2

Bella Malhotra barged into her room, the mango-stuffed dupatta flung over her shoulder like a soldier returning from war. Her sunflower-yellow kurti was stained with dirt and a hint of mango pulp near her elbow. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes gleaming with post-heist pride. She shut the door dramatically and collapsed on the bed with the sigh of a victorious bandit.

"Mission successful," she muttered to herself, still grinning.

Kaojal, her younger sister, peeked through the door. "Did you just raid the neighbor's mango tree?"

Bella smirked. "Correction: I liberated their mangoes. Rojan Rajvansh caught me. Almost."

Kaojal's eyes widened. "You met the new neighbors?"

"Met is a strong word. I was halfway through my heroic escape when he showed up. He called me 'mango chor' like some filmi villain."

Kaojal burst into laughter. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

Bella sat up and began peeling one of the mangoes with all the grace of a serial offender. "He's cocky. But—" she paused dramatically "—annoyingly cute."

Just then, their mother, Mishti Malhotra, walked in. "Bella! What on earth happened to your kurti? And what is that smell?"

"Mangoes, Ma," Kaojal offered innocently.

"Mangoes?" Mishti frowned. "Where did you get mangoes from?"

Bella froze.

Kaojal jumped in, "From the new neighbors! They have a tree!"

Mishti raised a suspicious brow. "You stole mangoes from our new neighbors?"

Bella waved a hand. "No, no, I took them with...implied permission."

Mishti folded her arms. "Bella."

Before Bella could respond with more courtroom-level excuses, the landline rang. Mishti picked it up.

"Hello?... Oh! Abhishek ji! Yes yes, I heard you moved in next door! Congratulations!" Her tone flipped from maternal anger to bubbly hospitality. "Yes, Rohan will be so happy to reconnect! You both were classmates, na? Oh, yes! You're inviting us? For dinner? Tonight?"

Bella froze mid-mango-bite.

"Sure! We'll be there by 7. See you!"

Mishti turned around, eyes narrowed at Bella. "Congratulations, Bella. You're going to dinner at the house you robbed."

Scene: Chaos in the Malhotra House

Bella stormed into the living room. "This is not fair. I stole mangoes, and now I have to face the mango owner over dinner? Do you want me to choke on awkwardness?"

Mishti glared. "It's called consequences."

Rohan Malhotra, her father, emerged from his room with a wide grin. "Did I hear we're meeting Abhishek Rajvansh tonight? My old rival from college? I hope he still can't win arm-wrestling."

"Papa," Kaojal groaned. "This is not a wrestling match."

"It's emotional wrestling," Bella muttered.

Rohan clapped his hands. "Bella, you better dress well. You can't show up to dinner looking like a fruity fugitive."

Bella rolled her eyes. "Tell that to your college rival. Maybe he remembers losing to you and cries into his mangoes."

Mishti interrupted the banter. "Everyone get ready. Bella, no more mango missions. Kaojal, help me choose the sweets."

Scene: The Rajvansh Household, Meanwhile

Rojan Rajvansh paced the living room, tossing a mango in the air.

His brother, Aadhav, lay sprawled on the couch with a physics book on his chest. "You still thinking about that thief?"

"She wasn't just a thief. She was cocky," Rojan replied, almost impressed.

Aadhav chuckled. "You have a crush on a mango thief?"

Rojan threw the mango at him. "No! She was just annoying."

Divya Rajvansh, their mother, appeared. "Aadhav, Rojan, stop throwing mangoes. We're having guests tonight. I invited the Malhotras."

Aadhav sat up. "Malhotras?"

"Yes. Rohan Malhotra and I were friends in school. We're neighbors now. Time to reconnect."

Rojan's eyes narrowed. "Wait. Malhotra?"

"Yes."

He groaned. "She's a Malhotra."

Scene: The Storm Before the Dinner

Back in the Malhotra house, Ahana Pandey walked in, books in hand, looking like the personification of Jasmine in full academic bloom.

"MISHUUU, I'm not going," she declared, setting her books on the table.

Mishti turned. "Excuse me?"

Bella blinked. "Why not?"

Ahana hesitated. "I'm not feeling well."

Mishti's eyebrows shot up. "You were fine fifteen minutes ago."

Bella smirked. "She doesn't want to face her ex-crush."

Ahana glared. "He's not my ex-anything. He's just a mistake I corrected."

"Corrected like a math problem," Kaojal quipped.

Ahana groaned. "I just don't want to see his stupid smirk."

Mishti intervened. "Everyone is going. Wear your best smiles—or fake ones, I don't care."

Scene: The Housewarming Dinner Begins

The Rajvansh residence was glowing. Lanterns lit up the pathway, fairy lights flickered on the balcony. As the Malhotras walked in, the door swung open.

Abhishek Rajvansh greeted them with a wide grin. "Rohan Malhotra, still five feet ten and full of attitude!"

Rohan laughed. "Abhishek! Still bald and proud?"

Their bear-hug was followed by a round of fake insults and laughter.

Mishti and Divya hugged like long-lost soul sisters.

"You look exactly the same, Divya!"

"You don't age either, Mishti!"

"Liar!"

"I know!"

They both cackled.

Bella met Rojan's eye. He was standing by the stairs, looking like he knew too much.

"Well, well," Rojan smirked. "If it isn't the Mango Mafia."

Bella sniffed. "You still crying about your fruit?"

"Oh, I grieved. Then I plotted revenge."

"Good. Let me know when the plan gets past throwing mangoes at your brother."

They walked inside, still bickering.

Meanwhile, Aadhav spotted Ahana near the dining table. She looked... different. Still calm, but distant. A jasmine bloom with thorns now.

"Hi," he said.

Ahana barely looked up. "Hello."

"You look like you hate being here."

She turned slowly. "Not as much as I hate wasting time on people who mock feelings."

Oof.

Aadhav blinked, stunned.

"Wait, what?"

Before he could ask more, Ahana was gone. Just like that.

"Enemies," she whispered to herself. "It's easier this way."

Scene: Dinner With Extra Masala

The dinner table was long, buzzing with conversations, overlapping jokes, and subtle stares. Dishes of paneer, biryani, kachori, and rasmalai filled the air with fragrance.

Abhishek and Rohan were locked in a heated argument about who cheated during their 11th-grade cricket match.

"I caught that ball!"

"You tripped over your own shoelace!"

Divya and Mishti laughed in sync. "Boys."

Meanwhile, Rojan and Bella sat across each other.

"You're glaring again," Rojan teased.

"It's called watching my enemy choke on karela," Bella replied sweetly.

Kaojal giggled beside her. "They're impossible."

Ahana quietly ate beside Mishti, pretending not to hear Aadhav's gaze.

Aadhav finally leaned in. "Can we talk?"

She looked at him. "About what? How I'm a joke to you and your friends?"

His eyes dropped. "I didn't know it was you."

"But you laughed anyway."

That silenced him.

The dinner ended with laughter, tension, and the promise of chaos.

Scene: After Dinner Farewells

As they stood near the doorway saying goodbye, Bella and Rojan locked eyes again.

"Same time tomorrow? For more mangoes?" he asked.

"I prefer peaches."

Rohan and Abhishek were already planning a weekend badminton match.

Mishti and Divya were exchanging recipes and spa ideas.

Aadhav watched Ahana leave with a sigh.

"What just happened?" he whispered.

Rojan patted his shoulder. "You fell for your enemy, bro."

Bella stood near the microwave, glaring at it like it had insulted her heritage.
"Bhaiya, kisne kaha tha brownie banana hai? You don't even like chocolate!" she snapped at Kaojal, who blinked like an innocent bystander caught in an accidental arson case.

"I was trying to impress Rojan's mom," Kaojal confessed sheepishly.
Bella dropped the spatula. "Impress? Tu toh sirf uski mummy ke liye bake karti hai, toh kal se mummy se shaadi kar le!"

Mishti peeked in from the dining area, "Beta, if the brownie smells like tire rubber, maybe don't serve it as dessert."

Kaojal turned to Bella. "Well, at least I'm not out there stealing mangoes from our new neighbor like you!"

"Uff, bring it up every damn time, why don't you," Bella groaned, her sunflower energy slightly dimmed under family roast.

Scene 2: Rajvansh Living Room – Aadhav's Sulk & Rojan's Smirk

Aadhav sprawled across the couch, tossing a cushion up and down. Rojan entered with a smug expression.

"What's with the face, Romeo?"
Aadhav scowled. "She's impossible. That Ahana girl. Arrogant, judgmental, fake-nice... and yet, I think she smells like jasmine."

Rojan burst out laughing. "Bhaiya pyaar ka naya perfume sniff kar rahe ho kya?"

Aadhav threw the cushion at him. "Shut up. She literally told me we're enemies now."

"Oh wow. So dramatic. What is this, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai Part 7?"

Their mother, Divya, walked past humming, "Enemies are just lovers in denial," she teased.

Rojan winked. "Speaking of denial, Bella called me 'ek overgrown tamatar' today."

"You deserved it," Aadhav said with a grin. "You said her handwriting looks like it's running away from the page."

"I was being honest!"

"You're going to marry her someday."

"I'd rather marry a cactus."

Scene 3: Ahana's Bedroom – Diaries & Determination

Ahana flung herself onto her bed. Anjali entered with two mugs of cocoa and raised a brow.

"Rude, arrogant, ridiculous—he thinks I like him. After all that!"
"Who are we talking about today?" Anjali asked gently, handing her the mug.

"Aadhav. He... he has this smirk that makes you want to slap and stare at him at the same time."

Anjali grinned. "Sounds like a crush."

Ahana groaned. "No, this is a curse."

Anjali softly replied, "Even curses can become choices. And sometimes... even stories worth telling."

Ahana turned to her open diary. "I'm not writing about him. Not anymore. He doesn't deserve these pages."

"But he already got chapters," Anjali said, sipping her cocoa, "and maybe—just maybe—he'll rewrite the ending."

Scene 4: Rooftop Conversations – Bella & Rojan, Again

That night, Rojan found Bella on the rooftop, stealing the breeze and looking dramatically toward the stars.

"You're trespassing," she said without looking.

"My rooftop too. Our walls touch."

"Still. Personal space. Learn it."

Rojan leaned on the railing. "You know... my dad said your dad used to cry during math tests."

Bella smirked. "That's funny. Because mine said yours once glued his fingers together in art class and walked around like Wolverine for two days."

They both laughed. Then silence.

"Today was... weird," Rojan said.

"Yeah. Families bonding, food burning, dushman number ek sitting opposite me."

"Aadhav?"

Bella nodded. "Ahana looked like she wanted to throw the curry bowl at his head."

"I'd pay to see that."

They shared a glance.

"Friends?" he asked suddenly.

Bella paused. "Temporary ceasefire. Until you call me tamatar again."

"Noted, miss mango-thief."

Scene 5: Group Chat – The Aftermath

In the newly created WhatsApp group titled "Cousins + Dushman + Dosti?"

Soumaina: Guys, I just want peace and pretty outfits. Can we chill?

Naina: Bella, next time steal bananas. At least they don't stain your kurta.

Krish: Dixit and I are keeping score of insults. Current leaders: Ahana and Aadhav.

Ahana: Tell Dixit to score his own face.

Aadhav: See? She likes me.

The typing stopped. Then...

Bella: Aadhav, stop being the lead actor of your imagination.

Rojan: Good night, mango mafia.

