HAPPY READING 🎀

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

11:03 PM

The party pulsed like any other New Year's night-music, lights, clinking glasses, and laughter that felt just a bit too loud.

But amidst it all, two people weren't smiling.

Samarth and Riaan.

They stood to the side, phones clenched in their hands, checking again and again-

No calls answered.

No messages returned.

Arshia was missing.

And it wasn't like her.

Not when tonight was their night -their plan.

Rudra would arrive any moment now.

The "fake raid" was timed to the second.

One misstep, and years of silence, revenge, and sacrifice would collapse like a house of cards.

Samarth looked at Riaan, worry sharp in his eyes.

"Vo kyun nahi aayi abhi tak?"

Riaan didn't answer. He couldn't.

---

Avni was there too-

Uninvited by the others, but Arshia had insisted.

Because if her brother Rudra was to pull off a police raid,

Avni's presence was the perfect alibi.

But still-Arshia kept her in the dark.

Avni had no idea what storm brewed behind those familiar faces.

She was sipping juice in a quiet corner, unaware that her innocence had been weaponized tonight.

---

11:07 PM

Both Riaan and Samarth's phones buzzed at the same time.

A message.

One look-and without speaking-they moved.

Fast.

Through the crowd, past the dance floor, down the hallway-

To room 217.

The door was slightly ajar.

She was there.

Arshia.

Calm, composed-but a storm quietly rising in her eyes as she adjusted her shirt and looked up.

"What were you doing?" Samarth's voice sliced through the charged air.

Arshia glanced at the time on her watch. "I know I'm late. Gussa baad mein ho jaana. Pehle plan escort karte hain."

"Raid hone wali hai. We should hurry up." Riaan's voice was clipped, anxious.

But fate had other plans.

---

Outside the room-

Avni stepped out of the washroom, brushing her damp hands on her jeans when she noticed the three of them disappearing into a side room.

Something felt...off.

She slowed her pace.

Curiosity took over.

She inched closer.

And just like in every cliché movie scene-

a bottle fell from the cleaning trolley nearby.

The sharp clang echoed.

Inside the room, all three turned instantly.

They stepped out-

Arshia's voice was calm but unmistakably sharp.

"Avni."

But Avni had already turned away, almost stumbling in panic.

"Main dekhta hoon!" Riaan muttered, already sprinting after her.

"Avni! Avni, meri baat suno!"

She didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

But Riaan was faster.

He caught up, grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the nearest empty room.

"Chhodo mera haath!" she snapped, trying to break free.

"Tumhe sunai nahi de raha? Main kab se tumhe bula raha hoon!" His voice was no longer just urgent-it was on edge.

They stood in the middle of the room.

The door closed behind them with a soft click.

His grip hadn't loosened.

"Haath chhodo mera!"

"Meri baat suno-"

"Nahi!" she screamed, struggling.

"Meri baat suno Avni! Aisa kuch nahi hai jaisa tum samajh rahi ho-" his voice pleaded, but his hold remained firm, tense.

"Main jesa samajh rahi hun, vesa hi hai!"

That was the last straw.

Riaan pinned her gently but firmly against the wall, placing his palm over her mouth.

The tension in the room turned electric.

"Chup. Bilkul chup."

Their eyes locked.

Hers-shaken, disbelieving.

His-burning, frustrated, maybe even desperate.

His fingers trembled as he slowly moved his hand away from her lips.

She opened her mouth to say something-

but Riaan's low growl stopped her again.

"Agar ek word bhi bola toh mujhse bura koi nahi hoga."

Avni went still.

Silent.

Not out of fear...

but because for the first time, she didn't recognise the boy who once stood between her and every threat in college.

That same boy-

was now the one holding her silence hostage.

And suddenly,

the word 'raid' didn't feel like a prank anymore.

It felt like a trap.

And she-was caught.

"It's just a prank. Tumhara bhai bhi involve hai," Riaan clarified, his tone finally easing into explanation.

But she didn't reply.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't even blink.

