It was late at night. The house, once filled with voices, now felt unusually quiet. The elders had left for Banaras, while the rest of the family had gone to Uttarakhand. Only a few remained behind… and silence had taken over the walls.

After finishing dinner, Kirti slowly made her way to her room.

Inside, Nayra was lying on the bed, completely lost in her phone, headphones plugged in—cut off from the world.

Kirti stopped at the door.

She didn’t step in.

She just stood there… a few steps away from the person she loved more than her own life—her sister.

Her eyes softened as she looked at Nayra, unaware, peaceful in her own world.

Just then—

A sharp sound broke the silence.

The cooker.

Kirti’s eyes widened.

“Oh no—”

Since it was late, all the servants had already left. Without wasting a second, she rushed to the kitchen and quickly turned off the gas.

But…

It was too late.

The smell of burnt rice filled the air.

Kirti let out a tired breath, her shoulders dropping. “Great…,” she mumbled under her breath, exhaustion creeping in.

For a moment, she stood there, staring at the ruined food.

Then her gaze shifted slightly—towards Nayra’s room.

A small, gentle thought crossed her mind.

I’ll make something fresh for her…

She turned to start again, gathering the ingredients.

But suddenly—

A voice stopped her.

“Kirti.”

Her body stiffened.

She slowly turned around.

Veer was standing right behind her.

His gaze locked onto hers—intense, unreadable.

A few loose strands of her hair had fallen across her face. Without breaking eye contact, Veer lifted his hand and gently moved them aside.

The touch was light…

But it sent a strange tension through the air.

“Come to the room. Now.” he said, his voice calm, yet leaving no room for refusal.

Kirti didn’t argue.

She simply nodded.

And followed him.

Kirti quietly followed Veer down the dimly lit corridor.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

The silence between them wasn’t normal… it was loud, suffocating.

As soon as they entered the room, Veer shut the door behind them with a soft click.

Kirti stood near the door, her fingers nervously clutching the end of her dupatta.

“W-what happened?” she asked softly, not meeting his eyes.

Veer didn’t reply immediately.

He walked closer.

One step… then another… until there was barely any distance left between them.

“Kitchen mein kya kar rahi thi tum itni raat ko?” his voice was low, controlled.

Kirti swallowed. “Woh… rice jal gaya tha… so I thought Nayra ke liye kuch aur bana du—”

Before she could complete—

Veer cut her off.

“Tumhe har baar Nayra ke baare mein sochna zaroori hai?”

Kirti froze.

His words weren’t loud… but they hit deep.

She finally looked up at him, confused. “Woh meri behen hai…”

Veer let out a short breath, almost like a quiet laugh—but there was no humor in it.

“Behen hai… ya sab kuch?”

The question lingered in the air.

Kirti didn’t have an answer.

Or maybe… she never allowed herself to think about it that way.

Veer stepped even closer.

Now there was no space left at all.

“Khud ke liye kab sochogi, Kirti?” he asked, his voice softer now… but somehow more dangerous.

Kirti’s eyes flickered.

For a second… just a second… her strong, composed self cracked.

“Main…” she tried to speak, but words didn’t come out.

Veer raised his hand again—this time not to move her hair…

…but to gently lift her chin.

“For once,” he said, his gaze locked onto hers, “choose yourself.”

Her heartbeat quickened.

The room felt smaller.

Warmer.

Too close.

Kirti quickly lowered her gaze, stepping slightly back, breaking the moment.

“Mujhe… kitchen mein dekhna hai,” she whispered, almost like an escape.

But Veer didn’t move.

Didn’t let her go that easily.

They both stood there…

Just looking at each other.

Neither speaking.

Neither moving.

Veer’s gaze didn’t leave her face—not even for a second.

And then—

His phone rang.

But he didn’t react.

Didn’t even blink.

His eyes were still fixed on Kirti… intense, unreadable… as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Kirti shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

She looked away.

Ignored him.

But the phone rang again.

This time, the sound cut through the silence.

Kirti took a small breath, her fingers tightening slightly.

“Suniye…” she said softly, her voice trembling just a little.

Veer responded without looking away, “Hmmm…”

Kirti turned her face to the side, avoiding his eyes.

“Please… pick up your phone. It might be important,” she said, almost forcing the words out.

There was a pause.

A moment where it felt like he might ignore it again.

But then—

Veer blinked.

As if coming back to reality.

“Hm,” he murmured, finally picking up the call.

Kirti’s eyes unintentionally fell on the screen.

Mayra.

His secretary.

Something in her expression changed—but only for a second.

Before anyone could notice…

She turned away.

Without saying another word, she walked to her side of the bed and quietly lay down, facing away from him.

Pulling the silence back around herself.

Meanwhile, Veer moved towards the balcony, answering the call.

“Yeah, Mayra…” his voice turned professional, distant.

The glass door slid shut behind him.

And just like that—

Two people stood in the same room…

Yet miles apart.

Kirti kept her eyes open, staring into nothing.

Trying not to think.

Trying not to feel.

But somehow…

The sound of his voice, even from the balcony…

Still reached her.

It was late at night.

Nayra checked her phone—12:00 AM.

She looked around.

No one was there.

Di must be asleep… she thought.

Slowly, she stood up from the couch, gathered her things, and made her way toward her room.

She was wearing an oversized T-shirt—Vivan’s—and a loose plazzo. Her headphones still rested over her ears, music playing softly as she walked.

Reaching the stairs, she suddenly stopped.

Turning back slightly, she whispered under her breath,

“Isn’t he coming back…?”

Her eyes dropped to her phone screen.

Her wallpaper.

A picture of her and Vivan together.

Her fingers lightly brushed over it.

