The next day, the mansion buzzed with celebration. Kiara emerged from her room in a sleek black saree that clung to her curves, her hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, letting the nervous excitement settle in her chest. Today was their wedding reception, and the entire family was gathered to celebrate them.
Yuvaan appeared in the doorway, sharp and magnetic in a tailored black suit. His presence made her stomach flutter, as always. He smiled at her, a quiet, knowing smile that made her cheeks warm.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate gold necklace, small diamonds glinting in the morning light.
"For you," he said softly, offering it to her.
Kiara touched the chain, feeling its weight, and a small smile curved her lips. "It's beautiful… but… are you sure it's okay?"
Yuvaan shook his head with that familiar confident grin. "Nothing can stop us from uniting. Not today, not ever."
As he leaned forward to fasten the necklace around her neck, a sudden jolt of electricity shot through him. Yuvaan yelped and stumbled back, trying to steady himself. Kiara's eyes widened in alarm. She reached out instinctively, but immediately pulled back—the invisible barrier crackled faintly, humming between them.
"I'm fine," Yuvaan said quickly, brushing himself off and forcing a smile, though his chest rose unevenly. "I'm not weak, don't worry."
Kiara's brow furrowed. "We need to talk to my dad about this," she said softly, worry lacing her words.
Descending the grand staircase together, they kept a careful distance, the tension of the unseen barrier between them evident in every step. The hall had been transformed into a reception paradise—flowers hung from the ceiling like golden waterfalls, fairy lights glimmered, and laughter and music filled the air.
"Don't let anyone notice," Yuvaan murmured, glancing at her. His fingers brushed hers almost by accident, and the faint spark made him recoil, though his face remained calm. "They'll worry."
Angad nudged them forward with a grin. "Come on, pose for a picture."
They stood close, careful not to touch. Their eyes met, conveying the unspoken longing that neither could bridge physically. Even as the photographer clicked, Kiara felt her heart ache, and Yuvaan's faint smile barely hid the discomfort of being unable to hold her.
When Susheela arrived carrying the reception cake—an elegant confection adorned with gold and black frosting—she beamed. "Cut the cake together," she instructed cheerfully.
Yuvaan and Kiara mirrored each other's movements, hovering near the cake, hands close but never touching. Their fingers moved in perfect synchrony, yet separated by the invisible wall. When they fed each other small bites, laughter escaped their lips, but it was tinged with tension—every smile carrying the weight of unfulfilled desire.
Kiara leaned slightly closer, whispering, "It hurts me to see you like this."
Yuvaan's gaze softened. "I know… but we have to be careful. One spark, and… well, it could hurt both of us."
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. They continued with the ceremony, their smiles real but their hearts racing, both longing to be able to reach out freely.
Even amidst the celebrations, the invisible barrier served as a reminder: love could be strong, but some obstacles were still beyond control.
As the music and laughter continued in the grand hall, Kiara's mind was elsewhere. She took a deep breath and gently tugged Yuvaan toward a quiet corner of the mansion. "Papa… Varun… come with us," she whispered urgently, her eyes scanning the crowd to make sure no one noticed.
The three of them huddled in a shadowed alcove, just out of earshot of the party. Kiara's hands trembled slightly as she spoke. "Something's terribly wrong, Yuvaan can't touch me" she said softly, almost afraid to say it aloud. "Every time he touches me… he gets shocked."
Yuvaan's brows knit together, a mix of frustration and concern shadowing his handsome face. "It never used to happen," he said quietly, his voice low. "Not before we remarried… not even in the first few days. Even when I was… an evil power." His hand hovered in the air, careful not to brush hers, the memory of the spark still vivid.
Vikram's expression darkened. He exchanged a glance with Varun, worry lining his face. "Then… there might be an evil force keeping you apart," he said cautiously. His voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of the words settled over them like a shadow.
Kiara swallowed hard, a chill running down her spine. She nodded, her heart pounding. "We have to be careful," she said.
Meanwhile, outside the mansion gates, the party continued obliviously. Kiara's maasi, Kamla, and her daughter Ruchi approached for the first time, the excitement of seeing the grand celebration lighting up their faces. They adjusted their sarees and took a step forward—then froze.
From the shadows, a figure emerged. A man in a dark hoodie, his eyes glowing faintly red, the fire-shaped birthmark on his neck burning like molten ember in the dim light. He moved forward confidently, a subtle aura emanating from him.
"Who are you?" Ruchi asked nervously, her eyes darting from the stranger to her mother.
The man's gaze swept over them, and suddenly, a strange calm overtook the women. Their hearts slowed, their minds clouded. "I am your fiancé now," he said, his voice smooth and compelling. "Let's go inside."
Kamla's hand gently touched Ruchi's shoulder as she nodded absentmindedly. "Let's go," she said quietly, almost as if in a trance. Ruchi followed, her own voice barely a whisper.
No one in the party, not the guests nor the family, sensed a thing. The music, the laughter, the golden lights—everything continued as normal, masking the invisible manipulation taking hold at the gates.
Inside, Yuvaan and Kiara exchanged a glance, both uneasy, both feeling the sudden tightening of tension in the air. Something—or someone—had arrived, and the celebration, as joyous as it was, had just become a chessboard for a much darker game.