autthorsahiba POV:

After talking with Dadu, Veer came to look for his wife. Today is Friday, which means OT day. He was sure the line of patients was waiting for him, and he was getting late. But he can’t leave, not before seeing his wife smile. So he goes to check in the kitchen. 

Heer was in the kitchen, doing nothing, just standing, but the smile that was on her lips was gone. “Kya aap bhi hume bachaa samjhte hai? Hum 10th class mein, bachee nhi hai hum,” she asked in a very low voice, looking down.

(Do you consider me a child. I’m in 10th standard, not a child.)

Veer cupped Heer’s face with warm, familiar gentleness, tracing the faint creases that time and worry had pressed between her brows. “Aap bachi nhi hai, aap toh Bebo ki mumma bhi hai, toh aap bachi kase hui? Bacho ke bachee nhi hote hai Heer.”

(You are not a kid, you are a mom of Bebo, so how could you be a kid. Heer, kids don’t have their own child.)

She looked up, the weight of unspoken fears pressing into her eyes and line on her forehead, “par dadu?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

(But grandfather?)

Veer kissed her forehead to ease the lines resting on her forehead, “Dadu is old naa, his mind doesn’t work properly now,” he said calmly, choosing his words with care. He didn’t want to insult the man who had raised them, but he couldn’t let him affect his innocent wife. 

He pulled back slightly and framed her face with both hands, but Heer was not satisfied; she didn’t smile back, so Veer informed her, “He wants to tell the world that you are my wife. That’s why he wants to arrange our reception. After that, he and no one else calls you a child. They all will know you are a married woman and also have a kid.”

Her eyes filled with unexpected emotions, she will take her time. It’s his type of quiet love where he noticed a little quirk about her. 

If he explained something and she got that instantly, then she will answer within five seconds. But 

If she didn’t get them, her brow furrowed just a tiny bit. Her eyes would dart at him. 

Veer also waited patiently and started counting inside, 

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

“Okay, Par aap humare sath hi rahege na?” she asked, looking at his face.

(Okay, but will you stay with me?)

Veer smiled and kissed her cheeks, right then left, looking in her eyes, he said, “Humesha.” That one word eased her. His mood lit up, and she nodded with a broad smile on her lips. 

(Always.)

Both hold each other's hands and, with the food tray that has aalu paratha, leave the kitchen. Both were about to sit in their glass room on the sofa, then Veer pulled her gently, and she landed on his lap. 

“Let me feed you, aalu paratha.” He started feeding her with his own hand. When she was done eating, he placed the food tray on the table. 

He pecked on her cheeks. “Is your tummy full?”  She covered her mouth and started giggling. Then she blurbed and Veer also smiled this time. 

Suddenly, she bounced on his lap, then he felt the warmth spread through his lower body, but he ignored that.

Suddenly, she hugged him, and he also pulled her more, cradling her as if he could shield her from everything. “Par waha toh bahut log hoke naa, agar kisi ne hume bachaa kaha toh?” She tightened his grip around her. 

He knows she was about to cry, so he distracted her with a peck on her lips. Her eyes widened, and the stress she was feeling earlier vanished; her cheeks started to turn red. 

(There will be lots of people. If someone calls me a child, then?)

“No one will call you a child again. You are my wife, your name is Heer Veer Singh.” He knows that, in the past, people around her teased her for being a child. He doesn’t want her to remember the sour past. 

After hearing his words, she pulled away from him, her gaze was unfocused and lost. So he kissed on top of her head near her hairline. She murmured something, but her voice didn’t reach my ear. “Abhi bhi aapko kuch aur pochna hai? Hum yahi hai, pouchiye.”

(You want to ask more? I am here, ask me.)

She started shaking her head and placed a kiss on his cheek, “Kuch bhi nhi, aap late ho jayege.”

(Nothing, you will get late.)

He smiled and gave a peck on her lips, “aap toh bhul gayi, par hum nhi bhulege ki kiss karne ki jagah aapne badal di hai. Ab se toh hum yahi par kiss lege aapse, chaliye dijiye humare goodbye kiss”

(You forgot, but I didn’t. You changed the place of our kisses. From now on, I’ll take kisses on my lips only. Come on, give me my goodbye kiss.)

Then her lips met with his, but this time for 3 complete seconds. She thinks a peck on the lips is called a kiss. He wants to tell her what proper kissing is, but he never initiates. He always waits for her to ask something, then he shows their answers. In their relationships, she always leads, and he just surrenders himself to her so she can claim. 

