PROLOGUE

The house was quiet, and the wind could be heard hustling. The curtains moved slowly, yet in rhythm with the wind, as if they knew how to sway with their partner—as if they were in love with it. But not everything in the house was so peaceful. Some things were shattering quietly yet fiercely, and that was going to begin the story of suffering and pain, yet love and healing, in many lives. It would break and build empires, and it would definitely shatter the tolerance level of any normal human who had ever lived along the streets of Mumbai.

The house belonged to the great neurosurgeon, Dr. Ahaan Garanayak.

In the farthest room sat a female figure, donned in a cotton nightgown, sitting beside a window and looking outside, tracing her fingers along the water droplets splashing on the windowpane due to the rain. Her mind was lost in darkness—a darkness that had swallowed her humanity, that had her taking the life of her just-born son and hating the nurses and doctors who had saved the innocent soul.

"Ahaan Garanayak... I will take my revenge... tum bhi khoon ke aansu roge... jaise mera sab kuch chheena hai, tumhara bhi chheena jayega... TUMHARA BHI CHHEENA JAYEGA... yeh wada hai mera... yeh wada... Satvika Ahaan Garanayak ka..." the woman repeated under her breath, when a young lady, probably 16–17 years old, came and tapped her shoulder.

"Bhabhi... chaliye, aapko sab rasmon ke liye bula rahe hain..."

Satvika didn't move for a few minutes. But in a swift motion, she held the girl by her throat and screamed, "YEH WAADA HAI SATVIKA AHAAN GARANAYAK KA... KISIKO NAHI CHODUNGI!"

The scream sent shivers down everyone's spine, and people rushed to the room. Ahaan's mother, Urmila, and aunt Nayana were the ones who reached first and pulled the girl out of Satvika's grip. Then Ahaan entered, and just before she could charge at anyone else, he pulled her by her bicep and pushed her toward the bed. She fell face-first onto it.

She turned toward them and shouted again, "I WILL TAKE MY REVENGE... KISIKO NAHI CHODUNGI..."

Doctors rushed in by then and gave her an injection to induce sleep. The postpartum depression had taken a toll on her—that was what everyone thought. But it was never about depression. The story was always about the strategies and games she played, and how badly she failed at each one of them.