Chapter 22: Ashes of the Night

The morning light filtered reluctantly through the half-drawn curtains, falling across the room in fractured slants. The air was heavy, carrying the bitter weight of words spoken in anger the night before, words that neither of them repeated now.

Kabir sat by the window, his posture rigid, a cup of coffee cooling untouched in his hand. His jaw worked soundlessly, clenched tight, the muscle twitching with restrained fury. Every breath of his was controlled, measured, as though any slip might let the storm inside him loose.

Riya moved quietly across the room, each rustle of fabric loud in the suffocating silence. Her fingers trembled as she buttoned her shirt, though she forced them steady. She couldn’t look at him, not at the sharpness in his eyes, not at the disappointment she could feel radiating from him. The bruises on her skin throbbed under her clothes, but the deeper wounds sat in her chest, carved by both Nikhil’s touch and Kabir’s words.

Kabir set his cup down harder than necessary, the sound shattering the stillness for an instant. His hand dragged through his hair, rough and restless, as though he could pull the ache out by its roots. He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. The memory of her defiance, her reckless stubbornness, burned too hot in his veins.

Riya slipped her bracelet into place, adjusting it with meticulous care. Every movement was deliberate, rehearsed, as though precision could keep her from falling apart. She checked her bag strap once, twice, needing something, anything, to anchor her shaking insides.

When she finally walked to the door, her steps faltered just a breath away from leaving. For a second, she thought of turning back. Of crossing the room, of telling him everything, of letting him hold her the way he always did when she broke. But Kabir didn’t move.

His eyes lifted at last, catching her retreating figure. His gaze was fire and grief all at once, a silent plea tangled with unspoken fury. But his lips remained sealed, his silence heavier than any curse.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Alone now, Kabir leaned back into the chair, shutting his eyes against the raw ache clawing through him. The untouched decorations still hung in the room, a cruel reminder of what he had wanted to celebrate, and of what they had lost instead.

-*-

The ETF office had never felt this quiet. Not even during late nights when only the hum of machines kept them company. This silence was different- thick, loaded, heavy enough to make the air unbreathable.

Inside the conference room, Shree and Chotu sat stiffly, neither daring to speak. The laptops were open, files scattered on the table, but no one touched them. Their eyes shifted occasionally to the glass wall of Rathore’s cabin, where the blinds remained half-drawn, his silhouette visible as he paced like a predator in a cage. His fury was no secret; his absence for the past few weeks had left cracks in the chain of command, and now he wanted every answer, every mistake accounted for.

Shree tapped his fingers nervously against the edge of the table, only to snatch them back at the sound. Chotu leaned back, arms crossed, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his calm facade. Both knew Rathore’s interrogation style. It wasn’t going to be pretty.

Arjun, however, was miles away from Rathore’s looming anger. He sat at the head of the table, rigid as stone, his eyes fixed on the glass door. He wasn’t waiting for Rathore’s summons. He wasn’t worried about Rathore’s wrath. All he could see were Riya’s eyes from last night- hollow, dark, carrying a weight she hadn’t spoken of. And her voice- sharp with pain, breaking against him with only one word: abandoned.

The word echoed inside him, splintering his chest with something he couldn’t name. Restlessness coursed through his veins. He wanted answers, wanted to shake the truth out of her, but more than that, he just wanted to see her, alive, breathing, here, right in front of his eyes.

The door finally opened.

Riya walked in. Her steps were steady, her shoulders straight, but the shadows under her eyes betrayed the night she had endured. She didn’t look at anyone- not Shree’s worried glance, not Chotu’s unspoken question, not even Arjun’s piercing gaze that clung to her like a lifeline.

Arjun’s chest loosened despite himself. Just the sight of her was enough, proof that she hadn’t slipped away into the dark. He drew in a deep breath, relief washing through him even as his jaw clenched at the distance in her eyes.

“Riya!,”Rathore’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. He emerged from his cabin, every inch the commanding officer, authority radiating off him. Without preamble, he gestured sharply. “Inside. Now.”

She obeyed without hesitation, without sparing a single glance at her team.

The door to Rathore’s cabin closed behind her, sealing her inside with him.

Shree and Chotu exchanged a helpless look, anxiety tightening their expressions. Neither spoke, but the question hung unspoken- What would she tell him? What would become of them now?

Arjun didn’t move. He didn’t even glance at his team members. His eyes remained fixed on the cabin door, every muscle in his body taut with undeclared emotions, the relief of seeing her alive fighting against the torment of watching her slip further away.

-*-

The morning air was crisp, the streets half-empty, the world already moving but Kabir felt strangely detached from it. His boots echoed against the pavement as he walked with no destination, just an attempt to silence the war inside him. But silence refused to come.

He remembered her eyes- oh, those eyes. Not the softness he loved, not the laughter he carried in his heart, but the fire. Fierce, stubborn, untamed. The fire of someone desperate to prove herself, desperate to scream to the world that she was more than what they saw. And beneath that fire, he had caught a fleeting shadow, the despair of someone who had been left alone one too many times.

His jaw tightened as another truth struck him. That fire hadn’t just been aimed at the world. It had been for him too.

She had looked at him with the same defiance, the same ache- as if he, too, doubted her.

Kabir stopped walking, his breath catching. His heart clenched painfully at the thought.

Why? Why would she believe that of him? Hadn’t he told her again and again that he trusted her, that she was his strength, his anchor in a life soaked with lies and blood? Then why did she still carry that fear- that even he might not believe in her?

Maybe…because he had said it, but never made her feel it.

The realization cut him deeper than any bullet ever had. He had wrapped her in his promises, but had he really given her the space to see them breathe? Or had his own walls, his own distrustful eyes- trained by war, betrayal, and years of camouflage- become a mirror she couldn’t break? His suspicion was not just for the world outside. It bled into them, into the cracks of their togetherness.

And she had seen it.

Felt it.

Lived it.

He dragged a hand across his face, his vision blurring for a moment. “Damn it,Riya…” he whispered, as if the air could carry the apology to her.

But beneath the torment, a darker thought gnawed at him- there was still something she hadn’t told him. He could feel it, the way she avoided his eyes, the way her body stiffened. Something about last night at the club, something that left her scarred in silence.

His fists clenched. Nikhil. His name alone left a bitter taste in Kabir’s mouth. What had he done? What line had he crossed with her? And why… why had she chosen to carry it alone instead of placing it in his hands?

The fear settled heavy in his chest, heavier than the weight of his duty. Not fear of the truth- he had faced a hundred brutal truths before. But the fear of her silence. That she had felt she couldn’t lean on him. That somewhere along the way, he had failed her- not as a soldier, not as a protector, but as the one man who swore to be hers.

He looked up athere indifferent sky, his vision blurring with unshed grief. A soldier’s hands had saved lives, defended borders, killed enemies without trembling. But today, those same hands felt useless- because they had failed to hold on to the one woman who mattered most.

