By the time I reached home, the warmth from the bakery had already faded from my bones.
The moment I stepped inside, the air turned suffocating—cold, sharp, filled with voices waiting to hurt me.
Neha didn’t even look up from her phone before scoffing,
“Look who finally decided to come home. Roaming around all day like you own the place.”
Rohit added with his usual smirk, “Hope you at least earned something useful today.”
I didn’t respond.
I never do.
My silence irritates them more than my words ever could.
I walked straight past them, clutching my bag tighter, heavy footsteps echoing against marble floors that never felt like mine.
The house didn’t welcome me—it swallowed me.
In my room, I changed quickly into soft cotton pajamas, letting out a slow breath.
This room wasn’t big, but it was mine—my only corner of peace.
Away from the stares.
Away from the pressure.
Away from the reminders that I didn’t belong here.
After washing my face, I headed to the kitchen.
As always, dinner for me wasn’t waiting.
It never had.
So I quietly cooked a simple meal—daal, rice, a little sabzi—letting the smell remind me of the only place that ever felt like home:
Dadi
My phone buzzed just as I sat down with my dinner.
Ishu calling…
The second I saw her name, my chest loosened a little.
“Hellooo drama queen,” she greeted the moment I picked up, trying to sound cheerful. But I could hear something heavy beneath her voice… a familiar ache.
“Ishu,” I whispered, smiling softly despite everything, “today was insane. Aarav, those customers—my brain is fried.”
“You survived my juice-throwing stunt,” she said proudly. “Everything else was warm-up.”
I laughed quietly, finally relaxing.
But then… silence.
A soft, shaky breath from her end.
That was all it took.
“You’re thinking about her,” I said gently.
Another breath.
A tiny sniff.
Then, in a small voice only I ever heard from her—
“…Yeah. Every year it hits differently.”
My heart tightened.
“Ishu,” I said softly, “it’s okay to miss her. And it’s okay to feel everything. You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“I know,” she whispered. “It’s just… tomorrow is her death anniversary. I thought I’d be fine, but—”
“You don’t have to be fine,” I murmured. “She was your whole world. Missing her means you loved her deeply.”
She stayed quiet.
I continued, softer:
“And tomorrow… I’ll be right there with you. You’re not going alone. You’re not carrying that pain alone.”
Ishita exhaled shakily, trying not to cry.
“Siya… thank you,” she whispered.
“You don’t need to thank me,” I said gently. “You’re my person. Always.”
A small watery laugh left her.
“Stop making me cry, idiot.”
“That’s my job,” I teased.
She sniffed again, but her voice was steadier now.
“Okay, enough emotions before I flood my room. Sleep early, pack prasad, and wear something warm. Temple mornings are cold.”
“I will,” I promised.
“And Siya?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m really glad you’re with me.”
A warm ache curled in my chest.
“Always,” I whispered.
She ended the call.
For a moment, the house still felt cold…
but my heart didn’t.
I ate alone at the dining table while the others ordered fancy food in the living room.
They laughed loudly.
I kept my head down.
My fingers traced the edge of the plate as I whispered softly,
“We’re going to the Shiv temple tomorrow, Mumma… Ishita’s mother would be happy.”
Tomorrow was Ishita’s mother’s death anniversary.
A woman who treated me like her own daughter.
Who fed me warm food when I was starving for love.
Who taught me how to bake my first cookie with flour all over my cheeks.
Who told me I was special when no one else did.
I swallowed hard as the memories returned.
I missed her more than I could ever say.
And tomorrow, visiting the temple with Ishita felt like visiting a piece of my heart.
After dinner, I packed a small bag—flowers, a small diya, and Ishita’s favorite incense sticks.
Then I lay down, staring at the ceiling, praying silently for strength…
and for just one peaceful night.
Siya ate quietly, the soft clinking of her spoon the only sound in the cold house.
Neither Meera nor her cousins cared where she had been.
Neither asked why she ate alone.
They only cared about the day she turned twenty-one…
and their greed finally came alive.
But Siya?
She was trying.
Trying to smile.
Trying to live.
Trying to bury the nightmare she never truly escaped.
She survived through little things—
a warm pastry,
a hug from Ishita,
old memories of her grandmother’s love,
and the hope that tomorrow might hurt a little less than today.
Little did she know…
her innocent world was already brushing against one carved from blood and shadows.
And elsewhere in the city—
a monster was being informed
about the man who had betrayed him.
Reyansh stood in front of me—quiet, stiff, mask gone but expression unchanged.
He always came back from missions like this.
Silent.
Steady.
Unbothered.
But today… something was different.
His knuckles were bruised.
Interesting.
He delivered the report in his usual calm tone.
“Jack is meeting the dealers tomorrow. Behind the Shiv temple. He’ll hand over the diamonds and the intel.”
I nodded once—slowly.
As expected.
The rat had finally stepped out of his hole.
But my attention wasn’t on Jack.
It was on Reyansh.
“You fought with someone.” I said casually, turning my chair toward him.
My tone wasn’t angry.
Just… curious.
Reyansh blinked once.
A rare show of confusion.
“He touched someone he shouldn’t.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Someone? Or… some girl?”
Reyansh didn’t react.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t blink.
Which only confirmed it.
A slow smirk tugged at my lips.
“Well,” I drawled, leaning back in my chair, “never thought the day would come when the great REYANSH OBEROI broke bones for a girl.”
His jaw flexed—barely noticeable.
“I didn’t do it for her,” he said flatly.
“He touched what wasn’t his.”
A short, low chuckle escaped me.
Dark.
Amused.
“Possessive, are we?”
Reyansh’s eyes sharpened.
“Not possessive,” he corrected.
“Principled.”
I tilted my head.
“Right. Your… principles.”
He stayed silent.
Cold.
Unmoving.
But the slightest flicker in his eye told me I had hit the nerve I wanted.
I stood up slowly, walking past him.
“Just make sure,” I murmured, brushing dust off my sleeve,
“you don’t break the wrong man’s bones next time.”
Reyansh didn’t respond immediately.
Then—
in the same dangerously calm voice—
“I only break what deserves breaking.”
I stopped.
Looked at him.
Smirked.
“Good. Then tomorrow,” I said, eyes turning dark,
“we break Jack.”
Reyansh nodded once.
Back to deadly silence.
Back to the shadows.
Two men.
No softness.
Only steel.
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