A pair of eyes flew open in the darkness.

A sharp breath tore through the silence of the room as his chest heaved violently, as though invisible hands had wrapped around his throat and squeezed until breathing itself became painful. For a moment, he couldn't understand where he was. The nightmare still clung to him like blood-stained fingers around his neck.

His breaths came unevenly. Broken. Harsh.

The room was silent, yet his ears still rang with the sound of crashing metal... shattered glass... and a little boy screaming for his father to wake up.

Sweat covered his entire body. Thick drops rolled down from his forehead to his jaw, soaking the collar of his black t-shirt. Even his hair was damp, sticking messily to his forehead as though he had been dragged out of water instead of sleep.

But he didn't move, didn't reach for water, didn't wipe his face, didn't even blink properly.

He just sat there on the bed, frozen, staring blankly into the darkness while trying to convince himself that it was over.

That it was just another nightmare, that none of it had happened again, but his trembling hands betrayed him. Because deep down, he knew the truth.

It was never just a dream.

It was his past.

A past buried so deep inside him that even time had failed to heal it. That night... that road... that scream...It still lived inside him like an open wound, his breathing shook again.

A painful sound escaped his throat as he bent forward slightly, pressing a trembling hand against his chest. His heart was pounding so violently it almost hurt. Every beat felt heavy, unstable, like it was trying to break free from his ribs.

He shut his eyes tightly.

But that only made it worse.

Because the moment darkness returned, he saw it again.

Blood.

So much blood.

His baba's lifeless body slumped beside him, the cracked window. the desperate little hands shaking a man who would never answer again. "Babaaaa..."

His jaw tightened instantly.

A tear slipped down before he could stop it.

He inhaled shakily, trying to steady himself, but another memory crashed into him before he could breathe properly.

"Please, Baba... don't leave me..."

His fingers curled tightly into the bedsheet, no matter how many years passed, that little boy inside him never stopped crying on that road.

Never stopped begging.

Never stopped hoping that maybe this time... his father would open his eyes.

Another tear escaped him silently.

He finally forced himself to move, trying to sit properly against the headboard, but his body refused to cooperate. His arms trembled violently under his own weight. His entire body was shaking - not from fear of the nightmare......but from the pain of seeing his father like that again.

Even after all these years, the sight destroyed him, it didn't matter that he had become stronger.

Didn't matter that people now saw him as calm, composed, untouchable. That little boy still existed somewhere inside him.

Still sitting in that broken car.

Still covered in blood.

Still crying until his throat burned.

A broken breath left his lips.

He dragged a hand through his damp hair, gripping the strands tightly as though grounding himself in pain would stop the memories from swallowing him whole, but they wouldn't stop, he could still hear his own childish voice echoing inside his head.

"I'll be good, Baba... please wake up..."

His chest tightened so painfully that he lowered his head, eyes squeezing shut again, he remembered every detail, every single detail, the smell of smoke, the metallic scent of blood filling the air, the coldness of his father's skin the silence afterward.

God.

That silence, that was the part that haunted him the most, because his baba was never silent, he used to laugh loudly, talk endlessly. Fill every corner of life with warmth, and then suddenly...Nothing, just silence.

A silence so cruel that even now, years later, it still suffocated him in his sleep, his eyes burned with tears, Not loud tears, Not dramatic sobs.

Just silent, exhausted grief that had lived inside him for years. He slowly looked toward the window beside his bed. The moonlight filtered faintly through the curtains, casting pale shadows across the room.

For a second, he looked lost, like a man standing between past and present, unable to belong fully to either, Then another painful thought hit him.

If he ever saw that moment again...If God ever sent him back to that night...He would save him, he didn't care how, he would hold his baba tighter.

Scream louder.

Beg harder.

Do something.

Anything, Because even now, after all these years, a part of him still believed he had failed. That maybe if he had cried louder...Maybe if he had held him tighter...Maybe if he had done something differently...His father would still be alive.

A broken sound escaped his lips at the thought, He covered his eyes with his trembling hand, breathing unevenly as tears slipped silently beneath his fingers, No one ever talks about what happens to a child after losing everything.

How a part of them stops growing, How fear settles permanently inside their bones, How they spend the rest of their lives pretending they survived something that actually killed them years ago.

And tonight...for the first time in a long while...it felt like that little boy had woken up again.

