CHAPTER NINETEEN : BETRAYAL UNVEILED
The police station buzzed faintly with activity — muffled voices, phones ringing, and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards filled the air. The sterile scent of disinfectant mixed with tension, making the room feel colder than it was. Priya sat on a metal chair, her wrists still marked from the cuffs. Her face was pale, eyes red from tears she had tried to hold back. Mrs. Khanna sat beside her, her posture straight, but her hands trembled slightly in her lap.
She had tried everything — pleading, reasoning, and even offering documents — but nothing seemed to soften the officers’ expressions.
Mrs. Khanna attempted to convince the officer, but it didn’t work. Her voice cracked with exhaustion as she turned to Priya, her tone tinged with desperation. “I think we should tell Aryan everything,” she said, her heart breaking as she spoke the words.
Priya’s eyes widened in fear and anxiety. “No, Mom… please,” she pleaded softly, her voice shaking. The thought of Aryan knowing — of seeing the disappointment in his eyes — terrified her more than the police or the charges against her.
Mrs. Khanna’s gaze softened, but her concern deepened. “But we need someone,” she insisted, her voice wavering, caught between her maternal instinct to protect and the logical need for help.
Priya hesitated, then took a breath, trying to sound calm though her mind was a whirlwind of panic. “Then call Karan,” she said, her tone carrying a faint hope, as if holding on to a single lifeline in the storm.
Mrs. Khanna blinked in confusion, her brows knitting together. “Karan?” she asked, her expression uncertain.
“Yes, he knows everything,” Priya replied, her voice steadier now. For a fleeting moment, she felt the relief of having a plan, of not being entirely helpless.
Before Mrs. Khanna could respond, one of the officers stepped forward, his tone cutting through the fragile silence. “Ms. Priya, that’s enough,” he said sternly, then turned to the other officer. “Take her inside.”
Mrs. Khanna immediately rose from her seat, her protective instincts ignited. “Hey, wait… you can’t even touch her until our lawyer comes here!” she protested, her voice trembling but fierce.
The officer’s expression didn’t change. “Okay, then call your lawyer soon,” he said in a dismissive tone, crossing his arms as if this was routine for him.
Mrs. Khanna turned back to Priya, squeezing her hand tightly. “You wait here. I’ll be back,” she said quickly, her words both a promise and a plea for Priya to hold on. Without another word, she hurried outside, her saree swishing with each anxious step.
Outside, she pulled out her phone with trembling fingers and dialed Karan’s number. The moment he answered, his voice was filled with alertness.
“Hello!!!” Karan said, instantly sensing something was wrong.
“Get the lawyer to the police station quickly,” Mrs. Khanna said directly, her tone sharp with urgency and fear.
“Is everything okay… are you okay?” Karan asked, his concern evident, his voice lowering instinctively.
“I’m fine, but…” She quickly told him everything, her words tumbling out in a rush, barely giving him a moment to breathe. Her voice wavered as she recounted how the police had shown up, how Priya had been arrested, and what they had accused her of.
Karan’s tone changed — firm, controlled, but heavy with tension. “Did you already know the truth about her?” he asked, each word deliberate, though his heart raced on the other end of the line.
“Hm,” Mrs. Khanna admitted softly, her voice somber, weighed down by the burden she had kept hidden for too long.
“How?” Karan pressed, confusion mingling with worry.
“I’ll tell you later… firstly, you come here,” she instructed firmly, trying to hold her voice together. “And yes — don’t tell Aryan about it.”
There was a pause, a quiet understanding that passed between them even through the phone line.
“Okay… okay,” Karan agreed, his voice steady, though the tension in his tone betrayed his worry.
The call ended, and Mrs. Khanna lowered the phone, closing her eyes for a moment as she gathered her composure. The reality of the situation settled over her like a heavy blanket — fear, guilt, and confusion tangled in her chest. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked back into the station, determined to protect Priya no matter what it took.
Within some time, Karan arrived at the police station with a lawyer by his side. The heavy metal gate creaked as he entered, his face tense and drawn with worry. The harsh fluorescent lights made the place feel even colder — a place where hope seemed to fade too easily.
Outside, Mrs. Khanna was pacing back and forth, her hands wringing together nervously. Her usually calm demeanor was replaced by visible anxiety, her eyes darting toward the entrance every few seconds. When she finally saw Karan, she exhaled sharply, rushing toward him as if he were her last shred of hope.
“Where is she?” Karan asked, his voice filled with urgency. His usually composed tone carried a weight of fear he could no longer conceal.
