She ruled for three years,

and loved for less than forever.

In a kingdom that celebrated her fall,

only one heart mourned her crown.

They called her a curse,

but he called her his queen.

Truth leaves scars.

Roohi Rathore had learned that lesson early in her life.

She stood silently in front of an ancient mansion that carried more secrets than the world was willing to admit. The night was heavy with darkness, stretching endlessly in every direction, while the moon shone above, pale and distant. A cold wind passed through her, brushing against her skin and sending a quiet shiver down her spine.

The mansion stood tall before her. Though time had aged its walls, its beauty remained untouched. Every corner appeared carefully designed, as if someone had once given this place their complete devotion. It did not feel abandoned. It felt forgotten. She observed it closely, her sharp eyes searching for answers hidden within stone and shadow. Her heart was restless. The government had declared this place old and lifeless, but that explanation had never satisfied her.

Roohi Rathore believed only in facts. And facts had led her here.

As a journalist, she had walked through dangerous zones masked as peace. She had chased stories buried under political lies and social silence. She had faced threats, warnings, and doors that were never meant to open. Fear had never stopped her. What disturbed her the most were the stories where women were silenced, erased, or blamed for crimes they never committed.

Her mission had always been clear. She wanted to deliver the truth to the people. When injustice touched a woman’s life, she fought with everything she had to make sure the truth was heard. History fascinated her deeply, especially the parts that were deliberately hidden. She believed that places carried memories, and this mansion was filled with them.

As she stood before it, surrounded by darkness and unanswered questions, she felt a quiet certainty settle within her. This place was not empty. The truth waiting inside would change everything.

History was not just a subject for Roohi. It was an obsession, a calling she could never ignore. She believed that the past never truly died. It simply waited for someone brave enough to uncover it.

This mansion had appeared in her research like a shadow. Official records spoke of renovations, ownership transfers, and eventual abandonment. Unofficial archives told a different story. Pages were missing. Names were erased. Timelines did not match. And at the center of it all was a woman whose existence had been reduced to whispers and accusations.

She had read every available document, every fragile report buried in forgotten libraries. She had noticed how history often punished women by turning them into curses instead of victims. Queens, leaders, and voices of resistance were rewritten as monsters once they became inconvenient. This place carried the same pattern. A powerful woman had lived here once, and the world had chosen to forget her truth.

That was why she was here. She did not believe in legends created to justify cruelty. She believed in evidence, in untold stories that demanded to be heard. The mansion was not just a structure of stone and silence. It was a witness to injustice, waiting for someone to listen.

As the wind howled softly around her, she tightened her grip on her notebook. She knew that stepping inside would mean crossing a line. But some truths were worth the risk. And history, she believed, always rewarded those who dared to question it.

Tonight, she was not just a journalist standing before an old mansion. She was a seeker of buried truths, ready to awaken a past the world had tried to erase.

She took a slow step toward the mansion, her heart pounding for reasons she could never fully explain. Every time she came close to this place, an unfamiliar heaviness settled in her chest, as if the walls recognized her presence. She had first seen this mansion a year ago, and since that night, an unexplainable curiosity had rooted itself deep inside her. It felt less like interest and more like a pull she could not resist.

Since the age of twenty, she had been haunted by dreams. Now, at twenty four, those dreams had begun to exhaust her. They arrived without warning, leaving her restless and unsettled. The visions were always blurred, incomplete, as if someone had deliberately erased the details. In those dreams, she heard voices, distant yet urgent, calling out to her. But no matter how hard she tried, she could never recognize them or understand their words.

She had never spoken about these dreams to anyone, except her best friend.

For the past year, the same mansion had started appearing in her sleep, standing exactly as it did now. She often wondered if these were fragments of forgotten memories, echoes of something her mind refused to remember. That unanswered question was the very reason she had come here tonight.

She had tried to visit this place before, but her best friend had stopped her every time, fearing for her safety. So she came in secret, driven by a need stronger than fear. As she moved closer, a massive iron gate blocked her path, tightly locked and rusted with age. She searched the ground around her, looking for something heavy enough to break it.

That was when her eyes fell on a small wooden box, half buried under dust and dried leaves. It looked ancient, fragile, yet carefully preserved. She picked it up, brushing away the thick layer of dust with her fingers. Something was carved into its surface. A sentence.

“She bore the fate of the kingdom.”

The words escaped her lips in a whisper. Confusion clouded her expression as she stared at the inscription. What could it possibly mean? Her gaze dropped lower, and her breath caught when she noticed a large number carved beneath the sentence.

Three.

An uneasy feeling crept over her skin. She did not know why, but the number unsettled her. Was the entire story of this mansion tied to a single number? Three. The mansion itself was centuries old. A sudden thought crossed her mind, dark and unsettling. Could something illegal have taken place here.

She shook her head immediately, dismissing the idea. No, she told herself. This was not about fear or assumptions. This was about the truth.

“I need to uncover its secrets,” she murmured quietly. “And I need to give the public the truth they deserve.”

Placing the wooden box back on the ground, Roohi resumed her search for a stone.

Suddenly, a hand closed around her arm and yanked her back without warning. She  gasped as she was spun around, her eyes widening in shock when she collided straight into a solid chest. Instinctively, her fists clenched. Whoever this person was, they had crossed a line. No one touched Roohi Rathore without her permission.

She pulled away sharply, ready to strike, but the moment her eyes lifted to the face in front of her, her body stilled. The anger faded, replaced by a forced calm.

The man glared down at her, gripping her shoulders as he snapped, “What the hell are you doing here, Rooh?” His voice echoed with panic and fury.