VAYANSH P.O.V

I closed my eyes, trying to calm my breathing, trying to convince myself that I was here... in the present... not trapped in that nightmare anymore,but my chest still felt tight.

As if those memories had wrapped invisible chains around my ribs and refused to let me breathe properly, I could still hear my own screams from the dream.

Still see blood, still see Baba's lifeless body.

My fingers trembled against the bedsheet as another shaky breath escaped my lips. I leaned back slightly, exhausted, my entire body aching under the weight of emotions I had spent years burying deep inside myself.

Then suddenly-I felt a hand supporting me.

Warm.

Steady.

Comforting.

That touch didn't feel like sympathy.

Sympathy always made people look at you as if you were broken beyond repair.

But this touch...this felt safe.

Like home.

Like someone silently saying:

"You don't have to carry everything alone anymore."

I didn't even need to open my eyes to know who it was.

Shaurya.

My best friend.

No...

More than that.

The only person who had ever stood beside me without making me feel like a burden , the only person who never asked me to hide my pain just because I was a man. I kept my eyes closed, my breathing still uneven, when suddenly I felt arms wrapping around me carefully.

Slowly.

Gently.

Like he was afraid I would shatter if he held me too tightly, and somehow...that broke me even more, Because there was no judgment in that hug.

No awkwardness.

No discomfort.

Only warmth.

Only silent understanding, one of his hands moved to the back of my head while the other rested firmly against my back, grounding me, keeping me from falling apart completely.

And for the first time since waking up...I felt safe enough to break, A tear slipped from my closed eyes before I could stop it, soaking into his t-shirt.

Then another.

And another.

Until suddenly my chest shook violently and a broken sob escaped my lips, I clutched his shirt tightly.

God.

I was trying so hard not to cry, but the moment someone held me like I didn't need to stay strong anymore...everything collapsed.

I buried my face against him as silent sobs wrecked through my body. My shoulders trembled uncontrollably while years of grief clawed their way out of my chest.

Still...he didn't stop me., didn't tell me to "calm down", Didn't say "be strong ", Didn't tell me "men don't cry."

He just held me tighter, As if he already knew what I had seen tonight, as if he knew that little boy inside me had woken up again , his hand slowly moved against my back in comforting circles while he rested his cheek lightly against my head.

"Shhh..." his voice came softly near my ear, steady despite my breaking breaths. "Let it out, Ansh... don't hold it in this time."

Another sob escaped me, my fingers tightened around his shirt desperately.

"I'm here," he whispered again. "You don't have to survive this night alone."

Those words destroyed whatever control I had left, because all these years...that was exactly what I had done.

Survive alone.

Cry alone.

Break alone.

Heal alone.

And tonight, someone was standing beside my pain instead of asking me to hide it.

I cried harder.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just painfully.

Like every tear carried years of exhaustion.

Shaurya didn't move away even once.

He just kept holding me.

Steady.

Patient.

Safe.

"You know what your problem is?" he whispered softly after a while, still rubbing my back gently. "You keep acting like pain is something shameful."

I shut my eyes tighter.

"You carry everything alone until it starts destroying you from inside... and then you smile in front of everyone like nothing happened."

Another tear slipped down my face.

"And the worst part?" his voice cracked slightly. "You think nobody notices."

I tried to speak, but my throat burned too much.

So instead, I just held onto him tighter.

For a few moments neither of us spoke.

Only my uneven breathing filled the room.

Then softly, almost like he was talking to a wounded child instead of me, he murmured:

"Cry, Ansh."

His fingers moved through my damp hair carefully.

"Tonight you don't have to pretend to be strong."

A painful breath escaped my lips.

Because God...

I was tired.

So tired of pretending.

Tired of carrying memories that still haunted my sleep.

Tired of smiling through pain.

Tired of acting like losing everything at six years old hadn't changed me forever.

"I saw him again..." my voice finally broke out weakly.

Shaurya's hold tightened slightly.

"I know."

My chest ached violently.

"He was bleeding..." I whispered shakily. "And I... I couldn't save him again."

"No." Shaurya immediately pulled back just enough to look at me. His hands came to my face firmly. "Don't do that to yourself."

Tears blurred my vision.

"I was just a child..." my voice cracked. "But every time I see that dream, it feels like I failed him."

"You didn't fail anyone."