Her silence unsettled him.

He looked down-realizing how close they still were.

Their breaths had been touching.

He immediately stepped back.

Just then, Suren's voice echoed faintly from outside.

Riaan turned toward the door.

Before stepping out, he glanced back over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.

"Aur tum... ab yahi rahogi."

"Kyun?" Her brows drew together in disbelief.

"Kyuki hum koi risk nahi le sakte."

His words were meant to be tactical-referring to the possibility of her storming out and blowing the prank.

But to Avni, it sounded like something else entirely.

Like distrust.

Like he didn't believe she could be part of this.

That she might ruin it.

That she was an outsider to their chaos.

"Tum mujhe itna stupid samajhte ho?" Her voice was sharp, the sting of betrayal bleeding through.

"Koi shak hai?" he retorted without missing a beat.

That was it.

She folded her arms, stepped forward, chin up.

"Main bahar jaungi. Mujhe bhi prank dekhna hai."

Her tone was challenge. Her posture-pure drama.

But Riaan?

He simply smirked, one hand on the door.

"Nahi. Aur agar tum is room se nikli... you just don't know me yet."

With that cryptic line, he walked out.

Didn't lock the door.

Didn't turn back.

Left her there.

-

Avni sat on the bed.

Confused.

Annoyed.

Also... oddly flustered.

Her hand touched her cheek-

warm. Blushing.

How close they had been.

Her fingers hovered near her lips-

he'd covered them.

For the first time, someone had come this close to her.

But the moment his last words replayed in her mind-

her expression changed.

Blush vanished.

Replaced by a full-fledged eye-roll.

"Arrogant idiot." She mumbled under her breath.

She looked at the door.

Still slightly ajar.

And then it hit her-

Riaan thinks I'll spoil the prank.

But my brother's doing it.

She smirked.

When she steps out, her brother will be there.

And Riaan?

He won't be able to do a damn thing.

She stood up, dusted her dress like a queen fixing her crown, and walked toward the door...

One eyebrow raised.

A plan already forming.

Because no one locks Avni in a room and walks away like he owns the place.

---

As soon as Riaan stepped out of the room, he spotted Arshia waiting for him just outside.

"Let's go," she said calmly.

He gave a brief nod-and just like that, he walked away, forgetting to lock the door behind him.

They headed back to the same room together. Inside, without a word, they pulled on their hoodies, caps, and face masks-a routine they'd practiced too many times to fumble now. Every move was swift, precise. This wasn't improvisation-it was choreography born from months of planning and training.

Moments later, they jumped out through the window.

A white car was parked exactly where it should've been. The doors opened soundlessly and they slid inside.

They drove in silence through dimly lit roads until they reached the backside of SHO's residence.

SHO wasn't rich enough to keep guards stationed at the back gate-and that was their advantage tonight.

No resistance. No interruption.

They slipped in quietly, unnoticed.

They already knew: SHO was alone tonight.

His son studied abroad.

His wife had left for a party earlier in the evening.

It was the perfect night.

The perfect plan.

And they were ready.

11:15 PM

Panic.

Lights flicker.

Music halts.

Voices overlap in confusion-

"What's going on?"

"Police?"

"Someone said it's a raid!"

No one knew the truth-except Samarth.

With clenched fists and cold eyes, he moved through the chaos, directing people, calming nerves, giving orders like he had done this a hundred times before.

He had to hold it together.

At least for an hour.

At least until they were done.

---

EXT. SHO'S BUNGALOW - BACK GATE - NIGHT

A white car rolled to a silent halt behind the sprawling, poorly guarded estate.

No guard. No dogs. No light.

It was the weak point of the mansion, and they knew it.

Riaan opened the backseat door, stepped out with precise control. Arshia followed, her hood low, mask firm, eyes sharp.

They didn't speak.

Only eyes met.

Arshia tapped the side of her smartwatch-connected instantly with Riaan's. A faint green glow confirmed connection. The earpiece buzzed to life in both their ears.