He walked on, slower now, like a man carrying invisible chains. The world thought of him as invincible. But only he knew, he was breaking, one unspoken truth at a time.

-*-

The weight of silence pressed against Riya’s chest as she stepped into Rathore’s cabin. The blinds were half-drawn, the desk neat and uncompromising- just like the man seated behind it. Rathore didn’t look up immediately; he finished the note he was making, then raised his eyes, sharp as ever, but softer than usual when they fell on her.

Riya’s fingers trembled as she unclasped the bracelet from her wrist. The metallic click echoed louder than it should have in the quiet room. She placed it carefully on his desk. Her throat felt tight.

“This… has everything I could capture,” she whispered, almost ashamed of how brittle her voice sounded.

Rathore leaned forward, his gaze steady. He didn’t immediately reach for the device. Instead, his eyes searched her face, reading what she wasn’t saying- the rigid shoulders, the nervous tug at her sleeves, the way she couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“Riya,” he said finally, his voice firm but not unkind. “You don’t have to look over your shoulder here. Not with me.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but her silence betrayed her turmoil.

He opened a drawer and pulled out a single blank sheet of paper. Placing it in front of her, he slid it across the desk slowly, deliberately. “Write it,” he instructed, voice carrying both command and promise. “Every name. Every word. Whoever has harassed you, mocked you, doubted you. In ETF or outside. No one is above this report. No one. Not me. Not even Arjun.”

Her head snapped up at that, eyes widening, but Rathore’s expression didn’t waver.

“You can trust me,” he said quietly, softer now, his tone brushing the edges of something personal. For a moment, he wasn’t just Chief Rathore- he was an elder brother, a man who had seen too much pain to let another woman be broken. “Like an elder brother, you can trust me.”

Her throat burned with unspoken emotions. She swallowed, nodded faintly, and took the sheet with hesitant fingers. Her confidence was thin, as if borrowed, but she clutched the paper like it might anchor her.

“Go to Arjun’s cabin,” Rathore said, leaning back in his chair. “It’ll be quieter there. Write everything. Don’t hold back.”

She nodded again, almost mechanically this time, and walked out with the sheet pressed close to her chest. Her steps were small, hesitant, carrying the weight of both fear and duty.

When the door closed behind her, Rathore finally reached for the bracelet-camera. He connected it to the monitor, his jaw tightening as the screen flickered to life. His fingers hovered briefly before hitting play, his expression steeled into that of a commander ready for battle, but his eyes, for just a fleeting second, betrayed something else: the protective fury of an elder brother who wouldn’t forgive anyone for touching his own.

-*-

The three of them- Arjun, Shree, and Chotu, watched in uneasy silence as Riya walked slowly into Arjun’s cabin with a sheet of paper pressed to her chest. None of them spoke, but the air between them thrummed with questions.

Shree shifted uncomfortably, whispering, “Sir ne paper kyun diya hoga? Kya likha h us me?”

Chotu’s brows furrowed, worried, “Resignation?”

Shree hit him, annoyed.

Arjun’s gaze never left the cabin door. His jaw was locked, and a storm raged behind his eyes. He didn’t need to say anything; his silence was louder than their doubts. For him, it wasn’t curiosity, it was a gnawing ache.

He observed how small she looked, clutching that paper like it was the only thing keeping her upright. That’s not the Riya he knew- the one who always fought back, always argued, always tried to prove herself even when she didn’t have to.

Something was eating her alive since last night. He saw it in her eyes, in the way she couldn’t look at him. He should have gone to her then, but she shut him out. Maybe this was his chance. Maybe he could finally tell her- no, show her- that he didn’t leave her, he couldn’t. Abandon her? Impossible. Not her. Never her.

He took a step towards his cabin, determination hardening in his chest-

But a firm hand landed on his arm.

Rathore.

The ETF chief’s eyes narrowed with authority, cutting off Arjun’s resolve mid-breath. “Rawte. Stop.”

Arjun’s brows drew together. “Rathore…”

“No.” Rathore’s voice was iron. “None of you are going to her. Not one word, not one question. And especially you.” His gaze drilled into Arjun, sharp and unforgiving. “Stay. Away.”

Arjun’s chest heaved. “Rathore. I can’t just…”

“You WILL!,” Rathore snapped, his voice rising like a whip. Then, quieter but deadlier, “Or you’ll answer to me.”

The authority in his tone was absolute, and though Arjun’s fists clenched, his jaw ground tight, he knew he couldn’t cross the line. Not here. Not now.

Rathore’s eyes swept across the three of them. “Phones. Now.”

Shree and Chotu exchanged nervous glances but obeyed instantly, placing their devices on his desk. Arjun’s hesitation stretched longer, his knuckles white around his phone as if giving it up was equal to cutting off his lifeline. Finally, with a reluctant exhale, he surrendered it too, his eyes burning with defiance.

Rathore collected the phones, his words cold and precise. “Do not talk to her. Do not approach her. Do not even LOOK at her. Is that clear?” His gaze hardened further as it landed on Arjun. “Especially you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Shree and Chotu lowered their heads, but Arjun’s eyes remained fixed on Rathore, sharp and restless. His impatience, his desperation to go to Riya, it wasn’t lost on Rathore.

The chief said nothing more, but his jaw tightened. He had noticed.

He had seen.

-*-

The room felt heavier than usual. Not because of its size, but because of her absence. Even when she was there, it felt empty without her laughter filling the corners. Kabir sat on the edge of the couch, the same couch he had spent the night on for the first time since they had begun sharing a life together. The bed, their bed, had remained untouched by him. He hadn’t dared crawl beside her last night, hadn’t wrapped his arms around her or pressed a kiss against her hair as he always did.

The memory gnawed at him. She had been right there… and yet unreachable.

He ran a tired hand through his hair, his jaw tight, chest aching with an emptiness he couldn’t shake off. Her silence was louder than any scream could ever be. And the thought that she had with drawn from him, kept herself locked away even while sitting across the same room, was unbearable.

His appetite had long left him. The untouched plate from the night before still sat on the table. He couldn’t bring himself to lift a fork, let alone swallow anything.

“Riya…”, the name alone burned in his throat.

Restless, he turned to the one habit that had once been his refuge- the scattered sheets of his journal, notes he had penned when words were his only companions. He gathered them from the drawer and began to arrange them neatly, thinking he might finally paste them into the thick, shared journal they had promised to build together- a place where their thoughts would meet, where silence could be written instead of spoken.

But when he opened the book, he found pages already filled. Her handwriting. Neat, flowing, achingly familiar. Riya’s words stared back at him, quiet yet alive.

For a moment he just sat there, frozen, fingers trembling against the edges of her pages. He hadn’t read her writings in a long time. Somehow, life had rushed them forward, and he had stopped opening this part of her. But now, with her retreating from him, the sight of her words felt like she had left behind pieces of herself, fragments she couldn’t say aloud.

His throat tightened as he turned one page, then another, each word a heartbeat he longed to hear again. His own pages slipped from his lap, forgotten.