“Inside,” Mrs. Khanna replied, her voice shaking slightly. Her lips trembled as she pointed toward the entrance, as though saying the word inside itself drained her.
Karan nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay… Aunty, I think you should go home before the leader reaches home and finds out everything,” he advised, his voice calm but authoritative. He was trying to stay logical, though the situation itself was slipping out of control.
“But Priya…” Mrs. Khanna’s voice broke mid-sentence, her eyes welling up. Her maternal instincts screamed at her to stay, to protect her daughter at all costs — but deep down, she knew Karan was right.
“Don’t worry… we’ll also reach in a while,” Karan assured her, his tone steady but gentle. His eyes reflected quiet determination, silently promising that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Priya.
“Okay… take care,” Mrs. Khanna said at last, her voice heavy with worry. She looked back toward the police station one last time before turning away, her footsteps slow and reluctant as she disappeared down the corridor.
Karan exchanged a look with the lawyer, and they both entered the station. The air inside was thick with tension. Priya sat in a corner behind the bars, her eyes hollow yet hopeful as she noticed him. He gave her a small nod — a silent assurance that he was there for her.
They began discussing the matter with the officer at the desk, a stern man with sharp eyes and an expression that betrayed no sympathy.
“But we can take her on bail,” the lawyer said carefully, flipping through legal documents, trying to find a possible loophole.
“No, you can’t. Because such people are called terrorists,” the officer said coldly, his tone unyielding and harsh.
The word terrorists hit Karan like a slap. His jaw tightened, his fists clenching as anger surged within him. “Hey, what do you mean?” he snapped, his voice echoing through the station, sharp with frustration.
“Karan, calm down,” the lawyer said quickly, trying to de-escalate the situation before things worsened. Then, turning to the officer, he asked diplomatically, “Is there any other way to close this case completely?”
The officer’s face remained unreadable. “No, there is nothing,” he replied flatly, his voice cold and final — the kind that left no room for negotiation.
“But as far as I know, we can take her on someone’s responsibility,” the lawyer countered, pushing back, his tone more assertive now.
The officer leaned back in his chair, adjusting his cap. “Yes, you can, but—”
Before he could finish, Karan cut him off sharply. “That’s it. I can take her responsibility,” he said, his voice resolute and unwavering.
The officer’s eyes narrowed as he looked Karan up and down. “Who are you?” he asked suspiciously.
“Her friend Karan,” he replied, his voice steady and proud.
“No, I mean your position?” the officer pressed, leaning forward, his tone probing.
“I’m Director of K-Group,” Karan stated firmly, his words carrying weight. The mention of K-Group — one of the biggest conglomerates — caused a flicker of recognition among the officers in the room.
But the lead officer’s face remained stony. “We can’t leave her to your responsibility,” he said dismissively.
“Why?” Karan demanded, his frustration rising again, though he tried to control his tone.
“Because the crime she’s accused of is massive. We can only release her on the responsibility of a significant personality,” the officer explained, his tone matter-of-fact but edged with arrogance.
Karan took a deep breath, his mind racing. “Big… personality… what if K-Group takes her responsibility?” he asked, his voice low but firm, every word calculated.
The officer hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Then we can,” he conceded reluctantly.
Relief washed over Karan’s face. “Then just wait for a while… I’ll bring the paper of responsibility,” he said, determination replacing the anger in his tone.
“Not just the paper,” the officer added sharply. “Bring the chairman of K-Group. Only after his signature will we let her go.”
The words hung heavy in the air. Karan’s expression hardened — he knew exactly what that meant.
“Okay,” Karan said to the officer with quiet resolve, then turned to Priya. His voice softened as he said, “I’m going to tell everything to the leader.”
Priya’s eyes widened in alarm. “No, you can’t,” she said urgently, her voice trembling as panic flooded through her.
“But Priya, we need him now,” Karan said, his tone gentle but firm, trying to reason with her.
She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “Do one thing… call Dad,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.
“You mean Mr. Oberoi?” Karan asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“No… Aryan’s dad,” she clarified quickly, desperation lacing every word. “Call him and tell him the situation.”
Karan nodded once, understanding the gravity of what she was asking. “Okay,” he said simply, and without wasting another second, he turned and stepped outside.
The moment he was out of sight, he pulled out his phone, his fingers trembling slightly as he dialed Mr. Khanna’s number — the only person who could now save her.
Karan stepped outside the police station, the cold air brushing against his face as he exhaled heavily. His heart was pounding — time was slipping away, and Priya’s situation was worsening by the second. He fumbled with his phone, his fingers trembling as he scrolled to Mr. Khanna’s contact and pressed call.
After a few tense rings, the familiar voice answered, calm but authoritative.
