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Warning⚠️: This chapter contains potentially disturbing content, including violence and torture. Read only if you are comfortable.

****

Mihir's POV

The room was quiet except for the monitor beside Naina's bed.

Steady beeping. Steady breathing. Steady proof that she was still here.

I sat beside her carefully, unable to look away from her face for more than a second at a time.

Every bruise felt personal. Every mark felt late.

Naina watched me silently for a moment before speaking softly.

"You look angry."

I exhaled quietly.

"I am."

"At me?"

My head lifted immediately.

"No."

Too fast.

Too sharp.

Her eyes softened slightly after that.

"Then at yourself."

Silence.

I looked away briefly because she was right.

Of course she was.

Naina had always known me too well.

Aayat stepped closer then, holding a file the doctor had apparently given her.

"I spoke to them," she said quietly. "They're monitoring her overnight. No stress, no movement, proper observation for the next forty-eight hours."

I nodded once.

Aayat looked at Naina softly.

"I'm going to handle the discharge formalities and talk to the specialist again."

"You already did that once."

"I'm doing it again."

Naina blinked tiredly.

"Why?"

Aayat looked genuinely confused by the question.

"Because that's how hospitals mess things up."

That almost pulled a laugh out of Naina.

Almost.

Aayat noticed immediately and pointed at her.

"Don't laugh. Your brother looks like he'll sue the building if you move wrong."

"I will not sue the building."

Aayat gave me a look.

"You threatened a nurse with policy violations."

"The paperwork was incorrect."

Naina smiled weakly at that.

And for one second, the room felt lighter.

Aayat glanced between us quietly after that.

Then her voice softened.

"I'll be outside if you need anything."

Naina reached for her hand before she could leave.

Aayat paused immediately.

"Thank you," Naina whispered.

Aayat's expression changed slightly at that.

Gentler.

"You don't have to thank me for staying."

And then she left quietly, closing the door softly behind her.

Silence settled again after that.

Naina looked toward the door for a moment before turning back to me.

"She cares about you."

I rubbed a hand over my face tiredly.

"We're not discussing that right now."

A weak smile appeared on her face.

"So that's a yes."

"Naina."

"Fine," she murmured softly.

A pause settled between us.

Then her eyes dropped to the blanket in her lap.

"I'm sorry."

The word came quietly this time.

Broken.

I frowned immediately.

"We already discussed this."

"I know."

Her fingers twisted weakly into the sheet.

"But you looked at me like..." She swallowed hard. "Like you thought you were losing me."

My chest tightened painfully.

Because she was right.

For a few seconds on those stairs...

I had.

I leaned forward slowly, resting my elbows against my knees.

"Naina," I said quietly, "when I saw you lying there..."

My voice stopped for a second.

I started again carefully.

"I forgot how to think properly."

Her eyes filled immediately.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know."

Silence.

Then quieter,

"But you did."

That honesty hurt both of us.

I could see it.

Naina blinked quickly, trying not to cry.

"I didn't want things to become harder for you after finding me again."

I looked at her directly then.

"Do you really think you're a burden to me?"

Her silence answered before words did.

Something sharp twisted in my chest.

I moved closer to the bed instinctively.

"Naina."

She looked up slowly.

"You are my sister."

Firm.

Certain.

"I don't care what happened in the last twenty years. I don't care what Dev did. I don't care how complicated things become."

My throat tightened briefly.

"You came back."

A tear slipped down her face quietly.

"And that's enough for me."

Naina broke after that.

Not loudly.

Just silently crying into the hospital pillow like she'd been holding it in too long.

I reached for her hand immediately.

"It's okay," I said softly.

"No, it's not," she whispered shakily. "I lost my baby."

The words hit just as hard the second time.

Maybe harder.

Because now it wasn't shock speaking.

It was grief. Real grief. Fresh and bleeding.

I closed my eyes briefly before tightening my hold on her hand.

"I know."

Her shoulders shook slightly.

"I didn't even get to decide if I wanted to tell anyone."

I stayed quiet.

Because there wasn't a fix for this. No solution. No strategy. Just loss.

Naina looked at me through tears.

"I would've loved the baby, bhai."

That nearly destroyed what little composure I still had left.

I looked down immediately, jaw tightening hard enough to hurt.

Because all I could think about was her carrying that alone.

Being scared alone. Losing it alone.

And somewhere in the middle of all that...

still trying to protect everyone else first.

My voice came out rougher when I finally spoke.

"You don't have to be strong right now."

Naina let out a shaky breath.

"I don't know how to stop."

That answer stayed between us heavily.

Because I understood it too well.

I squeezed her hand once carefully.

"Then don't stop completely," I said quietly. "Just... rest for a while."

Her eyes closed briefly.

Exhaustion pulling at her again.

Before sleep fully dragged her under, she whispered softly,

"You found me anyway."

My throat tightened immediately.

Yeah.

I did.

Too late for too many things.

But not too late for this.

Naina's fingers tightened weakly around mine.

Her eyes were swollen now.

Exhausted.

But awake in that dangerous way grief keeps people awake even when their body is begging them to sleep.

"Bhai..."

I looked at her immediately.

She swallowed once before speaking again.

"I don't care that the baby was Dev's."

The words hit the room softly.

But they hit me hard.

Naina's gaze stayed fixed somewhere past me now, unfocused slightly.

"I know what he was," she whispered. "I know what he did to me. I know what kind of man he is."

Her voice trembled.

"But the baby..."

