Aadhya did not sleep.

Not even for an hour.

The message remained open on her phone long after midnight.

Ask your father about the night Rajmahal Devgarh burned.

She had read it so many times that the words had stopped looking like words.

They had become a threat.

A warning.

Or perhaps a piece of the truth.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the darkness beyond her window.

For twenty-five years, she had heard about Devgarh.

The abandoned palace.

The failed restoration project.

The agreement that had destroyed the friendship between the Rajawats and Shekhawats.

But never—

a fire.

Her grandmother had never mentioned one.

Her father had never mentioned one.

Nobody had.

Her phone buzzed again.

Aadhya flinched.

This time it was Kiara.

Kiara: Are you awake?

Aadhya typed:

Aadhya: Yes.

Three dots appeared.

Kiara: I know.

Aadhya frowned.

Aadhya: How?

Kiara: Because you're my cousin and you overthink so loudly.

Despite everything, Aadhya smiled.

Aadhya: Come to my room.

Within thirty seconds, the door opened.

Kiara walked in carrying two cups of coffee.

She took one look at Aadhya's face.

"What happened?"

Aadhya handed her the phone.

Kiara read the messages.

Her smile disappeared.

"Who sent this?"

"I don't know."

"Did you tell Papa?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know who I can trust."

Kiara sat beside her.

"You can trust me."

"I know."

"Ishaan too."

Aadhya hesitated.

"And Kabir?"

Kiara watched her carefully.

"You tell me."

Aadhya looked away.

"I don't know."

Kiara sighed.

"Then we'll find out."

Aadhya looked at her.

"Find out what?"

"The truth."

Kiara reached for her phone.

"Tomorrow."

Aadhya shook her head.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because if someone knows we're investigating, they'll hide everything."

Kiara stared at her.

Then smiled slowly.

"Okay."

"What?"

"You're finally thinking like a Rajawat."

THE NEXT MORNING

Arjun Shekhawat was already awake when the sun rose.

He had barely slept.

The message was still on his phone.

Ask your father about the night Rajmahal Devgarh burned.

He had spent half the night searching old digital archives.

Nothing.

No newspaper articles.

No public records.

No photographs.

Nothing.

It was almost as if the fire had never happened.

That was impossible.

Arjun entered his father's study.

Vikram was standing near the window.

He didn't turn.

"You came early."

Arjun closed the door.

"What happened at Devgarh?"

Vikram went still.

Arjun noticed.

That reaction told him more than any answer could have.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't lie to me."

Vikram turned slowly.

"Mind your tone."

"I received a message last night."

Vikram's expression changed.

"What message?"

"Someone told me to ask you about the night Rajmahal Devgarh burned."

Silence.

Arjun's blood ran cold.

"You know."

Vikram looked away.

"Leave it."

"No."

"Arjun."

"What happened?"

Vikram's jaw tightened.

"You don't understand what you're asking."

"Then explain it."

"It was twenty-five years ago."

"Exactly."

Arjun stepped closer.

"Why did nobody tell me?"

"Because you were a child."

"And now?"

Vikram looked at him.

"Now you're about to marry the daughter of the man who was there that night."

Arjun froze.

"What?"

His father immediately looked away.

Too late.

Arjun had heard it.

"Raghav was there?"

Vikram didn't answer.

"Was he responsible?"

"No."

The answer came too quickly.

Arjun's eyes narrowed.

"Then who was?"

Vikram's voice dropped.

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

"I said I don't know."

Arjun stared at his father.

For the first time in his life, he saw something he'd never seen before.

Fear.

Not anger.

Not authority.

Fear.

"Father."

Vikram sat down.

"Some truths don't disappear because they're forgotten."

Arjun waited.

"They disappear because people are afraid of what will happen when they're remembered."

THE COUSINS' INVESTIGATION

By ten in the morning, Aadhya, Kiara, Ishaan and Kabir were sitting inside the old library of Rajawat Haveli.

The library hadn't been properly used in years.

Dust covered the shelves.

Old account books filled wooden cabinets.

Photographs sat inside cracked leather albums.

Ishaan placed a laptop on the table.

"I searched the public records."

"And?" Aadhya asked.

"Nothing about a fire."

Kabir frowned.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

Kiara opened an old album.