The plan was clear:

In. Silence. No mistakes.

They slipped in like wind-swift, soundless. First, the bedroom.

Empty.

Then the drawing room.

No sign.

At the end of the corridor, the door to the study loomed-shut tight.

Arshia whispered, "He's in there."

Riaan nodded once.

They couldn't risk a direct approach.

They'd rehearsed this.

Arshia turned left, heading around the bungalow toward the study's window.

Riaan stayed near the door.

They moved in synchrony-each step timed with the other's breath.

Through the smartwatch, their pulses matched.

Through the earpiece, they counted:

"1..."

Arshia's hand touched the window lock.

"2..."

Riaan raised a gloved hand over the door handle.

"...3."

The window creaked open.

The door swung wide.

SHO, seated with his back slightly turned, turned sharply at the sudden movement-

His eyes widened at the sight of a figure in all black, mask down, gloves on.

Before he could scream-

Arshia was already behind him.

Her hand clamped tight over his mouth, eyes cold, steady, unreadable.

He froze.

Another figure-Riaan-stepped into the room, closed the door behind him.

They said nothing.

This wasn't a threat.

This wasn't fear.

This was revenge.

Two shadows stood before him.

And the weight of his sins suddenly filled the room heavier than the air.

Arshia had pressed her palm tightly over SHO's mouth from behind, her breath steady, eyes sharp with precision. Every second counted.

From the front gate, Riaan slipped in silently - his steps calculated, gaze locked on Arshia.

Before SHO could thrash or throw his weight back, Arshia's arm coiled around his neck. She didn't give him a chance to react. Her fingers found the nerve near his collarbone - one swift, practiced move.

The man staggered. His hands twitched midair. His knees buckled.

And then silence.

She shoved his unconscious body aside, his weight collapsing against the wall with a dull thud.

SHO's body slumped against the corner, unconscious-his chest rising and falling in shallow rhythm.

Arshia, her gloved hand just withdrawn from his mouth, stared down coldly, then turned to face Riaan who stood frozen, his breaths ragged, eyes wide.

He wasn't built for this.

Not for stealth. Not for silence.

And definitely not for suffocating a man unconscious.

His feet felt heavier than ever, knees threatening to give way, and guilt creeping through the adrenaline still pulsing in his blood.

She stormed toward him.

"What the hell was you doing?"

He flinched like a child caught red-handed.

"I... mai..." he stumbled on his own breath, the sight of SHO collapsing still replaying in his mind.

This wasn't a college prank.

This wasn't a dare.

This was real.

SHO's breath, his resistance, the sudden limp of his body-it all hit Riaan like a punch to the gut.

"Mujhse nhi hoga... I can't do this," he confessed, his voice low, shattered, honest.

Arshia didn't blink.

She stepped forward, eyes unyielding, unmerciful.

"Ye 1% hai uska jo hum aage karne wale hai. Fir tum bhul jao apna badla, apna vengeance."

With that, she pulled down her mask.

Her voice didn't hold anger-it held warning.

A quiet reminder: revenge wasn't poetic. It was painful.

Riaan swallowed the lump in his throat, nodded stiffly, gathering the leftover courage he could find between the beats of his racing heart.

"Mai kar lunga, but abhi... abhi chalo please Arshi..."

She looked down at SHO again-expression unreadable.

"Okay."

But just as he moved toward the window, she halted.

"But usse pehle, chori karni hogi... taaki jab police aaye toh unhe lage jaise chor aaye the."

It was bizarre how calmly she said it. Like she'd done it before.

Riaan blinked.

She meant it.

They couldn't leave the scene too clean.

And so, he turned, stumbling toward the drawers and cupboards, pulling them open, searching for anything shiny enough to scream "robbery."

That's when he found it.

A watch.

It wasn't just any watch.

Heavy, vintage, gold-plated-Ansh's watch.

Their father's gift. The kind of piece no one in their family could forget.

He held it in his palm, frozen.

Heart thudding.

