🦚

Rukmini stormed through the halls, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she fumed her way towards Rukmi’s cabin.

Anger burned inside her like an uncontainable wildfire, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.

She knew one thing for certain—her brother would listen to her.

No matter how chaotic things became, no matter how powerful the enemy was, she could always rely on him.
She had unwavering trust in her family, in their principles, in the fact that they would always stand up for what was right.

That was how she had been raised.

That was the foundation of everything she believed in.

And now, she needed that belief more than ever.
Reaching the cabin, she flung the door open without hesitation.

Inside, Rukmi sat at the head of the long conference table, engaged in discussion with several men in suits.

His sharp gaze flicked up at the sudden interruption, his usual irritation flashing across his face.

Rukmi hated being disturbed during meetings.
He was a man of discipline, of routine.

But then he saw who had interrupted.
And immediately, his expression softened.

Without needing an explanation, he raised a hand, signalling to the others.

"We’ll continue this later," he said curtly.

The men exchanged glances but knew better than to argue.
One by one, they gathered their files and exited the room, leaving the siblings alone.

As soon as the door shut, Rukmi turned to her, his brows furrowing.

His sister looked furious—but more than that, she looked… broken.

"Rukmini," he said, his voice laced with concern. "What happened?"

She tried to speak, but the words got caught in her throat.
And then, as the rage bubbled over, tears spilled from her eyes—hot, furious, unstoppable.

Rukmi stiffened.

He had seen her angry before, had seen her fight and argue, but never like this.

Never with tears mixed in with her fury.

His sharp eyes quickly scanned her, searching for injuries, for any sign of harm.
His concern was immediate—but only for her.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, standing slightly.

His voice was firm, protective.

Rukmini blinked, momentarily thrown by the question.
"What?"

Rukmi stepped around the desk, his hands reaching out as if to check her himself.
"Did someone touch you? Hurt you?"

She took a step back, shaking her head. "No, Rukmi, I—"

Before she could finish, he exhaled sharply, a look of relief washing over his face.
Without another word, he turned, casually settling back into his chair as if the matter was over.

Rukmini stared at him, utterly baffled.

"Sit down," Rukmi said, gesturing toward a chair.
"We’ll talk once my meeting is—"

"No!" she snapped, slamming her hands onto his desk.
"You don’t understand! Aditya—he was hurt! Violated!"

Rukmi barely reacted.

He leaned back, rubbing his temples. "That disabled boy?" he muttered with an unimpressed sigh.

Rukmini stiffened.

"He’s just a kid," Rukmi continued, dismissively.
"You shouldn’t concern yourself with people like that. Half the time, they don’t even know what they’re saying. He’s probably just making things up."

Something inside Rukmini snapped.

"Making things up?" Her voice came out in a whisper, but it carried the weight of an oncoming storm.

She took a step forward, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Do you have any idea what you’re saying right now?"

Rukmi exhaled in frustration. "Rukmini, listen. You don’t need to get involved in this. These kids? They have problems. Sometimes they imagine things. You shouldn’t waste your time."

Her hands trembled, rage threatening to spill over.

"Waste my time?" she repeated, each word laced with disbelief.
"Aditya is not imagining things! He was terrified, Rukmi! You should’ve seen him—he was shaking, he couldn’t even say what happened properly! And you’re telling me to ignore it?"

Rukmi sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Rukmini, let it go. It’s for your own good. Stay away from them."

She let out a humorless laugh.

Unbelievable.

"For my own good?" she seethed. "For my own good?"

Her chest heaved as she stepped closer, planting her hands on his desk, glaring down at him.

"Tell me, Rukmi—what exactly is it that I should ‘let go’? The fact that an innocent boy was hurt? That the person who was supposed to protect him is a monster? That you—the man I thought would fight for justice—are brushing this off like it’s nothing?"

Rukmi finally looked at her, his expression hardening.

"You don’t understand, Rukmini."

