✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
[ 𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋 1 ]
Because this is where love fades and hate resides and intensifies, broken hearts produce the most tragic stories.
Their treachery is told through their bleeding hearts: their unrequited love was never reciprocated. The...
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"Don't you know him being a man whore?" Siya remarked.
My blood turned to fire. I clenched my fist, the sharp edges of my fingernails biting into my palm, grounding me in the outrage. How dare she? How could she stand there, in the home that was supposed to be a place of healing, and call her own brother such a despicable name? This girl had not just audacity; she had a cruelty born of deep, unaddressed pain, and she was wielding it like a broken shard of glass.
My gaze snapped to her parents. They stood utterly motionless—Siya's mother holding a teacup that remained suspended halfway to her lips, her father's hands clasped in front of him, his expression carved into a mask of pathetic neutrality. Neither interrupted. Neither reprimanded their daughter. Their silence was a verdict, a tacit approval that fueled Siya's venomous monologue.
Then I looked at Aditya, who was furious but contained. He was the only one in the room with the clear, active urge to intercede, but a silent, agonizing plea in Vidyut's eyes seemed to hold him back. Aviraj, Vidyut's younger brother, stood rigid, eyes squeezed shut, unable to process the cruelty of her words. Yet, no one stopped her. It was a terrifying, suffocating display of familial collapse.
And finally, my gaze found him—Vidyut. He stood there, a towering man reduced to a statue of lifeless marble, the man who was known for protecting everyone, the one who stood up for strangers and the lost. That man was standing patiently, listening to his sister's gibberish, letting the toxic words wash over him. His head was slightly bowed, not in shame, but in a devastating exhaustion that tore through my chest.
My heart wrenched. The sight of his vulnerability pierced mine, recognizing the depth of a silent, agonizing injury. He was the anchor, and he was being cut loose, alone.
"Do you even know how many girls he has slept with?" Siya inquired, her voice dripping with mock disgust.
That was the spark that ignited the explosion within me. Nobody—absolutely nobody—had the right to speak to him, to any human being, like that. She was flaying him alive with rumors and prejudice, and the silence of the room was her accomplice.
