The resource used: Wikipedia

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The household had suddenly changed mood. It was the festival of Lohri. 

"" Lohri is a popular wintertime Punjabi folk festival, celebrated primarily by Sikhs and Hindus from the of the Indian subcontinent.Lohri marks the end of the winter season and is a traditional welcome of longer days and the sun's journey to the northern hemisphere.  ""

Daadi sat hoping, the Lohri will mark the end to the misunderstandings and the beginning of love and togetherness for the newlywed couple. She was disheartened by her grandson's actions but knew that if he displayed a Devil's mind he also had Angel's heart. She hoped the fire would burn the devil in him and the past. She hoped the fire's flames would bring a new light of love in Anika's life. Prayer was all she could do.

Shivaay was arranging for the papers. Ending the call he glanced at her. She was sleeping yet. His eyes traveled from her forehead to her closed eyes. No Shivaay. He reminded himself. She wasn't the Anika he knew. Her disguise was down. He walked up to where she slept and tapped her shoulder coldly.

She squinted her eyes. "Papers will be here in a while. Start packing." He delivered his message.

"Good morning Mr. Oberoi." she smiled, annoying him.

"Just stop this facade." He said angrily. Why the hell was she smiling? She saw him with a different glow in eyes. 

"What?"

"No one has hated me so much." She said amused. 

"You haven't even seen a percent of it. Thank your stars and get going before it's late." He spat hovering upon her.

She mused and stared at him. "I have seen a glimpse of your anger, Mr. Oberoi. But you haven't seen mine. You have seen my selflessness, not the selfish side. You have seen my care, not my ruthlessness. You have seen ..." she paused abruptly and then continued, "not seen my anger. "

"It won't be more than mine. And right now I am not just mad but very mad at you." He hissed.

"And I will always give you double of what you give me Shivaay, think before hurling something at me." She got up and walked to the washroom, pissed.

She came out to an empty room. She looked at herself in the mirror. She thought she looked pretty in the red graceful dress she was given. She picked up the nuptial chain and wore it around her neck. Next, she picked up the scared vermilion. Her hands trembled as she tried reaching her forehead. She gave up. She could not. She put the miniature decorative box containing the crimson-colored vermilion back. She eyed it. She could not. Could not accept this marriage. Maybe never.

She walked down and hesitantly looked around. Daadi called her and explained to her what the preparations were for. 

"Anika?" He called out, looking at the two women. She looked at him and then back at Daadi.

"I have some work." He spoke. Daadi noticed the papers in his hand. 

"What's that?" She asked him, catching a glimpse of the stamp papers.

Shivaay panicked. He had planned to tell the family about the divorce only once the papers were arranged and signed. But the sign hadn't still been taken. 

"Oh, this. It's just power of attorney of our new plot. " he smartly outwitted Daadi. 

Daadi stared at him sternly. "Anika is not free now. Whatever you want with her, can wait." Saying so Daadi held Anika's hand and took her to her room. He stared in frustration. He had to do something so that his family started hating her. His family's sudden affection for her was coming at the cost of his. Running his hand through his hair he left the premises immediately.

Later in the evening he walked inside, to find her making the rangoli at the entrance. 

" " Rangoli is an art form, originating in the, in which patterns are created on the floor in living rooms or courtyards using materials such as colored rice, dry flour, colored sand or flower petals.Generally, this practice is showcased during occasions such as festivals, auspicious observances. " "

She was working on it steadily with dedication and patience. Her clothes were colored with it. The set of bangles Daadi had given her to wear until a month, did not help but constantly jingled. She struggled but went on. Old habit. Once given a task, she believed in completing it, no matter why the level of disinterest she had in it. If it was her duty she would perform it. But, where was this going? How many things was she going to burden herself with? Why did she feel the marriage was an important bond she wasn't willing to let go of? Or maybe it was never that.

It was something that made her hold on to him. Why did she want to be with him? Certainly not due to affection. Perhaps, it was the revenge that she was holding on to. She wanted him to regret it. She wanted to prove herself, without putting any effort. She wanted to bare his devilish side to the world. She wanted him to feel the fire of humiliation. She wanted him to taste the helplessness. She wanted every cell of his to feel the pain. The same that she had felt when he insulted her and crushed her self-respect, and smeared her character with black words.

Her hair scattered, out of her bun. Her forehead covered with tiny droplets of sweat. He could say she had been working on it for a while. His eyes went to her palms. They were stained in different colors resulting in a greyish appearance. Her fingers were clearly inexperienced at the art. 

A wave of sadistic pleasure built in him as he stepped towards her. One, two, three and a four. And another. Yet, another. His shoes squelched, slathering the colors. She looked up horrified. Soon anger made way to her face. She was going to shout at him. Couldn't he see where he was stepping? She looked down to see him doing it on purpose. Pressing his shoe against the color and forcefully pivoting it to spoil what she had made.

This time she gazed upwards with pain written across her face. Something pulled the strings of his heart. Why did he have to be so cruel? She deserves it. Came the answer from within. 

She stood on her feet, her gaze now on an equal level as his. He had lived up to his name and destroyed. Gulping, and clenching her jaw muscles she walked away. According to her, he did not even deserve her words. 

He stared at her back. Flames leaping out. It burned him, he was hurting. But, yet she seemed unaffected.

An hour or a little later than that, he came down dressed like a royal for the rituals. His mother asked about Anika. Was he her personal assistant or something? He told her in a straight voice he did not know. His mother looked at him with a fixed gaze and ordered him to bring her down. It was his responsibility she had said. He never disobeyed. He walked back up. Where was she? A thorough search of the top floor revealed no trace of her. As he glimpsed around for a clue, his eyes rested on a little color. The same that as on her hand in the evening. It was on the stairs that led to the terrace. What was she doing there? Hurriedly, he ran up. An unknown fear gripping his heart.

He spotted her sitting and gazing at the just born night sky. Her hand extended towards the sky. She was looking at a star, which he presumed to be the Pole Star. Her fingers straight and thumb outstretched away from the fingers at a right angle. What was she even doing?

Unenlightened he was in the matter. She was trying her luck like the age-old travelers. Just like the lost traveler made the star their friend to find the way. She was trying! Perchance, it helped. For she was lost.

This work is my take at how raw emotions can be. I am exploring. This is new to me as well. I would be including instances of Indian culture and beliefs occasionally with the just description, with the source as above.

I would love to have your views about this chapter.

Lastly, I am not going to explicitly narrate a few things here, you 'll have to feel it and read between the lines. Italics and Bold will be hinting. Hope you all enjoy reading. 

-Anami!♡