"Then explain it to me," she hissed.

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping.

"The man Aditya accused? Dhanraj? He isn’t just some nobody. He’s under Jarasand’s protection."

Rukmini stilled.

Rukmi exhaled, shaking his head.

"Jarasand is the most powerful man in the region. No one moves against him. No one dares to. If you go after Dhanraj, you go after him. And that, Rukmini, is a fight we cannot win."

Rukmini’s fingers curled into fists.

"So because of that man," she spat, "justice will be denied?"

Her voice echoed in the office, raw and unrestrained.

Rukmi met her glare, his face unreadable now. "It’s not that simple."

Rukmini straightened, a slow, cold realization settling over her.
Her brother was choosing to stay silent.

"I can’t believe this," she whispered, shaking her head.

"You—you—who always told me to fight for what’s right, are telling me to turn a blind eye?"

Rukmi’s jaw tightened.

"I’m telling you to be smart, Rukmini."
Her entire body burned with rage.
This wasn’t right.
This wasn’t who they were.

"Fine." Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled at her sides. "If you won’t do anything…"

She turned on her heel.
"I will."

Rukmi sat up straight. "Rukmini, stop."

She paused only long enough to shoot him a glare over her shoulder. "Watch me."

Rukmini turned on her heel, her body vibrating with fury as she stormed toward the door.
If Rukmi refused to act, then she would do it herself.

But before she could take another step, a strong hand clamped around her wrist.

In one swift motion, Rukmi spun her around, forcing her to face him.

His grip wasn’t harsh, but it was firm—unyielding.
His dark eyes burned with an emotion she had never seen in them before.

There was no patience in his gaze, no warmth, no understanding—just sheer authority.

"You’re going nowhere," he said, his voice low, controlled—dangerously so.

Rukmini’s breath hitched.

This wasn’t the protective, affectionate brother she knew.

This was Rukmi—the politician.

The man who commanded men, who controlled power, who dictated the course of people’s lives without hesitation.

She yanked at her wrist, her glare unwavering.
"You can’t stop me."

Rukmi’s jaw tightened. "Try me."

Something inside him snapped.

His usual calm exterior shattered into something cold, something unrelenting.

He took a step closer, his face inches from hers.
"You think you can fight this battle alone, Rukmini? You think you can take on Jarasand and his men by yourself? You don’t even know what you’re walking into!"

Rukmini refused to back down. "And what do you expect me to do? Sit back while Aditya suffers? While others suffer?"

"Yes!" Rukmi thundered, his voice sharp as a blade.
"That’s exactly what I expect you to do! Because if you go down this path, you won’t just destroy yourself—you’ll bring the whole family down with you!"

For the first time in their lives, they were truly seeing each other in a different light.

Rukmini, who had always believed her brother to be the pillar of righteousness, was now staring at a man who had chosen silence over justice.

And Rukmi, who had always seen his sister as his gentle, kind-hearted baby sister, was now facing a woman willing to burn down an empire for what she believed in.

A heavy silence settled between them, but it didn’t last long.

Rukmi exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple.
Then, without another word, he turned toward the guards stationed outside the office.

"Take her back to the mansion," he ordered. His voice was cold.
Absolute.

"Make sure she stays there."
Rukmini’s eyes widened.
No.
The guards hesitated for half a second—no one dared to act against Rukmini, not without fear of her wrath.

But then, at Rukmi’s sharp glare, they obeyed.

"Don’t you dare," Rukmini hissed, struggling as they grabbed her arms.

But they were stronger, and despite her furious resistance, they overpowered her.

"RUKMI!" she screamed, kicking at the ground as they dragged her toward the door.

Her heart pounded against her ribs—this couldn’t be happening.

She looked at him, pleading.
Not as an opponent.
Not as a political heir.
But as her brother.

"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Don’t do this."

Rukmi didn’t look at her.