Alone in their room, Kabir felt the weight of his own failure press harder. He missed her laugh. He missed her touch. He missed the way her eyes once shone when she looked at him.

-*-

The video played on Rathore’s monitor, casting shifting light across Rathore’s face. He didn’t blink as he watched, his expression unreadable, but his fists betrayed him, clenched so tightly the veins strained against his skin.

Every frame.

Every word.

Every shadow of what Riya had endured.

His fury burned cold, coiling in his chest. He wanted to break Nikhil Khanna’s smug face with his bare hands, to tear apart anyone who had reduced her to the trembling, anxious girl who had stood before him minutes ago. But more than fury, there was something else pressing against his ribs- worry.

She had gone through hell and still stood tall enough to hand him evidence, to sit in that cabin right now with her head bent over paper, trying to put into words the injustices she had borne. That kind of strength… it was rare. And it made him proud.

He turned his head slightly. Through the half-drawn blinds, he could see her faintly. Her shoulders slumped, her head down on Arjun’s desk, as though the weight of everything had finally pressed her too far. His chest tightened, the brother in him screaming to go to her, to shield her from all of it.

But the Chief of ETF had responsibilities. And his team, his men, were responsible. He had to fix them before he could heal her.

His hand curled around the bracelet-camera again, as if drawing strength from her courage. Then, he pressed the intercom.

“Chotu. Cabin. Now.”

-*-

Chotu entered nervously, his broad frame suddenly too large for the room. Rathore didn’t speak up immediately, letting the silence stretch until the younger man shifted uncomfortably.

Finally, Rathore raised his eyes, cold and cutting. “She’s already told me everything.”

Chotu froze.

Rathore leaned forward, voice deceptively calm, each word laced with steel. “Every detail. Every name. She’s writing her official complaint right now. Against all of you. Including you.”

Chotu swallowed hard, sweat already beading his forehead. “S-sir, who… who toh…” His voice cracked as he tried to form a defense, but his nerves betrayed him. His loyalty, his fear, they tangled into a desperate knot.

“I don’t need excuses,” Rathore cut in, sharp. “I need the truth. And you’d better start talking now before that report reaches higher authorities.”

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, Chotu’s shoulders sagged. His lips parted- hesitant, trembling- as he began to speak.

-*-

Kabir’s fingers traced her handwriting as if touching her heart. He began reading, each word pulling him deeper into her world.

1st August:

Kabir didn’t call for three hours today. THREE HOURS. Do you know how much can go wrong in three hours, Mister Captain? My heart nearly stopped. I tried distracting myself with case files but no use. I miss him. I worry for him. I keep telling myself he’s strong, he’s trained, he knows what he’s doing… but still. How do I stop my mind from imagining the worst? Sometimes I just want him back, safe, sitting beside me and fighting with me about silly things like sugar in coffee.

Kabir exhaled sharply, his chest tightening. He could almost see her sitting by the window, chewing her pen cap while writing this.

2nd August:

Arjun sir scolded me again today. Okay fine, I admit, I messed up a little, but does he have to be THAT harsh? Everyone else just stared and I… well, I cried the whole way back to the hotel room like an idiot. My eyes were swollen. But then… Kabir called. At first I tried to sound normal, but the moment he said, “Riya Mukherjee, you are the mostest beautifullest girl in the world,” I laughed through my tears. Stupid boy. He doesn’t even know how badly I needed those words. I almost forgot Arjun sir’s anger. Almost.

Kabir’s lips curved into a small, broken smile, his eyes blurring as he whispered, “Idiot…”

3rd August:

Nothing happened today. Boring day. Except… one thing. I love Kabir.
(she had scribbled the line three times, the third one with a tiny heart instead of a dot on the ‘i’)

Kabir chuckled softly, the sound catching in his throat. He pressed the page to his lips for a second before moving on.

4th August:

Kabir didn’t call today. Not in the morning, not in the afternoon, not at night. Nothing. Do you know how much it hurts? It’s like my phone has turned into a block of ice, waiting for a warmth that never comes. I kept checking and checking and checking. Every little buzz made my heart jump and then sink again. Maybe he’s too busy. Maybe he’s tired. Maybe he forgot. But how can he forget ME? Riya Mukherjee? His mostest beautifullest girl? Hmph. Idiot. I’m angry. (But I still love him. Hmph again.)

Kabir let out a shaky laugh, but his chest ached. The page smelled faintly of her perfume, and he closed his eyes, holding it to his face.

5th August:

Kabir didn’t call last night either. Not even a tiny “Hi.” Do you know what happened because of that? I was so restless, I mixed up two case files. Can you believe it? Me- who color-codes everything! Arjun sir caught it and scolded me SO badly, I thought I’d sink through the floor. And you know whose fault it was? KABIR’S. If he had called, I would’ve slept peacefully, I wouldn’t have messed up, and Arjun sir wouldn’t have eaten me alive. All Kabir’s fault. Still… I love him. Always.

She had drawn a tiny frowning face next to the words, and then underneath, in smaller handwriting: P.S. Kabir better call me tonight or I’m not talking to him tomorrow. Okay, fine, maybe I will. But still!

Kabir closed the journal, pressing it to his chest. A laugh slipped out, watery and broken, followed by a sharp breath that sounded too close to a sob. Her voice, her silliness, her unfiltered heart- they all leapt off the pages and wrapped around him, even when she wasn’t here.

Tears burned his eyes as he whispered into the silence, “How do you still love me this much, Riya… even when I fail you?”

-*-

Chotu stepped out of Rathore’s cabin slowly, his tall frame slouched as though his shoulders carried the weight of guilt. His eyes didn’t meet anyone’s- especially not Arjun’s, who was already halfway out of his chair. Shree too, restless, pushed his specs up his nose, taking a step forward.

“Chotu...” Arjun’s low, strained voice broke through the silence.

But before Chotu could even glance at them, Rathore emerged right behind him. His expression was unreadable, his jaw set firm. “Chotu,” he said, his voice clipped but heavy with meaning, “take the day off. Go home. That’s an order.”

Chotu swallowed hard, nodded once, and left without saying a word. The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed in the corridor, and Arjun clenched his fists.

Arjun took a step forward. “Rathore…”

But Rathore’s sharp gaze cut him down instantly. “Not. A. Word.” His voice was low, final, leaving no room for defiance. He turned toward the next target. “Shree. Inside.”

Shree froze, then reluctantly followed Rathore inside. The door shut with a quiet thud, and the blinds rattled faintly with the draft.

Arjun paced outside like a caged animal. His every instinct screamed at him to barge in, to sit beside Riya, to just… make her look at him and see that he had never abandoned her. That he “never could”. His eyes kept drifting to his cabin, where she had been sent. Through the narrow angle of the half-open blinds, he caught a glimpse.

Riya was sitting at his desk, head bowed low, her forehead resting on her arms. She looked so small, so fragile- as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her slender shoulders. Arjun’s throat burned, his chest clenched painfully. He had seen her fight like a storm, argue like fire, laugh with reckless abandon- yet now, she looked like a defeated child.

