Ariyana jaisi lag rahi hai. Unki bhoot hai kya ye?" The fear in her voice was palpable, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror as she clutched onto his arms like a scared kitten.

(Arnav-ji, she looks like Princess Ariyana. Is it her ghost?)

Arnav's heart skipped a beat as he felt her firm yet soft grip on his arm tightening.

She trembled with fear, her voice barely a whisper, she clutched at his shirt and peered out from behind his protective frame. "Lekin humare peeche kyu padi hai? Hume maardegi kya?" Her eyes were wide with terror, the thought of being killed by her sent shivers down her spine.

(But why is she behind us? Will she kill us?)

A sudden realization struck her, and with a self-deprecating chuckle, she stepped forward, smacking her forehead at her own foolishness. "Arrey Khushi, tu pagal hai. Hum toh mar chuke hai. Vo hume kaise maar sakti hai?" Her words echoed with a mix of amusement and disbelief at her own absurd fear. A smile blossomed on her face, hands akimbo as she pivoted towards her husband. "Hai na, Arnav-ji?" Her eyes sought confirmation, sparkling were her hazel eyes.

(You are mad, Khushi. We are already dead. How will she kill us? Right, Arnav-ji?)

But Khushi suddenly frowned, a storm of thoughts raged through her mind, her eyes widening with fear. "Lekin Arnav-ji," she whispered, her voice trembling, "Hume dar lag raha hai. Agar insaan insaan ko maar sakta hai toh bhoot bhoot ko bhi maar sakti hai na? Hai na, Arnav-ji."

(But Arnav-ji, I'm scared. If a human can kill another human, then a ghost can kill another ghost, right? Isn't that so, Arnav-ji?)

Arnav's patience was wearing thin, his wife's fears gnawing at his sanity.

"Hey Devimayya, ye hum kaha fas gaye?" Khushi lamented, on the verge of tears.

(Hey Devimayya, what kind of trouble have we gotten ourselves into?)

"Shut up, Khushi," Arnav snapped, his tone mild with amusement and disbelief. He had had enough of his ears being filled with her chatter. Meanwhile, Princess Ariyana Indu Devi watched the scene unfold with a bemused smile, finding an odd sense of amusement in the couple's peculiar dilemma.

"Hum aapko maarne vaale nahi hai." she declared, her smile plain yet reassuring, as if her calmness could quell the storm of fear brewing around her, "Kyunki rooh ki maut nahi hoti."

(I am not going to kill you because a soul cannot die.)

Khushi bit her tongue. The soul will have no death. True! However, she was not so easily swayed. She heard what the man said. Her eyes narrowed, a sharp contrast to the softness of Ariyana's demeanor. "Humnse suna. Aapke shrap ke wajah se hi hum mar gaye hai," she pointed towards her, her voice tinged with an accusation.

(We have heard. It is because of your curse that we have died)

Ariyana Indu's response was a laugh, clear and ringing, as if the very idea was too absurd to be taken seriously. "Humara shrap?" she echoed, amusement dancing in her eyes.

(My curse?)

Then, her laughter subsided, and Ariyana leaned closer, her gaze locking with Khushi's. "Jo log kehte hai, jo log dikhate hai, vo hamesha sach nahi hota hai, Khushi," she whispered, a gentle truth wrapped in a smile that was as kind as it was sad.

(What people say, what people show, is not always true, Khushi)

"Ye baat aap dono acche se jaante hai, hai na?"

(Both of you know it very well, don't you?)

The room was charged with electricity as Khushi's wide-eyed gaze met Arnav's narrowed one. Princess Ariyana Indu, an enigmatic figure, stood before them, her raised eyebrow signaling that she knew more than she let on.

"Shyam Manohar Jha," she uttered, her voice carrying a weight of secrets. "Kuch yaad aaya?"

(Ring the bells?)

Khushi's surprise was palpable. "Aapko kaise pata?"

(How do you know?)

Princess Ariyana Indu's laughter danced through the room. "Hame pata hai, sab kuch."

(I know everything.)

Bus hum kuch kar nahi sakte! Her heart gnawed at her sad reality.

(I just couldn't do anything.)