"But I couldn't save him-"

"You were six!" his voice finally broke. "Six, Ansh! What were you supposed to do?! Stop a tragedy with your bare hands?"

I looked away immediately.

Because somewhere deep inside me...

a part of me still blamed myself.

Shaurya noticed.

Of course he did.

He always noticed the things I tried hardest to hide.

His expression softened instantly again.

One of his hands moved to wipe my tears gently while the other pushed my damp hair away from my forehead.

"Listen to me carefully," he said quietly. "That little boy deserved protection too."

My breathing shook.

"But nobody protected him," he whispered painfully.

Something inside me cracked hearing that.

Because he wasn't just talking about my past anymore.

He was talking about me.

The silence between us grew heavy.

Not uncomfortable.

Just emotional.

Raw.

The kind of silence only exists between people who know each other's wounds too well.

After a while, Shaurya slowly stood up and walked toward the table nearby.

I watched him quietly through blurred eyes.

He picked up a glass of water before returning to sit beside me again.

Without saying anything, he brought the glass toward my lips.

As if he already knew my hands were shaking too much to hold it myself.

That small gesture almost made me cry again.

I slowly drank the water while he supported the glass carefully.

Not once making me feel embarrassed for being weak.

After making sure I drank enough, he placed the glass aside before looking back at me silently.

And somehow...

his silence comforted me more than words.

Because he wasn't trying to fix me.

He was simply staying.

I lowered my gaze.

A bitter thought suddenly crossed my mind.

If people saw me like this right now...

they would call me weak.

A man crying like this.

Breaking like this.

Society never allows men to fall apart completely.

People tell men:

"Be strong."

"Man up."

"Stop crying."

"Pain makes you weak."

"Real men don't break."

As if we were born without hearts.

As if grief affects only women.

As if losing people doesn't destroy men from inside too.

My thoughts broke when Shaurya suddenly spoke softly.

"Don't."

I looked at him weakly.

As if he had somehow heard every thought inside my head.

"Don't think about what people would say," he murmured.

I stayed silent.

He leaned back slightly before continuing:

"We're humans before we're men, Ansh."

His voice remained calm.

"We have the right to feel pain too. To cry too. To break too."

I swallowed painfully.

"But people think-"

"People think men should suffer quietly," he interrupted firmly. "They think if a man cries, he becomes weak. If he shows fear, he becomes less of a man. If he asks for comfort, suddenly his pain becomes embarrassing."

His jaw tightened slightly.

"But tell me something..." he looked directly into my eyes. "Where were those people when you were suffering alone?"

I looked down instantly.

"Did they see your nightmares?" he continued softly. "Did they hear you crying at night? Did they sit beside you while you carried trauma bigger than your age?"

No.

"They only see the mask," he whispered. "Not the wounds underneath it."

A lump formed painfully in my throat.

Shaurya's expression softened again.

"You don't have to prove your strength to people who never cared enough to understand your pain."

My eyes burned again.

"You survived things that would've destroyed most people completely," he said quietly. "And even after everything... you still protect others, still love people softly, still care."

His hand squeezed mine gently.

"That isn't weakness, Ansh."

His voice cracked slightly.

"That's strength."

The room fell silent again.

But this silence no longer suffocated me.

Because this time...

I wasn't alone inside it.

After a while, Shaurya slowly lay down beside me on the bed.

Then without saying anything, he held my hand firmly.

Like a promise.

Like he was silently saying:

"Sleep. I'll stay."

"You don't have to fight tonight alone."

"Whatever comes... we'll survive it together."

My chest still hurt.

The memories still lingered.

The grief was still there.

But his presence softened the sharpness of it slightly.

I stared quietly at our joined hands for a long moment.

Then slowly...

my trembling breaths began calming down.

My eyelids grew heavy again.

And for the first time in years...

sleep didn't feel terrifying anymore.

Because somewhere beside me-

someone was guarding my nightmares.

OTHER SIDE IN AJMER - 10:30 AM

TANISHI P.O.V

This morning felt peaceful.

But mornings like this came into my life only once in years.

Only when I stayed at Bua's house.

Only when I was far away from Jodhpur.

Far away from the palace.

Far away from the people who were supposed to be my home but never felt like one.

My father.

My mother.

My chacha.

My bhai.

Whenever I was away from them...

my heart finally remembered what breathing peacefully felt like.

