(Jeevika, betrayed by Yash, learns their marriage was never valid. Heartbroken, she leaves his home after seeing him happily married to another woman. At the shelter, she vows to rebuild her life, enrolling in college and burning her past memories. But danger follows her—Yash confronts her in the market, only to be stopped by Inspector Abhay, who once again saves her. Just as Jeevika begins to find strength, she is kidnapped by men posing as police. Abhay races against time, torn between duty and worry, determined to protect her while quietly admitting she has stolen his peace of mind. Now ahead)
The forced marriage
Abhay’s jeep screeched to a halt outside the mansion. He stormed in, scanning every corner with the precision of an eagle—but Jeevika was nowhere.
Then, from the shadows, the old man appeared.
Abhay was on him in an instant, fist gripping his collar. “Where is that girl?”
The old man calmly adjusted his coat, unfazed. “Haven’t you learned to respect your elders?” He lowered himself onto a sofa with deliberate slowness. “By the way… you’re late. Perhaps she’s already dead.”
Abhay’s jaw tightened. “If she’s hurt, I’ll make sure you don’t live to regret it.”
The old man’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Last time I saw her, she was wearing a mangalsutra. Now? Nothing. No husband… maybe just a boyfriend?”
“Vishamber!” Abhay barked, stepping forward. “If you want to breathe your next minute, tell me where she is!”
Vishamber leaned back, his eyes glinting. “Oh, I know exactly what to do with girls like her. First, she wears a mangalsutra—means she’s married. Then we find her husband and…” He chuckled.
Abhay didn’t wait for him to finish—he lunged, hand clamping around the old man’s throat. “Where is she?”
Vishamber only laughed harder. “Here… take a look.”
He slid his phone across the table. On the screen, a shaky video played—Jeevika, unconscious, slumped in a chair. Around her, people were stringing up garlands and arranging plates. Marriage preparations.
Abhay’s voice exploded. “What the hell is this?”
Vishamber’s tone was almost bored. “Unlucky girl. We offered her husband two lakh rupees… and he threw his wife to us like garbage. And you… you’re ready to die for her?”
Abhay’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
While Vishamber talked, Abhay’s thumb moved under the table, firing off a quick text to his team: Trace the location from this video. Now.
..
Jeevika’s eyes fluttered open. The room was dim, the air thick with the scent of marigolds and incense. Her hands were tied to the arms of a wooden chair.
She blinked, confusion turning to shock—she was dressed in bright red bridal clothes, heavy with gold embroidery.
Before she could process, the door creaked open.
A man stepped in, his smile twisted. “Darling… today is our wedding. After that… we’ll celebrate.”
“Shut up!” Jeevika spat, her voice trembling with fury. “Who the hell are you? Let me go, or—”
The slap came hard and fast, snapping her head to the side.
“My two brothers died because of you,” he snarled, leaning close enough for her to smell the stench of liquor on his breath. “How could I let you walk away?”
Her eyes blazed. “They were rapists—and they got exactly what they deserved from the inspector!”
He grabbed a fistful of her hair, jerking her head back until tears pricked her eyes. His voice dropped into a venomous whisper. “Now… you’ll get exactly what you deserve.”
Jeevika stared at the man, her eyes cold and unflinching.
“You’re so beautiful,” he hissed, his grin twisted. “Tonight will be… very exciting.”
Jeevika turned her face away, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
“Ah… waiting is the hardest part,” he laughed darkly and stepped closer, preparing for his vile plan.
Alone, Jeevika whispered to herself, voice trembling, “I ditched my parents for that Yash… what is happening to me? I deserve this, Jeevu.”
Regret welled up, spilling into tears. “Oh God… before I die, please… let me apologize to my parents.”
Her mind drifted to the past:
“Mom! Try to understand, I really love him. He’s a good person.”
“Good person?” her father’s voice was sharp. “Who leaves his bride at the mandap just because dowry wasn’t given? That’s ‘good’? Don’t be blind in love.”
“Dad! The dowry was his parents’ demand, not his fault. He couldn’t speak against them,” Jeevika had protested.
“After the marriage, his parents said to leave Jeevika. And if he can’t oppose them then… what would you do? Tell me!”
Back in the present, Jeevika’s eyes snapped open. She was alone in the locked room, sitting upright.
She clenched her fists, whispering fiercely to herself, “I will hug death before any filthy hand touches me.”
...
Abhay crouched outside the apartment, catching his breath.
“Thanks to Manan… I got the location through Vishamber’s call trap. Just… please, let that girl be safe,” he muttered under his breath.
He sprinted to the building, pressing himself against a wall for cover. Slowly, he peeked through a window, scanning silently.
Inside, the room was chaos—marriage preparations in full swing. He squinted. “Oh… no. I think I’m in the wrong place.”
He turned to leave, but something made him look again. His eyes widened in shock.
Jeevika was being dragged toward the mandap, struggling desperately. Her hands were tied, her bridal attire heavy with humiliation and fear.
Rage exploded in Abhay. He slammed his gun into the door with full force. The wood splintered violently under the impact.
“Stop it, right now!” His voice boomed as he trained the gun on the man forcing Jeevika forward.
Abhay’s sudden action froze everyone in the room. Shocked, the goons lunged at him—but he moved like a storm, taking each one down with precise, brutal force.
Jeevika, though exhausted, managed a weak smile as she watched him.