Arnav, being the astute businessman he is, inquired, "What do you know about Shyam?"

Their encounter with her was not long ago. How could she possibly know? Arnav, a man of logic, had dismissed the existence of gods and ghosts since 14; to him, life was merely a vessel of functioning organs, nothing more. Yet, here he stood, a contradiction to his own beliefs, as a spectral presence alongside his wife. The reality of their ethereal forms was undeniable, a testament to the existence of spirits. But even as a spirit, skepticism shadowed his thoughts. The idea that she could know all about Shyam was beyond belief.

What if she is a trouble? He didn't have much knowledge about the afterlife anyway.

Princess Ariyana Indu, ever the enigmatic one, deftly changed the subject, "Aage ki kahani nahi sunni?"

(Don't you want to listen to the rest of the story?)

Khushi, who was easily distracted, chimed in, her curiosity piqued. She wanted to know how they died and if was because of her curse, "Batayiye na."

(Please tell us!)

Arnav's protective instincts flared as he stepped forward, pulling Khushi to safety behind him. His eyes, sharp as daggers, never left Ariyana's face. With a voice that brooked no argument, he demanded, "First, reveal how you know Shyam, and then we'll lend our ears to your tale." The tension in the room was palpable, a silent standoff between the determined businessman and the mysterious princess.

Princess Ariyana, undeterred, replied, " Hum tab hi bata sakte hai jab aap humari prem katha sunenge."

(I can only divulge that after you've heard my own story.)

Arnav remained resolute, "In that case, hume nahi sunna."

(In that case, we don't want to hear.)

Princess Ariyana Indu vanished not waiting for a second more, disappearing into the very portrait that held her secrets, leaving behind a room filled with unanswered questions.

Khushi stood with wide-eyed astonishment. "Arrey, Ariyana ji, rukiya, bahar aayiye, hume kahani sunayiye," Khushi implored, stepping forward and gently pushing her husband aside. Her gaze remained fixed on the portrait, a mix of curiosity and disbelief etched across her features.

(Hey, Ariyana, wait, come out, tell us the story.)

"Khushi, usko nahi bolna hai toh chodo. Kyun uske peeche pade ho?" Arnav said with a roll of his eyes, his frustration evident. He was convinced, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was a fraud ghost. His certainty was as clear as the skepticism in his voice.

(Khushi, if she doesn't want to speak, then let it be. Why are you insisting?)

The only chance at knowing how they were killed and the reason behind it slipped through her hands. Khushi, her anger reaching its zenith, turned on him with a fierce outburst. "Aap chup rahiye, laad governor. Aapki wajah se hi ye sab hua. Kya woh Kamine ke baare jaan na itna zaruri tha ki aapne Princess Ariyana-ji ko bhaga diya? Aur us Kamine ke baare me batane waale kya hi hai? Woh toh sabko dhok-" Her words cut off abruptly as she clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in shock. What was she about to reveal? About Shyam, and in front of Arnav-ji, no less?

(You stay quiet, stubborn man. It's all because of you that this happened. Was it so important to know about that scoundrel that you drove Princess Ariyana away? And what's there to tell about that scoundrel? He has deceived everyone—)

Arnav was shocked at her outburst. Did she just call Shyam a Kamina? If what Shyam had been saying was true, why would she curse him?

"Kamina?" he raised his one eyebrow, expecting an answer from his wife.

(Scoundrel?)

Khushi's eyes darted around the room, avoiding Arnav's intense gaze. Her every word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meanings and mysteries.

Arnav leaned forward, his voice low and insistent. "Tum Shyam ke baare me kya jaanti ho?" His eyes eagerly waited, yearning to catch her gaze. The room held its breath, the unspoken tension between them thickening like molasses.

(What do you know about Shyam?)

Khushi's fingers twisted the edge of her dupatta. She hesitated, then mumbled, "Woh... kuch bhi toh nahi."

(Well, nothing much.)

Her attempt at a smile fell flat. Arnav's eyes bore into hers, demanding more. "Tumne abhi use Kamina bola hai, Khushi." The accusation hung in the room.

(You just called him a scoundrel, Khushi.)