He pressed his palms against the desk outside Rathore’s cabin, jaw tight. “Damn it, Riya… why are you breaking like this? Why are you shutting me out? Tell me what happened last night!”

Inside, Shree sat stiffly across from Rathore, unable to meet his chief’s eyes. Rathore’s voice was calm, but each word carried a blade.

“Tell me about the code case. The digitizer. And Riya.”

Shree’s head dropped instantly, shame burning his face. He fiddled with his fingers, stammering, “S-sir… I… I thought it was just harmless fun. I didn’t think…” His voice trailed off, guilt choking him.

Rathore leaned forward, hands folded on the desk, his gaze unblinking. “You didn’t think, Shree. That’s the problem.You’re one of the brightest minds in ETF. And yet… you let her down.”

The words cut deeper than any scolding could. Shree’s throat tightened; he blinked rapidly, unable to hold Rathore’s eyes.

Rathore sat back, a storm barely contained in his expression. He was disappointed, not just in Shree, not just in Chotu, but in the cracks that had surfaced in his team when they were supposed to be each other’s shields.

Outside, Arjun stopped pacing, his hand brushing against the blinds of his own cabin again. Riya hadn’t moved. She was still folded against the desk, still silent. His breath caught painfully, helplessness gnawing at him. Rules, orders, discipline, all the things now felt like shackles.

And yet, he obeyed. Because Rathore had ordered. Because as much as he wanted to be her saviour in that moment, he had no right- not until she let him in.

But his eyes never left her. Not once.

-*-

Kabir turned the page, his thumb hesitating as he noticed the neat handwriting had begun to tilt slightly- still delicate, still hers, but weighed down, as if her pen trembled while she wrote. His heart tightened. He had read her silly entries, her clumsy confessions, her sweet everyday joys… but now the words bled differently.

19th August:

I thought today would be the last day of my life. When Pathan Lala stood in front of me, the world suddenly became so small, so suffocating. The air smelled of gunpowder, sweat, and fear. I tried to be strong, Kabir. I tried to be ETF-worthy, brave, calm. But all I could hear was the sound of my heart pounding, all I could think of was whether I would ever see you again.

For one moment, when he pressed the gun to my head, I thought- ‘This is it. Riya Mukherjee, over. A line cut short.’

And strangely, I didn’t fear death for myself. I feared leaving you behind. I feared you wouldn’t even know what happened, that you would never know… how much I love you. I wanted to scream it, even if it was my last breath. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t…

Kabir’s hand clenched the pages tighter, his jaw rigid. He remembered that day vividly, the cold fury in his veins when he had heard she was in danger. He had thought she recovered from it… but this- this was her truth.

25th August:

That call had killed me. You were in the hospital.

I wanted to run to you, to hold you so tight, to scream at you for scaring me, to beg you to never leave me. But all I could do was sit quietly, gripping your hand, praying like a desperate child. Every second, I imagined a nurse walking in to tell me you were gone. I imagined myself breaking apart.

The machines beeped and I sat there, staring at your pale face, while you were asleep that night. I had never hated anything more than those sterile hospital walls. You looked like you were slipping away, Kabir. Like time had betrayed me.

You came back, Kabir. You fought, like you always do. But that night changed me. It planted a fear I cannot shake- of losing you, of being left behind again. I cannot bear it. I cannot.

Kabir pressed the back of his hand against his eyes, swallowing the ache in his throat. He had thought she was strong enough to brush aside his injuries as part of their lives. But here she was, writing her pain in silence while smiling at him in person.

1st September:

Every day I enter ETF, I feel like an imposter. I laugh, I smile, I argue back… but deep down, I feel the walls closing in. I wonder if they all see me as a burden. If Arjun sir sees me as a mistake.

Kabir, I know you always tell me I’m enough. But I want to be enough. I want to prove it. To them, to you, to myself. I’m tired of second-guessing every step, every word, every case file I touch.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize the girl who used to believe she could change the world with just her words and books. Now, she’s gone… and in her place is someone who keeps begging for approval, terrified of being left behind.

Kabir shut his eyes for a second. The protective soldier in him roared to storm into ETF and tear down anyone who made her feel this way. But more than anger, there was helplessness, because she had hidden this from him. She had fought these silent battles alone.

4th September:

How do I tell you what I feel? Sometimes, even writing it makes me afraid. Because if I write the truth, I’ll have to face it.

I want to tell you I’m drowning in insecurities. That sometimes, when you look at me, I wonder if I’m enough for a man like you. That when you smile, I ache because I don’t know if I deserve it.

But the words stop in my throat. And even here, on these pages, my pen shakes. How can I be honest, when honesty might make you see me differently? Might make you regret me? No. I cannot write more. Not today.

Kabir’s chest heaved. He wanted to slam the journal shut, rush to her, shake her until she understood that nothing-nothing-could ever make him regret her.

10th September:

There are days I wake up and feel…hollow. I know I have you. I know my family is there, always. But still, there is this strange emptiness that eats at me.

I argue with Shree and Chotu, I challenge Arjun sir, I sit beside you in silence. And yet… I feel alone.

Maybe it’s me. Maybe my heart doesn’t believe I belong anywhere. Maybe I’m destined to always be the girl trying too hard, loving too much, and never quite fitting in.

I hate these days. They make me want to curl up and disappear. But even in that emptiness, Kabir, I still think of you. Of how much I love you. It is the one thing that keeps me breathing.

Kabir shut the diary gently, but his fingers trembled against the cover. His heart felt like it was tearing open, each word carving deeper into him. He knew she had fears- he had seen glimpses. But this? The sleepless nights, the gnawing loneliness, the silent desperation…it was worse than he had ever imagined.

Every fibre of him screamed to run to her, to hold her so tight she would never doubt again, to kiss away every insecurity, every shadow. But he sat frozen, the diary pressed against his chest, whispering into the silence:

"You’ll never be alone, Riya. Not while I breathe. Not while I live. You don’t know what you mean to me! May be, even I don’t!"

-*-

Arjun’s heavy boots echoed against the polished floor of the ETF office as Shree stepped out of Rathore’s cabin, shoulders slumped, shame painted across his face. Arjun didn’t ask him anything; the hollow look in Shree’s eyes was enough to know that Rathore had stripped him bare of excuses.

Arjun’s eyes, however, instinctively darted to the cabin next door. Through the half-open blinds, he caught sight of Riya, still sitting with her head bent over the blank sheet Rathore had given her. Her pen hadn’t moved. Something twisted painfully inside Arjun’s chest- an ache he could neither name nor allow.

Dragging in a breath, he turned his steps to Rathore’s cabin. Every instinct screamed against walking in, but rules demanded he face his Chief. His old friend. His brother-in-law.

Rathore didn’t even look up when Arjun entered. He was standing at the head of the table, arms folded, jaw taut. Only when Arjun lowered himself into the chair opposite did Rathore lift his eyes, sharp, cutting, layered with betrayal.

