Deepika twisted in her sleep, trapped in a nightmare that refused to let go.
A girl, no older than 16, lay curled between two lifeless bodies. Her hands clutched at their cold skin, shaking them desperately.
"Mamma... please wake up... Papa... don't leave me... You can't leave us like this..."
Her sobs echoed through the emptiness, raw and heart-wrenching.
Then, another memory bled into the dream-one she wished she could erase.
A strong, unfamiliar hand wrapped around her wrist, yanking her away.
"Uncle... please... let me go," the little girl begged, her voice trembling. "My sisters... I have to find my sisters... they need me."
Mocking laughter filled the air. A middle-aged man crouched in front of her, his eyes dark with twisted pleasure.
"Let you go?" he sneered, his voice thick with lascivious desire. "Oh, my exquisite little darling... I invested a fortune to claim you, and now you belong entirely to me."
His fingers traced the air near her face, and bile rose in her throat.
A shrill sound pierced the memory-the wail of an ambulance siren. The nightmare shattered.
Deepika's eyes flew open. Her chest heaved, her body drenched in sweat. Her hands instinctively gripped the bedsheet, grounding herself in the present.
Then, a soft, familiar voice whispered in her ears, gentle yet teasing-so real it made her heart clench.
"Deepika, baby... how long are you going to sleep? Today is my special day. Aren't you going to wish me?"
She jolted upright, eyes scanning the dimly lit room. Empty. No one was there.
A bitter smile touched her lips as realization hit her like a wave.
"Happy Birthday, Mom."
---
The chill of the cold shower did little to wash away the ghosts of the past, but it steadied her. Twenty minutes later, she emerged, wrapped in quiet authority. Dressed in a tailored grey formal suit, her every move was precise, calculated.
Downstairs, preparations for the morning ritual were in full swing. Servants moved swiftly, ensuring that not a single detail was out of place-because mistakes weren't tolerated here. Not in her house.
Deepika walked past them without a word, her sharp gaze scanning every arrangement. Satisfied, she made her way to the garden.
There, on the wooden swing, sat Raj Singhania, holding an old photograph in his weathered hands. His fingers traced the image lovingly, his eyes lost in memories.
Deepika approached him quietly and took a seat beside him. For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then, Raj broke the silence, his voice thick with emotion.
"Your mother must be very proud of you, Deepika."
A flicker of something unreadable passed through her eyes, but she masked it almost instantly.
"Is she?" she murmured, her tone devoid of emotion.
"Yes," he answered firmly. "After all, you were her favorite. And today, you are the most successful businesswoman in Dubai. You turned her small bakery into an empire. You built other businesses. For ten years, you have carried the weight of this family. Six years ago, when she left us, you took care of everyone."
A slow smirk tugged at Deepika's lips as she shook her head. "Now, tell me, old man, what's the real reason behind all this praise?"
Raj sighed dramatically. "Oh, so now a father can't express his feelings for his daughter?"
Deepika arched a brow.
"Fine," he relented with a chuckle. "Your mother came to my dream last night. She asked me to tell you all this on her behalf."
Deepika exhaled a quiet laugh. She knew better. These were his words, not her mother's.
"Oh? And what else did she say?" she played along.
Raj's eyes twinkled mischievously. "She gave me permission to eat sweets on her birthday."
Deepika rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Dad? You're worse than Gudiya."
He grinned like a child caught stealing candy.
Shaking her head, she got up. "Go change. The puja starts in half an hour. I'll wake up those two brats."
---
Upstairs, Deepika entered a room that looked more like a battlefield than a bedroom. Clothes were scattered, pillows lay on the floor, and in the center of the chaos lay Shanaya Singhania-sprawled across the bed like a queen.
"Gudiya, get up. It's already 9 AM."
No response.
Deepika sighed. Why does she even set an alarm if she never wakes up?
"Gudiya!" she called louder.
This time, Shanaya jerked awake-only to lose balance and almost fall off the bed.
Deepika's reflexes were faster. She caught her just in time.
"Kya kar rahi ho? Abhi lag jaati na?"
Shanaya grinned sheepishly and threw her arms around Deepika. "Kaise lag sakti hai, Didima? Jab aap ho, toh mujhe kuch nahi ho sakta."
Deepika sighed, patting her head lightly. "Drama mat karo. Jaldi ready ho jao."
Shanaya pouted but obeyed.
---
In the balcony, Aradhna Singhania was absorbed in her work on a canvas.
"Aaru," Deepika called gently.
Aradhna turned, her eyes lighting up. "Good morning, Didima!" she exclaimed as she rushed forward, wrapping Deepika in a warm hug.
Deepika allowed herself a rare moment of tenderness, kissing her forehead. "Good morning, baby. Now, come-it's time for the puja."
