You Are My Unique Gift

The Pawn Turns Into A Player

"Komal? Hey, what's going on?" Abhay's voice radiated concern. Shame washed over me in waves. Rajeev was right. These people cared for me, and all I'd done was lie.

"Abhay, I..." My voice cracked. "I can't marry Divirath." Tears welled in my eyes. "I just... I can't."

"Whoa, okay, slow down," Abhay soothed, his confusion evident. "What happened? Did that Prince creep do something?" His protectiveness sent a fresh pang through me, making the panic claw at my throat.

"No, it's not him! It's... it's everything." I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to cry. Another horrifying thought struck me. What if Vihaan hurt Abhay if I involved him? No. I couldn't let that happen. Vihaan wasn't the same charming prince anymore. He was dangerous, a monster in Armani.

"Abhay, please," I choked, my voice thick with tears. "Stay away. Don't try to contact me. Okay?"

"Komal, listen! Whatever it is, we can figure it out. Did you fight with Divirath? We can call him off! Just breathe, okay? I'm booking the next flight to the Bahamas. I'll be there before—."

Panic flared. "No, Abhay! I can't put you at risk. Not you, not Sonica, not Mom and Dad... no one. I can’t drag anyone into this. It’s too dangerous!"

A beat of stunned silence, and then Abhay's voice, stern now, filled the phone. "Dangerous? What's going on, Komal? Tell me."

Wiping my tears with newfound resolve, I took a shaky breath. "Abhay, I love you. I know I've been a terrible sister, a lousy daughter, and the worst girlfriend ever. But at least I can be a decent human being. This ends with me, Vihaan, and my lies. I'll fix this myself."

Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Abhay wouldn't be the solution. This web of lies was laced with venom, and Vihaan Malhotra was the only loose thread.

With a trembling hand, I wiped my blurry vision and disconnected the call. My fingers flew across the screen, dialing the number I dreaded. Each ring echoed in the deafening silence, a drumbeat against my frantic heartbeat.

Finally, his voice, a low purr laced with something dark, filled my ear.

"Komal? Back so soon, Little Dove?"

"Vihaan," I choked, my voice sandpaper rough. "I'm ready."

Silence stretched, a tense melody between unspoken accusations. Then, the dam broke.

"Wait, I—"

"You win," I rasped, the words scraping against my raw throat. "This wedding happens…now."

A startled gasp escaped him. "What? But—"

"No 'buts,'" I interrupted, my voice a steely whisper. "Get your family, a priest, whoever officiates these things. I'm ready. Just tell me what else you want. I'll do it."

His hesitation was a flicker in the storm brewing within me. A horrifying thought clawed its way up - have I walked into another trap? Then, his voice turned cold, laced with a power that sent chills down my spine. "Don't worry about Divirath. He's safe. A man of my word."

There was no warmth in his promise, only a chilling finality. This wasn't a victory dance; it was a calculated move in a game I didn't understand the rules of. But one thing was crystal clear: I was done being a pawn. It was time to become a player.

"Just get it done," I said, my voice a hollow echo.

The line went dead, leaving a phone cold in my hand and a hollowness in my stomach.

Everything became a blur afterward. Vihaan reappeared. A watchful silence hung between us as he ushered me into the mansion. His gaze never left me, as if he was afraid I'd vanish.

Inside the mansion, Viraj mumbled a greeting and something. I was too numb to respond. Rajeev offered a cold approving nod. But I couldn't care less about anything.

The only flicker of warmth came from Kratika, my former best friend. Her usually vibrant face held a mask of concern.

“Komal, are you okay?” she asked, her voice laced with worry as she pulled me into a hug. “I am sorry. I tried to—”

My giggles cut her off mid-sentence. She stepped back and searched my face.

“I’m always the last person to apologize when I should have been the first one.” I scoffed at myself. Her warmth was a stark reminder of another betrayal. The list of them seemed endless.

“I…you…you need to come with me!” Kratika nodded.

From my peripheral vision, I saw Vihaan trying to interrupt us. But a look from Kratika and he retreated. Next, I was dragged into a bedroom. It was spacious, luxurious, and full of commodities a bride might need to doll up into perfectness.

I forced a smile, brittle and unconvincing. “He’s prepared!”

“Are you really okay?” Kratika peered into my eyes. She was searching for something. Probably for her best friend, she had lost years ago. “Look, I really don’t know what they did this time! I should have been more suspicious when Viraj told me we were going on an impromptu vacation.” Her guilt-ridden face made my jaw clench, but a smile flickered when I saw her age-old habit of pacing around whenever in panic.

She hadn’t changed one bit.

“I swear, I’m gonna chop Viraj into pieces. He promised me he’d never ever be so stupid again. It’s in their genes. The Malhotara's sensibility is questionable. What did their parents feed them? Trash? No woman deserves a s**t let those twin idiots—”

“I’m fine, Kratika. You need to sit down.” I was ignored.

“That Viraj is getting his d**k chopped off! I am gonna squeeze his ba—”

“I have never been better, Kratika." I lied more firmly this time and she stopped, inches away from me.