The soft morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, falling gently across the room like warm golden silk. Outside the window, the trees swayed lazily with the wind while birds chirped endlessly as if the world had woken up happier today.

There was no shouting here.

No suffocating silence.

No fear crawling beneath my skin.

Only peace.

A strange, unfamiliar peace that made my chest feel lighter.

The kind of peace that didn't force me to stay alert every second.

The morning breeze entered softly through the half-open window, carrying the smell of wet soil, flowers, and fresh tea from downstairs.

It felt comforting.

Safe.

Almost unreal.

Nishi and Bua had gone to the grocery store to buy things for us. They insisted I come too, but for the first time in years...

I just wanted to rest.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

I sat quietly near the window, my diary resting in my lap.

Writing had always been my escape.

Whenever my feelings became too loud for my heart to carry, I poured them onto paper instead.

But yesterday...

I was too overwhelmed to write.

Too emotionally exhausted.

Because yesterday had been one of the most beautiful days of my life.

Slowly, I opened the diary and touched the empty page gently before beginning to write.

"Yesterday felt like freedom."

A small smile appeared on my lips unconsciously.

Yesterday evening at the temple pond...

something inside me had healed.

The air.

The sky.

The sound of the water.

Everything had called out to the part of me I spent years hiding.

Dance.

My fingers tightened slightly around the pen.

I loved dancing.

No...

Dancing was the only time I truly felt alive.

But in Jodhpur Palace, dance was treated like shame.

Like something impure.

Something disgraceful.

They belonged to a royal family, and according to them, the women of their household were meant to behave with dignity, silence, and control.

Not dance.

Never dance.

So I learned to hide that part of myself.

Sometimes I danced secretly when no one was around.

Sometimes at Lavanya's house, because Uncle and Aunty always encouraged me with so much warmth that it made my chest ache.

But yesterday...

Yesterday was different.

At the temple pond, nature itself had pulled me toward dance.

The cool evening wind touched my skin softly, almost like invisible fingers guiding me gently toward freedom.

The water waves moved rhythmically against the pond's edge.

Birds flew across the orange-painted sky while their chirping blended perfectly with the sound of temple bells echoing from afar.

The trees swayed beautifully around me, their leaves rustling like they were whispering secrets only my heart could understand.

Even the air felt musical.

And for the first time in so long...

I danced without fear.

Without looking over my shoulder.

Without worrying who might see me.

Without thinking someone would punish me for simply existing happily.

Yesterday, nature itself had made me dance.

As if the sky looked at my caged soul and whispered:

"Be free for once."

My lips curved into a soft smile while writing.

But suddenly...

my hand stopped moving.

My eyes lifted toward the window.

Outside, a little girl was dancing happily in the garden while her parents watched her lovingly.

They clapped for her.

Praised her.

Smiled proudly as their daughter twirled fearlessly beneath the sunlight.

Something inside my chest tightened painfully.

And suddenly-

a memory crashed into my mind.

FLASHBACK

A seventeen-year-old girl danced gracefully in the middle of a grand room.

Her soft pink lehenga moved beautifully around her with every spin while the silver ghungroos around her ankles echoed melodiously through the room.

Her hands flowed elegantly with the lyrics of the song.

Every movement carried softness.

Emotion.

Life.

Her dupatta partially covered her face, yet somehow she still looked ethereal beneath it.

Like moonlight hidden behind thin clouds.

Her eyes remained closed as she danced fearlessly, lost completely in the music.

One delicate spin.

Then another.

Her bangles chimed softly while her feet moved perfectly in rhythm against the marble floor.

That girl looked alive while dancing.

Truly alive.

Like pain could never touch her while music surrounded her soul.

Then suddenly-

someone grabbed her wrist harshly.

The girl gasped painfully.

Her entire body froze instantly.

Fear crashed through her veins before she even opened her eyes.

Slowly...

she looked up.

A tall figure stood before her.

Her father.

His grip around her wrist tightened painfully.

The warmth of dance disappeared instantly, replaced by suffocating fear.

Her breathing became uneven.

Because the way he touched her wrist didn't feel protective.

It felt controlling.

Cold.

Terrifying.

Suddenly someone switched off the music.

Silence swallowed the room completely.

Only her frightened breathing remained.

Then-

THAPPAD.

A harsh slap landed across her face so violently that her entire head jerked sideways.