They got up and entered their room, and she closed the upper button that he had opened on purpose. This time, she got a little glare from her, but she didn’t say anything. She thinks the button was loose and opened itself. 

Then he moved to pick up his white coat that all doctors wear. She always stares at his coat. She wants to ask him if she can have that. But again, she is still hesitating, and he knows but does not say anything. 

Holding that white coat on his forearm, he asked, “Classes?” 

She giggled, “I’ll attend, sir.” Her hands were resting on her forehead in a saluting position.

He leaned to hug her again, “Hum par ase hi bharosa rakhna Heer, hum aapke liye sab ban jayege.” 

(Heer, always shows your trust in me, I’ll become everything for you.)

She didn’t understand the depth of his words. “Jayiye aap late ho jayege.”

(Go, you will get late.)

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Janaat Viraj Singh POV:

After he left, the room went quiet; only my rapid heartbeat could be felt. I was crying, looking ugly, then he surprised me by pulling me in a hug. Because of high emotions, I also hug him back.

It was just a slip. 

When his arms wrap around me, the first thing I feel is warmth. His presence was steady, familiar, the exact balance of strength and softness. I also felt the steady rise and fall of his chest. His embrace is my homecoming. I feel as if I’m in my home in my room, safe. 

I didn’t know I needed him this much. There’s a quiet courage in the way he holds me—like he’s not just holding my body, but he is holding my soul, making me feel his presence. As he was saying, I’m here, you are safe, and I’ll handle everything. 

He doesn’t rush into words. He doesn’t need to. The hug itself becomes a sentence spoken without sound. And as we parted, I carried a trace of his warmth on my skin. It’s the first hug, but it seems I already hugged him plenty of times.

Today was officially the first day I’ve stepped into this new chapter, not just a chapter but a cage. He already warned me about attending all my classes. 

I reapplied my lip gloss, the small ritual that calms my nerves and adds a touch of shine to the day ahead. 

I slid my scooter key into my pocket, a tiny metal reminder that today, I’m taking control. Wallet, phone, tablet, and laptop—check, check, check, check. I slung the bag over my shoulder, gave the hallway one last look, and everyone was in their room. 

I mounted my scooty, the engine purring like a small promise. The sun in Chandigarh sits high in the mornings, and it often creates a gentle glare off the polished surfaces of the roads, so that sunglasses can save me. Chandigarh’s roads are famously expansive, with wide, well-laid streets that feel almost cinematic. It’s easy to sense the city’s order as you ride—lanes, signals, and roundabouts designed to handle the steady flow of scooters, cars, and buses without feeling claustrophobic.

Traffic signals in Chandigarh are typically efficient and ruthless, so I drive carefully. 

The campus welcomed me with a crisp breeze and the hum of bikes and scooters. I was parking my scooty in the park when suddenly a girl with big specs came in my way. I pulled the brake and saved both of us. She gave me a thank-you nod and left from there. 

The college has bright halls, new faces, and honestly, I wanted to run away. Entering the class, I noticed the same girl. So I sit beside her. “Hi, I’m Janaat, and you?” I asked her with my extended hand for a handshake. “Hey, my name is Kira,” she said timidly.

She seems to be an introvert like Bhabhi, but no worry, I’ll be friends with her, because every introvert person needs an extrovert friend.

Then the teacher entered, and a silence enveloped the classroom. “Morning class, today is Friday, so I’m assigning you an assignment. You all submit that on Monday. You all chose this course for different reasons, so I want to check your ability. You have to design a costume with accessories like bags, shoes, and jewelry. You can also add more things; it’s totally up to you.” 

Wow, first class and got the first assignment. Why does the professor give us assignments? It feels the same when we were in school, we all got homework, now that word has been replaced with assignment. 

The students exchanged glances, clearly stumped by this unexpected assignment. My gaze also drifted to Kira; her brows also furrowed in confusion. “Kira, we should help each other. This seems pretty difficult.” I said. Suddenly, a piece of choke hit me on the forehead, “Stand up,” mam said.

“I think that’s your first class, and in first class you are being talkative. What’s your name?”

Just as I stand up, and truly she is a scary one, “hmm.. my name is Janaat S… Janaat Roy.” Why am I sluttering? I can sense everyone's gaze on me. 

“I know you enrolled in the designer department, but you don’t have to get ready this much for class,” she began, her tone skewering first the obvious, then the not-so-obvious. 

The classroom stilled, the students suddenly acutely aware of every thread of their own outfits—the way a sleeve might betray a hidden pocket, or a hem that hadn’t learned the art of humility.