And across the room, Arshia-rifling through stacks of documents-pulled out a file.

Name: Asha Sisodiya.

Her brows furrowed. She opened it quickly.

Mother of Yug Bhati.

First wife of Veer Sisodiya.

Her pupils contracted.

It felt like a puzzle piece slipping silently into place.

Just then, she heard him.

"Arshia."

She turned.

Snapped the file shut and slid it quickly into her jacket.

As she walked to him, she saw the watch in his hand.

And her breath caught.

She didn't need a second glance.

She knew exactly whose watch that was.

She could forget faces. Maybe even names.

But nothing that belonged to Ansh.

Her voice dropped.

"Keep it."

And she moved past him, her hands already on the next drawer.

He blinked at her, then tucked the watch into his pocket-fingers trembling-but steadier than before.

This time, he didn't hesitate.

He opened another drawer.

And so, the two of them rummaged like quiet ghosts in a house not theirs, leaving behind a mess loud enough to bury the truth beneath chaos.

---

The room now looked like the aftermath of a perfect robbery-papers scattered, drawers flung open, silver artifacts missing, a faint trail of disarray leading no one to suspect anything but theft.

In the middle of it all, SHO began to stir.

A low groan escaped his lips as his fingers twitched and his head tilted back against the wooden leg of the chair. He was waking up.

Riaan turned toward the window, voice firm but still unsure.

"Let's go now, Arshia."

She didn't respond.

He paused, glanced behind-and froze.

She wasn't moving.

Arshia stood exactly where she was, eyes pinned to the man slowly regaining consciousness. Her expression-cold, unmoved, as if she'd been waiting for this moment.

"Arshia," Riaan called again, lower this time, uncertain.

The SHO's eyes fluttered open.

He saw her.

His hand, weak but desperate, reached toward the bell on the table beside him-fingers almost brushing the edge.

Before it could land, Arshia stepped forward, and with one sharp kick, his wrist cracked backward and the bell crashed to the floor.

SHO winced, gasping.

Now seated, barely stable, he looked up at her. And for the first time tonight, saw her face-clearly.

She didn't flinch.

He tried to speak, stammer, curse-

"Tumlog bachoge nahi... mai chhodunga nahi tumlogo ko..."

But Arshia only smirked, crouching slightly to meet his gaze.

There was no regret in her expression.

No rage either.

Just resolve.

And then, with practiced ease, she pulled out a gun-silencer attached, precise, professional.

Riaan's breath hitched.

"Arshia!" he stepped forward instinctively, voice breaking-

But the shot was already fired.

A single bullet.

Straight into the SHO's chest-just beside the heart, the kind of wound that bleeds slowly but steadily.

The man gasped again, blood pooling at his side, breath shallowing into a strangled cough.

Riaan stood still as stone, his brain unable to process what had just happened.

Arshia calmly placed the gun back into her jacket, adjusted her mask, and walked past the fallen officer without a second glance.

As she reached Riaan, her hand gently brushed his shoulder, silently nudging him to move.

He didn't say a word.

Couldn't.

She guided him toward the door instead of the window this time, and they exited just as easily as they'd come-like shadows retreating into night.

They got into the car-the same white one parked behind the gate. Riaan climbed in like a ghost of himself, body trembling slightly.

Arshia didn't wait.

She started the engine.

The headlights cut through the empty road.

And then-they were gone.

Leaving behind nothing but a bleeding man and a house filled with broken silence.

---

Riaan's breath hitched as reality hit him like a storm. His voice shook, louder than the engine, louder than the pounding in his chest.

"Tumne ye kya kar diya-what the fuck, Arshia? You just didn't-vo mar jayega!"

Arshia's hands stayed steady on the wheel. Her voice was too calm-terrifyingly calm.

"Marna hi tha."

That was all she said.

Riaan stared at her, disbelief etched on every feature. He couldn't process it-how she looked so composed after shooting someone point-blank.

"You just killed someone... and you're this calm?"

She didn't answer.