Her eyes widened in shock.

The burning pain spread instantly across her cheek.

Her chacha stood beside her now, glaring at her with disgust.

But what shattered her more...

was her father.

He just stood there.

Watching.

Looking at her as if she truly deserved it.

As if dancing had turned her into something shameful.

Tears instantly filled her eyes.

"Papa..." her voice trembled weakly.

But another slap silenced her completely.

"Sharam nahi aati tumhe?!" her chacha shouted furiously.

Her body shook violently.

"Rajgharaane ki ladkiyan naachti nahi hain!" he hissed.

Her father's cold voice echoed next.

"Humare mahal ki auratein apni izzat sambhalti hain... mehfilon mein pair nahi thirkati."

Tears slipped helplessly from her eyes.

"I-I was just dancing..."

"Bas!" her father shouted loudly enough to make her flinch.

His expression held no softness.

No warmth.

Only anger.

"Naach gaana karna hai toh kisi aur ghar mein paida hona chahiye tha tumhe!"

Her breathing broke painfully.

"Papa please-"

"Tum jaanti bhi ho tum kis ghar se belong karti ho?" her chacha spat harshly. "Rajputana khoon hai tumhare andar! Aur tum yeh sab kar rahi ho? Kal ko log ungli uthayenge hum par!"

Her father looked at her with disappointment so cold it shattered something inside her.

"Ladkiyon ko maryada mein rehna chahiye," he said cruelly. "Naachne wali auratein kabhi izzat nahi paati."

Her lips trembled violently.

Every word stabbed deeper than the slap itself.

Then suddenly her chacha bent down, grabbed her ghungroos violently, and tore them from her ankles.

The tiny bells scattered across the marble floor.

The sound echoed painfully through the room.

Like her heart breaking into pieces.

"Yeh sab dobara mat pehenna," he hissed before throwing them away disgustedly.

She cried harder instantly.

"No-please-"

But neither man looked at her tears.

Not even once.

Then suddenly they grabbed her arms harshly.

Fear consumed her immediately.

"No... no please..."

She already knew where they were taking her.

That room.

That horrible dark room.

Her breathing became frantic.

"Papa please! I'm sorry!" she cried desperately while stumbling as they dragged her across the hallway.

Her tears blurred everything.

"Please... I won't dance again! Please don't lock me there!"

But no one stopped.

No one helped.

Servants lowered their heads silently.

Her mother stood frozen.

No one came forward.

No one saved her.

She cried and struggled while her father and chacha dragged her mercilessly toward the darkness.

"Please Papa... please..."

Her voice cracked painfully between sobs.

"I'm scared... please..."

But they didn't even look back at her.

The heavy door opened.

Darkness waited inside.

She tried pulling away desperately now, panic consuming her fully.

"No! Please don't leave me there! Please!"

Her cries echoed through the corridor.

But the next second-

they pushed her inside.

And the door slammed shut.

FLASHBACK END

A soft voice suddenly reached her ears, gently pulling her out of the painful memories drowning her mind.

"Tanishi... Tanishi... kahan ho, baccha? Neeche aao."

Bua.

The warmth in her voice instantly softened something inside her chest.

Tanishi blinked slowly, her fingers tightening around the diary resting in her lap before she quickly wiped the corner of her eyes. She inhaled softly, forcing the haunting memories back into the corners of her heart where they always remained buried.

Then she stood up quietly and walked downstairs.

The moment she reached the living room, she saw Bua and Lavanya entering with countless shopping bags hanging from their hands.

Lavanya groaned dramatically while dropping two bags onto the sofa.

"Oh my God, my arms are literally dead."

A small smile escaped Tanishi's lips for the first time after the flashback.

She walked toward them slowly.

"Yeh itni saari cheezen?" she asked softly.

Lavanya immediately pointed toward the bags proudly.

"Yes, madam. Humare liye bhi... aur kuch mahal ke liye bhi. Bua na shopping mode mein chali gayi thi."

Bua laughed softly hearing that.

"Arre kuch saman khatam ho raha tha na, isliye lena pada."

Tanishi nodded gently before Lavanya dramatically placed a hand over her stomach.

"Waise mujhe bahut bhook lagi hai. Please bolo breakfast ready hai warna main yahin gir jaungi."

Bua laughed again.