“Sit down. Remember, I only like students who perform well in class; I’m not going to be impressed by your expensive dresses and makeup. You are here for study, not for a fashion show.” 

The moment she says Sit down, I sink back into my seat, but her words continue. I didn’t dress up to impress anyone. It was my first day in my sasural, and because of the sandwiches, I forgot to change my dress. 

I know my dress is eye-catching, but some people were in branded clothes like Gucci, but no, she has to taunt me only. “Why today, everyone is after my clothes?” 

The entire time, her eyes are stuck on me. I don’t know why she seems to hate me. I have to work hard to keep myself calm. She is a professor, and I’m a student; if I did something, she has the power to fail me. 

So I’ll bear her. She has a power, and I’m powerless. But it’s so obvious she doesn’t like me and will cause trouble in the future. 

The entire day stretched out like a long one, and I remained glued to my seat. Why? Because my surprised husband warned me…and he is the Principal…so basically I am powerless again. 

Kira shared her water bottle with me. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a lifeline. Thank goodness for someone like her, beside me, otherwise this would have been a real cage for me. 

Lectures rolled by, one after another, each one louder in my ears than the last, each one draining a little more color from my world. My legs felt heavy, like they were made of stone, and my energy flickered, but I stayed rooted. 

And then, exactly at 2:00 pm, the day’s routine finally broke. The bell rang, and with it came a soft sigh of relief.  Kira stood up too, and with a shy wave, she said goodbye. She didn’t force words, still shy. 

I pushed myself to my feet, a few deep breaths in, out. Arms stretched overhead, then I got a text from Lily, Meet me in the canteen.

So, wasting no time, I sat in the canteen. It was filled with friend groups and couples. I was just watching and waiting. 

Then suddenly, “Hey, are you waiting for someone?” he asked me.

“Yeah, I’m waiting, but unfortunately, that person is not you.” I retorted.

“Did you not recognize me, pretty lady? I helped you when you were looking for the designer department.” He said.  

And I remembered what he was talking about. He helped me on the very first day. I was about to talk with him then, “Stay away from my friend, you loser, try somewhere else.” Voice came. It was Lily. 

That boy moved from there instantly, and she sat in front of me. “After two fucking days, you remember me, where were you lost, and I’m not going to drink with you again,” I said irritably.

“Wow, who is this pretty lady in maroon? You look like a newlywed,” she said, and I choke on the air. 

How does she know? 

“You are really looking like a strong, independent woman in this dress, just like a new bahu in a modern avatar.” Each word is making my chest clench. She doesn’t know, but each compliment matches my real scenario. 

“Don’t try to distract me,” I said, with a sharp tone, because of her, I drink and ruin my image. He will think Mein ek number ki sharabi hu.

“Mr. Walia caught me that day and took my phone, also did not let me go outside,” she explained. 

“OOO, then?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light. 

“Now he said I have to be at home after my classes. Can you believe that?” she said, frustration gnashing at the edges of her words.

She was in more trouble than me. I leaned closer and whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think that far.” Her father is not like my dad; he wants to control her life.

“Leave it, Janu,” she said. After tolerating that man, she was still saying Leave it. The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Her father is being jerky to her. I want to help her, but how? 

But I know she doesn’t have any option. I hope that our plan will be successful, and she will become independent, so she can live away from that man. “One more thing, Janu, I’m not coming tomorrow because Mr. Walia wants me to join his business party,” Her voice carried a hollow honesty, not excitement. 

The edge of her mouth curled downward in a fraction of a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t have any option but to deny him.”

“I have a suggestion,” I offered, careful, almost breathless with hope. “You can live in a hostel here.” She already denied living in my home and warned me not to bring this topic up again.

“No, QRZ doesn’t grant a hostel for local students. Also, Mr. Walia is one of the shareholders. If I live here, his reputation will be ruined.” She paused as she was gathering herself, “I don’t want anyone to drag me into my mess, not even you. He is a powerful man, not a normal person like us; standing in front of him will cause anyone problems, I don’t want that.” 

After a long, searching moment, my mind finally found an idea. “So the solution is either you become independent, or we find a man who can stand in front of him without any fear.” Lily’s laugh came, but it wasn’t bright. It was a soft, tired sound, almost a whisper. 

She laughed at my solution, “Forget about the man, our only option is independence.” Her mouth twisted in a stubborn line, like she was forcing herself to believe in a future. 