He almost pulled out his phone-his fingers hovering over Samarth's number-but then stopped. What would he even say? What would Samarth say? That they'd gone too far? That this was necessary? That Arshia wasn't the same?

He locked his phone again and turned to look out the window, city lights blurring into meaningless shapes.

And then her voice came, low, detached, like a forgotten memory uncoiling from the dark.

"It's not the first time."

Riaan turned to her slowly.

But she wasn't here-not really.

She was staring ahead, yes, driving, yes. But her eyes were fixed somewhere far beyond the road. On something he couldn't see. Something older. Something darker.

She wasn't in the car.

She was in her past.

- F L A S H B A C K -

She was 17. Too young to be haunted, too old to ignore what her instincts whispered.

There was a servant in Raj's house-a man in his late forties, with a soft voice and a twisted smile, who always hovered too close. He called her "baby ji"-a word that sent chills through her skin. Everyone thought it was fatherly affection. Everyone... except Arshia.

She never felt safe around him.

He never did anything. Never said anything wrong. But it was the way his eyes lingered when they shouldn't, the way his hand would graze her shoulder for a second too long, the way he'd find excuses to come near her when no one else was around.

But who would believe a teenage girl with a trauma imagination, as they put it? She was the orphaned one. The quiet one. The one people pitied. Everyone thought she was just sensitive.

So, Arshia stayed away. From family functions. From people. From them.

Whenever Raj uncle and his family had to attend a wedding, a party, or a dinner-she always stayed behind. Alone. Silent. Out of sight.

And she always locked her door. Always.

Before they even left the house.

Because she wasn't stupid.

Because fear had already made its home in her bones.

And that night-

That night was no different.

Except it was.

That night, she had locked her room just like always. The key turned twice-click, click-sealing her in safety. Or so she believed.

But sometime past 2 a.m., thirst nudged her awake. The water bottle in her room was empty. She thought the servants had retired to their quarters by now-it would take less than two minutes to fetch a new bottle from the kitchen.

Barefoot, silent as breath, Arshia made her way down the dark staircase, lit only by the pale moonlight slipping through the high windows. She reached the fridge, grabbed a bottle, and turned to leave.

And there he was.

Standing right there. Blocking her way.

"Baby ji, apko paani chahiye tha toh aap hume bula leti," he crooned.

She moved to the side-trying not to flinch, not to show fear.

"Mujhe apne kamre mein jaana hai."

"Mujhe bhi apke hi kamre me jaana hai."

His words. Loud. Clear. Undeniable.

She looked up at him-and this time, she didn't blink. She didn't pretend not to understand. She saw the truth for what it was.

Arshia raised her hand and slapped him across the face. "Aapki himmat kaise hui ye bolne ki?"

That was it.

His mask dropped.

Rage contorted his face. His hand lashed out-fingers tangled violently in her hair. She gasped, stumbled, and he dragged her into the living hall, her feet skidding, her nails scraping against the sofa.

He shoved her.

She landed hard-her arm hitting the glass bottle which rolled away, smashing loudly across the floor.

Water spilled.

Glass shimmered in jagged pieces.

The man loomed over her, lips curled in mockery.

"Aaj toh badi himmat aa gayi hai. Kabhi raat ko kamre se na nikalne wali aaj bahar bhi aa gayi. Aur mujhe thappad bhi maar diya."

He lunged-grabbing her arm, yanking her upright.

She looked around-mind racing.

Behind him was a glass cabinet, to the side, a tall wooden bookshelf, antique and wobbly.

She struggled, breath ragged.

He jerked her hair, forcing her face up, his head closing in.

No one was coming.

No help.

No hero.

Her heart pounded. Her body trembled. But her eyes stayed still. Sharp. Focused.

Then - she pushed him.

With all the force her seventeen-year-old body could gather.

He stumbled back.

Then again -

Using the armrest behind her, she planted both hands, leaned back with all her strength, and kicked.

Both legs slammed into his chest.