The first word was a single syllable, delivered like a blow.

“Why?”

Arjun froze. He hadn’t expected it to be so simple. No accusations, no elaborate charge sheet. Just that one word that demanded an answer to everything he had done- every scolding, every humiliation, every deliberate attempt to shatter Riya’s confidence.

But Arjun didn’t speak. He just stared back, his silence heavy, his gaze almost pleading, hoping that somewhere in Rathore’s heart, the old friend who once understood him without words would still exist.

Rathore’s voice rose, measured at first, then laced with anger.

“Why, Arjun? Why did you corner her? Why did you crush her efforts, humiliate her, push her away from the very place she wanted to belong? Tell me- what was your intention? To prove her weak? To prove she didn’t deserve ETF? She did what she did, because you forced her!”

Arjun clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing, but still he said nothing. His fists rested on his knees, tightening until his knuckles turned white.

Rathore slammed his palm on the table, making the files jump.

“Do you even know what she’s going through?”

The words hit him like ice water. Arjun’s head snapped up, his voice sharp with sudden urgency.

“What do you mean? She told you about yesterday? What happened? Tell me!”

Rathore’s jaw worked, but his tone remained cold.

“That is not for you to know, Arjun. I am not answerable to you.”

That denial cracked something in Arjun. His chest constricted, rage and helplessness boiling inside. In a sudden movement, he shoved the files off the table; they scattered across the floor in a mess of paper and broken order. His voice thundered through the room.

“Damn it, Rathore! Tell me!”

Rathore’s anger rose to match his. He leaned forward, eyes burning.

“Why should I? What right have you left yourself with? You’ve done nothing but make her life miserable. What exactly do you want from her, Arjun? What are these emotions that you can’t even admit, yet they rule your every action?”

Arjun flinched. For the first time, he felt cornered, Rathore’s words hitting too close to the truth he was running from. His mind scrambled, searching for a justification, an anchor. His voice came out rough, defensive, almost broken.

“I don’t want history to repeat itself. That’s why! I don’t want her to end up like the others…”

Rathore’s eyes narrowed, suspicion hardening his features. He didn’t believe him- not fully. The words sounded like a shield, not the truth.

Arjun, realizing his slip, tried to steer, but emotion drove him further into the storm. His next words spilled out unguarded, almost trembling with suppressed pain.

“She shouldn’t have walked into danger the way she did… into Pathan Lala’s den that day… she…”

The moment the name left his lips, silence crashed down. Rathore’s face hardened into stone. His hand tightened around the edge of the desk.

“Pathan Lala.” His tone was deadly calm, too calm. “So she has met him before?”, he whispered to himself.

Arjun froze. He hadn’t meant to say it, not here, not now. His throat went dry as realization sank like lead into his gut.

For the first time since the conversation began, Arjun looked away- his armor of arrogance slipping, leaving behind only the raw truth of his emotions and mistakes.

Rathore didn’t speak again. The silence was worse than his anger. It was the silence of a man betrayed- by a friend, a colleague, and a brother.

-*-

The evening had fallen heavy, like a burden on Kabir’s chest. He had thought the walk might clear his head, but with each step, the fog only seemed to thicken inside him. His breaths came shallow, his hands tugged through his hair as though he could untangle the knots in his mind, but all he managed was the sharp tug of helplessness.

The air felt stifling despite the breeze; the horizon blurred as his vision swam. A faint dizziness seized him- his body giving up under the weight his heart carried. For a fleeting second, he thought of turning back, locking himself in the suffocating silence of his room again. “What does she mean to me?” But then-

A bark split through the dusk.

Kabir froze. It was so familiar, so sudden, that his heart skipped. He turned, and there it was- Scotch. Bounding towards him with all the careless joy of a creature untouched by human grief, his ears flopping, his little paws carrying him faster than Kabir could process. Behind him, the old couple appeared, smiling, waving.

But Kabir’s eyes had already blurred.

Scotch leapt up the last step, tail wagging madly, and Kabir bent on instinct, catching the dog’s eager weight. The wet tongue licked his jaw, his cheek, his nose- messy, insistent, and so ridiculously pure that Kabir choked on a laugh, the first one that day. The sound startled him as much as the tears that burned his eyes.

Because in that sloppy affection, he saw her.

Riya’s laughter- bright, ringing, the way she had squealed when Scotch had first knocked her off balance. The way her eyes had danced when the dog curled at her feet, like the world had finally given her something untainted, something hers. Kabir could almost hear her voice, scolding him playfully for being jealous of a dog stealing her attention. That smile… it lit everything up inside him.

And just like that, the heaviness- the crushing guilt, the choking silence- drained. Scotch pawed at his chest, demanding more of his attention, and Kabir laughed again, hugging him, pressing his face against the dog’s fur. This… this is what she brings to me. Light. Breath. Life.

The old couple reached him, their faces kind, curious at his sudden attachment..Kabir quickly straightened, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, managing a smile as he greeted them. They exchanged a few gentle words, polite warmth, but his hand never left Scotch’s head, as though letting go would steal the moment away.

When finally they called the dog back, Scotch resisted, still licking Kabir’s fingers until the last second. Kabir stood there, watching, smiling through tears. His chest felt lighter, his heart steadier.

And in that moment, crystal clear, he realized it wasn’t Scotch alone.

It was Riya.

She was his breath, his home, the reason his laughter had meaning. The shadows in him had a cure, and it was her- the way she smiled at him, loved him despite his flaws, fought the world just to stay by his side. He had to hold on to her, no matter what.

As the couple disappeared down the path, Kabir turned back towards the hotel. His steps weren’t that heavy anymore. There was a quiet certainty in them, a pulse of warmth returning to his veins. His shoulders, once bent with despair, now carried a softer weight- the weight of love.

His happiness had a name.

And it was Riya.

-*-

Rathore fell back heavily into his chair, the weight of Arjun’s words pressing on his chest like a boulder. The name “Pathan Lala” echoed in his head. His jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists against the table. He remembered the video- the blurred, shaky recording that Riya had left behind- and suddenly, pieces clicked into place. Her fear in the Juhu club. The way her body had stiffened at the mere sight of that man. The sheer terror she tried so desperately to mask.

He hadn’t understood it fully then. Now he did.

Arjun’s sharp eyes didn’t miss it. He leaned forward, narrowing his gaze like a predator circling its prey. “You’re hiding something.” His voice was low, dangerous, but steady.

“What happened to Riya while I was gone, Raute?”, Rathore dodged Arjun’s question.

“What happened to Riya that you’re not telling me, Rathore?”, came Arjun’s interrogating response.

Rathore opened his mouth, then closed it. His silence betrayed him.

Arjun’s hand tightened on the edge of the table. His gaze swept over the cluttered surface, and stopped. A thin silver bracelet lay there. Delicate. Familiar. His heart stuttered. He knew it instantly.

Riya’s.