The day after the housewarming dinner

The morning sun slanted through the curtains of the Malhotra house, casting golden beams across the floor. Bella Malhotra sat on the swing in the veranda, her cup of chai untouched, eyes still half-squinting from sleep and stubborn thoughts that refused to leave her alone. The echo of Rojan's smug voice from last night still rang in her ears.

"Tum jaise mango chor ka kya bharosa."
She almost spilled the chai just remembering it.

"Uff, idiot," she muttered, rolling her eyes as her sister Kaojal walked in with a towel wrapped over her head.

"Still thinking about him?" Kaojal teased, eyebrows arched.

"I'm thinking about mangoes, okay? Not boys who think they're mango kings," Bella shot back, hiding her smile behind the cup.

Kaojal snorted. "You mean Rojan Rajvansh? Mango King of Karela Nagar?"

Bella choked on her tea. "Ew! I'll throw up."

Meanwhile, in the Rajvansh household, Rojan was sulking on his bed, staring at the ceiling like it had betrayed him. Aadhav leaned against the doorframe, tossing a cricket ball up and down.

"You like her," he said flatly.

"I like my mango tree. She tried to kill it," Rojan said, sitting up dramatically.

Aadhav rolled his eyes. "Sure. That's why you were staring at her all through dinner like she'd stolen your last laddoo."

Rojan picked up a pillow and hurled it at him. "Shut up, Aadhav. Go deal with your 'she's my enemy but I can't stop thinking about her' problem."

Aadhav stopped tossing the ball and turned serious. "She hates me."

"Gee, wonder why. Maybe it's got something to do with you calling someone's heartfelt letters 'creepy' in the boys' washroom."

Aadhav's face darkened. He hadn't figured out yet why Ahana hated him so much, but her anger wasn't the playful kind. It was personal. And it pierced.

Back in the Pandey house, Ahana was combing her hair when her phone buzzed with a message from Nandani.

"Group study today? We're meeting at Soumaina's place. Bring drama, bring snacks."
"Also Bella is dragging Rojan. For science project help."
"Aadhav's coming too. Brace yourself."

Ahana sighed, staring at the message like it personally offended her.

"Perfect. Just what I needed. A group project where two boys I want to push off a cliff will be present."

Anjali, who had been listening, smirked. "Want me to push one for you?"

"I want to push them both together so it looks like a tragic accident."

Later that evening – Kapoor Residence (Soumaina's House)

The living room was chaos. Controlled, snack-fueled, teenage chaos.

Bella was arguing with Rojan over whether mango leaves were scientifically more useful than neem leaves.

"It's not a beauty hack video, Bella!" Rojan groaned.

"And it's not Rajvansh Science Weekly either!" she fired back.

"Both of you shut up," Soumaina said sweetly from the corner. "You're disturbing the aesthetic balance of my living room."

Dixit arrived late, followed by Krish, both carrying chips like they were peace offerings.

Krish plopped down between Ahana and Aadhav on the carpet. Bad move.

"Hi," he said cheerfully. "So, which one of you is going to kill the other first?"

Ahana glared. Aadhav smirked.

"Ladies first," he said.

Ahana turned to him, eyes sharp. "Good. Because gentlemen seem extinct in this room."

Nandani and Naina exchanged glances and started fake betting. "Fifty bucks on Ahana giving him a new nickname by the end of the night."

"You're on," said Kaojal.

An hour into studying—or pretending to—everyone slowly relaxed. There was laughter. There was mild screaming. There was Bella tripping over a wire and landing squarely into Rojan's lap.

"Are you serious right now?" Rojan said, wide-eyed.

"Get your lap away from my fall path!" she snapped, face redder than the chutney on the table.

"Oh my god, are you blushing?" Kaojal gasped.

"I'm hot. Shut up."

Later that Night – Private Moments

Rojan stood outside with a cup of chai, staring at the stars. Bella joined him quietly, no more bickering. Just silent tension.

"You were good in the project," she said softly.

He looked at her, surprised. "You weren't bad either."

She looked up at him. "Hey Rojan?"

"Hmm?"

"If you tell anyone I said something nice, I'll steal all your mangoes again."

He laughed, and for the first time in days, Bella smiled without sarcasm.

Meanwhile, inside, Aadhav stood awkwardly by the bookshelf, watching Ahana from across the room. She caught his eye and didn't look away.

Aadhav took a breath.

"I never meant to hurt you."

Ahana blinked, stiffening where she stood by the corner table. Her hand still clutched the edge, like if she let go, she'd float somewhere she didn't want to be.

"Oh, we're doing this now?" she said quietly, not quite turning toward him.

"I don't know when else we will," he replied, his voice low, not teasing this time. "But I think you deserve to know I—"

"I don't want your apology," she interrupted. Her voice was calm, too calm.

His lips parted, confused. "You don't?"

"No. I want your silence. I want peace. I want to stop pretending that I'm not angry when I am. And that I didn't once think you were everything I'd ever wanted."

That shut him up. For once, Aadhav Rajvansh, the boy with the perfect grades, the smug smile, and the too-easy charm, had no words.

Ahana's voice softened—not out of kindness, but fatigue. "You don't have to fix anything. I already did."

And then she walked away.

Aadhav stood still, feeling the crushing weight of realization press down on his chest. And for the first time, he knew—he had already lost her once. He wasn't sure he'd get another chance.

Meanwhile... in the kitchen chaos

Krish and Dixit were dancing to some random 2000s Bollywood song on Soumaina's speaker while Nandani tried to keep her eye-rolls from launching into the sky.

"Do you guys ever not act like cracked coconuts?" Nandani asked, clearly exhausted.

"Nope," Dixit chirped.

Soumaina turned to Naina. "We need better boys."

Naina deadpanned, "Or a lab to clone Hrithik Roshan."

They high-fived.

Bella and Rojan returned from the balcony, only to find their siblings in various stages of dance, snack-theft, and full chaos.

Bella groaned. "We leave for five minutes and everyone loses their brain cells?"

Kaojal tossed a pillow at her. "Like you have any left."

"Excuse me, at least I didn't make brownies that doubled as hockey pucks!"

The room erupted with laughter, and just for a moment, even Ahana let herself smile from the corner of the room.

Later that night – Group Chat Revival

Soumaina: okay that was chaotic but fun???
Krish: can confirm: I inhaled 7 samosas and danced my feelings away
Dixit: I have a cramp in places I didn't know existed
Bella: Rojan is officially banned from saying the word "chlorophyll" again
Rojan: noted, mango thief
Ahana: Thanks for hosting, Sou. Let's never include Aadhav again
Aadhav: noted, enemy #1
Naina: can we just appreciate that no one died?
Nandani: emotionally? maybe a few did.

Final Scene – Midnight Thoughts

Ahana lay on her bed, phone screen lighting her tired face. She scrolled back up to Aadhav's message:

"I never meant to hurt you."

Her thumb hovered over the reply box.

She didn't type anything. Not yet.

But she didn't delete the message either.

Across the lane, Aadhav stood on his balcony, holding his phone, staring at the blank chat window with her name on it. "Tomorrow," he whispered.

Meanwhile, Bella stood in front of her mirror, brushing her hair, only to find herself smiling without reason.

"Ugh," she whispered, "I'm in trouble."

On his side, Rojan stared at the stars from his window and muttered, "Sunflower girl's gonna be the death of me."

And thus, the next chapter of chaos, growth, and grudging affection began to write itself quietly in hearts, even before it hit the pages.

FLASHBACK:Chapter: Unspoken Words and Hidden Hearts(2YEARS AGO)

The campus buzzed with the usual chatter and rush of students moving from one class to the next. Anjali walked between the tall, oak-lined pathways leading to the main block, her books pressed tightly to her chest. The sunlight danced on the leaves, casting soft patterns on the ground, yet her thoughts were miles away, tangled up in the complex emotions stirring within her.​

As she walked, she noticed a familiar figure in the distance—Pratap Rathore. His usual smug smirk was missing, replaced by a deeper intensity as he spoke to his friend, Rishit Rathore, who, for once, wasn't making his usual carefree jokes. Something in his expression caught Anjali's attention. She stopped in her tracks, her heartbeat quickening slightly, her gaze unknowingly fixed on him.​

It wasn't the first time she'd noticed Rishit. He had an air about him, a calm that she admired. Tall, with sharp features and a quiet confidence, he seemed to stand apart from the chaos of their school life. She couldn't help but feel a flicker of something when their eyes met across the yard, a brief moment of connection. She quickly turned her gaze away, feeling a little self-conscious.​

Rishit noticed the glance. It wasn't just a passing look; it was a look that lingered. And for a brief second, something stirred inside him—something that felt different, something far more potent than the friendly admiration he had for his friend's sister.​

He cleared his throat and turned to Pratap, who was watching Anjali in a way that made Rishit's stomach twist. "Hey," Rishit said, his voice more serious than usual, "I need to talk to you about something."​

Pratap nodded, though his eyes flickered back to Anjali. "Later, Rishit. I need to talk to her."​

Rishit's smile faltered for a second, but he masked it quickly. "Fine," he said lightly, though inside, he wasn't so sure.​

Anjali, oblivious to the exchange, was already walking towards her next class when Pratap stepped in front of her, blocking her path. His eyes, usually playful, now held something darker. He smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.​

"Hey, Anjali," Pratap said, his voice too smooth, too insistent. "I wanted to talk to you about... well, you know, what we discussed earlier."​

Anjali looked at him, confused. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice cautious, though she didn't want to seem rude.​

"You know," he said, taking a step closer, his tone lowering, "about your... feelings. I'm here for you, Anjali. You don't have to go through all of this alone."​

There was something unsettling in his words, but Anjali, in the confusion of her own emotions and the blind affection she felt for him, didn't question it.​

She smiled awkwardly, but before she could say anything, Pratap placed his hand on her arm, a little too firmly, a little too long. The touch sent an uncomfortable jolt through her, but she dismissed it immediately. It's normal. He's my friend, she thought.​

"Hey, are you okay?" Pratap asked with exaggerated concern, his fingers lightly trailing down her arm, as if the situation wasn't already strange enough.​

Anjali didn't like it. Not entirely. But something about his demeanor made her hesitate. Was this how friends acted? She wasn't sure, but she shrugged it off, convincing herself she was overthinking it. It's fine, she told herself. He's just being friendly. Nothing more.​

She didn't know that the moment Rishit had been watching them from across the hall. He saw the uncomfortable look on Anjali's face as Pratap's fingers lingered a little too long on her arm. And it stung.​

Rishit couldn't bring himself to confront Pratap. He didn't know why, but he simply couldn't. He just stood there, the weight of his feelings settling deeper in his chest as he watched Pratap and Anjali interact. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, but no matter how much he wanted to move, to do something about it, he remained still.​

The bell rang, signaling the end of the break. Pratap, seemingly satisfied with the moment, grinned and walked away, leaving Anjali to gather her scattered thoughts.​

Later that evening – The PANDEY Residence

Anjali returned home to find her mother, Sunita, sitting at the kitchen table, muttering about the endless piles of laundry and bills that needed to be sorted out. The house smelled faintly of curry, but it wasn't enough to lift Anjali's spirits.​

"Anjali, you're home! How was school?" Sunita asked, barely looking up from the mountain of paperwork in front of her.​

Anjali smiled weakly, setting her bag down on the table. "It was fine, Mom. Just tired."​

"Good, good," Sunita said distractedly, flipping through papers. "So, did you think about your career today? You need to start focusing on your future. Accountancy, Anjali. It's a stable job. You'll be able to find work anywhere."

