Mafia's Revenge Or Love? ~ A Saga Of Love And Revenge

Chapter 41

Natasha's voice trembled, her eyes filled with tears. "I didn't, Meera. I swear on everything I love, I didn't kill him."

Meera looked at her for what felt like an eternity, then slowly nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I won't believe you."

Natasha let out a shaky breath. But as she glanced at Yuvaan, her heart sank again. His expression hadn't changed. He still didn't believe her.

And that hurt more than anything.

__________________________________

Natasha sat on the cold, tiled floor of the balcony, her back resting against the railing as she stared up at the vast, dark sky. The stars blinked down at her like silent witnesses, but they offered no comfort. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she didn't even bother to wipe them away. She didn't understand why she was crying-she hadn't done anything wrong. At least, she didn't think she had. The doubt gnawed at her, a cruel whisper in the back of her mind. What if I did kill him? What if I just forgot?

The idea was absurd, but in the mafia world, nothing was ever simple. She had been through countless missions, battles, betrayals. Maybe this was something from the shadows of her past, something she had forgotten or blocked out. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thought, but it lingered, refusing to let her go.

A soft knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts. The door creaked open, and one of the maids entered, carrying a tray with her dinner. Natasha turned her tear-streaked face away, her appetite long gone.

"I don't have an appetite," she murmured, her voice shaky and hoarse from crying. She wiped at her face, trying to compose herself. "But can you do me a favor?"

The maid, her eyes full of sympathy, stepped forward hesitantly. "What is it, ma'am?"

"Can you go to Yuvaan's room and bring back my things?" Natasha asked, her voice trembling, but there was an underlying firmness in her tone.

The maid's eyes widened at the request. "But ma'am, the boss-"

Before the maid could finish, Natasha cut her off, her voice sharp but pleading. "Please."

The desperation in Natasha's voice was enough to make the maid stop protesting. With a small, reluctant nod, she turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.

Once the room was quiet again, Natasha turned her gaze back to the moon. Her tears had stopped, but the ache in her chest remained. The moon hung heavy in the sky, pale and distant, watching over her like a ghost. She stared at it, feeling numb. The tears were gone, and in their place was a hollow emptiness that settled deep in her bones.

"You've changed," she whispered to herself, her reflection in the window barely visible. "Natasha, you've changed."

She stood up slowly, her legs stiff from sitting too long, and walked to the mirror in her room. Her reflection stared back at her, but she barely recognized the woman in the glass. Her once sharp, dangerous features looked softer now, almost naive. Before her marriage, she had been feared, her name sending shivers down the spines of anyone who dared cross her. But now, standing in front of the mirror, she barely saw that ruthless woman anymore. The feared Mafia queen was nowhere to be found.

"You cry too easily now," she muttered to herself, her voice laced with bitterness. "You were never like this."

She used to be a fortress, untouchable, unbreakable. Nothing could make her cry, not betrayal, not loss, not even death. But now? Now she was reduced to tears over accusations and memories she didn't even remember. Natasha clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as frustration bubbled up inside her.