Arjun’s pulse spiked. The recognition hit him like a storm. His eyes snapped up to Rathore. “You’ve seen it.” His voice was no longer calm, it was a growl. “The video she recorded. That’s why you have this.” He jabbed a finger at the bracelet. “You have no right to keep it from me, Rathore. That video belongs to a mission I was leading. Hand it over.”

Rathore shot up from his seat, his temper igniting. “Mission?” His voice cracked through the room like thunder. “Don’t you dare hide behind the word ‘mission,’ Raute! She wasn’t even trained for that assignment! You knew it, and yet you sent her inside that den, and then left her there, all by herself, like some pawn on a board! That was not leadership- that was recklessness!”

Arjun’s nostrils flared, his chest rising in sharp heaves. “Don’t twist it! I never abandoned her. I never left her alone...”

“You did!” Rathore roared, his voice echoing against the walls. “You broke her trust, you broke your duty- don’t stand here pretending you didn’t throw her into fire without a shield! You knew what could have happened to her, if you abandon her, and you still…”

“ENOUGH!”

Arjun’s voice exploded, raw and ragged, like something breaking open inside him. His fists slammed against the table, rattling everything on it. His eyes burned, not just with rage, but something far more vulnerable.

“You think I’d ever abandon her?” His voice cracked, carrying a rare, devastating honesty. “You think I could dream of leaving her alone in that hell? Do you even know what it did to me, when contact broke? The jammers…” his voice faltered, then hardened again, “the jammers cut me off! That’s why I couldn’t reach her. Not because I left her. Not because I didn’t care.”

His throat worked furiously, words tumbling out unrestrained. “I would never… never leave Riya to fight alone. Not then, not ever.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Rathore stared at him, his anger colliding with confusion, his certainty shaking. He had never heard Arjun this way. Never seen that fire twisted with so much anguish.

Arjun’s eyes fell one last time on the bracelet lying on the table. The little piece of silver shimmered under the dim light, heavy with everything unsaid. His jaw clenched, his decision made.

Without another word, he turned, walking out of the room with brisk, violent steps. But just before crossing the threshold, he looked back. His gaze lingered on the bracelet, and in that silent moment, his resolve was clear.

He would get the recording. He would steal it if he had to. Because in that recording… lay the truth.

The door slammed shut.

Rathore exhaled heavily, sinking back again, his thoughts spiralling. The Arjun he knew was a storm, yes- but this…this was something else. This was a man bleeding through his armour.

He rubbed his temples, whispering to himself, “What the hell are you hiding, Arjun?”

But then-

A soft gasp.

Sameer turned sharply.

Behind the blinds stood, barely in the shadows, stood Riya.

Her eyes were wide, her lips trembling. She had heard it. Every word.

The rawness in Arjun’s voice, the confession he hadn’t meant for anyone to hear- it crashed over her like a wave. Shock rippled across her face, giving way to something deeper, a tinge of guilt and something fragile.

Rathore froze, staring at her. His puzzle had just grown bigger.

And Riya? She stood there, her heart shattering and mending all at once, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Because for the first time, she had seen Arjun not as her critic, not as her superior officer, but as a man who didn’t let her go.

-*-

Kabir pushed open the door to their room, the key turning too loudly in his hands, betraying the restlessness still humming through his veins. The soft creak of the hinges felt almost intrusive, echoing into a space that was far too quiet, far too empty.

For a long moment, he simply stood at the threshold, his shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths. His gaze darted to the bed, to the neatly folded blanket on her side, to the half-open wardrobe where her scarf peeked out. Everything screamed her presence, yet the absence of her made it all feel unbearable.

He stepped Inside, slowly, like a man trespassing into sacred ground. His hand ran through his hair again, tugging at the strands as if the pressure might help him think straight. But the silence pressed harder, and all it did was deepen the ache in his chest.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, palms covering his face. Images from the diary swam before his eyes- her words, her fears, her loneliness. Each sentence had clawed into his skin, left marks he couldn’t erase. And then the memory of Scotch’s bark returned, the sloppy wet lick on his face, and the flash of her laughter from that day in the same room. That had been enough to remind him: she was the light, his light, and the only place his heart could ever belong.

His throat tightened. “If only she would walk in now. If only he could pull her into his arms and erase every word she had written, every tear she had hidden.”

Kabir leaned back against the headboard, staring at the door. His fingers tapped restlessly on his thigh, betraying his impatience. The clock ticked louder and louder, mocking him with every passing minute.

He whispered Into the emptiness, a confession meant only for the walls to hear.

“Riya… just come back. Open up! Say out aloud, whatever is breaking you! Just come back to me!”

But the room stayed still. The silence didn’t answer.

And so, he waited. Waited for the sound of her footsteps in the corridor, for the turn of the knob, for the moment the emptiness would finally break.

-*-

Riya’s footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor of ETF. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the air itself resisted her. The folded paper was still clenched in her hand, its edges crumpled from the tightness of her grip. She stopped outside Rathore’s cabin, drew in a long breath, and knocked once.

“Come in,” his voice carried through, steady as ever.

She pushed the door open. Rathore was already seated behind his desk, posture straight, eyes sharp as they lifted to meet hers. But there was no command in his gaze today- only something softer, shaded with guilt. He gestured towards the chair opposite him.

“Baitho, Riya.”

She sat. Back straight. Face expressionless. Her fingers still held onto the folded sheet, a shield of sorts.

For a moment, neither spoke. The silence swelled between them until Rathore finally leaned forward, placing her bracelet right in front of her after removing the spy-cam. Riya quickly let it slide up her wrist.

“I know,” he began quietly, “exactly what you’re going through. And I know what all my men… what we did wrong to you.” His voice was even, but laced with an uncharacteristic hesitation. “You didn’t deserve it. Not one bit.”

Riya didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed fixed on the grain of his desk, her jaw locked.

“Riya…” he tried again, gentler this time, “tumhe lagta hoga ki kisi ko farq nahi padta, but I have seen it. The way you’ve been treated. The words. The silences. The walls we built around you.”

Her grip on the paper tightened. For a second, he thought she wouldn’t respond at all. But then, almost imperceptibly, something inside her cracked.

Her voice, when It came, was low. Steady. Almost too steady.

“Do you know what this entire time in ETF has felt like, sir?” She lifted her eyes, and they were shining, not with tears but with a quiet fury. “A loud and clear message: You’re not welcome.”

He froze, the blunt honesty of her words hitting like a slap.

She continued, her tone never rising, her expression almost blank, but every syllable landed like glass shattering.

“I was repeatedly made to feel that my joining this place was nothing but a gender quota move. A formality. A chair to be filled. I don’t know what was worse-the blatant disregard, or the subtle micro aggressions that piled up like bricks. One after another. Until it became a wall so high, I couldn’t breathe on the other side of it.”

Rathore opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t stop.