Abhay turned to the groom, fury in his eyes. He struck again and again, each punch a release of anger, each blow giving Jeevika a strange sense of relief and calm.
Summoning all her strength, Jeevika stood and shuffled toward Abhay. The groom could barely stay upright. A final strike sent him sprawling, unconscious on the floor.
Jeevika, breathless and trembling, looked at Abhay with tears in her eyes. “You’re my savior… I wish I could do something for you.”
Abhay’s gaze softened. “Can you ever meet me without getting into trouble?”
Jeevika let out a small laugh. “No.”
“Why not?”
Tears ran freely down her cheeks. “Because… this is our last meeting.”
She collapsed to the ground. Abhay was instantly at her side. “Did they… hurt you?”
Shakily, she shook her head. “No… I took care of it myself. Now you don’t have to risk your life for me anymore.”
Abhay’s eyes widened. “What?”
Jeevika, betrayed by Yash, had learned their marriage was never valid. Heartbroken, she had walked away from his home, witnessing him happily married to another woman. At the shelter, she vowed to rebuild her life—college, studies, and burning all reminders of her past. But danger never seemed far behind.
---
Abhay’s jeep screeched to a halt outside the mansion. He stormed in, every sense sharp, scanning shadows like an eagle. But Jeevika was nowhere.
From the darkness, a figure emerged—Vishamber. Calm, unshaken.
“Where is that girl?” Abhay’s fist gripped his collar.
The old man smirked, slow and deliberate. “Late, aren’t you? Perhaps she’s already dead.”
Abhay’s jaw tightened. “If she’s harmed, you’ll regret it.”
Vishamber’s mocking smile widened. “Last I saw her, she wore a mangalsutra. Now? Nothing. No husband… maybe just a boyfriend?”
“Tell me!” Abhay barked, stepping closer.
Vishamber leaned back. “Girls like her… first, we find the husband. Then…” He chuckled, but Abhay didn’t wait to finish.
He lunged, hand clamping Vishamber’s throat. “Where is she?”
Vishamber only slid a phone across the table. On it, a shaky video played: Jeevika, unconscious, slumped in a chair. Around her, marigolds, plates, garlands—marriage preparations.
Abhay’s voice exploded. “What the hell is this?”
Vishamber, bored, shrugged. “Unlucky girl. Your so-called husband threw her away… and you? You’d die for her?”
Abhay’s fingers flew under the table, firing off a quick text: Trace this location. Now.
---
Jeevika’s eyes fluttered open. The room smelled of incense and marigolds, suffocating and thick. Her hands were tied to a wooden chair. She blinked in shock—bright red bridal clothes, heavy gold embroidery.
The door creaked. A man stepped in, twisted smile curling his lips.
“Darling… today is our wedding.”
“Shut up!” Jeevika spat, fury trembling in her voice. “Let me go, or—”
A sharp slap snapped her head aside.
“My two brothers died because of you,” he snarled, close enough for her to smell the liquor on his breath. “How could I let you walk away?”
Her eyes blazed. “They were rapists—and got exactly what they deserved!”
He grabbed her hair, jerking her head back. “Now… you’ll get exactly what you deserve.”
Jeevika turned her face, refusing to give him satisfaction. Her whisper trembled, raw with regret and fear:
“I ditched my parents for that Yash… what is happening to me? I deserve this. Oh God… let me apologize to my parents before it’s too late.”
Flashes of her past tormented her:
“Mom! I really love him. He’s a good person!”
“Good person?” her father’s voice rang sharp. “Leaves his bride at the mandap because dowry wasn’t given? Blind in love!”
Back in the present, she clenched her fists, whispering fiercely:
“I will hug death before any filthy hand touches me. No one will break me. Not him, not anyone.”
---
Outside, Abhay crouched, catching his breath. “Thanks to Manan… location traced.” His heart pounded. Please… let her be safe.
He sprinted to the building, pressing against walls for cover. Peering inside, chaos: marriage preparations in full swing. And there she was—dragged toward the mandap, hands tied, bridal attire heavy, face streaked with fear and humiliation.
Rage exploded. Abhay slammed his gun into the door; wood splintered violently. “Stop it! NOW!” His voice boomed.
The goons lunged—but he moved like a storm, precise and brutal. Jeevika, though exhausted, managed a weak, grateful smile.
Abhay struck the groom repeatedly, each punch a release of rage and protection, each blow giving Jeevika a strange, calming relief. Summoning strength, she shuffled toward him. The groom sprawled unconscious.
Breathless, tears streaming, she whispered, “You’re my savior… I wish I could do something for you.”
Abhay’s gaze softened. “Can you ever meet me without getting into trouble?”
Jeevika let out a small, ironic laugh. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because… this is our last meeting.” Tears ran freely down her cheeks.
She collapsed. Abhay caught her instantly. “Did they hurt you?”
Shaking her head, she murmured, “No… I took care of it myself. Now you don’t have to risk your life for me anymore.”
Abhay’s eyes widened. “What?”
Gently, he lifted her and carried her to the jeep. “Nearest hospital! Now!” he shouted.
---
1. Will Abhay reach the hospital in time, or has the trauma already scarred Jeevika?
2. Can Jeevika truly leave her past behind, or will Yash and his allies drag her back into danger?
3. Will the bond between Jeevika and Abhay grow stronger, or will fate separate them again?
Want to know what happens next? Keep reading "Courage of Heart”