A pause.

Her hand moved slowly toward her stomach unconsciously before stopping halfway.

"The baby didn't do anything."

Something in my chest twisted painfully.

I stayed quiet.

Because this wasn't something she needed interrupted.

Naina inhaled shakily.

"I hated him," she admitted softly. "Every day. Every second."

Her eyes filled again.

"But I never hated my child."

The word child nearly broke me all over again.

She looked down at the blanket.

"When I found out..." Her lips trembled faintly. "I was terrified."

A small breath left her.

"I remember sitting alone for hours just staring at the test because I didn't know what to feel first."

Her voice grew quieter.

"Fear came first."

Another pause.

"Then guilt."

I frowned slightly.

"Guilt?"

Naina nodded weakly.

"Because part of me was relieved."

The shame in her expression appeared instantly after saying it.

Like she thought she'd done something wrong just by admitting it.

I tightened my hold on her hand immediately.

"Naina."

She shook her head quickly.

"No, listen first."

I stayed silent.

Her breathing hitched unevenly.

"I kept thinking..." she whispered, "'How can something so terrible give me something I already love?'"

The room went completely still.

Even the monitor beside her felt quieter somehow.

Tears slipped down her face slowly now.

"I tried not to get attached at first," she admitted. "I told myself it would only make things harder."

A humorless little breath escaped her.

"But then I started talking to the baby."

My chest tightened sharply.

Naina smiled faintly through tears.

"I know that sounds stupid."

"It doesn't."

My voice came out rough.

Immediate. Firm.

Her eyes shifted back to mine slowly.

And then she broke completely. Not loudly. Just openly.

"I talked all the time," she whispered shakily. "When I was alone. When I was scared. I used to sit by the window and just..." Her breath caught. "Just tell the baby things."

My throat burned.

"What things?"

A tear slid down her cheek.

"That I'd protect them."

The words nearly knocked the air out of me.

"That they'd never feel trapped the way I did."

Another shaky breath.

"That I'd make sure they grew up loved."

I looked away briefly because suddenly I couldn't breathe properly either.

Naina kept speaking softly through tears.

"I didn't care whose blood it was." Her voice cracked. "It was mine too."

Silence. Heavy.

Human.

Painfully human.

"And for the first time in years..." she whispered, "I felt like maybe something beautiful could still belong to me."

God.

I pressed my free hand against my mouth for a second.

Composure slipping in pieces.

Because all I could picture now was Naina alone in some room, scared out of her mind, still trying to love something despite everything that had been done to her.

And no one was there.

No one.

A fresh wave of anger moved through me so sharply I had to force it back down immediately.

Not now.

This wasn't about my anger.

This was about her.

Naina's voice dropped softer.

"I know people would've judged me if they knew."

I looked at her instantly.

"Who cares?"

She gave a weak, sad smile.

"You say that because you're you."

"No," I said quietly. "I say that because none of this was your fault."

Her eyes closed briefly.

"But it still felt complicated."

"I know."

She looked surprised at that.

I exhaled slowly.

"You can hate what someone did to you," I said carefully, "and still love something innocent that came from it."

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

"I already loved the baby."

My jaw tightened painfully.

"How far along were you?"

"Almost three months."

Three months.

Three months of carrying that fear alone.

Three months of imagining a future while trapped in hell.

I looked down briefly, trying to steady my breathing.

Naina's voice softened again.

"I used to wonder how the baby would look like."

I closed my eyes for half a second.

"Don't," I whispered before I could stop myself.

Not because I wanted her silent.

Because hearing her dream aloud felt unbearable now.

Naina noticed immediately.

And somehow, despite being the one hurting most, she tried comforting me again.

"Bhai..."

I shook my head once.

"No."

My voice cracked slightly.

"I'm trying very hard not to think about what you lost right now."

Silence filled the room again.

Then softly...

"I lost more than the baby."

I looked at her immediately.

Naina's eyes met mine steadily through tears.

"I lost the only thing that made surviving him feel meaningful."

That sentence stayed in the room like a wound left open.

And for the first time that night...

I genuinely didn't know how to help her carry it.

I held her hand more carefully after that.

Like if I loosened my grip even slightly, she'd disappear again.

"Naina," I said quietly, waiting until her eyes lifted to mine, "look at me."

She did.

Barely holding herself together.

And God, that hurt to see.

"You do not have to justify loving your child."

A tear slipped down her cheek immediately.

I shook my head softly before she could speak.

"No. Listen to me first."

My thumb brushed gently across her knuckles.

"You carried that baby. You thought about them. You dreamed about them." My throat tightened briefly. "You already made space for that child in your heart."

Her breathing trembled unevenly.

"That love was real."

I watched her expression crumble slowly at the words.

Not because they hurt her.

Because nobody had said them out loud before.

"You don't have to feel guilty for wanting your baby," I continued softly. "And you don't have to explain why this hurts."

She looked down immediately, tears falling silently now.

"I should've protected..."

"No."

Firm.Certain.

I leaned closer carefully.

"You are not responsible for every terrible thing that happened around you."

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

I continued anyway.

"You survived an abusive man. You survived fear, isolation, pressure, threats..." My jaw tightened briefly. "And through all of that, you still found it in yourself to love someone."

A pause.

"Naina, do you understand how strong that is?"

Her face broke completely after that.

I felt my own chest tighten painfully.

Because she looked shocked by the idea.

Like she'd only seen shame in herself until now.