“I tried. God knows how hard I tried to make them realize that I am not a ghost from the past. That I am not them.I am a woman of the present, standing right here, wanting to serve. To prove that I belong. But all they ever saw…” her lips trembled, though her voice didn’t, “was someone they never wanted in the first place.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any shouting match could have been. She wasn’t loud. She didn’t breakdown. She didn’t scream. But the damage of her words hung in the air, undeniable.

Rathore swallowed hard. His hands tightened into fists, then unclenched.

“You’re right,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “Every word you’ve said is right. We failed you. I failed you. As your leader. As your shield. I should have stopped it. I should have known it all, I should have seen you and also make them see you- not your gender, not your resemblance to someone else. You. And I didn’t.”

His eyes dropped briefly, shame flickering across his face before he looked back at her.

“I feel ashamed of their behaviour. Of ours. And I promise you, Riya… I will take action. Whoever needs to be punished, will be punished. On your complaint.”

Her lips trembled before pressing together, as if sealing words she had no courage left to speak. A hesitant nod escaped her, fragile and fleeting. Slowly, almost reverently, she opened her palm and set the crumpled sheet on his desk- as though it weighed far more than paper ever could.

“Sir…” her voice was quiet, stripped of all defences, “you already know one half. This… this is the other.”

Rathore’s eyes lingered on her before dropping to the paper. He unfolded it carefully, his movements uncharacteristically gentle, bracing himself for blame, for bitterness, for wounds aimed back at him.

But what met his eyes was not accusation- it was confession.

1. Doubting my own worth, again and again. It shouldn’t have been about anyone trusting me, I should have trusted myself.

2. Being over-ambitious- walking into danger not once, but twice. Pathan Lala. And the club. Both times, I mistook recklessness for courage.

3. Letting my desperate need to prove myself drown out reason. Letting pride kill caution.

4. Failing to believe in my team… failing to hear their voices over the noise in my own head. Believing betrayal.

5. And… not breaking Nikhil’s face the moment he dared touch me.

The silence that followed was heavy, raw. Rathore’s brows furrowed, but his chest ached- not with anger, but with something far sharper.

For a long moment, he only stared at the page. Then, unexpectedly, the corners of his lips curved. It wasn’t the kind of smile that reached the eyes; it was small, pained, weary. But it was real.

Riya rose quietly, her shoulders heavy, as though she had laid down her armour but not her guilt. She turned towards the door, ready to slip away.

But his voice stopped her.

“Riya.”

She turned back, startled by the gentleness in his tone.

He held up the paper between his fingers, his eyes- those sharp, steel eyes- unusually warm. “I’ll make sure… you don’t regret point number 5.”

For the first time that day, her lips curved. It wasn’t wide. It wasn’t steady. It was small. Fragile. But it was a smile. And perhaps, that was enough- for both of them.

She turned to leave, but before she could push the door open, his voice reached her again.

“You made me proud, today.”

Her hand froze on the knob. Slowly, she looked back, her smile gone, her expression unreadable.

“The truth is, sir… I messed up.”

And with that, she walked out, leaving Rathore staring at the door, her words echoing long after her footsteps faded.

-*-

Riya pushed open the door to the quiet hotel room, her mind still heavy from the confrontation with Rathore. The dim light spilling from the bedside lamp met her first- and then her eyes fell on him.

Kabir.

He was stretched across the bed, one arm resting over his chest, the other draped carelessly by his side as though exhaustion had finally claimed him. His shirt was slightly undone, his hair mussed, the sharp edges of his face softened in sleep. For a moment, the chaos of her day stilled.

Her fingers tightened around the door knob, her heart catching in her throat. She stood there at the threshold, drinking in the sight- this man who was both her greatest strength and her deepest fear. The paper she had carried all day suddenly felt meaningless compared to the silent rise and fall of his chest.

A wave of longing- quiet, fierce, and desperate- washed through her.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The noise was enough to stir him, his lashes fluttering faintly, his body shifting ever so slightly. Riya froze, her breath held, caught between the urge to rush into his arms and the fear that maybe she no longer had that right.

But Kabir was there. Waiting. Breathing. Alive.

And for tonight… that was enough.

-*-

The terrace was quiet that night, the city lights sprawled endlessly beneath, the hum of traffic rising like a faint echo of a world that kept moving regardless of broken people. Rathore pushed the heavy metal door open, his mind still unsettled from Riya’s confrontation. Her words lingered like fresh wounds, not on his skin but in his conscience.

He had come here out of habit- the terrace was where he often went when the walls of ETF pressed too tightly. But he wasn’t alone.

A faint curl of smoke drifted in the air, carrying with it a familiar sharpness. Arjun stood at the far end, leaning against the railing, cigarette balanced between his fingers, his posture taut, his jaw locked. The night breeze ruffled his shirt, but his eyes were fixed on the dark horizon.

Rathore stilled. For a moment, he thought of retreating, of giving Arjun the silence he so clearly sought. But then, as if sensing his presence, Arjun’s gaze flicked sideways, just once, and then back to the void in front of him.

Neither man spoke. The weight of years pressed between them- of friendship lost, of blood spilled, of words never spoken.

Arjun exhaled, the smoke curling like the bitterness in his chest, and with a small movement, he straightened. “I’ll go,” he muttered, his voice low, clipped. It wasn’t an offer. It was a warning, a wall going up before Rathore could breach it.

But before he could walk past, Rathore’s voice cut through the night.

“Arjun.”

Arjun stilled, his shoulders stiffening but his face giving nothing away.

Rathore’s next words weren’t loud, weren’t commanding. They were laced with something far rarer from him- an almost pleading sincerity.

“What has changed?”

The question hung in the air, fragile and heavy all at once.

Arjun turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting Rathore’s for the briefest moment. And in that flash, there was everything- anger, grief, exhaustion… and something else, raw and unspoken. But just as quickly, he looked away.

His lips parted, as if he might answer, but the words stuck in his throat, choking on the memories that neither of them dared to name.

Rathore waited. He hadn’t expected a confession, but he had hoped- just a flicker of truth between men who had once trusted each other with their lives.

But Arjun only shook his head.

And then he walked away, his foot steps echoing against the concrete, each one louder than the last until the door banged shut behind him.

Rathore remained where he stood, staring at the spot where his friend had just been. The smoke still lingered in the air, sharp and suffocating.

Unexchanged words. Unspoken grief. Abond that still bled, refusing to heal.

For the first time in years, Sameer Rathore allowed himself to admit- it wasn’t only Riya who felt unwelcome. Sometimes, it was Arjun too.

-*-

The ETF corridors were nearly deserted by the time Arjun descended from the terrace. The silence of the building felt heavier after his strained encounter with Rathore. His mind was restless, every step weighed down by thoughts he couldn’t untangle. He should have gone straight to his quarters, shut the world out, buried himself in the same darkness he had grown accustomed to. But his feet betrayed him.

They carried him instead towards his cabin.

The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, and instantly, he felt it- the echo of her presence. The air still held the faint trace of her perfume, mingling with the sterile scent of paper and ink.

On the chair across his desk, he could almost imagine her sitting as she had all day, head bent. Her warmth lingered in the room, invisible but undeniable.

