A mere six-lettered term, yet with a meaning heavier than a mountain.
A burden is the weight we carry, seen or unseen, pressing against our shoulders and spirit. It is the silent companion of responsibility, the unshakable presence of worry, the echo of past mistakes or the weight of future fears. It lingers in the mind like an unanswered question, in the heart like a stone too heavy to move. It can be duty disguised as love, sacrifice mistaken for strength, or pain that has settled so deeply it feels like a part of us. A burden drains, exhausts, and isolates. It turns joy into a distant memory, freedom into an unreachable dream. Some burdens are placed upon us, some we pick up willingly, and others we don't realize we're carrying until we collapse under their weight.
To call someone a burden is to see them as a weight—something that drags, slows, and drains. It is to view their presence not as companionship, but as obligation. Their needs become demands, their struggles an inconvenience. They are not simply with you; they are on you. To be seen as a burden is to be unwanted, tolerated rather than loved. It is the feeling of being carried rather than embraced, of being endured rather than cherished. It is knowing that your presence is met with sighs instead of smiles, with weary glances instead of warmth. A burden does not walk beside—it clings, it pulls, it takes. And in the eyes of those who bear it, it is something they wish they could put down.
So what if a six year old girl tells you that she is a burden? On her family?
Not because she was an unplanned child, not because her family lived in poverty, not because she accidentally caused the death of someone dear to them, but because they believe she has committed the greatest sin of all—that her very soul was encased in a woman's body, that she was born a girl when her parents had prayed for a boy.
Ivara sighed wearily, the exhaustion of the events of the day taking toll over her mind. She hugged her knees closer to her chest and kept her chin above them, while wandering her eyes around her supposedly new room— her husband's room.
Her Husband.
Her hand instinctively moved to her neck, clutching the black-gold beaded nuptial chain loosely in her fist. Her fingers grazed the three delicate diamonds arranged in a triangular pattern with unexpected tenderness.
For the past seventeen years, the only emotion she had ever experienced was pain and hopelessness. Pain from the physical, verbal, and emotional abuse from her parents and brother Zayyan, and hopelessness from suffering consequences for mistakes she had yet to comprehend—other than being a girl. But that couldn't be the sole reason, could it? That couldn't be the only explanation for how her family treated her worse than trash, right? Was there something more? Had she done something to deeply offend them?
And even if she did, was she so wrong that she didn't even deserve to be having an identity? Not even a name?
She didn't have a name for herself till she was four. Her parents never found it necessary to give her one. It felt as if it was decided on her arrival in the world that she wouldn't be recognised by anyone as the daughter of the Shekhawat family. She was given a name for the first time by one of her cousins, who, while attending a charity event held at her house, seemed to have accidentally end up in a room hidden at one of the dark end of the Shekhawat mansion, intrigued and concerned when he heard a loud, desperate cry that tore through the room as soon as he managed to open the door. And he was the one, to give her the name Ivara, which he had read in one of his favourite mystery books, as he told her a few years later.
He was, till date, her best cousin, and the only person she had in the name of her family, her Evan Bhaiya, her only companion. Besides her family, he is the only one to know the amount of torture Ivara had suffered in her life. He was the one to raise his voice against her parents, forcing them to bring her out from the shadows, make her visible in public and give her a life she deserved.
Though they didn't had a choice but to do as Evan ordered, it didn't meant they had fully accepted her.
You were never meant to be a blessing for us, you trash.
You ruined our dreams, of carrying a little boy in our arms.
Why didn't you die the moment you were born!?
One, thing, I had asked you for one thing, to marry the man I chose for you, and you couldn't even do that for us, you ungrateful bitch.
You were a trouble for us ever since you were born Ivara. First for us, and now, for your so-called heartbroken lover too.
Never dare to show us your face again, you crap. Just get out of this house and our lives, for once and for all.
Ivara clutched her hair in her fists and tugged at them frustratedly , hard enough to almost rip them off from their roots.
And here she was, proving their accusations right. Now she was causing trouble to Dev and to his family.
Dev Oberoi
The man she loved unconditionally, to life and to death. The man she had bared her emotions to. The man who wore her love like a crown over his heart, only for her to break that very crown beneath her feet and stab his heart with its shards mercilessly.
Tears of remorse threatened to clog her throat. Why did she agree to do this? Why did she agree to his plan? She had already hurt him once, why was she doing that again? Why did he asked her to marry him? They could've thought of some other way.
But then he...
Before she could burst into tears, she heard the soft beep of the door-lock, that compelled her to lift her eyes towards the entrance, only to find Dev emerging in, while typing something on his phone. He had changed his attire, now wearing a white shirt with sleeves folded up till elbows, revealing his thick, veiny arms. His hair was tousled, some of the strands falling on his forehead and shadowing his eyes.
Feeling her burning gaze over him, Dev lifted his head, only to find Ivara leaving the bed in a hurry, almost stumbling upon her blood red lehenga, had she not taken the support of the bedside cabinet.
"You didn't change yet?" Dev raised his eyebrow.
"Vo... Pratishtha Bhabhi as...asked me to wait for you." Ivara stuttered, avoiding his gaze and looking at the floor instead while twiddling with the hem of her duppata in nervousness.
"I'm here now, so you can go." Dev began to walk towards the bed, but was stopped by Ivara.
"Dev?" Her voice came out faint, almost a breathless whisper. Dev turned his body to face her, tensing slightly when he saw a sheen layer of unshed tears in his wife's eyes.
Without thinking what she was doing, Ivara ran forward and threw herself in Dev's arms. Her hands snaked around his waist, and her her head buried in his chest, near his heart, as her tears finally began flowing freely now, drenching his shirt.