"Mujhe bhi bahut zor se bhook lagi hai."

Then her eyes immediately softened while looking at Tanishi.

"Nishi... tumne kuch khaya, baccha?"

Tanishi shook her head lightly.

"Nahi Bua... mann nahi ho raha tha. Aap dono ke saath hi khana tha."

Something emotional flickered through Bua's eyes hearing that.

Maybe because Tanishi always waited for people before eating.

As if somewhere deep inside her, she still longed for togetherness she never truly received.

Bua gently caressed her cheek lovingly.

"Pagal ladki."

Tanishi smiled faintly.

"Aap dono fresh ho jao... phir hum saath mein breakfast karte hain."

"Deal!" Lavanya pointed dramatically before grabbing the bags again.

Both of them went upstairs to freshen up while Tanishi quietly moved toward the dining area.

For the first time in a long while...

the silence around her didn't feel suffocating.

It felt warm.

Safe.

Like she belonged somewhere.

A while later, Bua and Lavanya came downstairs after changing clothes.

Lavanya instantly ran toward the dining table dramatically.

"If food doesn't enter my body in the next thirty seconds, I'm suing everyone here."

Tanishi burst into soft laughter.

And Bua paused for a moment just to watch her.

Because that laugh...

that genuine laugh...

was rare.

Painfully rare.

Breakfast passed peacefully.

The three of them sat together eating, talking, laughing softly over random things.

No shouting.

No fear.

No judgment.

Tanishi sat there quietly watching them sometimes, almost as if she still couldn't believe peace like this truly existed.

Then suddenly Lavanya spoke excitedly.

"Nishi!"

"Hm?"

"You know na whenever we come to Ajmer, we always join dance classes for a few days?"

Tanishi's fingers paused slightly near her plate.

Lavanya leaned closer excitedly.

"Aaj mujhe ek dance academy mili. And the teacher is SO good. While Bua was shopping na, I talked to them."

Tanishi blinked softly.

"Sach?"

"Yes!" Lavanya nodded quickly. "Shaam ko chalte hain. Jab tak hum yahan hain, we'll learn there every evening."

Before Tanishi could answer, Bua smiled warmly.

"Haan bacchon, chale jaana. Tum dono ko accha lagega."

Something flickered softly in Tanishi's eyes.

Dance.

The word itself always touched her soul differently.

Not because it was a hobby.

But because it was freedom.

She looked down slightly before nodding slowly.

"Okay..."

Lavanya immediately squealed happily.

"YAY!"

The rest of the day passed beautifully.

The three of them spent hours together talking, laughing, teasing each other softly, and for once...

Tanishi forgot what fear felt like.

________________________________________

LAVANYA P.O.V

We stepped outside the dance academy together, and honestly...

the place already felt special.

The teacher was unbelievably kind and graceful. The way she talked about dance didn't make it sound like an art.

It sounded like healing.

Like freedom.

Like emotions turning into movement.

Nishi had remained quiet most of the time inside, but I noticed the way her eyes softened whenever the teacher spoke about dancing from the heart instead of perfection.

And that alone made me happy.

Because slowly...

very slowly...

she was beginning to breathe again.

We walked side by side through the streets of Ajmer while the evening melted beautifully around us.

The sun was beginning to disappear now.

Not completely.

Just slowly enough to paint the entire sky golden-orange.

That soft moment before darkness arrives.

That beautiful hour where the world looks half asleep and half alive.

The streets glowed beneath the warm sunset.

Shops were slowly turning on their yellow lights one by one.

The smell of chai, street food, and wet earth mixed beautifully with the cool evening breeze drifting through the roads.

People walked lazily.

Children laughed loudly nearby.

Somewhere far away, the faint sound of an azaan echoed softly through the city while temple bells rang gently from another direction.

Ajmer always looked magical during sunset.

Like the city itself paused for a moment just to admire the sky.

The breeze moved softly through Nishi's loose hair while she looked around quietly.

And for the first time in days...

she looked peaceful.

Not fully healed.

Not fully okay.

But lighter.

And honestly?

That alone made my heart feel calm.

"Gupchup?" I asked dramatically.

Nishi immediately looked at me.

"You're asking as if you'll survive if I say no."

"Correct," I nodded seriously. "I'll collapse right here."

She laughed softly.

God.

Her laugh deserved protection.

