DRISHTI'S POV
"YOU INVITED THIS ON YOURSELF, ANGEL."
My heartbeat quickened, pounding so fiercely it felt as if it might leap out of my chest. The words stared back at me, cold and accusing, each letter dripping with malice. It felt like my voice had been stolen without warning.
The towel slipped from my trembling hands, landing soundlessly on the floor. My legs felt heavy, but I forced myself to move, each step towards the mirror weighted with dread.
I stopped just inches away, the reflection of my wide, terrified eyes meeting the message scrawled across the glass. The words seemed alive, their meaning clawing at my mind, suffocating me.
My hand reached out instinctively, hovering above the letters. The faint streak of condensation on the mirror told me someone had been here. My breath hitched, the silence around me louder than any scream.
One last glance at the words on the mirror, and a chill ran down my spine.
The air felt colder, the room darker, as if the walls themselves were closing in on me.
I whispered shakily, barely audible, "Who... who did this?" But deep down, I wasn't sure I wanted an answer.
The word Angel . Only one person ever called me that.
A cold sweat formed on my face, my hands clammy and trembling. I could feel the blood draining from my cheeks, leaving me pale and lightheaded.
But no , it couldn't be him. It wasn't possible. As far as I remember, Nirav Bhaiya had handled him, and dealt with him on his own.
He's gone.
He can't come back.
The thought repeated in my mind, but it did little to steady the panic rising in my chest. My breathing grew shallow, my vision swimming as the weight of the message on the mirror pressed down on me.
I stumbled out of my room, my voice cracking as I called out, "Nirav Bhaiya! Nirav Bhai !"
The hallway seemed longer than usual, the shadows stretching ominously. My footsteps echoed, too loud, too sharp. I called out again, desperation thick in my voice.
"Nirav Bhai! Where are you?"
But there was no response, only the suffocating silence that seemed to mock my panic.
"Bhaiya... Bhaiya!" I called out, my voice cracking with desperation as I banged on his door, trying to turn the locked handle. "Please, open the door! I need you !"
My heart pounded louder with each unanswered knock, my panic growing with every passing second.
Then, a cold, familiar voice sliced through the air. "Don't you remember? He's out of station."
I froze, my hand still on the doorknob, my breath hitching. Slowly, I turned to face the source of the voice.
There she was Mrs. Mehta . She stood at the end of the hallway, her arms crossed, her eyes cold and sharp as they bore into me.
"You're so lost in your own panic that you've forgotten," she said, her tone dripping with disdain. "My son isn't home."
My lips parted to speak, but no sound came out. For a moment, I just stared at her, my mind reeling. Her presence here, the timing—it didn't feel right. And the way she said my son... it twisted something in my chest.
I lowered my eyes, nodding silently, unable to meet her piercing gaze. Without another word, I turned to head back .
As I reached her doorway, she held out her hand, stopping me gently as I moved past her. Her warm, familiar touch contrasted sharply with the icy fear coursing through me.
"You do remember, don't you?" she asked softly, her voice laced with hesitation. "He's not your real brother."
Her words , they weren't new. I stopped in my tracks, Turning to her, I replied firmly, my voice steady despite the storm inside me, "He is more than a real brother to me."
"But you never became a mother," I replied sharply, my voice low but pointed. My words hit their mark, and I felt her grip on my hand loosen.
Her lips curled into a bitter smile, and she retorted coldly, "I never wanted to be your mother. Circumstances brought us here, and it's because of you."
Her words pierced through me like a dagger, each syllable sharper than the last. My chest tightened as tears welled up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
I met her gaze, my voice firm. "You never wanted to be my mother that, I understand. But you failed Nirav Bhai, too. You couldn't even be a mother to your own son."
Her face faltered for a split second, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features.
Her face twisted with disdain, her words sharp and cutting. "You think you can stand there and judge me? Let me remind you—you're not even mine. I never wanted you, and I never pretended otherwise."
The venom in her voice dripping, but I refused to let her see how much it hurt. Straightening my shoulders, I shot back, my voice trembling with restrained anger, "And I never asked to be yours. But Nirav Bhai? He was your own son. Your real son. And you failed him just the same."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, her lips curling into a sneer. "Don't bring Nirav into this," she hissed, a dark shadow flickering in her expression. "You don't know anything about what I went through with him. He was just like you—always pushing, as if I owed him the world."
My jaw tightened, my hands balling into fists. "You did owe him the world," I said through gritted teeth, my voice rising despite myself.
"He was your child, Maa. He gave you everything he had—his love, his trust, his life. And you—you repaid him with nothing but neglect and bitterness."
Her sneer deepened, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes , pain, guilt, or maybe just anger at the truth. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off, my voice breaking with emotion. "You didn't just fail me. You broke him. And you don't even have the decency to care."