“Hello?”
“Uncle, where are you now?” Karan asked, his voice tight with urgency, the words spilling out faster than usual.
“In the office,” Mr. Khanna replied, his tone composed but curious, already sensing something wasn’t right.
“With the leader?” Karan inquired, his tone edged with hope. If Aryan was there, this could complicate everything.
“No, he left,” Mr. Khanna said simply.
“That’s good,” Karan exhaled, his voice dropping with audible relief. He briefly closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts before continuing.
“You want something?” Mr. Khanna asked after a pause, his tone now serious — the kind of seriousness that came from years of managing crises. He could hear the tension in Karan’s voice and knew this wasn’t a casual call.
“Uncle, a big problem has happened,” Karan admitted finally, his voice heavy, almost breaking. The words seemed to carry the entire weight of the situation — fear, helplessness, and urgency all at once.
There was a sharp pause on the other end. “What happened?” Mr. Khanna — or rather, Mr. Oberoi — asked, his concern rising. His tone softened but grew firm, demanding an explanation.
Karan took a deep breath and explained everything — from Priya’s arrest to the accusations, to the officer’s conditions. His voice wavered at times, betraying the stress he was trying to contain. The air between them crackled with tension as silence followed his explanation.
Finally, Mr. Khanna spoke, his voice low but resolute. “I just reach there,” he said decisively, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Karan’s shoulders relaxed slightly — relief mixed with gratitude. “Thank you, Uncle,” he murmured, though the line had already gone dead.
Call end.
Karan lowered the phone slowly, his mind racing. He knew Mr. Khanna was a man of influence and control — if anyone could turn this situation around, it was him. For the first time that day, Karan allowed himself a flicker of hope.
The evening light filtered softly through the curtains as Aryan stepped into the house, loosening his tie after a long, exhausting day at work. The familiar scent of home — jasmine and sandalwood — lingered faintly in the air, but something felt off. There was an unsettling quietness, almost too still for his liking.
He glanced around the living room, his eyes scanning the corners. The faint sound of utensils clinking came from the kitchen, where Mrs. Khanna stood, pretending to tidy up but clearly preoccupied.
“Mom, where is Riya… Is she still sleeping?” Aryan asked as he entered, his tone casual at first but laced with curiosity.
Mrs. Khanna froze momentarily before turning around, forcing a small, composed smile. “No,” she replied, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of tension she struggled to hide. Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted a cup on the counter, avoiding his eyes.
“Then?” Aryan pressed, his brows knitting together. His instincts told him something wasn’t right.
“She has gone to the shoot,” Mrs. Khanna lied smoothly, the words slipping out in a carefully measured tone.
Aryan blinked, his confusion deepening. “Shoot… But in the morning she told me that she had no shoot today,” he said, puzzled. His tone was firm but not accusatory — more bewildered than angry.
“Maybe it’s unplanned,” Mrs. Khanna suggested quickly, trying to sound casual. Her voice trembled just slightly at the end, but she masked it with a faint smile and turned back toward the kitchen counter, pretending to busy herself.
Aryan’s eyes lingered on her for a few seconds, studying her expression — the tightness in her jaw, the stiffness in her movements. Something didn’t add up.
“Yaa,” he finally said, his tone subdued. Without another word, he turned and walked toward his room, the weight of doubt pressing on his chest. As he disappeared down the hallway, Mrs. Khanna exhaled a shaky breath, clutching the edge of the counter for support.
Aryan entered his room, tossing his phone and keys onto the table. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his mind replaying the conversation. Unplanned shoot? he thought, a faint crease forming on his forehead. He could sense it — his mother was hiding something. But too tired to argue or overthink, he leaned back against the bedrest and closed his eyes, unaware of the storm quietly brewing beneath the surface.
Mr. Khanna arrived at the police station within half an hour, his face tense and his movements brisk. The air inside was thick with the sterile chill of authority — the low hum of chatter, the occasional clang of metal doors, and the shuffle of papers filled the space.
As soon as he entered, Karan and the lawyer stood up to greet him. Relief washed over Karan’s face as he said softly, “Uncle, thank God you came.”
Mr. Khanna gave a curt nod, his eyes immediately searching for Priya. When he saw her sitting quietly on the bench — her hands folded tightly in her lap, her eyes red from silent tears — his heart clenched. She looked fragile, small, and terrified, so unlike the lively girl he was used to seeing at home.
Without wasting a moment, he turned to the officer. “I’m here to take her responsibility,” Mr. Khanna said, his voice steady but edged with urgency.