I’m earning fine, I can help her, but again, she denied it—her pride, her ego, a fortress built with bricks of past disappointments and present fear.

“Leave my sad story aside and see what I bring? My accessory to paint your long nails for you. Are you ready?” Her face was shining like a 360-volt bulb because this is her passion. She has already chosen that she will become a nail artist and in the future she will open her own salon. 

Her eyes met mine, “Let’s do it fast before my time gets up,” She set out an array of ten nail paints on the table and some tools. 

I chose the ghost white bottle, its pale shade of white. 

Then her fingers were on the work, but my eyes were on her, the way she was enjoying doing that, as if that’s the only things matter to her. 

She is passionate about that. She found what he wanted to do. 

And on the other side is me, who doesn’t know what I wanted. Not yet. 

“You are so good at this,” I said, and she grinned, but all focus was on my nails. 

“Done. Let’s click a few pictures.” She clicked a few pictures but didn't like them, then she made me wear two rings and light orange lip gloss, which belongs to her. 

Yes, we share our lip products, and it is not cheesy. I put my finger near her lips, gently touched, she clicked that one and approved also.

The social plan. “Let’s post that on social media,” she said with a quick, practical smile. “I hope the plan works, and people reach out for nail art.” 

“It will,” I said, encouraging her. 

The time was slipping away, and she glanced at the clock with a mix of urgency and fondness. “Oh shit! It’s already 4. I have to run, Janu.” She scooped up the tools, slipped the bottle of nail paints into her bag, and gave me a tight hug. Then she was running. 

“Send me pictures. How do I post? It is in your phone.” I shout. 

Then my phone buzzed with my pictures. She left, leaving me alone there in the canteen.

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autthorsahiba POV

Lily stepped toward her car. Her steps were fast; she was almost running. 

Because her curfew time was going to start soon, she had to be at home; that's what her father instructed her, and, having no option, she was obeying him. 

The distant hum of campus life faded into a tense hush around the parking lot. Her steps were firm, each one rushed. 

Then suddenly, A hand closed around her wrist and made her stop in her tracks. 

She almost stumbled but balanced herself. Her eyes flicked to the boy she’d seen earlier in the canteen, the one who’d been talking to Janaat. 

“Why did you misinterpret me? I was talking to her.” His voice was a rasp, a mockery of innocence. 

He was a campus bully, a final year student like her, her classmate, and she knew that. 

Lily yanked her arm free, the motion sharp enough to sting. “Don’t you dare,” she snapped. She didn’t back down; she never did. Fear wasn’t a currency she traded in, except for her father. 

“She is fresher, and fresher needs some fun, you know…” He growled as she ruined his plan. 

Lily’s jaw tightened, “I said, Stay away from her or any girl. Girls aren’t toys that you wanna play with. I warned you already, and this time I’ll definitely complain to the principal.”

The boy’s smirk curled into something more spiteful, “Aww, Miss Lily Walia will call her dad, like a tiny girl.” 

The words landed with a cruel little flourish, designed to wound.

Father? The word she despised the most. The condition is making it difficult for her to breathe with each passing day. 

Her breath hitched, not in fear but in a primal surge of anger. She had had enough so…

Her hand found his face; it wasn’t a rush of anger so much as a consequence, consequence to mock her using the word she despised. 

The world seemed to tilt for a heartbeat, the parking lights flickering, but Lily didn’t look away. She stood steady. She didn’t hit his face but hit that relation, that word, father. 

The boy touched his cheek, as if trying to confirm the sting of consequence.

“Last warning,” she said, her voice even, a quiet force that carried more gravity than any shout. “If I hear you’re troubling anyone again, I’ll go straight to the principal, and I’ll make sure your name isn’t just a rumor but a warning that follows you through every class, every club, every late-night talk in the dorms.”

For a heartbeat, the tension was absolute. Then the boy’s eyes flickered with something else, a rage. 

He lunged, and in a brutal, almost animal act, he seized a fistful of her hair, tugging with reckless abandon. But before he could yank her closer, another hand closed around his forearm with such brutal force that his grip loosened around her hair. 

The next moment, it happened. A punch, clean and merciless, found its target, the boy’s right cheek. 

“Leave,” the man said, one deceitful word to her, like a command, sharp as a blade, and she looked at her with a question in her eye, why did he help her? 

And she obeyed. She didn’t say a single word, just moved…

She walked to her car, keeping her stride steady, every motion deliberate, and didn’t look back. She doesn’t have to. She knew he would handle. 

