Arya P.OV.

The hall echoed with a haunting silence that clung to the air like a heavy mist. Rows of people dressed in somber white garments occupied the floor, their faces etched with grief, creating a stark contrast to the vibrant colors that once defined our lives. In the center, Meghna's portrait stood as a solemn tribute, a frozen image capturing a moment that now felt distant and unreal.

The sunlight cascaded through the large windows, casting a gentle glow on the white curtains that swayed like ethereal ghosts in the stillness. The occasional muffled sobs punctuated the quiet, the sound of agony weaving through the heavy atmosphere.

Frustration, like torrential rain, surged through my veins, threatening to drown my composure. My emotions, once carefully contained, now boiled within, a cauldron of sorrow, anger, and unspoken words. The unyielding silence from my parents, their eyes avoiding mine, fueled the flames of my frustration. They occupied seats nearby, their eyes vacant, lost in the depths of their grief. The thick silence that enveloped them seemed almost tangible.

I glanced at Mom, her silence cutting through me like a knife. Her passive acceptance, and her failure to stand against Dad's oppressive will, fueled the flames of my anger. Why did they put their values and society above Meghna's happiness? 

Dad, stoic and unyielding, sat beside her. His disapproving gaze had shattered Meghna's dreams, and now it haunted the remnants of our shattered family. I could no longer contain the torrent of emotions, the frustration, the sorrow, and the anger that welled up inside.

I rose from my seat, the heaviness of the air clinging to me as I walked towards my father. The words echoed in my mind, a bitter taste on my tongue. "Are you happy?" I asked, my voice quivering, each word a struggle to escape the lump rising in my throat.

"Why aren't you celebrating, Dad?" I continued, standing before him. Dad lifted his eyes to meet mine, and for a moment, our gazes locked in a silent battle. 

"She's gone, Dad," I retorted, bitterness coating my words. "The girl who was about to tarnish our family reputation, that's what you said to her, remember?" My focus fixed on the man who had shattered Meghna's dreams.

"Arya," my mother's hushed whisper attempted to quell the rising tension.

"Oh, you can speak?" I turned sharply towards my mother, sarcasm dripping from my words. "You've got a voice, surprising." The frustration simmered beneath my skin, boiling with an intensity I could no longer contain.

I lowered myself to meet my mother's eyes, the fire in my gaze burning with accusation. "Where was this voice when your husband was killing her, our own daughter, one breath at a time, minute by minute, day by day until she lost her last breath?"

"You killed her, Dad. Meghna, your own daughter," my gaze turned to him, my voice strained with anguish. Tears welled in my eyes and my voice broke.

"Her blood is on your hands," I continued, the words tumbling out in a torrent of pent-up frustration and grief. "The daughter who had once loved you more than anything, who had sought your approval and affection, is now gone."

"She decided to end her life because she couldn't choose between her love for the man who cared for her and the love for her father," I accused, each syllable charged with the pain of betrayal. "But you, so blinded by your ego, couldn't even see that. You pushed her away, forced her into a void where the only escape was the path she chose over your suffocating expectations."

Every eye in the room fixated on me, the weight of their collective gaze amplifying the intensity of my emotions. Whispers lingered in the background, an eerie chorus that underscored the gravity of the moment. I knelt down before my father, the cold floor beneath me offering no solace for the tempest of emotions swirling within.

"Why? Why?" I yelled, my voice rising with each word. The pain echoed in my voice, reverberating through the room. "Why couldn't you just accept her love? Why couldn't you tell her it's okay to love whomever she chooses? How would that have affected your life, Dad?"

I looked up, tears streaming down my face, my eyes searching for answers that seemed elusive. The room, filled with mourners and onlookers, became a witness to the raw unraveling of a daughter's grief.

"She was your princess," I sobbed, the anguished question tearing from my chest. "And you choked the life out of her with your own hands. How does that make you feel, Dad? The girl whom you once lifted in your arms, now you had to lift her bier? It must have given you satisfaction, right?"

Dad remained seated, his gaze fixed on the floor as if avoiding the piercing truth in my words. The man who once held authority in our home now appeared a pathetic skeleton, wrapped in the remnants of his own oppressive choices. His features, once stern, now distorted into a visage of guilt and regret that I could hardly bear to witness.

I couldn't bring myself to keep looking at him. With a surge of frustration, I got up and ran towards the door, the need for distance overwhelming me. Stopping on the threshold, I turned back to face him, my eyes still burning with tears and anger.

"You lost both of your daughters, Dad. Congratulations," I spat the words, bitterness coating each syllable. "Now, no one is left to ruin your precious family name. Enjoy your happy life with the values that mean so much to you and with this society that you always cared for more than your daughters."

As my mom called out, "Arya, Arya," almost pleading, I felt her approaching presence. But I couldn't bear to face her just yet. With a swift motion, I closed the door behind me, shutting out the haunting echoes of our shattered family.

Running outside, my tears fell freely, shimmering in the sunlight. Each step was a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating confines of our home. The weight of the emotions I carried seemed insurmountable, and I ran—barefoot and directionless—uncertain of where my anguished footsteps would take me

The sun beat down on me, a harsh contrast to the storm within. I cried uncontrollably, the rhythmic thud of my heart mirroring the pace of my frenzied escape. I didn't know where I was going. All I knew was that I needed distance, space to breathe away from the stifling reality that had taken hold of my family. 

The car passed by, and people passing by stopped to stare at the spectacle I had become. Yet, I couldn't care less. The gravel beneath my feet felt rough and unforgiving, but I pressed on, propelled by a force beyond my control. I kept running and running... I didn't know for how long, I didn't care how far...

And then, out of nowhere, a car stopped right in front of me, mere inches away. I almost collapsed into it, the abrupt halt jolting me to a standstill. The car door swung open, and there he was – Raj.

"Arya," he said, urgency laced in his tone. Without hesitation, he ran towards me, closing the distance in swift strides. As he reached me, he enveloped me in a hug, a refuge from the storm that raged within.