"Maybe it wasn't officially reported."

Aadhya looked at her.

"A palace burns and nobody reports it?"

"Twenty-five years ago, things were different."

Ishaan pulled out a folder.

"I found something."

Everyone leaned closer.

An old newspaper clipping.

The headline was partially torn.

DEVGARH RESTORATION PROJECT—

The rest was missing.

Aadhya took it.

"Where did you find this?"

"In Dadi's old records."

Kabir leaned over her shoulder.

"Look at the date."

Aadhya read it.

October 17, 2001.

Her eyes widened.

"That's the year the partnership collapsed."

Ishaan nodded.

"Exactly."

Kiara turned another page.

A photograph fell out.

Aadhya picked it up.

Four men stood outside Rajmahal Devgarh.

Her father.

Vikram Shekhawat.

Mahendra Rathore.

And another man she didn't recognize.

She stared at the photograph.

"Who's that?"

Kabir's expression changed.

He took the picture.

"I've seen him before."

"Where?"

"In my father's office."

Silence.

Aadhya looked at him.

"Who is he?"

Kabir shook his head.

"I don't know."

Ishaan took the photograph.

"Wait."

He zoomed in on the corner.

There was writing on the back.

17 October. After midnight.

Aadhya's heartbeat accelerated.

"After midnight?"

Kiara looked at her.

"What happened after midnight?"

Nobody knew.

Then footsteps sounded outside.

Everyone froze.

The library door opened.

Tara Shekhawat stood there.

She looked at all four of them.

Then at the photograph in Ishaan's hand.

"What are you doing?"

Kiara immediately closed the album.

"Nothing."

Tara raised an eyebrow.

"You are terrible liars."

Kabir laughed.

"Come in."

Tara stepped inside.

"I'm here because Aarav told me you were investigating Devgarh."

Aadhya frowned.

"How does Aarav know?"

Tara smiled.

"Because Aarav knows everything."

"Of course he does."

Tara sat down.

"I may have something."

Everyone looked at her.

She pulled out her phone.

"Grandmother keeps old jewellery and documents in the east wing."

Ishaan frowned.

"So?"

"Yesterday I saw her carrying a locked box."

Aadhya's eyes narrowed.

"Where?"

"The old prayer room."

Kabir stood.

"Then let's go."

THE EAST WING

The prayer room was rarely used.

Savitri kept it locked.

Ishaan checked the hallway.

"Clear."

Kiara whispered,

"We're actually breaking into Dadi's room."

Aadhya whispered back,

"You're the one who suggested investigation."

"I suggested investigation. Not imprisonment."

Tara smiled.

"Relax."

She pulled a small key from her pocket.

Everyone stared.

Aadhya blinked.

"Where did you get that?"

"Grandmother's handbag."

"Tara!"

"Borrowed."

"That's stealing."

"Family borrowing."

Kabir laughed quietly.

The lock clicked.

The door opened.

Inside, everything smelled of sandalwood.

An old wooden chest sat beneath the window.

Ishaan opened it.

Inside were documents.

Letters.

Photographs.

Aadhya's hands trembled as she searched.

Then—

She found an envelope.

DEVGARH — PRIVATE

Her heart stopped.

"Open it," Kabir whispered.

Aadhya tore it.

Inside was a single handwritten page.

She read.

Her face drained of colour.

"What?"

Ishaan took it.

His expression changed.

"What does it say?"

Aadhya whispered:

"Raghav and Vikram didn't betray each other."

Everyone froze.

Kabir took the letter.

His eyes moved across the page.

"The partnership was deliberately destroyed."

"By whom?" Kiara asked.

Aadhya looked at the signature.

The handwriting was old.

But the name was clear.

Mahendra Rathore.

Kabir went completely still.

"My father?"

Nobody spoke.

The room seemed to lose all oxygen.

Kabir read the final line.

If anything happens to us tonight, Mahendra knows where the original agreement is.

Aadhya's eyes widened.

"Us?"

Ishaan looked at the date.

"October 17, 2001."

The exact same date as the photograph.

Then a noise came from outside.

Footsteps.

Everyone froze.

Someone was coming.

Tara quickly grabbed the documents.

"Hide."

They scattered.

The door opened.

Savitri Rajawat stood in the doorway.