“Did you hate me that much… that you don’t even want to show me your face anymore…?” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

She was about to move again—

When suddenly—

Her plazzo got tangled in her crocs.

She slipped.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, bracing for the fall—

But instead…

Strong arms caught her.

Firm.

Secure.

For a second, everything went still.

Nayra slowly opened her eyes.

And there he was.

“Viv…” she whispered.

Her face lit up instantly, like all the sadness just disappeared in a second.

Vivan, however, didn’t say anything.

He just looked at her… quietly… before gently making her stand properly.

“Are you okay, bacche?” he asked softly.

Nayra nodded.

Before she could say anything else—

Vivan’s hand slipped around her waist.

And in the next moment—

He lifted her in his arms.

With his other hand, he picked up her belongings and started walking toward their room.

Nayra instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him.

Her heartbeat… a little too fast.

They reached their room.

Vivan pushed the door open and walked inside, heading straight toward the bed.

Nayra… was completely lost.

Lost in him.

In his presence.

In the way he held her like she was something fragile… something important.

As Vivan leaned forward to lay her down—

Suddenly—

Nayra pressed a quick kiss on his cheek.

For a second—

Time froze.

Vivan went completely still.

And just then—

Nayra realized what she had done.

Her eyes widened.

Her breath hitched.

At that moment, she realized she had taken the wrong step. Nayra quickly moved away from him and turned to the other side, trying to ignore him. But when she turned back again and looked at him, she found him already watching her.

A small smile appeared on Vivan’s face, but he quickly hid it and coughed.

“I’ll come after a shower,” he said, and walked straight to the washroom.

Nayra sat on the bed. Her eyes fell on a glass of cold drink kept nearby. She picked it up with a faint smile, but just as she was about to take a sip, the glass slipped from her hand and spilled all over her lower.

“Lo, ho gaya ek aur kaand…” she muttered, standing up quickly.

Her lower was completely wet because of the cold drink. Without much hesitation, she took it off. The oversized T-shirt she was wearing covered her till her knees, so it wasn’t a problem.

She looked back at the bed—the side she had been sitting on was completely messed up. Rubbing her forehead in frustration, she was about to fix it when the bathroom door creaked open.

And there he was—Vivan, standing there in just a towel, watching her.

Nayra finally turned and looked at him. Vivan narrowed his eyebrows. She hesitated, then spoke,

“Umm… actually, cold drink spilled on the bedsheet.”

Vivan didn’t reply. He simply turned towards the mirror and started drying his hair.

Meanwhile, Nayra stood there, unintentionally staring at him—his biceps, his presence. Vivan noticed it too.

“Aaj bada pyaar aa raha hai mujh par?” he teased.

Nayra said nothing and looked away to avoid him.

After a few minutes, Vivan came back wearing trousers and a shirt. He stood right in front of her.

“Move aside, let me fix it,” he said.

Nayra quickly stepped away.

He removed the bedsheet, but the mattress was still wet. He turned towards her and said,

“Umm… I’ll fix it tomorrow. For now, we’ll sleep on my side.”

“Hain?” Nayra reacted, confused.

“Bakri ki tarah ‘main-main’ mat karo,” he said casually.

Nayra went quiet. After a moment, she suddenly spoke again,

“Did you pack your bag? We were supposed to leave yesterday.”

Vivan stopped and looked straight at her.

“No, we’re not going anywhere.”

She made a pout.

“But what will we tell Dadi? And why aren’t we going? Give me a proper reason.”

Vivan came closer to her and sat right in front of her.

“Ohh… aur aapko kab se Dadi ki fikr hone lagi, mohtarma?” he said calmly.

Nayra rolled her eyes.

“Wow… aapko lagta hai mujhe kisi ki fikr nahi hai?” she said, clapping her hands sarcastically.

Vivan stood up.

“Thodi fikr apne exams ki bhi kar lo. Kal ki preparation ho gayi?” he asked.

Nayra froze. She looked at him, confused.

“For what?”

That was the moment Vivan was shocked—no, not just shocked, he was traumatized.

“Hey! Look at me and say that again. Didn’t you know that yesterday was your viva? For God’s sake, it’s your final year of engineering!” he said, staring at her in disbelief.

Nayra laughed it off.

“Huh… but I didn’t get any message,” she said casually.

The very next moment, Vivan opened his phone and showed her the WhatsApp college group. There it was—the notification.

“See it, you duffer.”

Nayra quickly grabbed her phone from the table and checked it. After reading, she rubbed her forehead.

“Shit… how did I ignore this?”

Vivan smirked, knowing her all too well. Then he shot another question,

“Are your assignments at least complete?”

Nayra slowly shook her head.

Vivan lightly tapped her head.

“Hmmm… you should just sleep now. Bhagwan hi malik hai aapka,” he said, getting up and moving aside while scrolling through his phone.

Meanwhile, Nayra sat there, completely numb. She walked to her study table where her half-finished assignments were lying. She picked them up—but instead of working, she suddenly started crying loudly.

Hearing her, Vivan immediately came near her.

“What happened now?” he asked.

She made a pout, almost on the verge of tears.

“Viv… what do I do now? They’ll scold me, and mera aura bhi minus ho jayega class ke saamne. What if the

examiner turns out to be crazy? Mujhe marks bhi nahi milenge…” she rambled.

“Nayra, get up. What is this behaviour? You should have thought about this before,” he said firmly.

She shook her head dramatically.

“Nahh Viv… I want to die. Mujhe bhook bhi lagi hai… how will I handle all this?” she said, overreacting as usual.

Vivan sat beside her, softer this time.

“Aaj aapne dinner bhi kiya?” he asked.

She silently shook her head again.

🫶🏼💗