The college hallway buzzed with the usual late-morning chaos—half-sleepy students trailing behind professors, friends laughing too loudly, and phones ringing in pockets ignored during lectures. Among the hum of it all, Anjali Pandey walked briskly, her notebook hugged tightly to her chest, eyes scanning the corridor.

She wasn't exactly waiting for anyone. But if someone were to bump into her... she wouldn't complain.

Correction: if Pratap Rathore were to bump into her, she might just pretend to drop her pen for dramatic effect.

She had that kind of hopeful energy that only someone nursing a dangerous crush could wear with pride.

But fate had other plans.

"Pratap," a firm voice called behind her.

She turned instinctively and so did Pratap, who had been standing casually near the stairwell, texting.

The voice belonged to Rishit Rathore.

Anjali blinked. The difference between the two brothers was obvious—Pratap had a rough edge to his smile, something untrustworthy in the glint of his eyes. But Rishit? Rishit was calm. His presence demanded attention without needing to raise his voice.

"Rishit bhai," Pratap said, trying to sound cool but failing—especially under his older brother's sharp gaze.

And then it happened.

Rishit's eyes moved from his brother to the girl beside him.

And for one still second, the chaos of the corridor went quiet in Rishit's world.

Anjali.

She looked nothing like the girls he'd met before. There was no excessive makeup or practiced charm in her smile. She had simple eyes that seemed to carry complex thoughts, and when she met his gaze—God help him—he felt something shift in his chest.

She was curious too. She recognized Rishit. The more serious brother. The nicer one. And for the briefest moment, she wondered... what if?

But before the thought could blossom, Pratap's arm looped loosely around her shoulder.

Rishit's jaw clenched so slightly you'd miss it if you blinked.

"Anjali, this is my brother, Rishit," Pratap introduced with a smug grin.

"Hi," she said, offering a small smile, though something in her spine stiffened at Pratap's sudden proximity.

"Nice to meet you," Rishit said quietly, his voice calm, but his eyes said more. They said: I saw how he looked at you. And I'm worried.

But Anjali didn't catch it. Or maybe she refused to.

"I was actually just about to talk to Pratap about something," Rishit said, eyes still lingering on Anjali.

"Oh, I'll go then—" she began, but Pratap stopped her.

"No, no, it's fine. Come with me."

Rishit wanted to protest. He wanted to pull his brother aside and say something. Anything. But Anjali looked... content. At least on the surface. And Rishit didn't want to be the overbearing stranger.

Not yet.

So he just gave a small nod. "Take care," he said, before turning to walk away, heart heavier than it had been that morning.

Scene Shift: In the Quiet Corner of the Library

"Do you... like me?" Pratap asked casually, his arm now resting on the backrest of the bench, fingers dangerously close to her shoulder.

Anjali looked startled. "I—I mean we're friends, right?"

He leaned in closer. "I've always thought you were different. Special."

She smiled nervously, unsure how to respond. It was flattering. He was older. Smart. Charming. But there was something in his tone that didn't feel right. Like he was reading off a script he didn't believe in.

"Are you uncomfortable?" he asked, hand suddenly brushing the end of her hair. The contact made her freeze.

"No, no," she replied quickly, though her body screamed otherwise. It's normal between friends, she repeated silently. It's okay. Maybe I'm just overthinking.

But still, she stood up. "I should go. I have to meet Kaojal."

"You're always running," he said, half-laughing, but she was already halfway out the door.

Scene Shift: Pandey Residence – Evening

Anjali threw her bag on the bed and collapsed face-first onto the pillow. Her heart was racing, her thoughts loud and disorganized. She had replayed the moment with Pratap a hundred times since afternoon, and each time it felt stranger.

But she wasn't allowed peace.

"Anjali! Did you pay the tuition fees? Did you check the electricity bill email? Did you ask about that job at the coaching center?" her mother's voice came from outside the room like a thunderstorm in a teacup.

"Maa, not now!" she shouted back.

But her mother barged in anyway. "You always say not now. You want to be a writer? What writer? You know how unstable this country is? You need to study accountancy, like normal girls. Become a teacher. Or banker. Something respectable!"

"I don't want to do that!" Anjali snapped, sitting up, eyes brimming.

"You don't want, you don't want—do you know what we want? We want you to survive!"

Anjali looked away, tears spilling silently. This wasn't just about a course or a subject. It was about not being heard.

Just then, her phone buzzed. Papa calling.

She sniffed and picked it up, wiping her face with her sleeve.

"Hello?" she whispered.

"Gudiya," her father's warm voice greeted her. "Why do you sound like you were crying?"

She broke. "Nothing... just Maa again."

"Don't worry about her. She worries too much. I know you want to write. And you will. You write so beautifully, beta. I still read your short story about the train platform every month. Makes me cry every time."

She sobbed, smiling. "Papa..."

"You don't need to explain anything to anyone. Just be kind. Be honest. And if writing makes you feel alive, then that's all I care about."

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you more, meri writer beti."

Scene Shift: Elsewhere – Rishit's Room

Rishit sat at his desk, staring at the notebook in front of him. But his mind wasn't on the formulas.

He thought about her. Anjali.

He had seen it. The way Pratap touched her. The discomfort in her shoulders. The flicker of confusion in her eyes. And he hated it.

He didn't know what to do. Not yet.

But he would be her friend. He would be someone she could trust.

And someday... if life allowed it... he'd tell her how he felt.

Chapter: Scars, Silence, and Something Like Love

It was an unusually quiet day. The corridor outside the college library was near empty, the sun slanting through the high windows, casting long, drowsy shadows. Anjali Pandey walked beside Pratap, her notebook clutched tightly in her hand. She didn't really want to be here—but he'd insisted. And... well, she had thought she liked him once.

"Anjali," Pratap said suddenly, breaking the silence as they reached the back corridor.

She turned, brows raised. "Yeah?"

He leaned against the wall, one leg bent, arms folded as if he were posing for a college magazine photoshoot. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

The question hit her like a slap. Not because of what he said, but how he said it. Like it was casual. Normal. Expected.

"What?"

"Don't act so shocked." He rolled his eyes. "Come on, everyone's dating. It's not a big deal. You're not a kid."

"I never said I was," she said quietly. "But that doesn't mean I want to jump into something just because 'everyone's doing it.'"

Pratap scoffed. "Are you seriously being dramatic right now? Don't be such a nerd about this. Look, I like you. You like me. What else do we need?"

She took a step back. "It's not that simple."

"It is that simple. Unless..." His eyes narrowed. "You think you're too good for me?"

"No!" she said quickly. "It's just... I don't want to be rushed—"

He stepped forward. "I'm not rushing you."

But then his hand gripped her wrist. Too tightly.

"Let go."

He didn't. "Why are you acting like this is a crime? This is what people do. We're friends. Friends turn into couples. We've touched before, right? You didn't complain then."

Her stomach twisted. "That was different. And that made me uncomfortable too—I just didn't know how to say it."

"Stop being childish," he hissed, pushing her slightly into the wall. "You wear pretty clothes. You laugh at my jokes. And now you're telling me you didn't want this?"

"Let me go!" she snapped, voice trembling, her other hand pushing against his chest.

"Don't shout," he said, still holding her wrist.

Her heart was racing. She didn't want to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

But he moved closer—his hand brushing her side, his breath too close to her face.

That was it.

She yanked her arm free with a sudden jerk and ran.

Ran through the empty hallway, tears streaming silently, the notebook slipping from her hand and falling open somewhere near the stairs.

Scene Shift: Rishit's World

Rishit had been on campus. Somewhere near the back garden, lost in his thoughts and a half-read novel. But his heart dropped when he saw her.

Anjali.

Running. Broken. Trembling.

He stood up instantly. "Anjali?!"

She didn't respond. Just kept walking until she saw him—then ran straight into his arms, sobbing against his chest.

He caught her instinctively, holding her tightly.

"It's okay. I'm here," he whispered, pressing his chin to the top of her head.

Her entire body shook. And then, in the most fragile, cracking voice, she whispered, "He—he touched me. I told him to stop—he wouldn't—he said it's normal—"

And Rishit froze.

Every cell in his body burned.

He gritted his teeth, arms holding her tighter.

"It's not normal," he whispered. "And he's not getting away with it."

She just cried harder, her fists clinging to the collar of his shirt, her face hidden in the hollow of his neck. He let her stay there. For as long as she needed.

He didn't care that they were on campus. Didn't care if anyone was watching.

Finally, she whispered, brokenly, "Why did I trust him?"

"Because you have a good heart," Rishit said. "He doesn't deserve it. But I swear—he will never come near you again."

There was silence. Heavy and warm. The kind of silence that speaks more than words ever could.

And then, with the weight of her fear and sadness still fresh, she looked up.

So did he.

And slowly, she reached for him—tentative, unsure.

Their lips met.

It wasn't a romantic kiss. Not in the way movies show it. It wasn't soft or slow.

It was a shattered kind of kiss—desperate, seeking warmth in a world that had turned cold too fast.

Rishit didn't push, didn't pull her closer. He just let her kiss him. Let her choose. Let her feel something safe.

And when she pulled away, eyes glistening, he just smiled gently and said, "I've got you."

Scene Shift: That Same Evening – Rathore Residence

Rishit stormed into the house.

He didn't knock. Didn't remove his shoes. Didn't wait.

He walked straight into Pratap's room and punched him across the face.

Pratap fell back onto his bed, stunned. "What the hell?!"

"You know what."

Pratap wiped his mouth. "Is this about that girl? You don't even know what happened."

"I know enough," Rishit growled. "You've done it before. Used people. Lied to them. Manipulated them."

Pratap didn't reply.

"Don't come near her again. If I hear her name in your mouth, I swear—"

"You're threatening me now?" Pratap scoffed.

"I'm warning you," Rishit said quietly. "I won't let you hurt her."

And then he walked out.

Not once looking back.

Scene Shift: Pandey Residence

Anjali had barely stepped inside when her mother started again.

"Where were you? You're coming late again? What is this behavior? You're not a child anymore!"

Anjali stood silently, eyes blank, shoulders tired.

Her mother continued, "We got a call from Sharma ji. His son is looking to get married soon. You should meet him."

"What?" Anjali blinked.

"You're not young anymore. Girls your age get married. You're already in college. This is the right time."

"I'm nineteen," she said, voice flat. "This is not the right time."

"Don't argue! It's just a meeting. After that we'll see. You never listen. You want to become a writer—what writer? We're middle-class people. Writers don't pay bills!"

Anjali's throat closed up.

She didn't want to shout. Didn't want to cry.

So she walked away.

"Anjali! I'm talking to you!"

She walked faster.

And locked herself in her room.

She collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, whispering to herself: Why does no one see me?

But one person had.

Rishit.

And in the safety of that memory, she allowed herself to cry.

Late Night: A Message from Rishit

Her phone buzzed.

Rishit: I hope you're okay. I know today was hard. But I'll always be here. No matter what.

She stared at the message for a long while.

Then typed:

Anjali: Thank you. For everything. I don't know what I'd have done without you.

The reply came instantly.

Rishit: You don't have to do anything alone anymore.

And for the first time in days, she smiled.

A small, real, human smile.

Because sometimes, one person believing in you is enough to survive.