We walked toward a roadside gupchup stall nearby.

The yellow street lights had started glowing now while the last traces of sunset still lingered faintly in the sky. Vehicles moved past us slowly, their headlights flickering against the roads while people crowded around food stalls happily.

The uncle at the stall smiled seeing us.

"Kitna teekha?"

"Bhaiya, meri dost ko medium dena..." I pointed toward Nishi. "Aur mujhe... emotional damage level teekha."

The uncle looked confused.

Nishi laughed softly again.

Success.

We stood there waiting for our turn while the evening breeze moved around us gently.

Then suddenly-

SCREEECH.

A bike sped dangerously close toward us.

Everything happened within seconds.

The biker almost crashed directly into Nishi.

My heart dropped instantly.

Without thinking, I grabbed her arm harshly and pulled her toward me.

The bike missed her by inches.

"Nishi!" I held her shoulders immediately. "Are you okay?!"

She looked slightly startled but nodded softly.

"I-I'm okay..."

I turned instantly.

Rage exploded inside me seeing the biker casually slowing down like nothing happened.

Excuse me?

No.

Absolutely not.

I marched toward him furiously before grabbing his collar aggressively.

"Tu dikh raha hai ya aankhon mein mirchi daal ke bike chala raha hai?!" I snapped.

The guy looked stunned.

"Madam-"

"Madam ki bacchi!" I tightened my grip. "Andha hai kya?! Ya license lottery mein mila tha?!"

Nearby people immediately started staring.

But honestly?

I didn't care.

My blood was boiling.

"Ek second aur late hoti na..." I pointed angrily toward Nishi, "...toh seedha road pe gira deta usse!"

The biker immediately raised his hands defensively.

"Sorry bol raha hoon na-"

"Sorry?" I laughed sarcastically. "Wah. Banda kisi ko uda de almost aur phir bole 'sorry.' Kya baat hai."

Nishi immediately came toward me softly.

"Vanya... leave it. I'm okay."

"No, you are NOT okay," I snapped without looking away from him. "Aaj bach gayi ho. Kal?"

The biker looked genuinely nervous now.

"Madam galti ho gayi-"

"Galti?" I repeated dangerously. "Tum jaise logon ki 'galti' kisi ki jaan le leti hai."

The street had grown quieter around us now.

Even the sunset suddenly felt less peaceful.

Because one second.

That's all it takes.

One careless second to destroy someone's life forever.

And somewhere behind my anger...

I knew why I reacted like this.

Because I had seen broken people.

Because I knew pain too closely.

Because some people were already hanging by threads so fragile that one accident could destroy them completely.

My grip slowly loosened from his collar.

But my glare remained sharp.

"Next time," I said coldly, "bike chalane se pehle aankhein khol lena."

Then I pushed him away slightly.

The biker immediately nodded repeatedly before speeding away from there as fast as possible.

I turned back instantly toward Nishi.

She still looked shaken slightly.

My expression softened immediately.

"Hey..." I moved closer. "You sure you're okay?"

She nodded softly again.

But something about her eyes looked distant now.

As if something else had scared her.

Not the bike.

The memory of danger itself.

________________________________________

?.... P.O.V

"Tu dikh raha hai ya aankhon mein mirchi daal ke bike chala raha hai?!"

The voice cut through the evening noise so suddenly that my attention shifted toward it before I could even think.

I still couldn't see her.

Too many people stood in the way, gathering around the roadside stall after the near accident. Bodies moved across my line of sight every few seconds, blocking whatever little glimpse I tried to catch.

But her voice...

God.

Her voice reached me clearly despite the chaos.

Sharp with anger.

Harsh enough to stop someone in their tracks.

Yet beneath all that fury, there was something soft hidden inside it. Something warm. Something strangely beautiful.

Like rain hiding beneath thunder.

I don't know why I kept listening.

Maybe because people usually sound ugly when they're angry.

But she didn't.

Even her rage carried concern.

"Ek second aur late hota na toh seedha usse uda deta!"

There it was again.

Not ego.

Fear.

The kind that comes when someone you care about almost gets hurt.

The evening air moved softly around the crowded street while the last traces of sunset painted Ajmer in shades of gold and fading orange. Shops had begun turning on their lights, one after another, warm yellow glows spreading across the roads. Somewhere nearby, the smell of frying snacks mixed with cool wind and dust from passing vehicles.

