Nandini Verma was 18 when she penned her first story, a tale of passion, betrayal, and revenge. It was a masterpiece, poised for publication. But on the night she was to share her brilliance with the world, tragedy struck. Her abusive father, a figu...
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I woke up to the soft light filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. Today was the day I was supposed to visit Nitu’s house. Her parents had been missing me, and I couldn’t deny how much I had missed them too. The thought of their warm smiles and motherly affection brought a small smile to my face as I got dressed.
I chose a simple yet elegant white kurti, the fabric soft against my skin, and paired it with my favorite jeans. I glanced at myself in the mirror, adjusting my kajal slightly before running my fingers through my hair to smooth it out. Just as I was about to step out of the room, I noticed Yash leaning against the door frame, his eyes fixed on me.
There was something different in the way he was looking at me. His gaze held all the love I had grown used to, but today there was something more—an emotion that felt deeper, heavier, as if he were trying to hold onto something precious that was slipping away. His eyes were darker than usual, filled with a strange intensity that made my heart skip a beat.
I walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face in his chest. “Why didn’t you go to work today?” I asked, my voice muffled against his shirt.
He hugged me tightly, his arms securing me against him as if he were afraid to let go. “Nothing,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. “I just want to rest for a bit.”
I pulled back slightly, my brow furrowing in concern as I looked up at him. “Are you okay?” I asked, searching his eyes for some kind of answer.
He hummed in response, brushing his fingers gently across my cheek, the warmth of his touch spreading through me. I leaned into his palm, the gesture comforting, though it didn’t entirely ease the unease building in my chest.
“I’m going to meet Nitu’s parents today,” I said, watching his reaction carefully. “Do you want to come?”
He shook his head slowly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I’ve got something important to do... mafia-related,” he added with a playful grin, knowing how I always reacted to that word.
I rolled my eyes but smiled nonetheless. The word ‘mafia’ always sent a shiver down my spine, but it was part of his world and mine too , and I had come to accept it, even if it still made me anxious. “Okay, then,” I said, turning to leave.
But before I could take a step, he stopped me, his hand gently catching my wrist. “You know what,” he said, his voice almost casual, “don’t take security today. You’ve always wanted to go somewhere on your own.”
I blinked, taken aback by his sudden suggestion. He had never let me go anywhere without security, especially not alone. The sudden shift was confusing, but the way he was looking at me—soft yet firm—made it hard to argue. “Are you sure?” I asked, my voice uncertain.
He smiled and nodded, leaning in to press a quick kiss on my lips. “I’m sure.”
I returned the kiss, though it was a brief peck, and then I was on my way. As I walked out to my car, I couldn’t shake the strange feeling that had settled in my chest. Something felt... off. I glanced back at the house, half expecting Yash to call after me and change his mind, but the door remained closed.
