ROADPATI BANA CROREPATI

**Chapter: The Price of Lies** The knocking at the door sounded like it came from the depths of hell, each tremor striking Avani's pounding heart. As the old wooden door slowly opened, the man's dark shadow spread across the threshold like a poisonous vine. His eyes, like a hunter's, glared at Avani, and a poisonous smile lingered on his lips. "Whatever you say," Avani's voice trembled, like the touch of wind on a cold lake. The man came closer, his breath like a hot gust of wind on Avani's face. "I want to spend a night with you." His words hung in the air, like a dark invitation to a bitter truth. "What?" Avani's heart pounded uncontrollably in her chest, like a bird desperate to escape its cage. "Your husband is going abroad anyway. You must have your own needs." He smiled slowly, a vile promise hidden in that smile. "Since I first saw you, I've only seen you." A while later, Avani was in Raghav's arms, but even in that embrace, she found no peace. Raghav placed a wad of notes in front of her, a strange, hollow hope shining in his eyes. "The money's arranged." But Avani's joy lasted not even a moment. A whisper escaped her lips, as if fear had seized her throat, "How?" Raghav lowered his eyes, a heavy burden clearly visible on his face. "We mortgaged the house to Sharma Ji." At the mention of that name, Avani's stopped tears welled up and spilled over. "Sharma Ji charges so much interest! How will we ever pay it back?" This house, their identity, their future! She wept, but Raghav silenced her with a reassuring touch. His fingers traced her face, as if caressing a stone. "I'm going to Japan, aren't I? I'll pay everyone back as soon as I return." There was a blind faith in his voice. "Trust me, I'll return... everything!" Days later, it was time for farewell at the threshold of their small home. Avani held her child close to her chest, a painful prayer for the future in her voice. "May God grant that wherever you set foot, you find only heights. May your dreams come true." Raghav kissed her forehead, holding his small suitcase. In that suitcase, he had packed not only his belongings but all their unfulfilled dreams. "Our dreams," he corrected, a passion for building a new world in his eyes. "I will fulfill everyone's dreams." Years passed. From the stains of oil and grease on his skin to cleaning glittering corporate offices, he climbed every rung with his blood and sweat. His body had become hard as iron, and his soul bore countless wounds from decades of toil. Finally, he stood before the Japanese businessman, in tall glass buildings, where his flag of victory flew high. A briefcase lay before him, filled with money, and the keys to a penthouse in Japan. "These two bags are for you," the Japanese man said in his silken tongue. Raghav's heart danced to the tune of victory. Then the Japanese businessman turned, and pointing to a young man standing next to Raghav, a man who looked like Raghav, said, "...and bring your wife and children." Raghav's victorious smile withered in an instant. The ground beneath his feet gave way. The shining light of hope in his eyes transformed into a terrifying, unbelievable abyss of shock. The world crumbled like a sandcastle in an instant. Only that man's words echoed in his ears, "Your husband is going abroad anyway... since I first saw you, I've only seen you." In that moment of betrayal, Raghav thought only one thing: Whose dreams had taken flight... and whose dreams were buried in the very foundation of the home he had left his country to save?