That’s when the betrayal truly hit.
Tears spilled down her face, but they weren’t from anger anymore.
They were from heartbreak.

She had trusted him.
Believed in him.
And he had turned his back on her.

Her cries didn’t stop even as they shoved her into the car.
She sobbed the entire way back to the mansion, her entire world collapsing in on itself.

She had lost.

Not against Jarasand.
But against the person she had loved and trusted the most.

The car pulled up to the grand entrance of the mansion, but Rukmini barely registered it.

Her heart was still pounding, her eyes red and swollen from tears she hadn’t been able to stop.

The guards hesitated before opening the door for her, almost as if afraid of the storm brewing within her.
But she didn’t care.

She had only one thought in mind—her father.

Stepping out, she didn’t wait for the house staff to acknowledge her presence.

She marched through the hallways, ignoring the questioning gazes from the workers, the guards, the people who had watched her grow up.
She didn’t stop until she reached her father’s study.

She didn’t knock.

Throwing the door open, she stepped inside, her breath uneven, her entire body trembling—not with sadness anymore, but with rage.

Her father looked up from his desk, startled.

The moment his eyes landed on her, his expression shifted from irritation to concern.

She looked devastated—her hair disheveled, her face blotchy from crying, her lips pressed together in a tight, trembling line.

"Rukmini?" he said, his voice laced with worry.

He stood up immediately, taking a step toward her.

"What happened, beta?"

She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to speak.

"Rukmi—Rukmi had me dragged back here," she said, her voice shaking. "Because I wanted to help Aditya."

Her father frowned. "What do you mean?"

She clenched her fists. "Aditya was violated, Baba! Hurt. And the man who did it—Dhanraj—he’s still walking free because Rukmi refuses to act!"

His expression darkened instantly.

"What?" he thundered.

"He said Aditya was probably making things up!" she spat, her voice thick with emotion.
"Like his words don’t even matter! And when I refused to stand down, he had me taken—like I was some prisoner!"

Her father’s face hardened, his jaw clenching.
"Unacceptable. I will talk to Rukmi myself. How dare he—"

But then, Rukmini spoke the one name that changed everything.

"It’s because of Jarasand," she said bitterly.

Silence.

Her father’s entire body stiffened.
And then—he looked away.

That single action hit Rukmini harder than anything else.

For the first time in her life, her father—the man she had looked up to, the man who had raised her with values, with principles—looked away instead of standing tall.

Her lips parted, disbelief washing over her.

"Baba?" she whispered, almost afraid of the answer.

He sighed, his voice coming out weary.

"Rukmini… I can’t help you in this."

Her breath caught. "What?"

"I have no power here," he said, shaking his head. "Not anymore."

She blinked rapidly, her mind struggling to process what she was hearing.

"That’s not true," she said. "You arepowerful. You built this party! The people respect you! If you speak up—"

"It doesn’t work like that," he interrupted, his tone firm.
There was no anger in his voice, only exhaustion.

Her father walked back to his desk, placing his hands on the surface, his shoulders suddenly looking heavier than before.

"Rukmi is the head now, Rukmini," he said. "And Rukmi—like all of us—must maintain ties with Jarasand. That is how politics works."

She took a step forward, her heart pounding against her ribs.

"You’re saying Rukmi is Jarasand’s pawn?"
Her father’s silence was enough of an answer.

Her stomach twisted painfully.

"And you?" she whispered, eyes burning. "You’re okay with this? With staying quiet? With letting a predator walk free just so the party can benefit?"

His hands curled into fists. "It’s not that simple, Rukmini."

Her breath trembled. "Then tell me this, Baba," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "If it were you—if you were still leading this party—would you have done the same?"

She wanted him to deny it.
She needed him to deny it.

But instead, he sighed and looked at her with something that almost resembled pity.

"This isn’t about me anymore," he said.
"It’s about Rukmi. And you must listen to him."

The world tilted.