The car door opened with a soft sigh, and she slid in. Twisting her car key, she turned her car on, but not before checking its rear mirror. 

The man who helped her was hovering over that boy. That boy's hand is under his feet, as he wants to break the hand that touched her. 

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Janaat Viraj Singh POV:

My eyes were glued to the screen. A smile crept on my face as I saw my pictures. With her, I feel like I’m free to express. We both share our true selves; there is no veil between us. But I’m hiding my surprise marriage from her. It’s because I’m not sure I’m ready for this. 

Everything was so sudden. We just got married within 24 hours; it’s not even like an arranged marriage. It was sudden, only our third meeting. I don’t know him at all, except for his name and his profession, and he helped me in the past. 

But for marriage, it’s not enough. Marriage is like how I saw mumma and dad. In my mind, a reel played how they love each other, it shows in their eyes and in their actions. 

The way mom carries his name in her neck as a nuptial chain. The way Dad's ring finger always has that ring saying that he is committed. Not a symbol of possession, but a promise. The ring on his finger didn’t shout about ownership; it announced companionship and a belonging. 

Mumma is gone, but he still wears the ring as he chose to belong to only her after she left. All my life, I saw love, not in words but in actions. 

Now, if I look at my marriage, it’s entirely different. We are both bound with a signature, not with any symbol of married life. 

The clock continued its measured rhythm, and I allowed myself a slow exhale, “let’s move.” I walk out of the canteen to the parking lot. Opening my phone, I choose a picture that I’ll post in my story. 

As soon as I turned, I hit my head on something hard. 

The world tilted, and I lost my balance, falling backward…”mumma.”

My hand shot up for support, and I held the fabric, and a big hand held my arm just above the elbow. 

“Careful.” Same voice, I looked up, finally catching the Jet-black eyes, Viraj, my surprise husband. 

The height difference made me tilt my head, stretching my neck just to see him from near. 

“Don’t forget you have to go to Moonlight Villa from here,” he said. I glared, not out of anger but because of the teasing. 

He is teasing me as if I were his wife? 

Head: You are

Then I looked down at my hand and to my surprise, what I was holding was not just fabric but his blazer collar! 

Next, my eyes went up to his face. He was just standing there, looking at me. His eyes were the same as always, really quiet and gentle. 

I stood there for a bit, waiting for him to say something. Anything! But he didn’t. Not one single word.  Then logic flooded in me, but it was too late. I’m holding the Principal's collar! And I’m doing it right here, in his college! 

My eyes start darting to my hand and his eyes. He could have pulled my hand away, right? I mean, he’s the Principal! But he didn’t. He just stood there. 

why? Is he one of those super quiet people? 

I took a big breath in and out, trying to calm myself down. I pulled my hand away from his collar and took a step back. But his hands… they stayed the same…on my arm. 

“You can let go now,” I said. And then, finally, his fingers loosened around me, not before whispering, “never.” 

I just bypassed him, saying nothing. I have to stick to my rule, naa looking, naa drooling. 

Talking will invite eye contact, and that will lead to something I wanted to avoid. 

Coming in the parking, I sat on my baby, my scooter. After searching for the perfect picture, I posted it in the story with her page tagged along, I hope she will get reached now. With that, my phone battery died. “Great timing.”

Again, my mind drifted to him, his presence. 

Why do I feel that way? 

Why does my breath catch in my throat? 

Why does my heart start pumping fast? 

What is with him? 

Now I am sure, he must have done black magic on me. 

JANAAT’S POST

Notification: @yoursjannat posted a new story.

Moonlight Villa– 07 pm

I stepped into the villa, my arms weighed down with bags of fast food. For breakfast, Bhabhi wants to eat aalu paratha, which I couldn't find this time. So I bring whatever I find. 

Vaani di is pregnant, so no outside food is allowed to her. So only one person left...that Heer Bhabhi.

I pressed three on the lift, the doors slid open to reveal a corridor drenched in a calm blue glow. The walls, the carpets, even the tiles seemed to echo that color, every corner washed in a shade of blue that Bhabhi adores. 

On the floor, a name plate caught my eye: “Heer Veer Singh.” The name's familiarity made me pause for a moment. It was the same as we have on the fourth floor with the name, “JANAAT VIRAJ SINGH.”

“Bhabhi, see, I’ve brought lots of food,” I announced. Bhabhi was perched on a couch, eyes flicking between the tablet in her hand and the scene on the screen. Shianchain. The moment she saw me, a grin brightened her face, her eyes sparkling with mischief and warmth. 