FLASHBACK: The Message(2 YEARS AGO)

The air in Anjali's room felt thick with uncertainty as she sat on her bed, her phone in her hands. The soft light from the screen reflected off her face, casting shadows around the room. Her mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions, the words she wanted to say tumbling over one another, making it hard for her to focus. She had been replaying the argument with Pratap in her head, over and over, wondering if she had done the right thing by running away from him.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, uncertain, hesitant. Part of her was still angry, still hurt by the way things had gone down. But another part of her—the part that loved him, the part that had trusted him—wanted to make things right. She had acted on impulse, her emotions clouding her judgment. She knew that. But could she really just leave things like this, after everything they'd shared?

She could still hear Pratap's voice in her head, his confusion, his hurt. But more than that, she could still feel the weight of her own emotions, the uncertainty that had swelled up within her after their argument. She didn't know if it was pride or fear holding her back, but she knew she had to do something.

Anjali closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as she tried to calm the storm inside her. This wasn't just about the argument. It wasn't just about her running away in frustration. It was about their relationship, the kind of future they both wanted, and whether they could work through this.

With a deep sigh, Anjali began typing.

"I'm sorry for running away earlier. I overreacted. Can we talk?"

Her thumb hovered over the send button, the tension in her chest tightening. Could she really say that? Could she really admit that she was wrong?

Her heart raced as she pressed the send button, watching the message disappear into the digital void. There was no turning back now.

Almost immediately, her phone buzzed, the notification pulling her out of her thoughts. Her heart skipped a beat as she unlocked the screen to read the message from Pratap.

"Of course, Anjali. I understand. Let's meet tomorrow."

A wave of relief washed over her. Maybe she had been too harsh. Maybe they could still work things out. She set the phone down on her bed, her mind still racing but now with a glimmer of hope. Tomorrow. They would meet tomorrow.

But as the minutes stretched on, that initial wave of relief slowly turned into uncertainty once again. Anjali ran a hand through her hair and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was late, and she had school in the morning, but the thought of going to sleep without addressing everything weighing on her was unbearable.

She stood up, pacing around her room, the soft carpet beneath her feet doing little to soothe her nerves. The situation with Pratap wasn't as simple as an apology. It was about trust—about their relationship and whether it could survive the cracks that had started to show. She had tried to ignore those cracks for so long, convincing herself that everything was fine, that the love they shared was enough to hold things together.

But now, in the quiet of her room, she couldn't ignore the truth. There were problems in their relationship, and running away from them wouldn't make them disappear.

Her thoughts drifted to Rishit, who had been a constant presence in her life—supportive, always there when she needed someone to talk to. He had been there for her even before she started dating Pratap, offering a steady presence that she had come to rely on. She hadn't seen much of him recently, not since she'd gotten closer to Pratap, and now she couldn't help but wonder how he felt about everything.

Rishit had always been kind, thoughtful, and a little too perceptive for her own comfort. She had tried to ignore the way he looked at her sometimes, that way he seemed to see through her, but the truth was—he was the one who understood her the best. He could tell when something was wrong with her, even if she didn't say a word. And somehow, in the silence of their friendship, there had always been something more. But she had never allowed herself to think about it, especially not when she was with Pratap.

She glanced down at her phone again, seeing Rishit's name pop up on the screen. He had messaged her earlier that evening, asking if she wanted to talk, but she had been too caught up in the chaos of her argument with Pratap to respond.

She knew Rishit would never pressure her into anything. He wasn't like that. But the quiet way he had been treating her lately made her wonder. Was he waiting for her to make a decision? To choose? Was that even fair?

Anjali bit her lip, considering whether to message him back. She had so many emotions swirling inside her that it was hard to pinpoint how she felt, let alone explain it to someone else.

Her thumb moved over the screen again, and she quickly typed out a message.

"I'm sorry for not responding earlier. I've been dealing with some stuff... Can we talk tomorrow?"

She hit send before she could second-guess herself. The phone vibrated almost immediately, a new message from Rishit.

"Of course. You know I'm always here if you need me."

Anjali felt a knot in her chest loosen, just slightly. There was something about Rishit's steady, comforting presence that made everything feel a little more bearable. She had always felt safe around him, as if she didn't have to pretend, didn't have to be anything other than herself.

She set the phone down again, her mind still restless. The uncertainty didn't go away, but she had at least taken the first step in trying to fix things.

As she lay down on her bed, her thoughts drifted back to Pratap. She had no idea how the conversation tomorrow would go, or if they would even be able to get back to the place they once were. Part of her wanted things to go back to normal, but another part of her felt that maybe normal was no longer enough.

She closed her eyes, the weight of everything settling over her like a heavy blanket. It had been a long day, but tomorrow, everything could change.

The next day arrived much too quickly for Anjali. She barely slept, tossing and turning through the night, her mind racing with the thought of meeting Pratap and trying to salvage what they had. She knew there was no going back to the way things were before. That was gone. But she wasn't sure if they could move forward, either. The damage was done, and the question now was whether they could rebuild.

As she got ready for the day, Anjali couldn't help but wonder what Pratap was thinking. Was he as nervous as she was? Did he even care? She shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. She had to stay focused. She had to face this, no matter how uncomfortable it made her feel.

At school, Anjali met up with Rishit in the hallways, but he barely looked at her. His face was unreadable, his usual warmth replaced by a quiet distance that sent a pang of guilt through her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Rishit cut her off.

"I don't want to know, Anjali. It's not my place," he said, his voice tight.

Anjali felt a sharp pang of sadness, but she didn't know what to say. She had done this to herself. She had been the one to distance herself from him, choosing Pratap over everything else. Now, she was seeing the consequences.

"I'm sorry, Rishit. I just... I don't know what to do anymore," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rishit looked at her for a moment before he sighed. "I know. Just... be careful. I don't want to see you hurt."

Anjali nodded, unsure of how to respond. She didn't want to hurt him, but it seemed like that was exactly what she was doing.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Classes, friends, and passing moments all blended into the background as Anjali tried to focus on what lay ahead. The meeting with Pratap loomed closer with every passing minute.

Finally, the time arrived. They had agreed to meet in a quiet café on the edge of town, a neutral ground where they could talk without distractions. Anjali arrived first, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She hadn't seen Pratap since their argument, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. Part of her wanted to confront him, to demand answers. But another part of her just wanted to fix things, to go back to how it had been.

She took a seat by the window, nervously fiddling with her phone. She kept checking it, as though the mere act of looking at it would calm her nerves. When Pratap finally walked in, his eyes immediately found hers. He looked different—more serious, more composed than he had during their argument.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice almost too gentle.

Anjali gave him a small smile, trying to mask her uncertainty. "Hey."

They both sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them palpable. Anjali didn't know where to start. She had so many things she wanted to say, but none of them seemed to come out right. Instead, she just looked at him, her heart racing.

"I'm sorry," Pratap said quietly, breaking the silence. "For what happened. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Anjali blinked, surprised by his words. She had expected him to make excuses or try to justify his actions, but instead, he was apologizing.

"I know," Anjali whispered. "I just... I didn't know how to handle it. I got scared."

Pratap nodded, looking down at his hands. "I understand. I never meant to make you feel that way. But I know I've been distant, and I shouldn't have been."

Anjali felt a lump form in her throat. This wasn't what she expected. Maybe there was hope after all

 The Silence

Anjali stared at the screen of her phone, her thumb hovering above the send button. She had just typed the words, but now they felt like a heavy weight on her chest. It wasn't that she hadn't meant what she wrote. She had. But now, as she looked at the screen, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she had been too quick to share this part of her life with Rishit. She didn't want to hurt him, but she wasn't sure what else to do.

She had talked to Pratap. They had cleared things up. He had apologized, and she had apologized for running away. It seemed like the natural thing to do. Relationships were complicated, after all. They had their ups and downs. This wasn't anything that couldn't be resolved, right?

But something felt off. Even though Pratap had promised to change, even though they had agreed to try again, Anjali couldn't shake the feeling that the emotional distance between her and Rishit had grown even wider. She hadn't seen him in days, and it was beginning to weigh on her. She had always been able to talk to him about everything. He was her rock, her constant. But now, after what had happened with Pratap, she wasn't so sure where they stood anymore.

Anjali bit her lip, trying to suppress the anxiety that was growing in her chest. She hit send on the message before she could second-guess herself.

"I talked to Pratap. We cleared things up. I think I overreacted."

She stared at the screen as it showed the message delivered. The three dots appeared and disappeared, signaling that Rishit was likely typing a response. But then the three dots vanished. No reply. The seconds turned to minutes, and then the minutes turned into hours. No response.

Anjali felt a knot form in her stomach, a tight, unrelenting coil that made it hard to breathe. She had messaged Rishit before and had always gotten a prompt response. Even when things were hectic, he had always made time for her. But this time, it was different. This time, he hadn't even acknowledged her message.

She tried to push the thought aside, convincing herself that maybe he was just busy. Maybe he didn't have time to reply. After all, they were both in college, and things could get hectic. Still, the silence gnawed at her, louder and louder as the day dragged on.

When the day finally came to an end, and she still hadn't received a response, she decided to put it out of her mind. She was tired. The whole situation was draining, emotionally and physically. She just wanted to go home, put it all behind her for the night, and forget about the growing unease in her heart.

The next day, Anjali walked through the college corridors, her eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face. She wasn't sure what she was looking for—maybe a sign, something to help her make sense of the confusion swirling inside her.

And then she saw him.

Rishit.

He was standing by his locker, talking to a group of friends. She saw him before he saw her. His back was turned, and for a moment, Anjali wondered if he had seen her at all. She hesitated, feeling an odd flutter in her chest. She took a deep breath and pushed forward, determined to talk to him, to clear the air.

As she approached, she felt a sense of warmth rush over her. Rishit was always kind, always supportive, but now, as she walked closer, there was a subtle tension in the air. She wasn't sure if it was because of the message she had sent the day before or if something else was at play. Either way, she felt her heart beat a little faster as she got closer to him.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. A brief, fleeting glance. But in that moment, everything changed.

Rishit looked away almost immediately. His expression was unreadable, his face suddenly distant in a way that made Anjali feel like she was talking to a stranger. He didn't smile. He didn't acknowledge her presence. He just kept walking, his shoulders tense, his eyes focused ahead.

Anjali stopped in her tracks, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach. She stood there, frozen, watching him walk past her without a word. The brief moment of eye contact had lasted only a second, but it was enough to confirm something that Anjali had feared. He was avoiding her.

The weight of his silence was worse than any words he could have spoken.

Her hands suddenly felt clammy. She stared after him, unable to move, her mind racing. Did she say something wrong? Had he read her message and been hurt by it? Was it because of Pratap? Did he feel like she was choosing Pratap over him? Was this his way of letting her know that he didn't want to be part of this mess anymore?

Her chest tightened. She took a step forward, but before she could even think of saying anything, Rishit was already out of earshot, lost in the crowd of students.

Anjali stood there for a few seconds, her breath shallow, trying to steady herself. She felt a lump form in her throat, her mind swimming with all the things she didn't know. She had been so sure that Rishit would understand, that he would be there for her. But now, it seemed like the distance between them had only grown.

What was she supposed to do now?

She walked to her first class of the day, her thoughts scattered and her heart heavy. The rest of the day passed in a blur. Each time she saw Rishit, he was either with his friends, or his back was turned to her. Each time she tried to approach him, he seemed to slip away. It was as if he had built an invisible wall between them, and Anjali had no idea how to break it down.

By the time she returned home later that evening, her mind was exhausted from trying to make sense of everything. The silence, the confusion, the fear—she was overwhelmed.