He staggered, caught off-guard, falling back-

And that's when it happened.

His heel crushed over the shattered bottle-glass slicing into his foot. In pain, he grabbed at the glass cabinet, but the fragile door broke clean off in his hands, its edge cutting him further.

He stumbled again-trying to lean on the bookshelf.

But the entire wooden frame toppled onto him with a sickening crack, burying his body beneath it.

Blood.

Glass.

Silence.

Arshia stood frozen, breath shallow, eyes wide-not from shock, but stillness.

The man was dying.

Bleeding out from a dozen places, chest rising and falling in painful jerks. He looked at her, arm stretched-asking for help.

She didn't move.

She didn't flinch.

She didn't scream.

She didn't run.

She simply... watched.

She didn't want this-but it didn't feel wrong.

This wasn't horror. This wasn't fear.

It was clarity.

She could have called someone. She could have tried.

But she didn't.

Because she knew who she was now.

And she wasn't a victim.

She wasn't someone who turned her face away from injustice.

She wasn't someone who handed mercy to a man who thought he could touch her like that and walk away untouched.

She stepped back.

Just one step.

And watched him fade-blood darkening the marble beneath him.

Not because she enjoyed it.

But because she needed to see it.

To remember what power looked like.

And what she'd never let be taken from her again.

She wasn't panicking. She wasn't crying. She was just... awake.

Fully. Completely. For the first time.

She wasn't a victim.

She wasn't a girl who watched injustice and did nothing.

She wasn't fragile.

She wasn't safe.

She was Arshia.

And this was the night she met herself.

---

Around 5 or 6 in the morning, when the first light of dawn had only begun to stretch across the city, they returned home-tired, unaware of what waited for them behind those familiar walls.

And then they found him.

Lying lifeless in the hall, his body surrounded by shards of broken glass, a dark smear of dried blood trailing beneath his head, and a bookcase-half-collapsed-leaning where he had once stood tall.

Panic took over. Police were called. Questions were asked. Raj, trembling in disbelief, checked Arshia's room.

She was asleep.

Still. Untouched by the chaos downstairs. Door bolted from inside.

They all knew-she barely left her room, especially at night.

Soon, the police began their work. The body was sent for postmortem. The house was inspected. There, scattered near the scene, were fragments of glass, a trail of spilled water-almost insignificant, yet oddly telling.

And then came the report.

Fractures in the ribs. Multiple internal injuries. Severe bleeding.

They assumed: perhaps he came to drink water, slipped on the spilled liquid, the glass shattered, and in his fall, the old bookshelf gave way-crushing him before he could call for help.

A freak accident.

A tragic one.

No one suspected anything more.

No one noticed the stillness in Arshia's eyes as she watched them quietly from the top of the staircase, hidden in the shadows like a silent witness. No one paid attention to how calm she was. Too calm.

She said nothing.

And she wouldn't.

Because for the first time, fate had played on her side. The world might have called it an accident-but Arshia knew better.

- F L A S H B A C K E N D -

She blinked.

Just once.

And the past dissolved like smoke, fading back into the corners of her mind where it had lived for years-untouched, undisturbed, buried.

Arshia came back to the present with the soft hum of the car engine grounding her. Her fingers still gripped the steering wheel, knuckles pale, eyes straight on the road ahead.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him.

Riaan.

Still staring at her.

Not blinking. Not speaking.

Just looking.

As if trying to read something on her face-something written not in words but in scars, in silence.

Arshia didn't flinch.

Didn't explain.

Didn't justify.

She simply shifted her grip, pushed the accelerator a little harder, and continued driving-like his gaze meant nothing... like the ghosts sitting beside her weren't whispering loud enough to shake her anymore.

And Riaan?

He said nothing either.

Because something in her calmness had shut him up. Because the look in her eyes wasn't madness-it was memory. A memory soaked in quiet violence.

And even he could feel it now.

She wasn't just carrying a past.

She was shaped by it.

Forged in it.

And there was no turning back.

◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