Arnav's scrutiny bore into her, demanding answers she wasn't sure she could give. Khushi wondered how much she could reveal without unraveling everything.

"You are already dead, Khushi. What will you do hiding from him?" The voice of her heart was relentless, gnawing at her resolve.

In that moment, something shifted within her. With a deep breath, Khushi lifted her head, her eyes finally meeting Arnav's. There was no turning back now; the truth would come out.

"Hum chupa nahi sakte," she whispered, the weight of her secret ready to spill. "Shyam-ji... woh waisa insaan nahi hai jaisa aap sochte hain" The confession hung in the air, a fragile truth that could shatter their world or set them free.

(I can't hide anymore, Shyam... he's not who you think he is)

"Matlab?" Arnav asked, his patience stretched thin, his heart pounding in fear. What if he had misunderstood her? The possibility had always haunted him, poking at the edges of his consciousness. But he was afraid of the what-ifs and of the confrontations.

(Meaning?)

"Shyam-ji ne hume dhoka diya hai. Shaadi shuda hokar apne aap ko kunwara kehke humse sagai ki." Khushi's voice trembled as she revealed the truth. S he had been deceived by Shyam. Her whole family was. He was such a sweet-talker, lying and manipulating them. She drew a deep breath, her eyes locking with Arnav's. His expression was a tumult of emotions: disbelief, hurt, anger, and finally, realization.

(Shyam has deceived us. Being married, he got engaged to me pretending to be a bachelor.)

"Ye hamari Sagai ki angooti hai." (This is my engagement ring)

Arnav's eyes widened with shock, disbelief, hurt, and then anger.

"Tumhare finace ke phone hai, chamkili?" (Is it your fiancé calling you, Chamkili?)

Arnav's heart burned with a mix of emotions when Lavanya teased Khushi with her fiancé's name.

"Haan, Shyam-ji." (Yes, Shyam-ji)

Arnav felt a surge of something dark and destructive. He wanted to crush the whole world under his feet when she neglected him to attend her fiancée's phone call.

Arnav's mind was a whirlwind of past events, each memory igniting a spark of realization that weighed heavily on his heart. Yet, the flames of anger refused to be doused. His voice was a low growl, each word laced with barely contained fury.

"Vo tha tumhara fiancé?" The question came out more as a statement than an inquiry.

(He was your fiancé?)

"Ji," Khushi's response was barely audible, a whisper that seemed to carry the weight of her heart. she confirmed, her eyes lifting to meet Arnav's. The vein in his temple throbbed visibly, proof of the storm brewing within him.

(Yes)

"Unhone hamarae saath...." she paused, her gaze meeting his worried ones.

(He..with me..)

"Batao, Khushi." (Tell me, Khushi.)

He looked into her teary eyes, waiting for her to confide in him about what her fiancé had done. Worry and Anger, not subsiding in his heart. H would beat the pulp out of her fiancé for hurting her.

"Hume jaana hoga." (I have to go.)

Her words confused him, worrying him more.

"KHUSHI." He followed her downstairs.

Arnav's tone was incisive, each word slicing through the silence as he dredged up memories from the past. he asked sharply, "Aur tumhe ye sach satya narayana puja ke din pata chala?"

(Did you find out this truth on the day of the Satyanarayan Puja?)

"Ji," Khushi whispered back, her voice a mere breath of sound.

(Yes)

"Toh tumne bataya kyu nahi?" Arnav's question was pointed, a cross-examination that demanded an answer. If she had known since then, why had she kept silent?

(Then why didn't you tell me?)

"Hum batane vaale the, lekin Anjali-ji ki mangalsutra toot gayi aur hum ruk gaye unke haalat dekh kar," Khushi explained, her voice tinged with the weight of the moment.

(I was going to tell you, but Anjali-ji's mangalsutra broke, and I stopped after seeing her condition)

Arnav shook his head in frustration, "Toh mujhe batati, Khushi."

(You could have told me, Khushi.)

Khushi's eyes, filled with tears, met his. "Humne dekha hai aaap kitne pyaar karte hai Anjali Di se, aap dukhi ho jaate."