A strange discomfort twisted in his chest. It was too much- too alive, too present. Yet, against his will, it was also… comfort.

Arjun let out a long, unsteady breath, running a hand over his face as he turned towards his desk. That’s when he saw it.

A small, neon sticky note, crookedly placed on the corner of the table. His pulse jumped. He didn’t need to guess. He knew exactly who could have left it there.

For the first time in what felt like forever, his expression broke. His eyes softened, and a smile- a real one, rare and unguarded- crept slowly onto his lips.

He reached for it, his hands careful, almost reverent, as though the flimsy piece of paper were something fragile, precious. His eyes scanned the hastily written words:

“Sir, I was wrong to not trust you. I thought you abandoned me…and I can’t forgive myself for thinking that. If I don’t apologize tonight, I won’t be able to sleep.”

The corner of her scrawl carried a tiny doodle of a pillow and a frowning face- classic Riya humour, clumsy and childish, yet piercingly sincere.

Arjun’s fingers brushed over the note, his chest tightening. He could almost hear her voice saying it, half playful, half earnest, her eyes darting nervously, waiting for his reaction.

The apology was light-hearted in tone, but beneath it, he could feel the weight of her words- the guilt that had gnawed at her, the honesty only she could lay bare in such simple, disarming lines.

For a man who had forgotten what it was to be forgiven, to be believed in, it was more than just an apology. It was a thread- thin, delicate, but binding- pulling him back towards something he had long kept buried.

His throat constricted. For a brief, fleeting second, he wanted to close his eyes and let the emotions surface, let the unspoken truths spill free.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he slipped the note into his pocket carefully, as though it were a secret meant only for him. The smile lingered, small but undeniable, even as his eyes darkened with emotions he couldn’t name, couldn’t accept.

Riya’s absence left the room hollow. Yet somehow, her little scrap of paper filled it, filled him, with something he hadn’t dared to feel in years.

Hope.

-*-

The moment Riya pushed the door open, Kabir’s body tensed in a way only she could notice. He knew. He always knew.

Her chest clenched. The silence between them was suffocating, stretching like a thread ready to snap. She moved towards him, every step hesitant, desperate for warmth after a day that had stripped her raw. But just as she reached the edge of the bed, his voice cut through the quiet, sharp and commanding.

“Stop.”

The single word hit harder than a blow. Her heart plummeted, the faint flicker of hope in her eyes extinguished. She froze, helpless, as Kabir opened his eyes and sat up slowly, his face unreadable.

Without a word, he reached for the night stand and held out a blank sheet of paper.

“Make yesterday’s journal entry. Right now.”

The request- or rather, the order- felt like a slap. She blinked, stunned, her throat closing around words she couldn’t form. Journal entries were sacred between them, a ritual born of trust, vulnerability, and love. To be told to doit like this, as punishment… her stomach knotted with guilt so sharp it made her dizzy.

“Kabir…”she whispered, voice trembling, but he cut her off again, his jaw tight.

“Riya. Write.”

Tears pricked her eyes instantly, guilt choking her. He wasn’t raising his voice, but the weight of his anger was in the restraint, the steel in his tone. She had betrayed his trust, doubted him, and the wound she had caused him was now staring her in the face.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she moved to sit beside him on the bed, craving his nearness even as her heart hammered in fear. But before she could even place the paper on her lap, he rose abruptly. Without looking at her, Kabir picked up another sheet and a pen, crossing the room to sit on the couch, putting distance between them.

The rejection was brutal. It carved through her like glass.

She sat there for a long moment, staring at his back, at the sharp lines of his shoulders as he leaned over his own paper. His silence screamed louder than any accusation. And then, slowly, shakily, she unfolded her own sheet and began to write.

Her hand trembled, the words refusing to come at first. But the dam inside her was too fragile. A few broken sentences later, tears blurred her vision. She bit her lip hard, trying to hold it together, but the guilt, the fear of losing him, the ache of his distance- it was all too much.

A low sob slipped out of her. She pressed her hand to her mouth, but another followed. And another. Her pen scratched furiously over the page, smudging under the tears that fell, until the sobs grew louder, harsher, uncontrollable.

Across the room, Kabir’s hand froze mid-sentence. Every muscle in his body screamed to move, to turn, to pull her into his arms and promise that everything was fine. But he didn’t. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself still, nails biting into the pen. He knew she had to break, had to spill out the storm she carried inside. This was her battle to fight, her guilt, her fears, her emotions, needed to bleed out.

But it tore him apart not to touch her.

Her low sobs turned into ragged cries, her entire body shaking as she dropped the pen. And then, unable to bear it, Riya jumped out of the bed and ran across the room.

She collided into him, her arms circling his neck desperately, burying her face into his shoulder as she broke down completely.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Kabir… please… I didn’t mean to- I shouldn’t have- please don’t be angry with me… I can’t…”

Her words dissolved into hysterical apologies, gasping and trembling, her tears soaking into his shirt.

Kabir’s arms twitched, aching to hold her back. But he didn’t.

Instead, with a raw kind of discipline that shredded him from the inside, he stood, loosening her grip gently but firmly. Her heart cracked audibly in the silence, her teary eyes widening as she realized- he wasn’t hugging her back.

The rejection shattered her into pieces.

Kabir didn’t look at her. He didn’t dare. Instead, he picked up his paper- the one on which he had been writing moments before, and placed it firmly into her hands.

And then, without a word, he crossed the room, sat down on the edge of the bed, and reached for the paper she had left on the bed.

Her journal.

Her pain.

Her confession.

Riya, meanwhile, stood rooted to the spot, holding his journal to her chest as though it were his heart, and watched him sit with hers.

The silence between them was unbearable, yet sacred. Two souls bleeding out on paper, too raw, too fractured to touch.

-*-

The room was heavy with silence after Riya slipped out, leaving Kabir with her journal in his hand, while she carried his with her. His fingers shook against the paper- not from weakness, but from the storm he knew it held. A soldier who never flinched at bullets now trembled before ink and tears.

He didn’t want to read it.

He had to.

Across the city, Arjun sat alone in his darkened quarter, finger hovering over the stolen recording. His jaw was set, sweat tracing his temple.

He didn’t want to watch it.

He had to.

Miles away, Rathore sat in his study, pen poised above an unfinished report.

Four men had failed. One woman had broken.

He didn’t want to write it.

He had to.

Outside the hotel room, Riya clutched Kabir’s entry to her chest, heart thundering at the thought of his eyes meeting her truths. She feared his silence more than his anger, yet a part of her longed for dawn- whether it brought closeness… or collapse.

Four hearts. Four silences. Bound by one girl’s fragile courage.

And as night dragged on, none knew if morning would bring absolution… or ruin.

-*-

Alright, your turn to spill the tea! What did you think of the chapter? This one took a lot of time and patience!

And hey, don't forget to tell me- who's your ultimate fave character and why? I'm all ears!

🖤A