I moved my hand gently to her hair, brushing it back carefully from her forehead.

"You loved your baby despite everything Dev tried to turn your life into," I said quietly. "That says something about you. Not him."

Another tear slid down her face.

"And nothing about this loss makes you weak."

I swallowed once before continuing.

"Nothing about this makes you dirty." My voice lowered further. "And nothing about your grief is wrong."

She cried harder after that.

Still silent.

Still trying to keep it controlled.

Even now.

I hated that instinct in her.

The instinct to minimize her own pain.

"You don't need permission to mourn your child," I whispered.

Her fingers tightened around mine weakly.

"I keep thinking about the baby being alone," she admitted shakily.

My chest physically hurt hearing that.

I moved closer immediately.

"No."

She looked at me through tears.

"No child of yours is alone," I said softly. "Not ever."

Her breathing hitched sharply.

I kept my voice steady even though mine wanted to break too.

"That baby knew your love first." A pause. "Before fear. Before pain. Before anything else."

Tears streamed silently down her face now.

And I realized she'd probably been waiting for someone to tell her she was allowed to love this child without shame.

Allowed to miss them.

Allowed to mourn them.

I brushed another tear from her cheek carefully.

"You were already protecting your baby the best way you knew how," I said quietly. "By surviving."

She closed her eyes tightly.

"I wanted to keep the baby safe from him."

"You would have."

Her eyes opened immediately at that.

Certain.

I made sure she heard it in my voice.

"You would have fought for that child with everything in you." My throat tightened painfully. "I know you."

A small broken sound escaped her at that.

And suddenly I remembered...

she never got to hear someone reassure her through any of this.

Not once.

She carried every fear alone.

Every decision.

Every hope.

Every nightmare.

Alone.

The realization made my stomach turn.

"Naina," I said softly, "none of this changes who you are to me."

Her brows pulled together faintly through tears.

"You're still my sister."

A pause.

"You're still someone worthy of love."

Another pause.

"And you are still going to have a future beyond what Dev did to you."

She cried quietly while listening.

Not interrupting anymore.

Just listening.

I squeezed her hand once carefully.

"You survived him," I whispered. "And one day, this pain won't be the only thing left of this story."

Her breathing steadied slightly.

Not healed.

Not okay.

But less alone.

And right now...

that was the only thing I knew how to give her.

Naina suddenly leaned forward carefully and wrapped her arms around me.

Weakly.

Like even holding onto someone hurt right now.

But she still did it.

I held her immediately, one hand supporting her gently so she wouldn't strain herself against the injuries.

Her forehead rested against my shoulder.

Then softly...

"Bhai..."

"Hm?"

A shaky breath left her.

"I'm behaving like this after losing my unborn child..."

The words alone made my chest tighten painfully.

Her unborn child.

Not Dev's child.

Not a mistake.

Not an accident.

Just... her baby.

Naina's fingers curled weakly into my shirt.

"Then how must mumma have felt?"

I went still.

Completely still.

"She lost you, me, and little Advit while we were still alive."

My throat tightened immediately.

Naina pulled back slightly, tears slipping silently down her face now.

"She didn't even lose us accidentally," she whispered. "She sent me and Advit away herself."

God.

I looked down briefly.

Because hearing it from her perspective sounded unbearably cruel.

"She handed us to Trakshay with her own hands," Naina continued brokenly. "And then she still lost all of us anyway."

The grief in her voice was layered now.

Not just for her child.

For our mother too.

For everything that family had become.

"I used to think she abandoned us," Naina admitted quietly.

A sharp ache hit my chest.

"I thought... if she loved us enough, she would've kept us."

I tightened my grip around her hand immediately.

"No."

The word came out firm enough that she blinked.

I swallowed hard before continuing quieter.

"Maa loved you too much to keep you in danger."

Naina stared at me silently.

Tears kept sliding down her face.

"But now..." Her voice trembled. "After losing my baby..."

She looked away briefly.

"I finally understand what kind of pain it must've taken for her to let us go at all."

I couldn't answer immediately.

Because she was right.

No mother willingly separates herself from her children unless she thinks it's the only way to save them.

And Maa had carried that decision until the day she died.

Alone.

Naina's breathing turned uneven again.

"She must've cried so much after we left."

I looked away sharply for one second.

Because I remembered enough to know she did.

I remembered Maa waiting.

Searching.

Breaking slowly.

I remembered the grief in her eyes every time our names were mentioned.

And Naina had no idea how badly everything truly ended.

No idea what was done to Maa in the end.

I couldn't tell her now.

Not while she was already breaking apart in front of me.

So instead I said quietly,

"She never stopped loving you."

Naina cried harder after that.

Silent tears.

The kind people cry when something finally reaches the part of them that's been hurting for years.

"I wish I told her that I understood," she whispered shakily. "Before she..."

Her voice broke completely.

I moved my hand slowly to the back of her head.

"She knew."

The words nearly tore my throat apart.

Because I didn't know if Maa died believing that.

But I needed Naina to believe it now.

Needed her to have at least one soft thing left tonight.

Naina leaned into me again weakly.

"I only lost my baby after a few months," she whispered. "Mumma lost all her children for years."

A tear slipped down my own face before I could stop it.

I closed my eyes briefly.

Because suddenly all I could think about was Maa carrying grief after grief after grief and still somehow waking up every day hoping her children would come home.

And they never did.

Not in time.

Naina's voice softened again against my shoulder.

"I think she would've loved my baby."