(I have seen how much you love Anjali Di. You would have been saddened)

In the midst of the turmoil that surrounded them, there was a subtle softening in Arnav's gaze. It was a smile not of the lips, but of the eyes — a silent acknowledgment that Khushi cared for him. It was a moment of profound connection, a silent conversation where no words were needed, and yet everything was understood between their hearts that brought solace.

Yet, the fleeting moment was soon overshadowed by the tumultuous memories of their union. In Arnav's eyes, the scenes replayed — a montage of moments that led to their hasty marriage, each frame etched with a complexity of emotions.

"Hum sirf aapko chahte hai, Khushi-ji. Hum Rani Sahiba ko apni patni nahi maante."

(I only want you, Khushi-ji. I do not consider Rani Sahiba as my wife)

"Aur naahi iss shaadi ka humare liye koi matlab hai."

(Nor does this marriage hold any meaning for me)

Arnav's eyes were wide, a mixture of shock and disbelief painting his features as he witnessed them in each other's embrace before him.

"Humara Yakeen Keejiye, Khushi-ji. Hum sirf aapse pyaar karte hai aur bahut saara pyaar karte hai."

(Please believe me, Khushi-ji. I love only you, and I love you very much)

His words shook him to the core. He couldn't fathom that his brother-in-law, the man married to his sister, was openly declaring his love for Khushi — the woman his heart yearned for.

"Agar aapke liye ye rishat koi mayne nahi rakta, toh ye shaadi tod kyu nahi dete?"

(If this relationship means nothing to you, then why don't you break this marriage)

"Chod dijiye Anjali-ji ko."

(Leave Anjali-ji)

The response from Khushi shattered him. If he was merely shocked before, now he was wounded, deeply. The betrayal by his brother-in-law and the words from Khushi, the woman he was beginning to love, lacerated his heart like shards of broken glass.

Turning away, Arnav was adrift in a sea of turmoil. The room seemed to spin around him, the echoes of their conversation reverberating like a broken record. Her image, in his brother-in-law's arms, played on an endless loop — a haunting reminder of love lost, trust shattered, and an already broken heart left bleeding in the wake of their tangled emotions, the specters of his past clawing their way to the surface. The harrowing image of his mother's tragic end, his father's betrayal, all converged into a single, agonizing moment. It was as if history was cruelly repeating itself before his eyes — his beloved Di, a stand-in for his mother; Shyam, a shadow of his father; and Khushi, the thought of her twisted his heart with an unbearable ache. The memories with her now echoed in his mind with a piercing intensity. A solitary tear escaped his eye, the profound sorrow that came with the realization that those treasured recollections had been tainted, replaced by the sting of betrayal and pain.

His voice was heavy with a revelation that seemed to turn the world on its axis. "Only if I knew this, mujhe ye pehle pata hota, pata karta, toh me tumse iss tarah se..." he trailed, the weight of his words hanging between them.

(If I had known this earlier, I wouldn't have ...)

"Kya matlab hai aapka, laad governor?" Khushi's retort was quick, her confusion evident in her tone.

(What do you mean, lord governor?)

"Mene tumhe dekh liya tha, terrace pe," Arnav continued, taking a deep breath, his haunting eyes meeting hers, the memory vivid in his mind, "Shyam ke baahon me, usse ye kehte hue ki vo Di ko chod de."

(I saw you on the terrace in Shyam's arms, telling him to leave Di.)

"Lekin vo hum isliye bol rahe the kyun ki Anjali Di Shyam jaise insaan ko deserve nahi karti," Khushi defended herself, her voice a mix of earnestness and desperation.

(But I said that because Anjali Di doesn't deserve a person like Shyam)

"Iska matlab, apne hume galat samajke humse shaadi ki?" The question hung in the air, a stark realization dawning upon her.

(Does that mean you married me under a misunderstanding?)

Khushi sensed it even before his lips formed the words. His eyes, those stormy windows to his soul, said it all.

"Toh aap humse puch lete, usi raat," she whispered, her emotions raw.

(You could have asked me, that very night!)

