Chapter Three: Priorities

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The living room had seen worse. Shantivan had seen worse.

It had stood a witness to the family when Manohar Raizada decided to marry a house-help. It had listened to the hysteric cries of Devyani Raizada and her husband when they came to know of their daughter's suicide. It knew of the helplessness the family felt when Arnav Malik legally changed his and his sister's names out of spite for their late father and his family. And it had lived strong enough to tell the tales of the silent vulnerability that lingered in Arnav even as a ruthless and uncaring Arnav Singh Raizada. It had repeated the countless pleas in the eyes of his sister as she watched her mischievous brother lose himself behind a facade that she had always refused to acknowledge. It had questioned the indifferent attitudes of the family towards the elder daughter-in-law of the house when the twenty-something business tycoon eloped with a barely-legal-aged girl. It saw the innumerable struggles of Arnav Singh Raizada's wife as she spent her nights tossing and turning in her makeshift bed by his private pool thinking of ways to earn forgiveness of the family. It had observed the tears that brimmed her eyes when Arnav trampled her feelings over and over and questioned her character.

And it had seen the naked fear in her eyes when she realized her husband was kidnapped with an intent of murder...

But when the words ricocheted off the walls of that palatial living room that the son-in-law of the house had kidnapped the ruthless tycoon, it felt as if the worst was never over.

"Shy - Shyam - Shyamji?" a whisper escaped the lady who stood in a heavily adorned red saree. No, her husband was not of that kind. Whatever that meant. He was the nicest person she knew. Someone who was capable of nothing except to love and to care.

Anjali's eyes snapped to the lone figure that stood at the top of the stairs. In return, she saw his eyes bore right into a frail figure who was clinging to her brother. Her eyes followed his; but eventually rested on her brother who stood at the other end of the room. She quietly noted her brother pull his wife further into him as she felt him register Shyam's gaze on his wife.

"But..." she heard her aunt when no one spoke for a while. Anjali could sense the disbelief in her tone. She knew she agreed with the tone.

"But Damaadji... How can he?"

Khushi squirmed in Arnav's arms, continuing to seek support from him. She knew she had to speak after accusing the beloved son-in-law. She fought with her body to lift her head in order to look at Manorama but failed.

"Yes, Mami ji," the family heard her utter weakly, her voice muffled against Arnav's chest. Khushi dropped her hand limp to her side, when she couldn't gather enough energy to stand on her two feet.

"But you and I," Manorama continued as she walked towards them, "You and I... Both of us tried looking for clues for Arnav Bitwa's kidnapping. And we found a few. But none of them pointed toward Damaadji. I know for a fact that they didn't. I would have known. Even in that video that we saw at the airport, we didn't see him. And then... The guy whom we followed the other day, he wasn't Dammadji. And when you returned home that day after you almost helped Arnav bitwa escape, you did not say anything about Damaadji. Then how can you say that he was behind this? How can you now - "

Arnav heard Khushi take a deep breath and push herself away from his torso, her hands refusing to let go of him. The family looked at the couple intently, hoping for some explanation of the events that were unfolding in front of them.

"Mami ji," she began, "I didn't. Because I didn't know then. Now I do."

"But -"

"Just because we didn't see Shyam ji on the video," Khushi said in a single breath but paused before she continued further, "It doesn't mean it wasn't him who kidnapped Arnav ji."

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