“Junk food?” she asked, and I nodded with a wide smile. 

“Wah baby, pta hai, Shinchain ne abhi bhut sara khaana khaya tha, usko dekh kar mujhe bhi bhuk laga gayi,” Bhabhi said with a soft pout.

(Wah baby, you know, Shinchain also ate lots of food, I also feel hungry after watching him.)

I like her; she is so innocent and yet so smart. 

Heer bhabhi, start setting up the plates on the dining table, and I unwrapped the food. a burger the size of a child’s head, a mountain of pasta twirling, a nest of French fries, and two glasses of cold coffee.

“Then, let’s not waste any time and start eating,” I said, placing a burger on her plate. 

“Itna sab, Hum dono nhi kha payege,” Bhabhi asked, looking at that burger. 

(This much, we wouldn’t be able to finish)

“No worries, Bhabhi. Left will Veer-ji will eat.” I muttered, picking up the burger with a satisfying sigh, and took a big bite. “Mmmmmm.” 

“Nhi, nhi, ye dono bhai wahi ghass phuss hi khush hokar khate hai. Humari shadi ko ek mahina ho gya or ek baar bhi Dr.Veer ne hume bahar ka khana nhi khilya hai.” Bhabhi complains.

(No, no, these brothers only eat that salad. One month had passed since our marriage, not even once had he let me eat outside food.)

But that day, Viraj ate Pizza without saying anything, and also didn’t stop me. 

“Koi baat nhi bhabhi, jab bhi aapko kuch khana ho mujhe bta dena aap mera phone number lelo. Mere paas scooty bhi hai, hum dono bahar bhi khane ke liye jaa skte hai.” 

(Not an issue, Bhabhi. When you want to eat something, tell me, take my phone number. Also, I have a scooter, and we can both go outside for food.)

Forwarding the coffee glass, “Aap ye coffee bhi try kariya na.” 

(You should try this coffee too.)

“Nhi hum sirf milk or buttermilk pete hai. Hume ye kadvi lagti hai,” she said, scrunching her nose. I smiled seeing her cute reaction. I like her. 

(No, I only drank milk and buttermilk. I find this bitter.)

“Okay, I’ll drink both of them,” I replied happily. Who can deny cold coffee? At least I can not. 

Then we both just ate without exchanging a word, and we almost ate all the food; just pasta was left on the table. 

I stretch my legs, my head falls back on the backrest of the chair, I was full–full up to my neck. “Bas bhabhi, mera toh stomach full ho gaya,” I admit. 

I eat like a cow, maybe because I have a company, I don’t like eating alone. 

Suddenly, something licked my leg. Something wet.

I saw under the table and a cat. “Ahh, Bhabhi billi.” I got up and looked here and there, then I climbed the chair first, then between the plates and empty food packaging, I stood.

My breath comes ragged, I am scared…mumma. 

“Ye humari baby hai, inka naam Bebo hai. Miliye.” She picked that cat up and was about to settle on the table where I was standing. 

(She is my baby, her name is Bebo. meet her)

“Nhi, nhi Dur rakhiye, ….darr…hai,” my voice breaking into shards of fear. 

(No, no, keep away, I am scared of her)

Bhabhi saw me with confuse face, and after a moment she understood that I was scared, so she took away her cat. 

My hand rose to my heart. It was pounding rapidly because of fear. I hate that creator. 

Bhabhi held my hand, and I got off the table. My hands were shaking. “Sorry, Bhabhi,” saying that I said, picking up my bag and running towards the fourth floor. I didn’t use any lift, just climbed the stairs with shaky legs. 

Till I reached my room, my hands went sweaty. I pressed my back against the wall, waiting for the tremor in my body to fade. I locked my room door. 

The room felt too large, too bright, even with the blinds half-closed. My throat tightened, getting tighter with every breath. I forced a slow exhale, listening to the rhythm of my own heart.

It was not working, so I dragged myself to the washroom, stood in the shower, and turned it on, letting the cool water rush over me.

But my knee gave out, I fell on my knee, Tears welled up, and I started tracing their path down my cheek. 

Taking a deep breath, I pressed my palm to the small of my back, a simple act of self-soothing. “Nothing happened, calm down,” I murmured aloud, the words heavier than they sounded. 

The breath slowed, and the tremor began to ease, inch by inch.  “Nothing happened, calm down,” I murmur again just to calm down myself. 

To be continued…

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⬩➤ Up next ~ Viraj will know Janaat cries just seeing her face.

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