That nearly broke me completely.

I held her a little tighter carefully.

"She would have," I whispered hoarsely.

"With everything she had."

The silence after that felt fragile.

Not unbearable anymore.

Just tired.

Naina leaned back properly against the pillow this time, exhaustion finally catching up to her. Her eyes were still red, face pale from crying too much, but at least she wasn't breaking apart with every breath now.

Good.

I couldn't watch that again tonight.

So before the room drowned in silence all over again, I spoke.

"You know," I said thoughtfully, "this is probably the first time you've stayed quiet for more than five consecutive minutes."

Naina blinked slowly.

Then frowned weakly.

"I literally just had surgery."

"Mhm," I nodded seriously. "Still impressive."

That earned me a tired look.

"There he is," she muttered. "Annoying again."

"Doctor said stress is bad for recovery," I replied calmly. "I'm helping."

"You're the stress."

"Unproven allegations."

A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her mouth despite herself.

Progress.

I leaned back slightly in the chair beside her bed.

"You also scared half the hospital."

Naina looked mildly offended.

"I fell down the stairs, not started a war."

"Might've been less dramatic if you started a war."

"Bhai."

"What?"

"You looked like you were about to murder people downstairs."

I considered that.

"Accurate."

That got another weak huff out of her.

Good.

The room needed that sound.

Naina adjusted slightly against the pillow before looking at me again.

"You were crying."

Immediate denial.

"No."

She stared at me blankly.

"You literally had tears on your face."

"Hospital lighting."

"Bhai."

"Very aggressive lighting."

Naina laughed softly this time.

Small.

But real enough that some of the tension finally left her shoulders.

I exhaled quietly.

Thank God.

Because grief looked too heavy on her.

She studied me for a moment after that.

"You've changed."

I frowned slightly.

"Again with these insults."

"You know what I mean."

I did.

Unfortunately.

Naina's voice softened.

"You're softer now."

I looked away briefly.

"That sounds fake."

"It's not."

A pause.

"You used to hold everything so tightly."

I stayed quiet.

Because she wasn't wrong.

Naina tilted her head slightly.

"Now you actually say things."

"That also sounds fake."

"You literally comforted me emotionally for an hour."

"That was a medical emergency."

She rolled her eyes weakly.

"No, it wasn't."

I sighed dramatically.

"This is why I shouldn't show vulnerability. People misuse it immediately."

That earned another laugh.

Then her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.

"This is Aayat bhabhi's influence, isn't it?"

I looked at her flatly.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You absolutely do."

"She's emotionally unstable."

"And yet you married her."

"That sounds like victim blaming."

Naina looked genuinely amused now.

"Bhai."

"What?"

"You like her too much."

I gave her a tired look.

"She threatened me this morning."

"And?"

"And she called me a terrible human being."

Naina smiled faintly.

"You looked happy saying that."

I paused.

Annoyingly long.

Because I realized halfway through that she was right.

Disastrous realization.

I straightened slightly.

"We're changing the topic."

Naina grinned weakly.

"Oh my God, you really do..."

"No."

"That's the same tone you used when I asked if you cried."

I pointed at her carefully.

"You are heavily medicated right now. None of your statements are legally reliable."

She actually laughed properly at that.

Soft and tired, but enough to light up her face for a second.

And honestly?

I would've said ten more stupid things just to hear that sound again.

Naina had finally fallen asleep.

Not the restless kind.

Not the half-aware kind that keeps pulling people back into pain.

Proper sleep.

The kind her body had been refusing for hours.

I stayed seated beside her, watching her breathing even out with the steady rhythm of the monitor.

For the first time in a long time...

there was no urgency in the room.

Just quiet.

Then the door opened.

A doctor stepped in with a file in hand.

I straightened immediately.

"How is she?" I asked.

The doctor glanced at the monitor, then at Naina.

"Stable," he said calmly. "Recovery is going as expected considering the trauma. She'll need rest, no stress, and follow-up scans over the next few days."

I nodded once.

"Any complications we should expect?"

"Nothing alarming for now," he replied. "But emotional distress will take longer to process than physical healing."

I didn't respond to that.

Because I already knew.

He flipped the file once, then added casually,

"Everything has been handled on the administrative side. Your wife has already completed all the paperwork, insurance coordination, discharge protocols, everything is in order."

My brain stopped.

Just like that.

Not in a dramatic way.

In a very quiet, very precise way.

Wife.

The word didn't echo.

It just... stuck.

Like it refused to move forward.

I blinked once.

Slow.

Then again.

My expression stayed still. Controlled. Professional.

But internally...

absolutely nothing was functioning properly.

My wife.

The doctor continued speaking, unaware of the damage he'd casually caused.

"She even coordinated with the specialist team and ensured priority admission. Very efficient. You're fortunate."

I nodded once.

Too quickly.

"Right."

My voice came out normal.

Too normal.

The doctor didn't notice anything unusual.

Of course he didn't.

He closed the file.

"If there's anything else, let us know."

And left.

The door clicked shut.

Silence returned.

But now it felt different.

Heavier.

I stood still for a few seconds, staring at the empty space where he'd been.

Then I slowly turned my head toward Naina, still asleep.

And then...

very carefully...

I sat back down.

Because apparently my legs had forgotten how to function normally.

My wife.

No.

No, that's not...

I exhaled slowly through my nose, trying to regain control of my face.

Absolutely unacceptable reaction.

I had handled crisis situations.

Negotiations.

Threats.

