The forced entry into Roo's room was not a rescue; it was a violation. Shyan and Roo's parents stumbled into the darkness, scattering the hotel medic and Ms. Kapoor with their sheer, unbridled force. The scene that greeted them was one of utter, dishevelled vulnerability, but not the one they were searching for.
The Condemnation of Shame
The room was silent save for the heavy, panicked breathing of the intruders. There was no man. No lover. Roo was curled on the bed, her beautiful, royal-blue lehenga a crumpled velvet ruin beneath her. The glittering, cast-off jewelry testified to her frantic need for escape.
Shyan, fueled by adrenaline and the absolute terror of being proven a liar, didn't stop to process. He launched himself toward the bathroom, then the small closet, ripping the doors open. "Where is he?! Where did you hide him?!" he shrieked, his voice laced with frustrated rage.
Roo's parents, seeing the empty room, instantly solidified their own cynical conclusion: the supposed lover had escaped in the chaos they had created at the front desk. They felt no trace of guilt or pity for their daughter's condition; only a crushing, immediate shame that she had disgraced them and, worse, made them look foolish in front of Shyan's high-status family.
"Look at her!" Roo's mother hissed to her father, pointing a shaking hand at the girl. "She's ruined that couture! Look at the disgrace! Did you see the sheer audacity in her eyes yesterday? This is what happens when you give them an inch!"
Roo's father, a man whose entire identity rested on his control, was vibrating with suppressed fury. He moved toward the bed, ignoring Shyan's frantic search. His first priority was managing the crisis, not saving his daughter.
He reached out and roughly shook Roo's shoulder. "Wake up, Roo! Wake up and apologize to your fiancé! What have you done, you fool! You are drunk! Is this how you repay the sacrifice we make for your future?"
The sudden, violent intrusion, the harsh lights, and the booming voices shattered the deep, alcohol-induced stupor Roo had fallen into. She awoke in a state of disorientation, her brain struggling to reconcile the loud, invading figures with the silence she craved. Her eyes fluttered open—red-rimmed and bloodshot—and she saw them: her father, his face contorted in anger; her mother, frozen in judgmental disappointment; and Shyan, his face dark with triumphant malice, emerging from the closet
The Feral Curses
The deep, raw despair that had driven her to drink, the memory of Shyan's kick, and the shock of the forced entry boiled up into a single, overwhelming surge of blinding, incoherent rage. She couldn't form words of defense; her brain was too clouded by alcohol and terror to articulate the truth. The only response left was primal venom.
Roo shoved her father's hand away. Her voice was slurred, ragged, and raw—not the voice of a sophisticated society girl, but the desperate, feral snarl of a trapped animal.
"Get out!" she spat, her head thrashing wildly. "All of you! Curses on you!"
She focused her glazed eyes on Shyan, who stood smugly victorious. "You! I hope... I hope you choke on your lies! May everything you touch turn to dust and shame! You are a filth! A debauchery!" Her voice rose in pitch, a desperate, drunken prophecy.
She turned to her mother, her expression a mix of hatred and sorrow. "And you! My chains! May you never find a quiet moment for your judging! May your life be as empty as you made mine!"
Her gaze fell on Ms. Kapoor, who was now standing firmly in the doorway, blocking anyone else from entering, her expression a cold mask of professionalism that thinly veiled a profound disgust.
"You too! You let them in! Intruders! Cursed are you for violating the only safe place I had! Get out! Get out! Leave me alone!"
The curses, though incoherent and slurred, were devastating in their raw, emotional honesty. They were not calculated insults; they were the sound of a soul breaking free.