The world remained busy around me.

But my attention stayed fixed on that unseen girl.

I shifted slightly, trying to look past the crowd.

For one brief second, I caught the movement of her hand as she grabbed the biker's collar.

And then my eyes stopped there completely.

A silver bracelet rested around her wrist.

Simple.

Delicate.

Beautiful in the quietest way possible.

Tiny charms hung from it, glimmering softly beneath the evening lights every time her hand moved. The silver reflected the golden sunset faintly, making the bracelet look almost unreal against her skin.

Strange.

Something about it held my attention longer than it should have.

Not because it was expensive.

Not because it was flashy.

It looked personal.

Like something worn close to the heart.

The bracelet shifted gently as her fingers tightened against the biker's collar, the tiny charms brushing softly against her wrist with every angry movement.

And somehow...

that contrast felt mesmerizing.

The softness of that bracelet.

The fierceness of her anger.

The elegance in the way she moved despite being furious.

"Madam galti ho gayi-"

"Galti?" she snapped sharply. "Tum jaise logon ki galti kisi ki jaan le leti hai!"

The biker immediately fell silent.

I almost smiled.

There was no fear in her voice while confronting him.

Only protectiveness.

Only concern for the person standing behind her.

The crowd shifted again, and for the briefest moment, I caught a glimpse of her side profile.

Just enough to make curiosity worse.

A few strands of hair moved across her cheek because of the evening breeze. Her face remained half-hidden behind people walking past, but even that incomplete glimpse carried something impossible to ignore.

Then someone stepped in front of her again.

I exhaled quietly through my nose.

Unbelievable.

It almost felt intentional now, as if fate itself kept placing obstacles between us.

Only allowing me fragments.

Her voice.

Her hand.

That bracelet.

Nothing more.

Then suddenly her tone changed.

"Hey... you okay?"

The anger disappeared instantly.

Soft concern replaced it so naturally that for a second it didn't even feel like the same person.

My gaze shifted slightly toward the girl standing beside her.

She looked shaken.

Quiet.

Fragile, almost.

The angry girl moved closer to her immediately, checking her carefully as if nothing else around them mattered anymore.

And somehow... that softened something inside me unexpectedly.

Because people reveal who they truly are in moments like this.

Some people create scenes for attention.

Some get angry for pride.

But her anger came from fear.

Fear of losing someone.

That kind of anger always hides love beneath it.

The evening around us darkened slowly while the city continued glowing brighter. Streetlights reflected against moving vehicles. Laughter echoed from nearby stalls. Temple bells rang faintly from somewhere far away.

Ajmer looked beautiful during this hour.

Half sunlight.

Half darkness.

And in the middle of all that beauty, I stood there noticing a stranger whose face I still hadn't properly seen.

Ridiculous.

Yet I couldn't walk away.

My eyes kept returning toward her unconsciously.

Toward the movement of her hands.

Toward the silver bracelet wrapped around her wrist.

Toward the sound of her voice every time she spoke.

Then finally, the crowd around them began dispersing.

I thought maybe this time I'd finally see her properly.

But instead-

she turned away.

The bracelet disappeared first beneath the moving crowd.

Then her voice faded slowly into the noise of the streets.

And just like that...

she was gone.

Completely.

I stood there for a moment longer, staring toward the direction she had walked away in.

The cool evening wind brushed past quietly.

People continued moving around me.

Life returned to normal.

But strangely...

something no longer felt the same.

A faint smile almost appeared on my lips before I looked away.

Funny.

I didn't know her name.

Didn't know her face properly.

Didn't know anything about her.

Yet somehow one thing had already become clear-

whoever she was...she loved people with her whole heart.

{TO BE CONTINUED...}

________________________________________

🌹 Happy reading, Roses!

I hope you enjoy the chapter-it's a little over 6K+ words. Sorry if it felt short compared to the first one. I'll try to make the next chapter longer for you.

💐 Please share your feedback-it truly means a lot to me!

✨ For spoilers, follow my Instagram: @shrisu_author

👀 What do you think-who is this new POV person?

?.....p.o.v

And yes, sorry for the late update! As you know, we are two sisters-Shri and Su. Su got married in March, so I had to handle everything at home along with my college. That's why the delay happened. Thank you for being patient, Roses.

With love,

Your ShriSu 🌸