She sat down at her desk, pulling out her phone. Maybe if she texted him again, he would respond. Maybe if she apologized, explained herself, he would understand.

But as she started typing, she hesitated. The words felt too familiar, too rehearsed. What if she was overthinking it? What if Rishit was just giving her space? She had never needed space in her relationship with him. He had always been the one she could turn to. He had always been there for her, even when things were messy with Pratap.

So why now? Why was he shutting her out?

Her thumb hovered over the screen as she tried to find the right words. But the message never came. Instead, she put her phone down, leaning back in her chair, staring out the window into the darkening sky. The silence between them stretched out longer than she could handle.

She couldn't sleep. The anxiety gnawed at her, and she found herself pacing around her room, her thoughts spiraling. She needed answers. She needed to understand why Rishit was avoiding her, why he wasn't talking to her. Was he hurt? Was he angry? Did he think she was choosing Pratap over him?

But more than anything, Anjali felt a profound sense of loss. She had lost something precious, something she hadn't realized she needed until it was almost gone.

The next day, she decided to face Rishit head-on. She couldn't keep pretending like everything was okay. She couldn't keep wondering if he would ever speak to her again. She had to know what was going on, and if there was any hope of fixing things between them.

But when she saw him again in the hallway, her heart sank. He was with his group of friends, laughing and joking, completely ignoring her. The same cold, distant look on his face made her feel invisible.

Anjali stood there for a moment, frozen in the hallway, the weight of her uncertainty and fear weighing down on her. She had always thought that Rishit was the one person who would never leave her, the one person who would always have her back. But now, that comfort seemed like a distant memory.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and took a step forward, her body trembling slightly.

"Rishit," she called, her voice tentative, unsure.

He didn't stop. He didn't even glance back at her.

Anjali's heart shattered in that instant. She watched him walk away, and in that moment, she realized something.

She was alone.

 Red Flags

Days turned into weeks. The days after Anjali's heart-wrenching decision to forgive Pratap were filled with a strange sense of tension, like the calm before a storm. On the surface, everything appeared normal. They were back together, and life carried on as usual. They attended classes, studied for exams, hung out with friends. Yet, despite all the outward appearances of a happy, healthy relationship, Anjali couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. It was subtle at first, easy to dismiss as normal relationship quirks, but soon the cracks began to widen.

Pratap's behavior changed, and it wasn't the kind of change that screamed for attention. It was more like an accumulation of small, seemingly inconsequential moments that began to build up into something larger. He would often dismiss her opinions during their conversations, as if her thoughts didn't matter as much as his. His arrogance was becoming more apparent, hidden behind a veil of charm that Anjali had once found endearing. But now, it felt like a mask, hiding a side of him she wasn't sure she recognized.

One evening, they sat at their usual coffee shop, a quaint little place with low lighting and cozy booths. Anjali loved coming here because it reminded her of the early days of their relationship when everything was new, and they would talk for hours about their dreams, their hopes, and their future. But tonight, the conversation was different.

Anjali was telling him about a new writing idea she had been working on. It was a personal project, something close to her heart. She had poured her soul into it, and she was excited to share it with him.

"Pratap," she said, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "I've been thinking about writing a novel. It's about self-discovery and how we often lose ourselves while trying to live up to other people's expectations."

Pratap didn't look up from his phone. His fingers swiped across the screen as he nodded absentmindedly.

"Yeah, that's nice," he said, his voice distracted. "But don't you think you should be focusing on something more practical? I mean, writing is great and all, but you should be looking at jobs that actually pay the bills, right? A stable career would be better."

Anjali's heart sank at his words. She had always known he was practical—had even admired that quality in him—but the way he dismissed her passion stung. She wanted to argue, to stand up for her dreams, but something in his tone made her hesitate. He didn't seem angry or mean-spirited, but his words were blunt, cutting deeper than she wanted to admit.

"Practical?" she repeated, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm not saying I won't have a job, Pratap. But writing isn't just a hobby. It's a part of me. It's how I express myself."

He looked up then, giving her a tight smile. "I get it, but you need to be realistic. A job in marketing or something like that would be a much safer bet. Trust me, you don't want to end up struggling."

Anjali swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing. Her dreams were bigger than just stability. But she didn't want to fight. Not now. She simply nodded, trying to smile, though it felt forced.

"Right," she said, forcing the words out. "I'll think about it."

She felt a sense of deflation wash over her, a quiet understanding that she was constantly having to tone herself down, to fit into the mold he wanted her to be in. But as the days went on, she told herself that this was just his way of showing care. He wanted the best for her. Right? He wasn't trying to hurt her. He was just being practical.

And yet, the moments of dismissal began to happen more often.

One afternoon, they were working together on a group project for their marketing class. Anjali had come up with a brilliant idea for their presentation, something innovative that would set them apart from the other groups. She had worked hard on it, staying up late the night before to refine every detail. When the day of the presentation came, she was nervous but excited to share it. This was her moment.

But Pratap, as he often did, took control. He jumped in with his usual charm, speaking over her as if her idea didn't matter. When the time came to present their concept, he brushed off her contributions and took credit for the entire idea, presenting it as if it had been entirely his brainchild. He didn't even glance at her as he spoke, not acknowledging her hard work.

Anjali's stomach twisted with frustration, but she stayed silent. What was the point in making a scene? She had worked so hard, but in the end, it didn't seem to matter. Pratap had this way of dominating everything, of making her feel invisible whenever it suited him. It wasn't the first time he had done something like this, but this time, it hurt more.

After the class, Anjali confronted him quietly in the hallway. Her voice was tight with restraint.

"Why didn't you mention that the idea was mine too?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for any sign of remorse.

Pratap blinked at her, as if he didn't understand the problem. "What do you mean? I thought you were fine with me presenting it. We're a team, right?"

"I know we're a team," Anjali replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I worked on that. It was my idea. You didn't even mention it."

Pratap's brow furrowed, but he wasn't angry. He was calm, almost dismissive. "It's not a big deal, Anjali. Don't make it into one. You're always so dramatic about these things. We got an A, didn't we?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but the words caught in her throat. She felt foolish for trying to explain herself. Instead, she nodded, forcing a smile.

"Yeah," she muttered, her voice small. "I guess so."

It wasn't the first time Pratap had belittled her ideas, but this time, something inside her shifted. She wanted to scream, to demand that he acknowledge her efforts, but she didn't. She just stood there, nodding like everything was fine, when deep down, she knew it wasn't.

The more Anjali thought about it, the more the cracks in their relationship became impossible to ignore. Pratap wasn't physically abusive or overtly cruel. It was the subtle ways in which he dismissed her, undermined her, and treated her as less-than. These weren't the actions of someone who truly cared about her, right?

She began to notice more red flags, things she had once brushed aside as nothing. His need for control was suffocating. He would tell her what to wear, what to eat, even who to hang out with. He wasn't overt about it, but the manipulation was there, lurking just beneath the surface.

"Why don't you come to the gym with me today?" Pratap asked one afternoon, his voice casual but commanding. "You've been gaining a little weight lately."

Anjali froze, staring at him in disbelief. She knew he wasn't saying it to be cruel, but the words still stung. The way he said it made her feel as though her body wasn't hers to control. It was his, too.

"I'm fine, thanks," she replied, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. "I've been working on a project all day, and I'm really tired."

Pratap didn't seem to notice her discomfort. Instead, he simply nodded and moved on to the next topic.

But that comment stayed with her. It was as if her worth, her value, was tied to how she looked, how she fit into his ideal image of what she should be. And though she couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had started, Anjali knew, deep down, that this relationship was changing her. She was losing herself in trying to please him, in trying to make everything work the way he wanted.

Weeks went by, and the red flags kept multiplying. The way Pratap took control, the way he undermined her aspirations, the way he disregarded her feelings—each time, it became harder for Anjali to ignore it. Yet she did. She told herself it was just a phase, that he didn't really mean it. Maybe it was the stress of exams. Maybe he just didn't realize how his words affected her.

But deep down, Anjali knew she couldn't keep brushing it aside forever. Something had to change, and she had to decide whether she was going to keep ignoring the red flags or face the truth.

The relationship wasn't over. But Anjali was changing. The girl who once felt so sure of herself and her dreams was now second-guessing everything. The girl who once believed in the power of love now questioned what love really meant.

The red flags were all around her, but she didn't know if she was brave enough to face them. misunderstanding.

2 YEARS AFTER

The years seemed to slip away unnoticed. Anjali's relationship with Pratap had become a routine, a series of monotonous moments strung together without any real passion. The warmth they once shared had turned into something distant, colder, and more like an obligation than a true connection. Despite all their time together—attending college events, sharing classes, and spending weekends exploring the city—something had shifted.

The gap between them wasn't just physical but emotional, and it grew more and more apparent as the months dragged on. The spark that had once ignited their conversations, their late-night talks about dreams and aspirations, had long since flickered out, replaced with empty exchanges.

Pratap was often distracted, his attention elsewhere, as though his mind was constantly occupied by something Anjali couldn't quite reach. She tried to bridge the growing distance between them, but each attempt felt like an effort that fell on deaf ears. She planned special dates, hoping to rekindle something—anything—but his responses were lukewarm, his enthusiasm practically nonexistent.

"Let's go out for dinner," she suggested one evening, a hopeful note in her voice. "Maybe a new restaurant downtown? I've heard good things about it."

Pratap, who had been scrolling through his phone, didn't look up. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want," he muttered, his voice flat, lacking any trace of excitement.

Anjali's heart sank as she forced a smile. She had hoped for more—something to break the monotony of their relationship, something to remind them both of the love they once shared. But it was as if Pratap had already checked out. The words hung in the air, and she didn't know whether to push him further or let it go.

That night, they sat at dinner, the candlelight flickering between them, but the silence was palpable. Pratap barely glanced at her, his attention fixed on his phone most of the time. Anjali tried to start a conversation, asking about his day, about his thoughts on their upcoming exams, but he offered only short, uninterested responses.

"So, do you want to talk about graduation? We should probably start thinking about our future," Anjali said, trying to fill the empty spaces.

Pratap glanced up from his phone, but his eyes were distant. "Future? Yeah, we'll figure it out when the time comes."

Anjali's chest tightened. It was becoming harder to ignore how much had changed between them. What happened to the boy who once stayed up all night talking about their dreams? What happened to the connection that had once seemed unbreakable?

She tried to push the thought aside, telling herself that relationships go through phases. Maybe this was just a rough patch. But the uncertainty gnawed at her. Was it a phase, or was this the beginning of the end?

At home, things weren't any better. Her mother, always pressing her for answers about her future, seemed to sense her unhappiness before Anjali could even voice it. Every conversation with her mother had become an interrogation about marriage, about settling down.

"You're getting older, Anjali," her mother would say, her voice laced with concern, but also a hint of pressure. "You should be thinking about your future with Pratap. He's a good match for you, don't you think?"

Anjali would nod, forcing a smile, but inside, she felt a growing resentment. Her mother had always been obsessed with the idea of marriage, seeing it as the ultimate goal for any woman. And Anjali had always tried to placate her, pretending that the thought of marriage didn't fill her with anxiety.

But recently, her mother's words had become harder to ignore. "Pratap is the one, Anjali. You can't keep putting it off. You need to think about your future."

Every time her mother brought it up, Anjali's stomach churned. She wasn't ready for that conversation. She wasn't ready to talk about marriage when she wasn't even sure where her relationship with Pratap was headed.