Her eyes moved across the room.

Then stopped on Aadhya.

The older woman's face changed.

"You found it."

Aadhya stepped forward.

"Dadi..."

Savitri closed the door behind her.

"You should never have opened that box."

Aadhya's voice shook.

"Why?"

"Because some truths destroy families."

Aadhya held up the letter.

"Was Papa innocent?"

Savitri didn't answer.

"Was Vikram innocent?"

Still nothing.

"Did Mahendra Rathore destroy our families?"

Savitri finally looked at her.

"Mahendra didn't start the fire."

Aadhya's heart stopped.

"Then who did?"

Savitri's eyes filled with something resembling grief.

"We never found out."

THE SHEKHAWAT SIDE

At the same moment, Arjun was standing in Vikram's study with Rudra.

The old photograph lay between them.

Arjun had found it in a locked cabinet.

Rudra stared at the unfamiliar fourth man.

"That's not Mahendra."

"No."

"Then who?"

Arjun turned the photograph over.

There was a handwritten note.

After midnight.

Rudra's expression hardened.

"Something happened that night."

Arjun nodded.

"And our fathers buried it."

"Maybe they were protecting someone."

"Or themselves."

The study door opened.

Aarav stepped inside.

"Arjun."

"What?"

Aarav looked unusually serious.

"I found something."

He placed an old key on the table.

Arjun stared at it.

"Where did you get that?"

"Grandmother's room."

Rudra picked it up.

"What's it for?"

Aarav shook his head.

"I don't know."

Then he noticed the photograph.

His face changed.

"I've seen that place."

Arjun looked at him.

"Where?"

"Devgarh."

Silence.

Aarav continued.

"When I was a kid, I found an old photo of this exact room."

Arjun stared at him.

"Do you know where?"

Aarav nodded slowly.

"The underground archive."

Rudra's eyes widened.

"There was an archive?"

Aarav looked at Arjun.

"Apparently."

Arjun picked up the key.

His decision was immediate.

"We're going."

THE FIRST CRACK

That evening, Aadhya stood alone on the balcony.

The letter was hidden inside her room.

She had told no one about the final line.

Not even Kiara.

Because there was one sentence she couldn't stop thinking about.

If anything happens to us tonight...

Who were us?

And what happened after midnight?

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

Aadhya answered.

"Who are you?"

Silence.

Then a man's voice.

Low.

Distorted.

"You should have stayed away from Devgarh."

Her blood froze.

"Who are you?"

"You think your marriage will bring peace."

Aadhya gripped the phone.

"What do you want?"

A quiet laugh.

"Your family has already lost once."

A pause.

"Don't make the same mistake."

The call ended.

Aadhya stood frozen.

Then she heard footsteps behind her.

She spun around.

Arjun.

He stood in the doorway.

His eyes immediately went to her face.

"What happened?"

She couldn't speak.

He walked closer.

"Aadhya."

She swallowed.

"Someone threatened me."

Every trace of calm disappeared from his expression.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"What did they say?"

She told him.

Arjun's jaw tightened.

"Did they mention Devgarh?"

She nodded.

He looked toward the dark gardens.

Then back at her.

"You're not going anywhere alone."

Aadhya's eyes narrowed.

"You don't get to order me around."

"I'm not ordering you."

"Sounds like it."

"I'm telling you."

She stepped closer.

"I don't need you protecting me."

His voice dropped.

"I know."

"Then stop acting like you do."

His eyes locked onto hers.

"That's the problem."

Aadhya's breath caught.

"What?"

Arjun took one step closer.

"I don't know why I care."

Neither moved.

The space between them suddenly felt too small.

His gaze dropped briefly to her lips.

Then returned to her eyes.

Aadhya's heartbeat became painfully loud.

Arjun stepped back first.

"We need to find out who sent that message."

She nodded.

"And the fire."

"And the agreement."

"And Mahendra."

Arjun's expression hardened.

"Yes."

For the first time, they stood on the same side.

Not as Rajawat and Shekhawat.

Not as bride and groom.

But as two people hunting the same truth.

Neither noticed the figure standing far beyond the garden wall.

Watching.

Waiting.

And holding a photograph from the night Rajmahal Devgarh burned.

On the back of it were five words:

They must never know the truth.