The officer eyed him carefully, his expression unreadable. “Are you aware of the conditions, Mr. Khanna?” he asked in a formal tone.
“Yes, I’ve been informed,” Mr. Khanna replied, his voice firm. “Just tell me where to sign.”
The officer nodded, gesturing to the stack of documents laid out on the desk. Mr. Khanna took the pen in his hand — his fingers slightly trembling — and began signing each page with precision. The sound of the pen scratching against paper echoed faintly in the tense silence of the room.
As he placed the pen down, the officer stamped the final page and gave a small nod to his colleague. “You may take her,” he said simply.
Priya stood up slowly, disbelief flickering across her face. The female officer walked over and unlocked the handcuffs from her wrists. The faint clink of metal was followed by a rush of air as if the whole room exhaled with her.
Mr. Khanna approached her, his stern expression softening as he said, “Let’s go.”
She lowered her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “Thank you, Dad,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.
Without another word, Mr. Khanna gently placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the exit. Karan followed behind silently, his expression heavy with concern.
As they stepped out of the station, the cold evening air hit Priya’s face, but it felt strangely liberating — like the first breath after being underwater for too long. Still, her heart was heavy with dread. She knew the hardest part was yet to come: Aryan still didn’t know the truth.
As Aryan came downstairs, still adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, he asked casually, “Mom, didn’t she come yet?”
Mrs. Khanna looked up from the couch, trying to mask the nervousness in her eyes. “Maybe she’s just about to come,” she said, her tone calm but her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her dupatta.
Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the hallway. Mrs. Khanna quickly straightened up. “Look, she came,” she said, forcing a smile.
Priya stepped in, followed closely by Karan and Mr. Khanna. Her face looked pale and tired, but the moment her eyes met Aryan’s, all her restraint broke. She ran toward him and wrapped her arms around him tightly.
Aryan froze for a second, startled, then held her back gently. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.
“I just felt… that I would lose you today,” she whispered against his chest, her voice trembling with raw emotion.
He frowned, confusion and worry clouding his eyes. “Why? Did something happen?”
Before Priya could answer, Mrs. Khanna quickly stepped in. “Go and get fresh, then we’ll have dinner together,” she said, her voice firm but soothing — clearly trying to change the subject.
“You guys have dinner… I’m not hungry,” Priya murmured, pulling away from Aryan. Her voice was low, drained, and she turned toward the stairs, climbing them slowly.
Aryan’s gaze followed her. “What happened to her today?” he asked, turning back to Mrs. Khanna, concern etched all over his face.
“Actually…” Mrs. Khanna began, hesitating, but before she could say anything, Priya suddenly came running back down. She gently covered her mother’s mouth with her hand, her eyes pleading silently.
“Mom, after getting fresh, I’ll be back,” she said quickly, forcing a small smile.
Mrs. Khanna nodded, smiling faintly in return — a silent understanding passing between them. Priya turned and went upstairs again, disappearing behind her room’s door.
When she was gone, Aryan looked at his mother suspiciously. “Mom, what’s going on?” he asked, his tone serious now.
“Nothing,” Mrs. Khanna replied smoothly, a soft, practiced smile playing on her lips.
Aryan sighed in frustration. “Ahh… both of you,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Then his gaze shifted to Karan and Mr. Khanna. “By the way, where are you both coming from with her?”
Karan was quick to answer, his tone calm and composed. “We just met outside,” he said, the lie rolling off effortlessly.
Aryan nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said, but his eyes lingered on Karan for a moment longer — not entirely convinced, but too weary to press further.
The silence that followed was thick — the kind that carried more secrets than words could explain.
After dinner, Priya quietly walked to her room, the faint echo of her footsteps blending with the soft hum of the night outside. When she opened the door, she found Aryan already inside, bending slightly over the study table, rummaging through a few scattered papers.
Surprised, she frowned slightly. “What are you looking for?” she asked, walking closer to him.
Without looking up, Aryan sighed in mild frustration. “A few days ago, I put a blue file here. Have you seen it?”
Priya shook her head slowly. “No… but let me find it for you,” she offered, her voice gentle, eager to help — perhaps also to distract herself from everything that had just happened.
Aryan stopped his search for a moment and looked at her. The tension in his face eased a little at her tone. “No, it’s okay… I’ll find it myself,” he said, his voice softening.
“As you wish,” Priya replied quietly, a small, almost forced smile crossing her lips. She turned and sat on the bed, picking up a book that was lying on the side table. The pages fluttered under her fingers as she tried to focus her mind elsewhere. “Priya…”
“Hmm?”
❁𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑❁
❀𝕴𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖎𝖙!❀
♡ 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 ♡
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