"I just..couldn't." He wasn't even in the right mind to ask Khushi. A confrontation with Shyam had killed him enough. He couldn't possibly get up, alive, and get killed again. It was as if life itself had dealt him a cruel blow, and he then couldn't even wonder how much more he could endure.

Khushi said nothing, her gaze locked with his, a thousand emotions swirling.

"Shyam ne kaha tum dono ke beech sirf Di rukawat banke rahi hai," Arnav revealed, his voice tinged with hurt and bitterness.

(Shyam told me that Di was the only obstacle between you two)

Khushi was shocked at the lies he spelled. "Unhone aapse jhoot bola hai," her response was immediate, her words firm with the truth.

(He lied to you)

"I know now, Khushi," Arnav admitted, a softness creeping into his voice. Guilt had gnawed his heart for misunderstanding her, for marrying her the way he did, and for inflicting pain upon her and in turn, him.

His gaze held a world of hurt. "I'm really sorry, Khushi," he reached for her small hands, enfolding them in his own. "Mujhe shayad pata bhi nahi hai mene tumhe kitni baar hurt kiya," he confessed, swallowing hard as he met her tear-filled eyes, "For every single, I am sorry," his apology hung in the charged air, heavy with emotions.

(I might not even know how much I've hurt you.)

"Mujhe bhi maaf kar deejiye. Shayad hume pehle hi aapko sach bata dena chahiye tha," she tightened her hold on his hand. Her words were a mere whisper, a fragile bridge between their fractured souls, a plea for understanding and redemption. Her orbs — a mirror to the vulnerability he had in his eyes; that they both shared.

(Please forgive me too. Maybe I should have told the truth earlier)

"Tumne mujhe maaf kar bhi diya ho, Khushi but I can never forgive myself." his heart whispered in her embrace.

(You might have forgiven me, Khushi, but I can never forgive myself)

And so, they stood there, holding on to each other, as if time itself had paused.

Khushi gently extricated herself from Arnav's embrace. Soon a mischievous glint danced in her now moist eyes, and Arnav raised an eyebrow, sensing the change, and knew that whatever followed would be nothing short of crazy.

"Kyunki hum ab bhoot ban gaye hai, Arnav-ji," Khushi declared, her voice tinged with playful determination, she clutched onto his arms, "Hum Shyam-ji ko darake bhaga denge Di se," he continued, clapping her hands together, releasing his arms as she conjured up various imaginative ways to torment Shyam and ensure he fled from their family's lives.

(We'll scare Shyam-ji away from Di.)

Arnav simply shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Lekin humko kisne mara hai? Princess Ariyana-ji toh chale gaye," she wondered again, aloud. They will take care of Shyam. But who will tell them how they died?

(But how did we die? Princess Ariyana is already gone.)

Her gaze then turned sharp, her words laced with blame as she faced Arnav. "Sab aapke wajah se hua hai, laad governor," she scolded him with a slap on his arm, her eyes flashing with accusation.

(This is all because of you, lord governor)

Arnav, taken aback, could only mutter in confusion, "What the," as he rubbed his arm, trying to make sense of the sudden assault. "Mene kya kiya hai?" he protested, his bewilderment clear in his tone.

(What have I done?)

"Aaap hi ne bhagaya hai Ariyana-ji ko." She punched him again, her small fists surprisingly forceful.

(You are the one who drove away Ariyana-ji)

She turned to the portrait, her voice rising in curiosity, desperate to know the truth. "Ariyana-ji? Ariyana-ji?"

"Humari Gaatha sunne ke liye itni tadap?" a loud voice filled the room, causing Khushi to startle and cling to her husband like a frightened kitten, "Hey Devi Maiyya. Arnav-ji."

(So eager to hear my tale?)

"Aaap potrait se nahi aaye iss baar?" Khushi, having regained her composure, peeked out from behind her husband and asked with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

(You didn't come from the portrait this time?)

The princess's voice was calm and steady, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had just unfolded. "Hum yahi aapke peeche the, aapke baathe sun rahe the," she revealed, her presence unnoticed until now.

(I was right here behind you, listening to your conversation)

Khushi, her curiosity now mixed with a sense of relief, turned towards the princess with hopeful and curious eyes. "Aapki Gaatha batayenge?"