She looked up at him, completely unfazed, a sarcastic smile curving her lips. “Dance,” she replied casually. “Wanna join?”

His jaw tightened as his fists clenched at his sides. She rolled her eyes at his reaction and sighed. “Aarav, calm down. Stop yelling.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “How do you expect me to calm down,” he shot back, “when you came to this place even after I told you a thousand times not to. And now you want me to stay calm. I am your best friend. I worry about you.”

She crossed her arms. “You’re worried about me,” she scoffed. “Do I look like some fragile damsel to you?”

Aarav tilted his head, a teasing smirk appearing on his face. “You are a fragile damsel,” he said, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. “That’s why you need a protector like me.”

She glared at him for a second, then slowly smirked. That smirk made Aarav’s smirk vanish instantly. He knew that look. He had just crossed into dangerous territory. He understands it instantly, this is no longer just Roohi standing in front of him. She has shifted from devi to devil. Before he could react, her fist connected hard with his stomach.

“Aah,” he groaned, bending forward as he clutched his abdomen. “Abee pagal aurat me to majak kar rha tha marne ki kya jarurat thi”

She raised one eyebrow slowly, a faint smile curving her lips as she looked at him. For a brief moment, there was amusement in her eyes. “Oh,” she said lightly, “I thought you were serious.” Her soft chuckle followed, but it faded just as quickly when she noticed his expression remained unchanged.

Aarav straightened at once, his jaw tightening. Without another word, he reached out and firmly took hold of her arm. “Let’s go,” he said in a low, serious voice. “There’s no need to go inside the mansion.” His tone left no room for argument.

She stopped, turning towards him with a stubborn glint in her eyes. “But I want to go,” she replied, refusing to back down. For a second, it seemed like she might pull her hand away, but he tightened his grip instead.

“I already told you, you’re not going,” he said sharply, and began leading her away from the mansion. She hesitated, then sighed inwardly. Arguing with him now would be pointless. He wouldn’t listen, and she knew it. So she gave in and walked beside him, her steps slow and reluctant.

Just then, an uneasy feeling crept over her. She didn’t know why, but something deep inside urged her to look back. Slowly, she turned around, and her breath caught in her throat. From the topmost room of the mansion, a soft yellow light was glowing against the darkness of the night. Her eyes widened in disbelief. This wasn’t possible.

As she focused harder, she saw a figure standing near the window. A woman, her back turned, dressed in a deep red outfit that shimmered eerily under the light. The attire looked old, almost bridal, as if it belonged to another era. She couldn’t see the woman’s face, but even from behind, it was clear that she was extraordinarily beautiful. A chill ran down her spine. If no one lived in the mansion, then who was that?

She quickly looked away and turned towards him, who was still pulling her forward. “Aarav, stop,” she said breathlessly.

“There’s someone inside the mansion. There’s light… and a woman standing there.”

He halted abruptly and looked at her in confusion before turning back to glance at the mansion himself. After a moment, he frowned.

“There’s nothing there,” he said slowly. “I don’t see anything.” Her heart began to race as she turned around again. Her eyes widened even more, there was nothing. No light. No woman. Just darkness and silence. She stood frozen, trying to understand how something she had seen so clearly could disappear within seconds.

He studied her face carefully and spoke in a calmer tone. “Maybe it was just an illusion. There’s no one here. Come on.” Taking her hand again, he gently led her away this time, and she followed without resistance.

Soon, they were seated inside the car, and he started driving. She leaned against the window, her gaze fixed outside as trees rushed past them. The night looked beautiful, calm and endless, yet her mind remained unsettled. Aarav glanced at her once and offered a small smile, but she didn’t return it.

After a while, he slowed down and stopped the car. She turned towards him, confused. “Why did you stop?” she asked softly.

“Let’s have some ice cream before we go home,” he replied, pointing towards a nearby ice-cream parlour. She followed his gaze, then nodded. They stepped out together, and he bought ice cream for both of them. Standing outside, they ate quietly, enjoying the moment.

That peace didn’t last long.

Her eyes shifted towards two middle-aged women standing nearby. They were watching them closely, whispering to each other, their expressions filled with judgment. At first, she ignored them, pretending not to hear their gossip. But soon, their murmurs grew louder.

“Look at her,” one of the women said. “Roaming around with a boy at night, without any shame. God knows what such people do.”

Her fingers clenched tightly around the ice-cream stick. The words struck a nerve, and her patience snapped. Without another thought, she walked straight towards the women, her posture calm but her eyes burning with anger. Aarav’s eyes widened as he watched her move away.

He knew exactly what was about to happen.

“First of all, aap hoti kaun ho mere character pe sawaal uthane wali? Aaj tak mere rishtedaaron ki bhi itni aukaat nahi hui ki wo mere baare mein aisi baatein karein, toh phir aapko kisne right diya hai bolne ka, huh? Aap logon ko apne kaam se kaam rakhna kyun nahi aata? Ya phir dusron ki life mein taang adana hi aapka favourite time-pass hai? Aur clear kar deti hoon, main aapki paali hui nahi hoon jo aap jo mann kare bol do. Main apne paison ka khaati hoon, aur hum dono apne hi paison se yahan aaye hain aur kha rahe hain. Isliye hamare baare mein cheap baatein karne ka aapko zero haq hai, samjhi aap? Aur haan, abhi bhi main aapko “aap” keh kar bula rahi hoon, isse meri tameez samajh lena. Lekin yaad rakhna, agar main respect karna jaanti hoon, toh disrespect karna bhi mujhe utni hi achhi tarah aata hai.”

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