Corporate takeovers.

But one completely unnecessary sentence from a doctor and suddenly my brain was malfunctioning like a system rebooting incorrectly.

I adjusted my cuff.

Then my watch.

Then nothing.

Because there was nothing else to adjust.

My gaze drifted back to Naina again, making sure she was still asleep.

Good.

Because I definitely needed a few seconds to recover from...

The word hit again.

I cleared my throat silently.

This is ridiculous.

Three months.

Three months of discipline.

Control.

Composure.

And somehow "my wife" still managed to short-circuit basic cognitive function.

I leaned back in the chair, exhaling slowly.

"Pathetic," I muttered under my breath.

Not sure if I meant myself.

Or the situation.

Probably both.

A faint sound from the hallway broke the silence again.

Footsteps.

I straightened instantly, expression snapping back into place.

Control restored.

Almost.

But not entirely.

Because as I looked back at Naina sleeping peacefully...

the word still lingered somewhere in the back of my mind.

And annoyingly...

it refused to leave.

****

It had been two weeks now Naina was discharged.

"Like this," I demonstrated, holding the gun steadily with both hands, my fingers wrapping around the grip. "You need to keep your arms straight, elbows slightly bent. Align the sights with your target. When you're ready to shoot, exhale slowly and squeeze the trigger. Don't jerk it."

Naina nodded, mimicking my  stance. She felt the cold metal against her palms, the weight of it unfamiliar but grounding. I stood behind her, adjusting her grip slightly. "Now try," he murmured softly. "Slowly."

Naina squeezed the trigger slowly, the gun going off with a loud bang that made her jump slightly. The bullet hit the target off-center, but it was a start. My hands tightened slightly on her wrists to steady her as she fired again, this time hitting closer to the mark. "Good,"

The gun kicked back into her shoulders, but she held her ground. Each shot became more controlled, more deliberate. My quiet guidance became a steady presence behind her. "Again. Focus on your breathing. In... out... now squeeze." The bullet tore through the paper target, striking the center mass. Naina's chest heaved with exertion and triumph.

"Perfect," I  whispered against her ear as Naina's last shot pierced the target's head dead center. I gentled my grip on her wrists and began to teach her the next lesson...how to inflict pain without killing instantly. "Now, let's talk about torture methods."

"There are two main types," I  began, my voice calm and instructive. "Physical and psychological. Physical is straightforward...breaking bones, cutting, burning. Psychological is more subtle...depriving someone of sleep, food, light. Both can be devastatingly effective."

I led her to a table where various tools lay spread out...knives, pliers, a whip. "Let's start with physical. The goal is to maximize pain without causing immediate death." I picked up a pair of pliers, my gaze intense as I looked at Naina. "Are you ready to learn?"

"Bhai, I'm scared", she said.

"You don't have to be scared," I repeated softly, his voice firm yet gentle. "This is about justice. About making pay for what he did to you." I placed the pliers back on the table and cupped her face in my hands, making her to look at me.

"First, understand your target's weak points, joints, genitals, eyes. Those areas are highly sensitive." I demonstrated with a dummy, showing precise points to strike or cut. "Next is control. You apply pressure slowly, build the pain gradually." I showed her how to use pliers on fingers.

"Never cut arteries immediately...they'll bleed out too fast. Capillaries first, then deeper cuts. Make them feel every slice." My voice remained calm, instructional, as I demonstrated techniques that would have made most people vomit. But Naina just listened, learning each brutal method.

"Psychological torture is often worse than physical," I explained later, showing her isolation techniques, sleep deprivation methods, and ways to manipulate perception. "Fear is powerful. Make them imagine worse things than what's actually happening." I paused, looking at her seriously.

Naina nodded, taking the notebook with trembling hands. She looked up at me, her eyes reflecting a mix of fear, determination, and something else...gratitude. I was teaching her to become a weapon, to fight back against those who had made her life a living hell.

"One more thing," I said, stopping her before she could leave the room. I picked up a whip from the table, letting it crack sharply in the air. Naina jumped at the sudden sound. "Learn to use this."

"It's... for psychological impact as much as physical," I explained, running the whip through his fingers. "The sound alone can break someone. Combine it with precise strikes...over the kidneys, across the back, but never deep enough to kill." I demonstrated on the dummy, each crack echoing perfectly in the chamber. "Your turn."

Naina hesitated, then took the whip from him. She practiceed cracking it in the air, feeling the leather snap against her palm. She aimed at the dummy, her first strike landing heavily across its back. The sound echoed loudly, and she felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the impact.

"Are you ready to perform it on a real one?" I asked, my voice low and serious. Naina nodded confidently, the whip still in her hand. Just then, one of my men dragged a tied-up Dev into the room, throwing him roughly to the floor at Naina's feet. "Begin," I said quietly.

Naina looked down at Dev's bound form, hatred and revulsion churning in her stomach. She raised the whip, cracking it sharply above his head. The sound echoed loudly in the room, and Dev flinched, his eyes widening in fear as he looked up at her. A small smile played on Naina's lips. This was power.

"You hurt me," Naina hissed, cracking the whip across Dev's back. "You made me suffer for months. You took my baby from me." Another crack, and another, each one precise and brutal. "You touched me when I didn't want to be touched. You destroyed my life."

Naina continued to whip Dev mercilessly, each crack echoing with the pain and humiliation he had caused her. She struck his legs, his arms, his back, even his face. Blood began to flow, mingling with his tears as he begged for mercy. But Naina was beyond mercy.