Then, Aradhna's gaze softened as she looked at Deepika-not just as her elder sister but as the one who had been their guardian. She recalled how, even as a child, Deepika had shouldered responsibilities far beyond her years:
Handling their mother's small bakery, building it into an empire;
Raising them, protecting them, standing as their shield when life was at its cruelest.
After Mammi and Papa left us, and we moved to Dubai, she became everything for us. Me, Shanu di, Dad-she took care of all of us. She is our biggest strength, the pillar of our lives. Everyone knows her as cold and heartless, but only we know the truth: behind that austere face is a girl with a soft heart who cares deeply.
The sudden snap of Deepika's fingers pulled Aradhna out of her reverie.
"Kya sochne lag gayi, betu?" Deepika asked, folding Aradhna's clothes and placing them neatly in the wardrobe. " Lunch se pehle koi ghar se bahar nahi jayega, okay?"
Aradhna quickly moved to stand before Deepika. "Sorry, Didima, but mujhe pooja khatam hone ke baad hospital jaana padega. Aaj Sofi ka birthday hai, and she very sweetly requested me to come today and sing for her."
She held her ears cutely, giving Deepika her best puppy eyes. "Please, na?"
Deepika sighed, shaking her head at her little sister's antics. "Fine. But after the puja. Samjhi?"
Aradhna beamed. "You're the best, Didima!"
Deepika smirked. "I know."
And just like that, the storm in Deepika's heart calmed, if only for a moment.
---
In the grand living room, the priest chanted sacred mantras. A large framed picture of Priya Singhania sat at the center, draped in flowers.
As the ritual continued, Deepika's gaze remained locked on her mother's image. She was lost in thought.
"Thank you, Mom... for giving us this life. For giving us a father when we lost our parents. For giving us a home when we became orphans."
A small smirk played on her lips.
"I know you hate when I say 'thank you.' But today... I want to say it."
Her fingers clenched into fists.
"Mom, today I need your special blessing."
Her expression darkened, the warmth in her eyes replaced by cold steel.
It's time to settle old scores. The people who stole everything from your daughter's... who live in peace while we suffered... It's time to take their peace away. It's time for REVENGE .
Her blood burned with the promise.
A voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
"The puja is complete, Jajmaan. You may begin the Brahman Bhoj and Kanya Bhoj."
Deepika nodded. With a composed face, she turned to her father. The mask was back in place.
"Let's begin."
Because today was not just about prayers.
It was the beginning of war.
---
Later that same afternoon, while the echoes of the puja still lingered in the mansion, Deepika vanished into the shadows of her empire. A sleek, black SUV tore through the neon-lit streets of Dubai and halted before a desolate warehouse on the outskirts-a place where fear and secrets reigned.
Inside, the warehouse was a cathedral of darkness. Harsh fluorescent lights flickered sporadically over endless rows of grimy crates and rusted machinery. The air was thick with the tang of cold metal and the oppressive hum of hidden danger. Every step Deepika took reverberated like a death knell on the cracked concrete floor.
Dressed in a tailored grey suit, she was the embodiment of controlled wrath-a storm waiting to break. The guards stationed at the door stiffened at her presence, their gazes automatically lowering.
Behind a reinforced door, a man sat bound to a chair, sweat dripping from his temples. His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, panic evident in his darting eyes.
The heavy door groaned shut behind Deepika, locking them in a suffocating silence. She didn't speak immediately. Didn't need to. Her presence alone was enough to suffocate.
When she finally moved, it was deliberate. A slow prowl, her heels clicking against the cold floor, each step measured-predatory.
"Tell me," she murmured, her voice deceptively soft, "was it greed or sheer stupidity?"
The man flinched, his throat bobbing as he struggled for words. "I-It was a mistake. I swear, I-"
A sharp backhand cut him off, his head snapping to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Deepika crouched to his level, her gaze locking onto his. "Mistakes can be forgiven." She tilted her head. "Betrayal cannot."
His body trembled. "Please... I have a family-"
"So did the people you put in danger." Her voice was quiet, eerily calm. "I don't believe in second chances, but I do believe in setting examples."
As if on cue, the dim lights flickered violently, casting ghostly shadows across his terrified face.
She stood up, adjusting the cuff of her suit. "Do it."
The guards lunged forward, dragging the broken man into the depths of the warehouse. His screams, raw with despair, were swallowed by the darkness.
Outside, Deepika paused by the SUV. In the tinted window, her reflection stared back-cold, untouchable, lethal. She slid into the back seat, her gaze flickering toward the warehouse one last time.
The engine roared to life.
And just like that, the storm moved on, leaving only silence-and a lesson-behind.
-------
This is just the beginning of a story that holds power, pain, and purpose. Deepika Singhania's journey has only started, and there's so much more to uncover. Stay connected, share your thoughts, and be a part of this world as it unfolds.
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