"Dev.... I_ I was so... I was so scared." She hiccupped. "He...he was... he was so bad... He didn't... He wanted my... my body... and not me... he would have ru... ruined me... had you... had you not arrived on... time."
Dev didn't say anything, but snaked his one arm around her waist, while his other hand moved to the back of her head, gently stroking her hair, that made her sob harder.
"I... I can't... Dev, tha... thank you... thank you so... so much for... for saving me from th... that hell."
"But who said I saved you, Dove?"
This made Ivara go silent. Meanwhile Dev, while looking at their reflection on the wall mirror behind Ivara, smirked to himself. His fingers, which were, till now, comforting her, now tangled themselves in her hair and tugged at them to make her look at him.
A shiver of dread ran down her spine as she took in Dev’s features. His hazel eyes, once filled with warmth and protection, now had something else in them—something dark. The golden flecks that once shimmered with affection were now swallowed by an unforgiving storm, sharp and calculating.
His jaw, once relaxed, was now set in a firm, merciless line, the faint dimples she used to adore long erased by the weight of his cold expression. The smooth planes of his face had hardened, his sharp cheekbones casting shadows under the dim light, making him appear almost unrecognizable.
The soft, warm smile that used to play on his lips had vanished, replaced by a thin, humorless curve—dangerous, mocking. His broad shoulders, which had once been a haven for her to seek comfort in, now seemed intimidating, his presence looming over her with an air of dominance that sent chills through her.
"Tell me, Dove." He leaned forward, enough for his breath to fan against Ivara's lips, freezing her at her place, "Who. Said. I. Saved. You, hnn?" Ivara's eyes widened in shock, her heart unable to recognise the person standing before her.
"De... Dev, what do you mean?" She managed to utter. Dev left her body with a jerk, causing her to stumble against the hard, wooden edge of the bed with a wince. A humourless chuckle broke past his lips, followed by another, and another, until he was laughing out loudly. His laugh was not like the usual. It was hollow, empty, slithering in the air like a serpent, cold and venomous, leaving a trail of dread in hai wake.
"Oh my naïve, little wifey." He pretended to stop himself from laughing further, clutching his stomach as it began aching with his excessive holler. Ivara gulped the lump of terror down her throat.
"D... Dev?"
"Yes! Dev!" She flinched hard on his yell. "Dev! The same Dev you had pretended to love more than yourself!" He pointed his sharp glare at her, causing her body to tremble under his glass like eyes." The same Dev you had ditched for his money," He began taking his predatory steps towards her, while Ivara began stepping backwards, until the back of her knees collided with the bed and she fell over the mattress.
"The same Dev you had left heartbroken 5 years ago like a fucking fool on the morning he was about to surprise her," He slammed his hand against her head on the mattress, making her flinch hard and try to pull herself back, but fail miserably in her lehenga.
"Dev, please-" Ivara let out a choked sob, tears falling down her eyes like a waterfall.
"The same Dev who has finally, taken the upper hand in this game. What did you think, Ivara-" Dev leaned his head forward, while Ivara turned her head to her side, "Did you think I'm gonna leave you after you petty, little act of 'love' that you played with me? No way, Dove. You might have thought it to be a piece of cake to fool me, but now I'll show you how to play a real game. I'll fucking mix the poison in this cake of yours and shove it down your fucking throat. Did you really think I came today because I still cared for you?" She sobbed harder at his words.
"No Ms. Ivara Shekhawat. It wasn't to pull you out of your he'll, it was to welcome you to my hell," Dev grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his eyes, "my personalised, little hell, for my pretty, good wifey. Because what I'll be going to do with you starting from now will be no less than a nightmare, Mrs. Ivara Dev Oberoi. And if you dare to run away from me, from this marriage,-" He leaned forward, his lips teasingly close to hers, his eyes boring into her soul,"I swear I'm gonna send your entire family to their respective heavens and hells together. Especially your Evan Bhaiya, of course his house will be bombed with a special care since he's so special for you." Dev left her chin with a jerk and got up from his place. Ivara immediately let out a shuddered breath she didn't knew she was holding till now, her entire body now shaking violently with terror and disbelief, disbelief upon the fact of what the man she once loved had really begun.
"Come here." Ivara somehow mustered up the courage to sit back and move her gaze to Dev, who was now sitting on the couch across the bed, with his right leg resting over the left knee, his one arm supporting his chin on its elbow, while the fingers of his other arm tapped against the other cushioned arm impatiently.
"I. Said. Come. Here." He gritted out. Ivara immediately stood up but didn't move forward. "Do you want to call my people for arranging the bombs?" Ivara immediately shook her head negatively and began taking tiny steps towards him.
"Come quickly, it's not like I'm gonna ask to strip or something, Ivara." Ivara narrowed her eyes in disbelief at the choice of his words.
"Wait!" She paused as Dev's faced morphed into a new found excitement.
"Or rather should I ask you for the same?" He exclaimed with a hint of sadistic glint in his eyes.
Ivara's knees buckled under her own weight as she fell on the floor with a thud. "Dev please no, please." She begged while joining her palms and with tearful eyes.
Dev in turn, smiled mirthlessly.
"Your punishment number one: Strip for you husband, Dove."
Taha Shah as Dev Oberoi
Aditi Sharma as Ivara Shekhawat
Heya, my lovely readers ☺️ ❣️
I know the prologue might not be as you had expected, because being a dark romance writer for the first time, I know I might have lacked at many places.
So this prologue is just a short glimpse of the story, that's why it looks kind of incomplete in between.
The updates will be slow as for now since my first priority with be completing ATLY.
Do share your opinions about the chapter and the leads I've chosen.
Are you guys excited? Because I sure am 🤩, but a little bit nervous too 😅
That's it for today 😷
See you in the first chapter Till then, take care and Ta-ta ❤️ ✨
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