I watched with an approving expression, nodding slightly as Naina transitioned from the whip. I signaled to one of my men, who brought a tray with various tools...pliers, knives, syringes filled with unknown liquids. "Show him what you've learned," I urged softly.

"With pleasure," Naina whispered coldly, setting the whip down and picking up a pair of pliers. She knelt beside Dev, his pained face inches from hers. "You liked touching me without consent? Let's see how you like this." She grasped his finger and began to twist.

"Ahh! Please, Naina! Stop!" Dev screamed as she twisted his finger brutally. She ignored his pleas, moving to the next finger. "Remember when you forced yourself on me?" She snapped another finger. "This is for each time you touched me without permission."

"Lastly," Naina picked up a syringe filled with a clear liquid. She smiled sadistically at Dev, who was now shaking with fear and pain. "This is for every night you held me down and raped me." She injected the liquid into his thigh muscle. "This is poison."

"Tomorrow, we'll continue," Naina said coldly, standing up and wiping her hands on a cloth. She looked at me, her expression hardening. "Let's go, bhai."

"You did good, Naina," I praised, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm proud of you." Naina nodded slightly, her expression unreadable. "Of course I had to. After all, you taught me everything." She walked beside me towards the door.

We reached home just after dusk.

The house felt too quiet for the kind of day we'd just lived through.

Naina didn't wait. The moment the car stopped, she got out and went straight to her room without a word.

No hesitation. No looking back.

I followed inside a few seconds later.

Aayat was already in the living room.

She stood up immediately when she saw me.

Her eyes searched my face first.

"Mihir," she asked quickly. "Everything went well, right? Naina is alright?"

For a moment, I didn't answer.

Then I set my things down slowly.

Straightened.

And looked at her.

"Everything went well," Mihir answered Ayaat's question, his expression serious. "Naina is... handling it. She's stronger than we thought." He unpacked his weapon, checking it absently. "She tortured Dev thoroughly. The man will be crippled for days." He paused.

The tension of the day didn't fully leave the house even after we stepped inside.

It just... changed shape.

From something sharp and suffocating to something quieter. Heavier in a different way.

Aayat was still standing in the living room when I finished speaking.

Her expression didn't change at first.

Just a long, steady look...like she was trying to read between the lines of everything I didn't say.

Then she exhaled slowly.

"Handled it," she repeated, softer now. "That's your version of good news, right?"

I didn't answer immediately.

Because nothing about today felt like something that had a clean version of "good."

So I just gave a small nod.

Aayat studied me for another second, then her shoulders dropped slightly like she'd decided not to dig further tonight.

"Okay," she said quietly. "As long as she's safe."

That part, at least, I could answer properly.

"She is."

A pause.

The kind that usually comes right before Aayat says something unpredictable.

Which she did.

"I cooked."

I blinked once.

Slowly.

"...You what?"

She pointed toward the kitchen like she'd just mentioned the weather.

"I cooked."

My stare sharpened.

"You cooked what."

Aayat tilted her head.

"Food."

Silence.

I just looked at her.

Properly looked at her.

Like if I stared long enough, the sentence would correct itself.

Then I walked past her without another word and opened the kitchen door.

And stopped.

My eyes narrowed.

Then widened.

Then stopped functioning for half a second.

"What," I said carefully, "is that."

On the counter was something that could only generously be described as a situation.

Something had been in a pan. At some point in history.

Now it was... no longer participating in its original purpose.

I slowly turned my head back toward her.

"Aayat," I said very evenly, "did you try to cook rice or invent a new building material."

She leaned on the doorway behind me, completely unbothered.

"It was rice."

"That is not rice."

"It was before."

I closed my eyes for a second.

Just one.

Then reopened them.

"Did you burn my kitchen."

She frowned.

"My kitchen?"

I pointed vaguely around.

"I live here too."

"That doesn't answer my question."

I turned back to the counter again, as if it might explain itself out of sympathy.

It did not.

I spoke slowly.

"What exactly happened here."

Aayat crossed her arms.

"I followed instructions."

"That's the first problem."

She continued, unfazed.

"It said 'boil until soft.'"

My gaze snapped to her.

"...And?"

"And I waited."

"How long."

A pause.

Then, very casually:

"A while."

I exhaled through my nose.

A long, controlled breath.

"Define 'a while,' Aayat."

She shrugged.

"I checked my phone."

That was it.

That was the moment I accepted the truth.

I rubbed my forehead once.

Then looked back at her.

"You burned the rice."

"I enhanced it."

"You created charcoal."

"It's nutritious."

I stared at her.

She stared back like she was winning this conversation.

Somewhere behind us, I think I heard a faint noise from the hallway...probably Naina's door closing fully as she settled in.

Good.

At least one person in this house was recovering properly.

I turned back to the counter again.

Then very quietly said:

"Do not ever cook again."

Aayat's eyes narrowed.

"That's rude."

"That's preventive medicine."

She walked closer now, peering over my shoulder.

"It doesn't look that bad."

I gave her a look.

She reconsidered.

"...Okay, it looks a little bad."

"A little."

"A lot," she corrected herself reluctantly.

I opened a window slightly.

Just for air.

Then leaned back against the counter and looked at her properly now.

"You could have called someone."

"I wanted to cook something for us."

That made me pause.

Just slightly.

Then I sighed.

"...It is a surprise."

Aayat nodded once, satisfied.

"Good."

I glanced at her.