(Will you tell us your story?)

The room held its breath, as if the very air dared not disturb the fragile balance of secrets and sorrows. Princess Yarina stepped forward, her eyes a mirror reflecting the weight of her past. "Hum sab kuch chodke, bhaag gaye the, aur yaha aaye," she began, her voice a threadbare whisper.

(We left everything behind and ran away to this.)

Khushi's forehead creased in confusion. "Yaha matlab?" she asked, seeking clarity.

(This meaning?)

Arnav, standing nearby, observed the exchange with amused eyes. His wife is crazy!

Princess Ariyana Indu, however, bore no amusement. Her gaze swept across the huge place, tracing the faded memories etched into the stone walls. A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek. "Yahi jagah, jaha ab hum khade hai," she replied, her voice carrying the weight of a century.

(This, is the very same place where we stood.)

The room, once grand and resplendent, now lay all anew. Pillars stood like silent sentinels, their marred marble surfaces polished with time. Once dust danced in the slanting sunlight, her soul restlessly roaming around. Now the very same place is being used for delivering tales. Ariyana's fingers brushed against the rough stone, seeking solace in the memories it held.

Turning to Yuvraj Arjuna Eashan, she voiced her deepest fear. "Yuvraj, ye jagah surakshit toh hai na?" The question hung heavy in the air, a plea for reassurance.

(Is this place safe?)

Yurvani Ariyana Indu's vulnerability didn't surprise him. After all, they had taken a big step. Yuvraj Arjuna Eashan enveloped her in a protective embrace, his hands strong and warm on her shoulders. "Ye sau pratishad surakshit hai," he assured her. "Yahi aik jagah hai jo iss duniya me humare sevai koi nahi jaanta." His unwavering confidence offered a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty.

(It is 100% safe. This is the only place no one knows about except me.)

"Ji," Ariyana smiled warmly, love and trust shining in her eyes. They settled on a weathered stone seat, side by side, their shared history etched into the very stones they sat upon.

"Hum aapke liye kuch khane ka intezaam karke aate hai," As Yuvraj Arjuna Eashan stepped away to arrange food, Ariyana's gaze followed him. "Mat jaayiye, Arjuna. Hume dar lag raha hai." Fear clung to her like a shadow, refusing to be dispelled. Her heard thudding as a result.

(I'll arrange food for us. Don't go, Arjuna. I am afraid.)

His teasing response attempted to lighten the mood. "Arrey waaah! Vo yuvrani jo aise hi kisi ko bhi teer laga sakti hai, unhe aaj dar lag raha hai?"

(Oh wow! The princess who can shoot arrows at anyone without hesitation is feeling afraid today?)

But Ariyana couldn't find it in herself to smile. "Mazak ki baat nahi hai," she whispered. "Humare man me aik gabraat si ho rahi hai."

(It's not a joke. There's an unease settling within me.)

"Hum yu gaye hai aur yu aaye hai," Yuvraj Arjuna Eashan promised, his voice steady, his gaze loving, his hand caressing her cheek with a tender promise,"Aaap bas das tak ginte rahiye ga apne aankhe band karke."

(I'll be go and come back in a bit. Just count to ten with your eyes closed.)

And so, he left, disappearing into the shadows of the crumbling corridor and the trees outside. Ariyana waited, her heartbeat echoing in the silence. Ten seconds stretched into eternity, but Yuvraj Arjuna Eashan never returned.

Someone did come, tho!

"Woh nahi aaye?" Khushi's voice trembled, mirroring the ache in Ariyana's heart.

(He didn't come?)

"Nahi aaye," Princess Ariyana whispered, her gaze fixed on the stoned seat, above it was her portrait.

(He didn't come.)

"Aur jo aaya tha, vo kaun tha?" Khushi pressed, curiosity tinged with trepidation.

(And who was it that came?)

Ariyana's eyes held the weight of a thousand lost souls. "Humari maut!"

(My death.)

Regards,

Poly,

23-04-2024

P.S. I was stuck at the last update a year and a half ago. Finally was able to continue but sorry, this one crossed 4K+. So, extending it and the next part will be the last one.