Her father—the man who had taught her to stand up for the weak, to never back down from injustice—was now telling her to stay quiet.

She felt sick.

Her entire body trembled, her hands shaking by her sides.

Her chest ached with emotions she couldn’t even name—rage, disappointment, betrayal.

"No," she breathed, her voice cracking.
"This isn’t you. This isn’t the man who raised me."

Her father’s gaze remained steady, but there was something weary about it.

Like a man who had seen too much, fought too many battles, and finally decided to surrender.

"You are my daughter, Rukmini," he said. "And I love you. But this is a fight you cannot win."

Rukmini’s entire body burned with rage.

Her hands curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms, but nothing—nothing—could contain the storm inside her.

She stared at him, her throat tightening, her heart screaming at the injustice of it all.

And then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out.

She didn’t run.

She didn’t argue.

She simply walked—each step heavier than the last.

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, but this time, she didn’t wipe them away.

She cried all the way to her room, her breath uneven, her mind spinning.

Everything she had believed in—her family, her father, their values—felt like it had shattered in front of her.

She had always thought that no matter what happened, her father would be her shield.
But tonight, she had learned a harsh truth.

She was alone in this fight.

And she would have to win it on her own.
That night, sleep never came.

Rukmini lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her body unmoving yet her mind restless. Her eyes burned from all the tears she had shed, but exhaustion—both mental and physical—kept her frozen in place.

Her limbs felt heavy, like she was drowning in invisible chains, but the weight pressing against her chest was far worse.

She felt hollow.

Betrayal had a way of seeping into the bones, making itself at home in the deepest corners of the heart.

With a tired sigh, she slowly sat up, her movements sluggish.

Turning toward the window, her gaze lifted to the only thing that had ever remained unchanged in her life—the moon.

It was the one thing she loved most about her room.

From her bed, she could see the vast sky, the moon hanging above like a silent guardian, its soft glow spilling through the glass.

It had always brought her comfort, a quiet reminder that no matter how much the world around her changed, some things remained untouched.

But tonight, even the moon's glow felt distant.

Her fingers curled around the edge of her blanket as she let out a shaky breath.

She understood now.

Rukmi hadn’t silenced her just because of fear—he had done it because of ambition.

He wanted power.
More of it.

He wanted to grow, to expand, and aligning with Jarasand would secure his place among the most influential men in the country.

It was no longer about their family’s values, about doing what was right.

It was about survival in the game of politics.
Her lips curled into a bitter, humourless smile.

She should have known.

Politics was never about justice—it was about who held the bigger leash.

A sudden wave of suffocation washed over her, and she clenched her hands into fists.

She needed air.
She needed space.

More than anything—she needed someone.

Someone who would listen, who would hold her and tell her she wasn’t alone. Someone who would whisper, I’m here.

I’ll fight with you.
But there was no one.

She was truly alone in this.

She let out a sharp exhale, forcing back the lump in her throat.
Fine.
If no one would stand with her, she would stand alone.

She turned, swinging her legs over the bed, her feet pressing against the cold marble floor.
Her mind was made up.
There was no point in finishing her Honours in Politics anymore.

Not when she had seen firsthand how useless it was.
The system was rigged, the people in power were nothing but puppets.

If she wanted justice—if she wanted to take them down—she had to step out of their world completely.

She had to leave.

Flee from everything she had ever known.

And start her own fight.

From that moment on, Rukmini knew exactly what she had to do.

She spent her days carefully planning, keeping every move subtle, every action measured.

If she wanted to fight this battle, she needed the right weapon.

And there was only one thing that could truly bring justice—the law.

Politics was a game of power.

A twisted, manipulative battlefield where morals were sacrificed for personal gain.

She had seen it firsthand.
But the law?
That was her answer.

If she couldn’t rely on corrupt leaders, she would arm herself with something they feared—knowledge.
She would study law.

Because that was the only thing that could break the very system men like Rukmi and Jarasand controlled.

🦚