Nazir Ali stood beside his son, his sharp eyes fixed on the upper floor. He leaned in and whispered, "In that room, the bride is wearing a gold necklace. Sneak in quietly, take it, and bring it back."

Manik swallowed hard, his hands sweating, but he nodded in agreement. This was his first lesson in theft, and his father's command was the law.

Carefully, he blended into the shadows, his movements as light as the wind. He climbed over the ornate wooden railing, slipped past the silk curtains, and moved swiftly down the corridor. The bride's room was filled with the scent of sandalwood and rosewater, glowing in a soft, golden light.

After some time, Nazir Ali paced outside the wedding house, growing increasingly frustrated. The night was growing long, but Manik had not returned.

Suddenly, he saw his son emerge from the shadows. But something was wrong.

Instead of the stolen necklace, Manik was pulling the bride behind him. Her hair flew in the wind, her terrified face exposed to the open.

Nazir Ali's blood ran cold. "What have you done?" he shouted, grabbing Manik by the collar. "I told you to steal the necklace! Why have you brought the bride?"

Manik held the bride's hand firmly. His voice was calm but resolute.

"This is my first theft," he said. "And I'm not giving her back."

Nazir Ali's frustration turned to rage. He lunged at his son, trying to pull the bride away, but Manik was quick. In a swift motion, he pulled the bride with him and ran.

The wedding house, once filled with laughter and joy, had now descended into chaos. Screams echoed through the night, the sound of footsteps trailing behind them, and the chase had begun.

But Manik did not stop.

This was no longer just theft. It was a rebellion.

And he was willing to risk everything for it.