"I'm still focused on my studies, Mom. I need to graduate first," Anjali would say, the lie slipping off her tongue easily.

But her mother wasn't convinced. She would sigh, as though Anjali's independence was something to be tolerated, but not fully embraced. "You'll figure it out when the time comes," her mother would say, dismissing her concerns as though they were insignificant.

The tension between Anjali and her mother grew. Her mother's constant pressure to settle down, to focus on finding a husband, clashed with Anjali's desire to be more than just someone's wife. She wanted to carve out her own path, one that wasn't defined by someone else's expectations. But how could she explain that to her mother, who believed marriage was the only thing worth pursuing?

Anjali often found herself retreating into her thoughts, seeking solace in her books or her writing. But even her writing, once a passion that provided her with comfort and clarity, now felt like an escape from a reality she didn't want to face.

She had tried talking to Pratap about it, but his responses were always vague. He wasn't ready to talk about marriage either, or at least that's what he said. It seemed that the idea of commitment—true commitment—was something neither of them wanted to confront.

One evening, after another strained conversation with her mother, Anjali found herself walking to Ahana's room. She needed someone to talk to, someone who could understand the weight of what she was feeling.

She knocked gently on Ahana's door, her heart heavy. When Ahana opened it, Anjali could see the exhaustion in her eyes. It wasn't just physical exhaustion—it was emotional, too.

"You okay?" Anjali asked, her voice soft.

Ahana shrugged, stepping aside to let Anjali in. "I don't know. Mom keeps asking me about my future too, and it's driving me crazy. I can't even think straight anymore."

Anjali sat down on the bed next to her sister, her heart aching for her. Ahana had always been more sensitive, more affected by their mother's constant demands. Anjali had learned to hide her emotions, to bury them beneath a facade of composure, but Ahana couldn't do that. She wore her emotions on her sleeve, and sometimes, it felt like the weight of their mother's expectations was crushing her.

"Do you ever feel like we're being suffocated?" Anjali asked quietly. "Like there's this constant pressure to be something we're not ready to be?"

Ahana nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "I feel like I can't breathe, Anjali. Every day, Mom is on my case about getting married. And every time I try to talk to her about anything else, she just brushes me off."

Anjali's eyes welled with tears. She reached for her sister's hand, squeezing it gently. "I feel the same way. Mom just doesn't understand that we're not ready for all of this. I'm not ready for marriage, and neither are you. But she keeps pushing, and it's so exhausting."

Ahana leaned into her, her shoulders shaking as she let out a sob. Anjali wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. They sat there, clinging to each other, tears flowing freely. In that moment, they both knew they weren't alone.

"I'm scared, Anjali," Ahana whispered, her voice breaking. "What if we never get the chance to figure things out for ourselves?"

Anjali held her tighter. "We will, Ahana. We'll figure it out. We don't have to do what Mom says. We don't have to follow her path. We can create our own."

The night passed in a blur of tears and whispered reassurances. As Anjali held her sister, comforting her, she realized just how much they needed each other. Their mother's toxicity weighed heavily on them both, but together, they were strong enough to face it.

When Ahana finally fell asleep, her head resting against Anjali's shoulder, Anjali stayed awake, staring out the window at the stars. She felt a sense of calm in that moment, knowing that, despite everything, she had her sister by her side. And for now, that was enough.

As graduation loomed closer, Anjali felt a complex knot of emotions twisting inside her. There was excitement, of course—a new chapter, a fresh beginning—but there was also a deep anxiety. The weight of expectations, particularly from her mother, was beginning to press down harder with each passing day.

One evening, while she and Pratap sat at their favorite café, the aroma of coffee in the air and the soft hum of conversation around them, Anjali decided to bring up a topic that had been sitting at the back of her mind for weeks.

"Pratap, we've been together for a while now," she began, her voice hesitant, unsure how he would respond. "Have you thought about our future? Maybe... marriage?"

The words hung in the air, and for a split second, Anjali could see the flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, confusion, maybe even a hint of discomfort.

Pratap immediately choked on his coffee, his eyes widening as he sputtered, "Marriage? Now? Anjali, we're just starting our careers. It's too soon."

Anjali's heart dropped at the sudden dismissal. She had hoped for more, something deeper, something real. But instead, she was met with a brush-off.

"I just thought..." Her voice faltered as she tried to process his reaction. "We've been together for years. Isn't it time to think about the future?"

Pratap sighed, looking away as he set his cup down. "Let's not rush things. We're both just starting out. Marriage isn't something we need to discuss right now."

The words stung, more than she wanted to admit. She nodded, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Okay," she muttered, unsure of what to say next. A cold wave of disappointment washed over her. Was this really it? Was this how far their relationship had come?

The conversation with Pratap left Anjali feeling unsettled, but it was the conversation with her mother that truly set things into motion.

Her mother's persistent pressure on marriage had only grown stronger in the last few months. Anjali had tried to brush it off in the past, but today, her mother's insistence felt like a suffocating weight.

"You're not getting any younger, Anjali," her mother had said as she placed another marriage proposal brochure in front of her. "You should meet some of these boys. You need to think about settling down. Pratap is all well and good, but you don't want to wait too long."

Anjali stared at the brochure, the glossy photo of a smiling, well-dressed man doing nothing to soothe her nerves. "Mom, I'm not ready. I don't even know if Pratap and I are ready for that."

Her mother's eyes narrowed, irritation creeping into her voice. "You're wasting time, Anjali. You've been with Pratap for years now, and yet here you are, avoiding marriage. You should be more practical. Meet these boys—some of them are good matches for you."

"But I'm with Pratap," Anjali said firmly, though her voice trembled a little. "I'm loyal to him. We've been together for a long time. I'm not going to go out with anyone else just to please you."

Her mother's face reddened with frustration. "Loyalty doesn't mean anything if he's not serious about you, Anjali. You need someone who will commit, someone who will take care of you, not some boy who doesn't even want to talk about marriage."

The argument escalated from there, her mother's words sharper with every passing minute. "You can't keep waiting for him to decide, Anjali. You have to make a choice. Either you move forward with your life or stay stuck with someone who doesn't understand your worth."

Anjali was shaking by the end of the conversation. She wanted to yell, to scream at her mother that it wasn't about the future—they hadn't even discussed the present properly. But instead, she was left feeling small, inadequate, and guilty.

That night, feeling more lost than ever, Anjali reached out to Pratap. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she typed her message:

"We need to talk. About us. About our future."

She hit send, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for a response. When it finally came, it was the same distant, vague reply she had come to expect.

"Let's not rush things, Anjali. We have time."

The disappointment was unbearable. Was this really all there was? Was she really going to wait for him forever?

The next day, feeling emotionally drained, Anjali found herself at home, pacing restlessly. She wanted to talk to someone, to vent her frustration and disappointment. She needed Ahana—her sister, her best friend, the one person who truly understood her.

She knocked on Ahana's door, walking in without waiting for an answer. Ahana was sitting at her desk, going over some class materials. Her face brightened when she saw Anjali, but there was an underlying sadness in her expression that Anjali noticed immediately.

"Hey," Anjali said softly, her voice carrying the weight of everything she was feeling. "I need to talk to you."

Ahana nodded, motioning for her to sit. "What's going on, sis?"

"I don't know anymore," Anjali admitted, her voice cracking. "I talked to Pratap about marriage, and he... he didn't take it seriously. He doesn't want to talk about it at all."

Ahana's brow furrowed in concern. "That doesn't sound good. Have you told him how you feel? Why you want this?"

"I did," Anjali replied, her voice distant. "But it feels like... it's just not a priority for him. And Mom keeps pushing me to meet other boys, to consider my options, but I can't. I'm with Pratap. I don't know how to explain that to her."

Ahana let out a deep sigh. "I get it. But you're not the only one going through this. Mom's been on my case too. About the future. About marriage. It's exhausting, Anjali."

Anjali looked at her sister, her eyes welling up with tears. "I just feel like no matter what I do, it's never enough. Pratap doesn't want to commit, and Mom just doesn't understand. I feel stuck."

Ahana leaned in, pulling her into a hug. "I know, Anjali. I know. But you're not stuck. You've got a whole future ahead of you, and you deserve someone who understands your worth."

The two sisters held each other for a long time, the weight of their shared frustration melting away in the comfort of each other's embrace. In that moment, Anjali realized how much she needed Ahana. They may not have all the answers, but they had each other.

Later that day, Anjali and Ahana spent time together, helping each other relax and share their experiences. Ahana was about to begin her 12th class, and though she was excited, she couldn't shake off the emotional weight of the ongoing tension with their mother.

"Mom's been pressuring me about college," Ahana said, her tone heavy. "She wants me to pick a career path, but I'm not ready to decide yet. It's so much."

Anjali reached over, brushing her sister's hair from her face. "You don't have to rush. Do it on your terms, not Mom's."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door. Anjali opened it to find Rojan, standing with a smile.

"Hey, guys. Just wanted to let you know—your families are meeting for dinner tonight, right? The Malhotras and the Rajvansh are hosting."

Ahana froze at the mention of the Malhotras. A small wave of tension passed between her and Rojan. Anjali noticed it immediately, the way they both stiffened at the mention of the dinner.

"Yeah, we're meeting tonight," Anjali replied, glancing at Ahana. "You two okay with that?"

Ahana gave a forced smile, clearly not in the mood but unwilling to show it. "Yeah, of course."

The dinner was chaotic, as expected, with lots of sarcastic banter, teasing, and emotional undercurrents. Anjali and Ahana found themselves navigating through the evening, trying to balance their emotions while engaging with family and friends.

By the time they returned home, Anjali and Ahana were exhausted. They sat together in the living room, their eyes meeting as they shared unspoken words.

"Things will get better," Ahana whispered, squeezing her sister's hand.

Anjali nodded, but the uncertainty still lingered. The journey ahead wasn't going to be easy, but at least they had each other. And that, in this moment, felt like enough.

The Next Day

The morning after the dinner, everything felt surreal. Anjali and Ahana were back at school, trying to return to some semblance of normalcy. But the events of the previous day had left a lasting impression. Their family, their relationships—everything seemed so complicated, so tangled up in expectations.

Anjali could only wonder how long it would take before they both figured out what they truly wanted. But for now, she was taking it one day at a time, just like Ahana. And that was enough.

Weeks passed since the tension-filled dinner with the Malhotras and the Rajvansh family. Life had settled into a routine, but an undercurrent of unease followed Anjali everywhere she went. She tried to focus on her studies, on her friendships, and on the few moments of joy she found in the company of her sister Ahana. But something in the air felt off, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

It started with whispers—nothing concrete, but enough to set Anjali on edge. At first, it was small talk she overheard in passing: a fleeting mention of Pratap's name, followed by an awkward silence. A student in the library who spoke about "that new intern" he had seen Pratap with. As the days wore on, the whispers grew louder, more frequent. It seemed like everyone knew something she didn't.

It was during one of these days that Anjali saw them—Pratap and the intern—at the café on campus, sitting across from each other at a small table. Pratap was laughing, his eyes bright, his demeanor relaxed in a way she hadn't seen in months. The intern, a young woman with soft curls and an easy smile, leaned in, laughing at something Pratap said. Her hand brushed against his.

Anjali's heart sank. There was a knot in her stomach, the familiar pang of betrayal already rising like a tidal wave. She couldn't just stand there, watching him, watching them. She turned on her heel and walked out of the café, her breath shallow, her mind spinning.

