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Roshi didn’t remember how fast she ran—only that she had to get away... away from the suffocating room, from Shariq, from the way his hand had tightened around her wrist when she tried to leave.
Her heart thudded in her ears, louder than her footsteps on the dimly lit road. The night felt heavy, but not as heavy as the weight settling in her chest. The weight of his words, his tone, his grip—still clung to her skin like damp air. It wasn’t just fear that gripped her now. It was the sting of disbelief. The humiliation of knowing she’d been wrong. Horribly, blindly wrong.
Try as she might, she couldn't shake off the vivid image of Shariq lying in a pool of his own blood, the result of her hitting him with a bronze statue that she found on the bedside table. She couldn't believe what she had done. She had harmed someone... probably even killed him. There was no way Shariq could have survived a blow that hard, especially to his head. The bronze statue weighed heavily in her hand as she dropped it next to a fatally wounded Shariq and ran.
What was it that Shariq had given her? Her vision was hazy, almost a blur. She had no idea where she was. He had promised her that the place he would be taking her to was close to her home. Lies... merciless lies. Just used to lure her into his trap.
And she had walked in like the idiot she was, eyes wide open, conveniently ignoring the red flags that everyone else had spotted. Hadn't people warned her? Hadn't her own sister, her confidant and secret keeper, told her to stay away from him? So did Sir Talha.
Talha... how he had protected her the day she decided to stay back late with Shariq, decided to drop her home himself, and gave her sound advice despite her bad attitude towards him. If she ever made it out of here, she would apologize to him, over and over again. She would tell him that he was right and accept any lecture he would give her. If only she made it out...
Desperate, she sat on what seemed like a footpath or a divider and fumbled for her phone. She had to call for help - somebody... anybody would do. Her vision was hazy - tears or something stronger clouding her eyes, she couldn’t tell. With trembling fingers, she unlocked her phone - somehow - and tapped at the screen, the names in her call log smudging into one unreadable mess. She couldn’t make out the words. Couldn’t think. She let her thumb fall on the first name it landed on. A number began to ring. She had no idea who it was.
Her head felt like it was filled with cotton, everything muffled — distant. The phone rang once… twice…
And then a voice came through. Low. Familiar. Steady.
“Hello?”
She pressed the phone closer to her ear, wincing. “Hello... hello, kaun baat kar raha hai?” Her words slurred slightly.
There was a pause on the other end. Sharp. Alert.
“Ms. Ayat, kya hua? Aap ro kyun rahe hai?” It was Talha. She held the phone desperately close to her ears, as if holding on to his voice...
"Sir... Sir Talha, mujhe bacha lein please. Mujhse murder hogaya hai Sir Talha - aur police wale... police wale mujhe pakad ke le jaayenge. Mujhe bacha lein please!" Tears streamed down her eyes as the words tumbled out of her mouth.
"Aap kahan hai?" His tone changed instantly — still calm, but now laced with something sharper. Concern. Urgency.
"Sir, mujhe nahi pata hai main kahan hoon. Mujhe Shariq yahan par laaya tha..." She broke down, the fear and desperation now taking over her.
"Shariq... Aap apni location toh batayein? I mean - koi building, street naam, kuch bhi... matlab kuch toh nazar aa raha hoga na..." She could hear the tires of his car squealing over the phone as he turned around.
Her eyes were still hazy - whatever drug Shariq gave her was working fast. She could feel her eyes drooping, as if falling into a deep stupor. All she wanted was to fall asleep and never wake up... slowly... her eyes started closing...
"Ms. Ayat..." Talha's voice cut through the haze, strong and unfaltering, anchoring her.
Her eyes opened on their own accord, in a moment of clarity, finally spotting a familiar building. "Com3... Com3 Apartment ke saamne hoon."
"Okay... aap wahin rahein, and stay on the phone with me. Main aa raha hoon aapke paas." His voice was steady... reassuring... as he drove towards her.
"Sir, jaldi aa jaayiye. Main yahan bilkul akeli hoon." She felt like a kid lost in a shopping mall without her parents in sight. The fear was suffocating her, holding her down... she was lost... truly lost...
"Ms. Ayat... main aa raha hoon. Don't panic. Just keep talking to me. Okay?"
"Ji, Sir Talha..." her voice was barely a whisper, the haze taking over again. Drowziness washed over her, lulling her to sleep.