"That is not the reaction you should be aiming for."

She smiled faintly, then leaned her elbow on the counter beside me.

For a moment, the house actually felt normal again.

Not fixed. Not healed. Just... normal enough.

"You're tired," she said after a second, softer now.

I didn't argue.

Because I was. But I still replied anyway.

"So are you."

She shrugged.

"I didn't torture anyone today."

I shot her a look immediately.

"That's not, don't say it like that."

Her lips twitched slightly.

"You said everything went well."

I paused.

Then exhaled.

"...Yes."

A beat.

Then I added, quieter:

"As well as it could."

Aayat studied me for a moment, then nodded like she accepted that answer without needing more detail.

"Okay," she said simply.

Then she gestured vaguely at the kitchen again.

"I'll order food."

"Good."

A pause.

Then she looked at me again.

"You're smiling."

"I am not."

"You are."

I straightened slightly.

"This is stress."

"That's still smiling."

I gave her a tired look.

And despite everything...the day, the exhaustion, the weight still sitting quietly in the background...

I found myself exhaling something that almost counted as a laugh.

"Ask, Navya to clean the kitchen first," I muttered.

Aayat nodded seriously.

"Understood. I will never touch a stove again."

"That," I said, "is the first reassuring thing you've said all day."

And for the first time since we got home...

the house didn't feel quite so heavy anymore.

Aayat was still leaning against the kitchen counter when her phone lit up in her hand.

She tapped it once.

Then again.

Then frowned.

"What is it?" I asked, already not liking that expression.

She didn't look up. "Food apps."

"...Yes?"

Another tap. A pause.

Then she looked up slowly.

"Nothing's working."

I blinked. "What do you mean, nothing's working?"

She turned the screen toward me like it had personally betrayed her.

"Every single place is either closed or not delivering."

I stared at it for a second.

Then at her.

Then toward the window.

Only then did I notice it properly, the rain.

Heavy. Relentless. The kind that turns roads into rivers and drivers into people who suddenly "aren't available".

Aayat sighed, scrolling again. "It's the rain. Everything's delayed or shut."

Silence.

Then she added, way too casually, "So... Mihir?"

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "Don't say it like that."

Her lips twitched. "You won't mind eating this rice right?"

My gaze snapped to the counter where the... situation still sat.

"...What do you mean," I said slowly.

Aayat gestured at it like she was presenting a business proposal. "It's still technically food."

"That is not food," I said immediately.

"It has nutrients."

"That is carbon."

She shrugged.

I exhaled, dragging a hand down my face. "No. Absolutely not. You are not eating that either."

"I didn't say I would enjoy it."

"That's worse."

Aayat leaned back slightly, watching me now. "So what then? Everything's closed. It's raining too hard to go out."

For a second, the house actually felt... stuck.

Quiet again. Just rain hitting the windows.

I looked at the kitchen. Then at her. Then at the clock.

"...I'll cook," I said finally.

Aayat blinked. "You will?"

"Yes."

A pause.

Then, almost suspiciously, "You're not just saying that to avoid my rice, are you?"

I gave her a look. "I am always avoiding your rice."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Couldn't argue with that one.

I straightened from the counter. "What do you want to eat?"

She hesitated.

That alone was unusual.

Then she said, "Pasta?"

I stopped mid-step.

Turned slowly.

"...Pasta?"

She made a face immediately. "I know. I know you're going to judge me."

"I'm not judging you," I said flatly. "I'm disappointed in you."

"See?"

"I'm joking."

She squinted at me.

I sighed. "I know you don't like it. You didn't have to eat it the last time I made it...you could've said no, Aayat."

Her expression shifted slightly.

Less teasing now.

"It's not like that, Mihir."

I raised a brow. "Then what's it like?"

She looked away for a second. "You won't understand."

"That is not an answer."

"It is an answer."

"No, it's avoidance."

She huffed lightly. "You're exhausting."

"And you're difficult."

A pause.

Then, softer... "You don't have to keep making things for everyone."

That landed quieter in the room than anything else.

I studied her for a moment.

Then said, a little more gently, "And you don't have to keep eating things you don't like to prove you're helpful."

Her eyes flicked to mine.

A beat.

"I wasn't proving anything."

I tilted my head slightly. "Sure."

That earned me a look.

But no argument this time.

Just a small exhale.

Then she straightened. "We have paneer at home."

I nodded once. "Good start."

"So maybe..." she continued, thinking now, "kadhai paneer and roti would work, Mihir? Right?"

For a second, I didn't answer.

Just looked at her.

Then at the rain outside.

Then back at her.

"...Yeah," I said finally, rolling up my sleeves. "That works."

Aayat's shoulders relaxed a little like that settled something.

"Okay," she said softly.

I walked toward the kitchen properly this time.

Then paused.

"Stay out of the way," I added.

She scoffed. "Excuse me?"

"You burnt rice five minutes ago."

"That was one time."

"That was today."

She stared at me.

I pointed lightly toward the living room. "Out."

Aayat narrowed her eyes.

Then muttered, "Bossy," under her breath as she turned.

But she did leave.

Which I counted as a win.

I opened the fridge, taking in what we had left.

Paneer. Onions. Tomatoes. Spices.

Enough.

The rain outside had softened into a steady hush by the time I started cooking.

The kitchen slowly stopped feeling like a disaster zone and started behaving like a kitchen again.

I was just reaching for the spices when I noticed it.

A small bowl on the far counter.

Litchis.