That evening, she waited for him in their usual spot, her hands trembling as she clutched her phone. When he arrived, Anjali stood up, her body rigid with the emotions she couldn't contain any longer.

"Pratap," she said, her voice steady, but her eyes betrayed her pain. "Are you seeing someone else?"

Pratap looked at her, his face a mask of confusion, his brows furrowing in surprise. "What? What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Anjali shot back, trying to keep her voice from breaking. "Don't act like you don't know. I saw you with her today. The intern. You were laughing and touching her. It didn't look... professional."

Pratap stiffened, and for a long moment, there was silence between them. Anjali's heart raced, her pulse hammering in her ears. She had to know the truth, even if it shattered everything.

Finally, Pratap's shoulders slumped, his expression shifting from one of confusion to something more guarded. "Anjali..." He hesitated, his voice faltering. "I didn't plan for this to happen."

The words hit her like a slap in the face. "You didn't plan for what?" she demanded, her voice trembling now. "For what, Pratap? For lying to me? For betraying me?"

His eyes met hers, a flicker of guilt flashing in his gaze. "I didn't mean for things to get complicated. It just... happened."

Anjali's breath caught in her throat as the reality of his words sank in. It just happened. That was all he could say to explain it? The years they had spent together, the moments she had cherished, the love she had believed in—all of it, apparently, had meant nothing.

"You're seeing her, then?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt the tears welling in her eyes but refused to let them fall. She couldn't cry in front of him—not now.

Pratap nodded, his face a mixture of shame and frustration. "I didn't want to hurt you, Anjali. I didn't. But... yes. I'm seeing her."

The world around Anjali seemed to collapse. She staggered back, her vision swimming, her mind screaming at her to wake up, to snap out of it. But there was no denying what he had just said.

"So, what does this mean for us, Pratap?" Anjali asked, her voice low and broken. "What about everything we've been through? All those promises, all the things we talked about... all the time we spent together... Was it all just a lie?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn't come. There was nothing he could say to fix it, nothing that would erase the damage he had done.

Anjali took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "You know what? I don't need your excuses. I don't need you to explain. It's clear now, isn't it? I was just a placeholder, wasn't I? Someone to pass the time with until something better came along."

"That's not it, Anjali. It's not like that," Pratap said quickly, but she could see in his eyes that the connection between them had already been severed. There was no going back.

"Don't try to justify this," Anjali spat, her voice rising. "You cheated on me, Pratap. You were disloyal, and now you want to act like you didn't have a choice? You think I'm stupid?"

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "I never meant to hurt you. I really didn't. But... I guess I did. I'm sorry, Anjali. I'm so sorry."

Anjali let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Sorry doesn't fix this. Sorry doesn't undo the lies. Sorry doesn't make up for the fact that you've been hiding this from me for God knows how long." She paused, feeling the weight of it all. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

She turned away from him then, feeling the finality of it all. There would be no reconciliation. No "let's work through this." She couldn't bring herself to care anymore. He had made his choice.

That night, Anjali sat in her room, her phone resting in her lap. She had spent hours trying to process everything, trying to understand how Pratap could do this to her, but it made no sense. She couldn't wrap her mind around it.

In that moment, her phone buzzed—one message. She glanced at the screen, her breath catching in her throat when she saw it was from Ahana.

"Anjali, are you okay? I'm here for you. You know that, right?"

Anjali felt a lump in her throat. She needed her sister now more than ever. Her fingers trembled as she typed back.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Ahana. I feel like everything has been a lie."

Within minutes, Ahana replied. "I'm coming over. Just wait for me."

As Ahana arrived, Anjali couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation crashing down on her. She needed to speak to someone who truly understood her, who didn't judge, who would just listen. And Ahana was the one person she could turn to.

When Ahana stepped into her room, she immediately pulled Anjali into her arms. "I'm so sorry, Anjali," she whispered, holding her sister tightly. "You deserve better than this. You deserve someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved."

Anjali cried then, her sobs raw and uncontrollable. She cried for the relationship she had lost, for the trust she had given away, and for the future she had imagined with Pratap. It was all gone in the blink of an eye, shattered by his lies.

"I feel so stupid, Ahana," Anjali admitted between sobs. "I gave him everything. I trusted him. And now... now I'm just left with nothing."

Ahana gently stroked her sister's hair, her own eyes filled with unshed tears. "You're not stupid, Anjali. You were just in love. And sometimes, love blinds us. But you're strong. You'll get through this. I'm here, and I won't let you go through it alone."

The days that followed were a blur of emotions. Anjali didn't know what to feel, how to move forward. Every thought was consumed by the betrayal, and no matter how much she tried to distract herself, the pain lingered.

She tried to reach out to Pratap, hoping for some closure, but he had already distanced himself. He didn't respond to her calls, her texts, or her messages. It was as if he had already moved on, leaving Anjali to pick up the pieces of her broken heart.

The final straw came when Anjali saw Pratap and the intern together again—this time, holding hands. They were walking through campus, laughing as though nothing had ever happened. As though the years Anjali had spent with him meant nothing.

Her heart shattered all over again.

Anjali finally understood. There was no going back. It was over.

The pain of betrayal didn't fade overnight, and it wasn't something Anjali could simply forget. But she knew one thing—she would never let herself fall into the same trap again. She had been hurt, deeply, but she would rise above it. She had her family, her sister, and her own strength. And that, in the end, was all she needed.

age became a lifeline—proof that even in her darkest moments, she could create something beautiful. Something real.

But even as she poured her heart into her writing, a part of her longed for someone to hold her, someone to tell her that everything would be okay. She tried not to think about it too much. It wasn't fair to herself, to expect others to fill the void that Pratap had left behind. Yet, she couldn't help it. The loneliness gnawed at her, and every time she saw couples laughing and holding hands on campus, it felt like a knife to her chest.

Her relationship with Rishit had been strained for months, ever since she had started dating Pratap. She could see it in his eyes now—the disappointment, the hurt. He hadn't ever told her how he felt, but she knew. It was there in the way he spoke to her, the way he looked at her from across the room.

But no matter how hard she tried to reach out to him now, there was a wall between them. He had become distant, too distant for her to bridge the gap. Anjali couldn't even bring herself to ask him what had happened. Perhaps he had found someone else. Perhaps he had moved on, just like she was trying to do, and perhaps it was for the best.

Part 3: Ahana's Return

One evening, as Anjali sat in her room, staring at the screen of her laptop, she heard the familiar sound of footsteps in the hallway. She looked up, and the door to her room creaked open.

It was Ahana.

Her younger sister stood in the doorway, a slight frown on her face. "You've been holed up in here for hours," Ahana said softly. "Mom's been asking about you. She's worried."

Anjali sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I'm fine, Ahana. Just tired. I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone right now."

Ahana stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I get it. But you can't hide forever, you know? You've been through a lot, and I can't pretend like it's easy. But you need to let us in."

Anjali stared at her sister for a moment, her heart swelling with affection. Ahana had always been there for her, even when things got tough. Even when Anjali didn't have the strength to face her emotions, Ahana had a way of forcing her to deal with them.

"I don't know how to move on, Ahana," Anjali admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I knew what love was. I thought Pratap was the one. But now everything feels... wrong. I feel so stupid."

Ahana walked over to her and sat beside her on the bed, pulling Anjali into a tight hug. "You're not stupid, Anjali," she said, her voice calm but firm. "You were just in love. And sometimes, love doesn't turn out the way we want it to. But that doesn't make you weak. It doesn't make you less than anyone else."

Anjali let the tears flow freely now, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Ahana held her tightly, rubbing her back. "You're strong, Anjali," she whispered. "You'll heal. And I'll be here, no matter what."

Part 4: Family Tensions and Toxicity

As the days passed, Anjali found herself caught in the whirlwind of family drama. Her mother, ever the traditionalist, had begun pushing her relentlessly to meet potential suitors. It wasn't so much about finding someone who was right for her—it was more about societal expectations. The pressure to marry, to settle down, weighed heavily on Anjali. Her mother's intentions were clear—she wanted Anjali to forget about Pratap, to "move on" with someone else. But how could Anjali even begin to entertain the thought of another relationship when she wasn't even sure who she was without the person she had been with for so long?

"Anjali, you can't keep brooding over this forever," her mother would say, pacing around her room. "I've arranged for you to meet some nice boys. They have good families, stable careers. You need to consider your future."

Anjali would sigh, her irritation growing. "I'm not ready, Mom. I don't want to meet anyone right now."

Her mother's eyes would narrow, frustration creeping into her voice. "You don't have time to waste. You're not getting any younger, Anjali. Time waits for no one."

The more her mother pushed, the more Anjali resisted. Her mother's persistence only fueled the fire of her anger. She didn't want another man. She didn't want anyone who wasn't Pratap—at least, that was how she felt in the moment. And yet, deep down, she knew it was time to move on, that she couldn't keep living in the past.

Ahana, meanwhile, had her own struggles. Though she was only in 12th grade, her mother's expectations were suffocating. Her mother constantly pressured her to be the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect future wife. Ahana couldn't bear the weight of it all. The toxic environment at home, the constant comparisons, the endless demands—Ahana was cracking under the pressure.

One night, as the two sisters sat together in Anjali's room, Ahana broke down, tears streaming down her face. "I can't do this anymore, Anjali," she sobbed. "I can't be everything they want me to be. I'm so tired of pretending."

Anjali pulled her sister into her arms, holding her tight. "You don't have to be perfect, Ahana. Not for anyone. You just have to be yourself. And I'll be here, always."

They cried together that night, two sisters who had been forced to carry too much weight. But in that moment, they found comfort in each other, knowing that they didn't have to bear their burdens alone.

Part 5: Reflections and New Beginnings

As Anjali continued to wrestle with the fallout of her relationship with Pratap, she found herself slowly beginning to heal. It wasn't a smooth process. There were days when she missed him terribly, when she would remember their shared moments with aching clarity. But slowly, the pieces of her broken heart began to fall back into place.

Her writing continued to be her escape. She started to write more about strength and resilience, themes that she hadn't fully explored before. She began to envision a future for herself—one where she was in control of her own happiness, where she wasn't dependent on anyone else for her sense of worth.

And though her relationship with Rishit remained distant, she couldn't help but wonder if, in time, they would find their way back to each other. But for now, she was content to focus on herself, to build the life she had always dreamed of—one where she was strong, independent, and unshakable..

 The Healing(present)

Months had passed since Anjali's world had turned upside down, and she had found her footing again. The shadows of her past had grown fainter, and in their place, she was building a new life—one that didn't rely on anyone else to define her worth.

Graduation had come and gone. Anjali's heart had swelled with pride as she walked across the stage, diploma in hand. It wasn't just the degree. It was the culmination of everything she had worked for—the strength she had found within herself, the growth that had come from her pain. She had turned her heartbreak into art, and the world was beginning to notice.

Her thesis on contemporary literature had been a hit. Her professors had showered her with praise, and the feedback from publishers had been overwhelmingly positive. Her words, once a lifeline during the darkest days of her life, were now her voice, echoing in the literary world.

And yet, despite all her achievements, there was still a void. It wasn't loneliness that plagued her anymore—it was the quiet realization that there were pieces of her heart still unspoken, still untouched by the past. She wasn't the same person she had been when she'd walked into college all those years ago, but in many ways, she was better. Stronger.

It wasn't until one evening, as she was typing away on her laptop, that a message notification popped up on her phone. It was from Rishit.