"Ms. Ayat... aap line drop na karein, aur mujhse baat karti rahein..." Talha said, his voice pulling her out of the trance. He kept up a steady flow of conversation, just asking her to hold on and stay put, and that he was coming. He was coming to get her. His voice rang, clear and true, as if calming a scared animal. His voice, her anchor.
-*-
It was a while before he found her, sitting by the roadside, arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if she could hold in the whirlwind she’d just escaped.
"Ms. Ayat..." he ran towards her, concerned etched on his face.
"Sir... mujhse murder hogaya hai. Maine Shariq to maar dala hai sir." She repeated the same thing over and over, the fear and dread at her act returning.
"It's okay, Ms. Ayat. You are okay. Kuch nahi hoga. Sab kuch theek ho jaayega. Chalein." His hand slowly reached out to take hers, unsure of how she would react.
She clung to his hand with all that she had left, afraid that if she let go, she would lose herself forever. He guided her gently to his car, whispering soft words of assurance. A sense of security washed over her as she held his hand, taking some of the fear away.
He held the door open for her, gently coaxing her into the car.
He didn’t ask questions.
He didn’t demand answers.
He just opened the passenger door and waited.
Roshi climbed in silently. The only sound in the car was the hum of the engine and the quiet shudder of her breath.
The ride home was silent, save for the soft purr of the engine and her breathing, still uneven.
But in that silence, something settled.
Not fear. Not shame.
Just a sense of security.
She let sleep take her, not because of the drug that Shariq had tricked her into taking, but because of the feeling of safety she felt in his presence. She no longer had to be on her guard. She no longer had to look out for herself. He would do it for her.
-*-
Back at home, she locked herself in her room before anyone could ask anything. Her body felt numb, but her mind was racing. She sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the floor, her thoughts tangled like a storm. Talha had taken her to his place last night, almost carrying her dizzy, nauseated self from the car to his room, getting her to drink a glass of water, giving her a tablet to help with the dizziness, and whatnot. He let her crash on his bed, gently removing the sandals from her feet and laying a quilt on her sleeping figure, ensuring her comfort.
He had also called her parents and told them he was responsible for the delay and dropped her home himself. Not once had he reprimanded her. He just hovered around her, caring, protective, but never nagging, giving her space to recover from the shock and trauma of it all.
Now, as she sat in her room, her head all cleared up and her thoughts straightened out, she realized how stupid she had been all along - how she had failed to see Shariq for who he was, when everyone else around her had.
"Agli baar, koi aandhi, toofan, zalzalah kyun an aa jaaye, aap kisi bhi colleagues ke saath late nahin rukhenge. Aur haan, unn sab mein, mujhse bhi, har saqs shaamil hai."
Talha had warned her. Not with harsh words or dramatic threats. But with quiet concern. With steady, calm truths she didn’t want to hear. And when everything collapsed, he was the one she ran to.
She remembered how he didn’t ask a single question. Didn’t demand an explanation. Just showed up. Just drove.
And somehow, that said more than words ever could.
There had always been something about Talha she couldn’t quite place — something she used to mistake for stiffness or self-righteousness. But now, sitting in the quiet glow of her bedroom lamp, it felt different.
He hadn’t tried to rescue her like some hero.
He’d simply been there.
Solid. Present. Unshaken.
And for the first time, Roshi felt something in his presence she didn’t have a name for. It wasn’t excitement. It wasn’t drama. It wasn’t the butterflies she used to chase.
It was quieter. Warmer. Like the slow exhale after holding your breath too long.
She didn’t know what it meant.
She didn’t try to name it.
All she knew was that, in a moment when everything felt broken and confusing, he felt like the only thing that made sense.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.
-*-
A/N
Hey guys!
Finally I'm here with my 1st TalRosh OS! And man, it feels good to finally write something on them! This is just a POV chapter after the Shariq mishap, as this was the turning point of their relationship!
I wanted to write this for a very long time, but I didn't have the guts to! But thanks to the encouragement and inspiration provided by so many people in this forum, I finally posted it!
Hope you guys like the OS. Please drop in your feedback. I'd love to get some constructive criticism so that I can improve.
Love,
Niya ❤️
(Brownie points for not making grammatical errors... I somehow lose interest in reading if I find so many mistakes
) 
Bade Achche Lagte Hain Naya Season
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