“It’s just the wedding jitters. Everything is happening in such a rash. Just getting ready for the biggest surprise of my life. Sorry I wasn't there for you. But hey, at least you're here!” My sarcasm hung heavy in the air.

Kratika's frown deepened. Before she could pry further, I launched into action, grabbing a crimson lehenga and flinging it on the bed.

"Get me dressed, Kratika," I commanded, my voice tight. "We have a wedding to crash... together."

"Komal—"

"We can be sisters again," I interrupted, my voice softer now, laced with a hidden plea.

"There's time to talk later. Just... finish this."

Kratika nodded, her silence a curtain drawn over unspoken questions. For the next few hours, she transformed into a whirlwind of efficiency. The silken fabric flowed under her practiced hands, wrapping around my trembling form. Vihaan's minions, sent to assist, scurried away under her withering stares.

A strange pride bloomed in my chest despite the circumstances. Kratika, the once carefree girl I knew, had blossomed into a force to be reckoned with. Bossy, yes, but with a glint of steel in her gaze that spoke of battles fought and won. She juggled the roles of wife and mother with a practiced grace, the light in her eyes never fully extinguished.

Kratika was stronger than I ever gave her credit for. Life had undoubtedly dealt her a rough hand, yet here she stood, a testament to resilience. A silent question echoed in the quiet hum of activity: what was the secret that had forged her strength? Perhaps, in finding the answer, I might find my own.

“I missed you.” I mumbled as I watched playing with my curls. She glared at the girl handing her that fancy clip different from the one she had demanded. “Mrs. Malhora.” I added.

“That’ll be twenty-thousand dollars.” She winked, dodging my remarks.

“I’m afraid it’d be a bit unaffordable.” I tried to smile. For a second, forgetting everything that awaited me beyond those closed wooden doors.

“Not for the wife of a tycoon. As overbearing as the Malhotras are, they are undoubtedly loaded. I am sure you can do it!” She wiggled her eyebrows, finishing up the last touch.

I sighed, looking at the face staring back at me in the mirror. I was beautiful, an unwilling participant in a twisted fairytale. Yet, beneath the heartbreak, there was a flicker of defiance in my eyes. Kratika had worked wonders. The crimson lehenga flowed like liquid fire, hugging my curves in a way I never knew possible. Gone was the mousy ponytail, replaced by a cascade of curls adorned with delicate jasmine flowers. A touch of kohl accentuated my eyes, making them appear smoky and mysterious. Despite the circumstances, for a fleeting moment, I felt like a warrior princess, ready to face whatever battle awaited.

I wasn’t alone. At least I had Kratika with me. And she was leading by example. If she could come up with victories, powerful, and composed with joy overflowing out of her—I could be contented and peaceful too.

"Thank you for existing," I mumbled, tears welling up again despite thinking they'd dried. Kratika offered a comforting embrace, her touch a familiar anchor in this storm.

"Hey, you are tougher than this," she said firmly, her voice laced with a knowing that sent shivers down my spine. "I know everything you've been through. This might feel worse, but it's not insurmountable. I wish I could stop it, but trust me, I won't."

Stepping back, she cupped my face, her gaze both fierce and tender. "It feels hollow and suffocating, I get it. But knowing your history with Vihaan, the depth of his messed-up feelings for you, I believe he's making the wrong choice, even if he thinks otherwise."

Hurt flickered across my face. "You too? Supporting him? After everything you've endured? I thought you'd understand." My voice wobbled, tears threatening to spill over.

"I do understand," she countered, her voice steady. "Perhaps even better than anyone, because I was in your shoes. But your situation with Vihaan is different from mine with Viraj. You love him, Komal. As much as he loves you. You're both just prisoners of your own pain. Someone needs to shake you both awake. Vihaan's methods are questionable, yes, but maybe this is what you both need. Stop blaming yourself for who you are and embrace life. Let go of the guilt, Komal. You'll be stronger for it."

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken emotions. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"You've changed," I finally choked out, a bitter edge to my voice. "A fool for me to think you could ever be my old best friend again."

A vow hardened within me. This wedding might bind me in name, but my spirit wouldn't be broken. He might've claimed victory, but the war had just begun.

I would be the storm in his perfect world, a constant reminder of his betrayal. He may hold my hand, but my heart would forever be a rebellion, a silent protest against the gilded cage he'd built.

“Love isn't always sunshine and rainbows, Komal. Sometimes it’s a wrecking typhoon. Once its wrath subsides, it’s sunshine and rainbows again. It can be a bit challenging—but it’s the thrill of adventure that makes life interesting. You are not alone. I am with you even if you don’t like it. She shrugged, leaving me alone with an army of assistants who exchanged looks and hearts full of emotions that closed in on me.

My tearful eyes fell on the wall-size mirror again. This time it reflected a stranger – defiance blazing in her eyes, lips painted a defiant crimson. This wasn't a bride walking down the aisle; she was a warrior queen, clad in crimson armor, ready to take on the Malhotra empire.

A mischievous glint flickered deep within my gaze. Maybe, just maybe, I could turn this entire situation to my advantage. After all, in the game of love and revenge, even pawns could become the most notorious players.