Rishit: "I read your latest story. It's powerful. I'm sorry for how things turned out between us."

Anjali paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. The words felt like an echo of the past, distant but familiar. She had spent so many sleepless nights questioning what went wrong, wondering if there was more she could have done, but now, two years later, the pain had dulled. She wasn't the same girl who had cried over Rishit. She had become someone else, someone who had learned to heal, to forgive—not just others, but herself.

She smiled softly, typing her response.

Anjali: "Thank you. Life has its twists, but we grow from them."

She put her phone down, leaning back in her chair, allowing herself a moment to reflect on everything she had been through. She wasn't perfect, far from it. But she had learned that healing didn't mean erasing the past—it meant accepting it, learning from it, and moving forward.

: The Strength of Sisterhood

Anjali's thoughts turned to Ahana, her younger sister. They had always been close, but now, more than ever, Anjali had become Ahana's rock. Their bond had grown stronger in the wake of their respective battles. While Anjali had struggled with her own heartbreak, Ahana had been fighting her own battles, too.

Ahana had been going through therapy for a few months now. It was a deeply personal journey for her, and while she hadn't shared it with anyone else, Anjali could see the subtle changes in her sister. Ahana was learning to embrace her emotions, to confront the parts of herself she had always buried. It was a slow process, and there were still days when Ahana felt like giving up. But Anjali was there for her—always.

"Hey," Anjali said one evening, as they sat together on the couch, both absorbed in their respective tasks. Ahana had been quieter lately, more introspective. "How was therapy today?"

Ahana looked up from her phone, her expression soft. "It was good. Really hard, but good." She paused, biting her lip. "I'm learning to be kinder to myself. It's a little... scary, though."

Anjali smiled, her heart swelling with pride. "You're doing great, Ahana. I'm proud of you."

Ahana grinned, a small but genuine smile. "Thanks, Anji. I don't think I could do it without you."

Anjali reached over and squeezed her sister's hand. "You don't have to do it alone. You never have to."

P: The Gathering

As time passed, Anjali settled into her new routine. She had started working at a publishing house, contributing to editorial projects and reviewing manuscripts. It was a dream come true, and though the work was demanding, it was fulfilling. Anjali loved the idea of helping new voices find their way into the world, just as she had once struggled to find her own.

But despite all the progress, a part of her missed the chaos of her old life—of the friends, the bickering, the laughter. She hadn't seen everyone in so long, and when Ahana suggested a gathering, Anjali couldn't resist.

The idea was simple—just a casual get-together with everyone, old friends and new. But as soon as she arrived at the Malhotra's house, it felt like nothing had changed. The banter, the teasing, the laughter—it was all still there, just as it had been before. And it felt... comforting.

The Rajvansh family was there, of course. Rojan and Bella were already in the midst of a playful argument, as usual. The tension between them had simmered down over the years, but there was always a spark—always that edge to their interactions that made everyone around them laugh. It was clear to everyone, even if they refused to admit it, that there was something between them.

Ahana was there, too. She had arrived early, of course, her presence a calming force in the room. She had taken a deep breath before entering, but once she saw the familiar faces of their friends, her shoulders had relaxed. Therapy had been helping, but there was still a long way to go. Anjali could see that—Ahana's smile was more genuine, her posture more confident, but the traces of anxiety were still there. It was okay. They would navigate it together.

Aadhav was in the corner, talking to Dixit, who seemed to be cracking some joke. Aadhav's smile was wide, and he looked more comfortable than he ever had around ahana. There was something different about him—he seemed more mature, more grounded. They had both moved on, in their own ways. And though there was still that awkwardness between Aahana and Aadhav—those unresolved feelings that had been buried under layers of time—she could see that it was fading. They were friends again. Nothing more, nothing less.

The Gathering - A Comedy of Errors

The Malhotra house was buzzing with energy as all the friends arrived. Bella, Rojan, Ahana, Dixit, Krish, and Nandani were all ready to add their own brand of chaos to the evening. Anjali smiled, watching her friends bicker like they always did. It was like nothing had changed.

"Rojan, tu koi Dettol ka ad hai kya? Har cheez mein 'sanitize' karna hai!" Bella threw a teasing glance as Rojan wiped his hands on his pants for the fifteenth time in the past five minutes.

"Arey, mein toh sirf tumhare jerms se bach raha hoon! Tumhe toh Dettol ke ad mein chhupke aane ka chance milna chahiye, kyunki tumhare paas toh 0.1% jerm bhi ho, jo har koi ignore kar de." Rojan smirked, eyes gleaming.

Bella shot him a look, "Tujhse milke toh lagta hai, mein Harpic ke ad mein aane wali hoon, jahan sab kuch 'clean' dikhaya jata hai, lekin sab kuch bhee negligeable hota hai."

"Toh matlab, main tumhari jism ki purity ke liye talash hoon? Tum jaise log toh germs ko bhi breed karte ho, jaise it's a full-time job." Rojan grinned, ignoring Bella's glare.

"Rojan, tu apna haath ne cheen ke chhupake, aur koi na! Sab dekh ke, darr ke marne ki baat hai!" Dixit entered with his usual exaggerated flair, giving Rojan an all-knowing look.

"Tum dono ka tamasha dekh ke toh mujhe lag raha hai, yeh ghar Detox Clinic ban gaya hai. Agar ek minute ruk jaoge, toh tum dono ka 'germination process' ho jayega." Krish joked, clearly enjoying the chaos.

Anjali laughed, unable to contain her amusement. "Yaar, yeh kabhi badalne wale nahi hain."

"Anjali, tumne toh kuch nahi bola! Teri baatein sunke lagta hai ki tu kisi self-help book ki heroine ban gayi ho," Bella teased, poking Anjali's side.

"Jee, tu toh apne sarcastic wit ke saath aati hai, jaise 'Life's a joke, main king hoon' waale meme ka walking version," Anjali shot back, laughing.

"Matlab tum dono ko toh lagta hai ki world ka hero tum dono hi ho!" Nandani chimed in, her eyebrows raised with sarcasm. "Toh phir hamare paas kiski izzat reh gayi hai? Hum toh har kisi ke side characters ban gaye!"

"Arey, tum dono ke bickering ke beech mein toh lagta hai, main ek student hoon jo homework se bhaag raha hoon. Kya yaar, yeh friendship mein thoda practicality bhi laao!" Dixit cracked, his face turning dramatic.

"Waise, ek baat batao, hum sab yeh kar ke kahan ja rahe hain?" Krish asked, looking at everyone. "Yeh sab jokes, sarcasm, aur bickering ke chakkar mein humne life ka goal bhool liya!"

"Life ka goal toh pata nahi, par tum dono ko milke toh lagta hai yeh kisi reality show ka part ho," Ahana joked, rolling her eyes at Krish and Dixit. "Jahan har minute koi na koi argument hota hai, aur audience ka kaam sirf popcorn khana hota hai."

"Exactly!" Naina said, as she entered the room. "Yeh party kuch aise lag rahi hai, jaise friends ki reunion ho, par sab apni acting school se nikal kar yahaan aayi ho."

"Sahi pakde hai!" Nandani winked. "Aur main toh bas lagta hai hum sab ek saath milke ek blockbuster movie bana rahe hain, jisme har scene mein one-liner jokes, awkward silences, aur friends ki beizzati ho."

"Aur usme 'Romance' ka bhi thoda twist hoga na, jaise Bella aur Rojan ki shayari chal rahi hai?" Dixit raised an eyebrow, smirking at Bella.

Bella, rolling her eyes, replied, "Rojan ke saath romance? Mujhe toh yeh laga tha tum dono apni Dettol aur Harpic wali duniya mein hi busy ho!"

"Bas, ab toh ruk jao, tum dono ka combination dekhke toh sabko apna stomach hold karna padta hai!" Rojan laughed.

"Tum dono ki baaton ka jawaab humaar paas nahi hai," Ahana joined in with her usual dry humor, "Kyuki yeh jo bhi chal raha hai, yeh dikh raha hai jaise ek cooking show ho aur ingredients mein 'sarcasm' aur 'drama' hain!"

"Cooking show? Baat yeh hai ki main toh sabko serve karna chahta hoon, par tum log toh thoda overcooked lag rahe ho!" Dixit shot back, with an overly dramatic sigh.

"Ahana ke therapy session se acchi toh yeh bickering hai," Anjali teased, poking her sister. "Lagta hai tum log har din ek naye case mein ho!"

"Chup kar, Anjali," Ahana rolled her eyes. "Tum dono toh sach mein 'out of service' ho."

"Out of service?" Bella responded, "Tujhe toh lagta hai main Harpic hoon jo sabko clean kar du, phir 'bachelor' ka label laga ke chala jaaun!"

Rojan added, "Aur tum dono ko toh lagta hai, tum bahut hi intellectual ho! Tumhare sarcasm mein ek bookshelf ke jitna weight hai!"

Everyone burst into laughter at that comment. Ahana grinned, "Sahi kaha Rojan, tum dono intellectual ho, jaise kisi dictionary ke page ka ek random page."

The entire group was in stitches, unable to stop laughing.

As the evening went on, the laughter never seemed to stop. The sarcasm kept flowing like a never-ending stream of ridiculousness. They kept making fun of each other—each jab funnier than the last—and no one was spared.

Anjali leaned back, feeling truly happy for the first time in ages. This was her family, her friends. They were imperfect, full of flaws, but together, they were unstoppable.

Even Ahana, who was usually a bit more reserved, found herself caught up in the madness, her therapy sessions forgotten in the face of such pure joy.

The night was filled with chaotic energy, hilarious jabs, and endless jokes that had everyone clutching their stomachs from laughing too hard. Whether they were mocking each other or just being their ridiculous selves, one thing was clear: the bond between them was unbreakable, and no amount of sarcasm or teasing could change that.

The evening was filled with laughter, food, and the kind of chaos that only their group of friends could create. Bella and Rojan continued their sarcastic bickering, as always. Dixit and Krish engaged in a battle of wits, trying to outdo each other with the most absurd jokes. Nandani and Naina kept making playful comments, trying to bring everyone together.

But the most heartwarming part of the evening was when Ahana stood up, a glass of lemonade in hand, and made a speech.

"I just want to say... I'm really glad we're all here," Ahana began, her voice surprisingly steady. "It's been a wild ride, and I'm thankful for each of you. You've all helped me in ways you don't even know. So... thank you."

There was a pause, and then everyone clapped, raising their glasses in a toast. Ahana's eyes shone, and Anjali felt a surge of pride for her sister. She was getting there. Slowly, but surely.

: Reflecting on the Past

Later that night, as everyone was winding down, Anjali and Ahana sat together on the balcony, looking out at the stars. The evening had been a blur of laughter and warmth, but now, in the quiet, Anjali found herself reflecting on how far they had both come.

"I never thought we'd be here," Anjali said, her voice soft. "I thought everything was falling apart... but now..."

Ahana leaned back in her chair, staring up at the night sky. "Me neither. But I'm glad we made it."

Anjali smiled, her heart full. "Yeah. Me too."

: A Future of Possibilities

As the night drew to a close, and everyone began to head home, Anjali felt a sense of peace settle over her. She had come so far from the girl who had been heartbroken, lost in the chaos of a toxic relationship. Now, she was surrounded by the people who mattered most—her family, her friends, the ones who had been there through everything.

She wasn't sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, she was excited for it. There was so much more to explore, so much more to achieve. And this time, she was ready to face it all—stronger, braver, and more confident in herself than ever before.