Fresh. Slightly chilled. Forgotten in the rush of everything earlier.

I paused.

Just for a second.

My hand hovered mid-air.

Because for some reason my brain didn't just register fruit.

It registered something else entirely.

Lily.

And lychees.

The thought came uninvited.

Small. Sharp. Strange in the way memories sometimes are when they don't belong to the present moment.

I stared at the bowl a little longer than I should've.

Then exhaled quietly and looked away.

"...Of course," I muttered under my breath.

Behind me, the sound of footsteps.

"Mihir?" Aayat's voice came from the hallway. "Is the food ready?"

"Almost," I called back automatically, focusing again on the pan.

But I could hear her moving closer.

Too curious.

Too impatient.

"Aayat...don't come in," I said immediately.

"I'm just checking," she replied, already in the doorway.

Of course she was.

She walked straight in like warnings were optional in her vocabulary.

"Aayat," I warned again, more firmly. "I said..."

"I know, I know," she said, peering over the counter. "I just want to see..."

She reached for the lid of the pan before I could stop her.

And the moment it lifted...

"Ah...!"

Her hand jerked back instantly.

Not badly burned, but enough.

Enough for her to hiss sharply and pull away.

"Idiot," I said immediately, already moving.

I caught her hand without thinking, pulling it under cool running water.

Her fingers tensed slightly at the sudden contact.

"I told you to stay out," I said sharply, eyes still on her hand. "Can't you listen to me for once, Aayat?"

She winced a little, more at my tone than the burn.

"It's fine," she muttered quickly. "It's not even that bad..."

"Don't decide that," I cut in, turning the tap a little colder. "Just stay still."

She went quiet for a second.

Then, softer, almost defensive, "I was just trying to help."

I let out a short breath through my nose.

"Help by opening boiling pans with your bare hands?"

She didn't answer that. Which said enough.

I checked her fingers properly now. Nothing serious. Just redness. It would sting for a while, nothing more.

Still...

I didn't like it.

Not even a little.

"You always do that," I said quietly.

"Do what?"

"Jump into things first. Think later."

Aayat looked away slightly. "You're acting like I broke my arm."

"I'm acting like you don't listen."

That made her go quieter.

The kind of quiet that wasn't annoyed anymore.

Just... small.

I released her hand slowly once I was sure it was fine, reaching instead for a cloth.

"Hold this," I said, pressing it gently into her palm.

She obeyed this time.

I turned back to the stove, stirring the pan again.

The silence stretched for a few seconds.

Then Aayat spoke, a little softer.

"It really is fine."

I didn't look at her. "I know."

A pause.

Then, almost reluctantly, "You don't have to get angry."

I stopped stirring for half a second.

Then resumed.

"I'm not angry," I said.

Aayat gave me a look.

I sighed.

"...I'm just tired of you getting hurt in stupid ways."

That landed differently.

I felt it immediately.

The air in the kitchen shifted just slightly.

Not heavy.

Just real.

Behind us, the rain kept falling like nothing had changed at all.

I added the final spices, lowering the flame.

The smell of kadhai paneer started filling the room properly now.

Aayat shifted her weight slightly, still holding the cloth in her hand.

"I didn't mean to," she said after a moment.

I nodded once. "I know."

A beat.

Then I glanced at her. "Next time, wait."

She rolled her eyes lightly...but there was no heat in it.

"...Bossy chef."

"Burnt-finger assistant."

That earned a small, reluctant smile from her.

I turned the stove off.

"Food's ready," I said.

And this time, when she followed me out of the kitchen

she actually stayed one step behind.

The dining table was quieter than the kitchen had been.

Steam still curled up from the plates, kadhai paneer, soft rotis, simple food done properly this time.

Aayat sat across from me, finally eating.

Slow. Careful. Like she was testing whether the food would judge her back.

I watched her for a second longer than necessary.

Then looked away.

"...So," I said casually, taking a bite. "Opinion?"

She didn't look up.

Just tore a piece of roti, dipped it into the gravy, and said flatly, "It's food."

I paused.

"...It's food?"

"Mm."

That was it.

No reaction. No pause. No acknowledgement of effort.

I blinked once. Then again.

"...That's your review?"

Aayat finally looked up at me.

"Do you want a certificate?"

I stared at her.

She went back to eating like nothing had happened.

I exhaled through my nose. "It's good food."

"I know."

That made me stop again.

"...You know?"

She nodded slightly. "Yes."

Silence. I waited. Nothing.

No follow-up. No compliment. No dramatic realization of my culinary talent.

Just her eating like she hadn't just emotionally offended me in the most efficient way possible.

I leaned back slightly.

"You usually have more opinions than this."

"I'm eating," she said simply.

"That's not a personality trait."

"It is right now."

I stared at her for a second longer.

Then muttered, "Incredible."

She hummed vaguely in response, still focused on her plate.

I took another bite.

Still good. Still unappreciated.

Somewhere between annoyance and disbelief, I heard her speak again.

"By the way," she said, like she was changing topics mid-breath.

I looked up. "What."

She took a sip of water.

"When's your birthday, Mr Chief Minister?"

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

1. What do you think Aayat does when she's alone that she never lets Mihir see?

2. How did you feel watching Naina shift from vulnerable to "power mode"?

3. If you lived in this house, who would stress you out more: Mihir or Aayat?

4. What was your favorite quiet moment in this chapter?

AND YES TELL ME HOW WAS THE CHAPTER??????

To be continued

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