For a moment, silence hung between us, heavy and suffocating. Her expression wavered, but she quickly masked it with cold indifference. "Don't act like you understand what it's like to be me," she snapped, her tone harsh and defensive. "You don't know the sacrifices I had to make."
I shook my head, the weight of her words pressing down on me. "No," I said quietly, my voice laced with exhaustion. "I don't. But I know that whatever sacrifices you made, they weren't for us. They were for yourself."
I stepped closer, my voice trembling but rising with every word. "You did owe him the world! He was your child, Maa. He loved you, he fought for you, and you—" my voice cracked under the weight of my emotions, but I pushed through, "you turned your back on him. You left him to carry your anger, your bitterness, and it destroyed him!"
Her sneer deepened, her tone as icy as ever. "Destroyed him? Don't be so dramatic. Nirav made his own choices. If he couldn't handle the weight, that's on him, not me."
Her words hit me like a physical blow, my stomach churning with a mix of rage and disgust. "How dare you?" I said, my voice shaking with fury. "You let him break under the weight of your neglect, your resentment. And when he couldn't carry it anymore, you blamed him? You're the reason he—"
My throat tightened, the words refusing to come out as tears blurred my vision. I took a shaky breath, the silence between us suffocating.
Her expression shifted for a brief moment, her voice softening. But it wasn't kindness ,it was something far more sinister. Cruelty wrapped in mockery. "Oh, stop blaming me for Nirav's weakness," she said with feigned pity. "He was always too soft . I didn't ask for that. Just like I didn't ask for you."
Her words sliced through me, each one more painful than the last. I whispered, "You didn't ask for us. But we asked for you. And you gave us nothing."
For a moment, she said nothing. Her face was unreadable, a mask of cold indifference. But I didn't wait for her response.
I turned on my heel, the weight of everything pressing down on me, and walked away. My footsteps echoed in the hollow silence she had carefully built around herself, each step heavier than the last.
And then, as the door closed behind me, the dam broke. I couldn't hold it in anymore. The cries tore from my chest, raw and uncontrollable. I collapsed, my body wracked with sobs, the tears flowing freely, as if they had been waiting for this moment.
She didn't choose me. She never did. But I—I had always craved for her. For a mother. The woman who was supposed to be my safe place, my strength. Instead, all I had was emptiness.
The silence that had hung between us for so long had to be confronted. It wasn't a choice anymore; it had to happen. And in that moment, it felt as if everything I had kept buried deep inside came rushing to the surface.
This was the breaking point. This was the moment we couldn't avoid. The truth was finally out, and it was unbearable.
My gaze slowly drifted back to the mirror, and to my shock, the words that had once been so hauntingly clear were now erased, as if they had never been there at all. I stood frozen, my brows furrowing in confusion.
How?
I was still trying to make sense of it when my phone buzzed. I stared at the screen, still lost in the strange disappearance of the message.
Then, a voice broke through my thoughts, sharp and clear.
"Hello?"
I recognized the voice instantly. It was Nirav Bhai.
"Bhai..." I started, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and relief. "I'm not feeling safe. Someone broke into our house."
There was a pause on the other end, and I could almost hear the tension in his breath.
"What?" he asked, his tone suddenly more urgent.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
The room felt suffocating, and all I could think about was the message that had appeared and vanished like some cruel trick.
Who had been in my room? Why did they leave without a trace?
"Yes," I replied quickly, trying to steady my breathing, though my thoughts were spiraling.
"Don't worry. I'll handle everything," he said, his voice calming, but there was an edge to it ,a quiet determination that only made me more anxious.
We ended the call after a few more brief exchanges, but my mind couldn't settle.
The silence felt deafening as the question hung in the air : Is he here?
I shuddered. He was the one I thought was gone forever , had always lurked in the shadows of my past. But now, it seemed he was back.
{A/N : He was never gone maybe }
My hands were trembling uncontrollably, my mind racing with thoughts of him. His presence felt like an invisible weight pressing down on me, suffocating every thought.
Relax, Drishti, I whispered to myself.
Take a deep breath.
You are fine.
You are fine.
I repeated the words over and over, trying to steady my breath, but they felt hollow.
No matter how hard I tried, the unease wouldn't leave.
In a daze, I found myself walking toward Nani's room, hoping the familiar warmth of her presence would ease the growing panic inside me.
I slipped into her room, the soft, comforting scent of her shawl welcoming me like a fragile haven. Without thinking, I collapsed onto the floor, curling into a tight ball, the fabric enveloping me like a shield.
The soft, worn fabric of her shawl, so often a symbol of comfort, now felt like the only thing anchoring me to reality.
If my Nani were here, no one would have dared to lay a finger on me. She had a presence that could silence storms and a love that shielded me from the world's cruelties. Now, all I can do is hope she's watching over me from heaven.
I closed my eyes, hugging the shawl close, as if it could protect me from the storm of fear and confusion raging within .
*********************************************************
Thankyou for reading ❤️
YT Channel : Lyraaverse
Write a comment ...