Shadows of Same Face

Chapter One: The Mirror Twins

The Bansal mansion stood tall amidst the serene surroundings of lush gardens and ornate fountains. It was a house that spoke of tradition, yet brimmed with an elegance that only wealth and taste could bring. Inside, sunlight streamed through the grand windows, casting a warm glow on the intricately designed furniture. It was here, in this home, that Nandini and Tarini Bansal had grown up—two daughters who, though identical in every way physically, were worlds apart in every other sense.

Raman Bansal sat in the family lounge, reading the morning paper as he always did, his sharp features softened by the kind smile that rarely left his face. He was a man of principles, well-respected in the business community, and even more admired as a loving husband and father. His tall frame, streaks of gray in his hair, and the occasional glint of wisdom in his eyes made him look every bit the self-made man he was.

Across the room, Anandita Bansal, his wife, moved with the grace of a woman who had mastered the art of making everything seem effortless. Her dark, long hair framed her face, her beauty timeless, as if untouched by the years. She was the soul of the Bansal household, nurturing, poised, and always the calming presence in any storm.

This morning, however, that peace was about to be shattered.

“Where is Tarini?” Raman asked, his brow furrowed slightly as he sipped his coffee. “I thought she was joining us for breakfast.”

Anandita sighed softly, placing the tea cup down on the table before her. “She’s in her room, I imagine,” she said, her voice laced with a mother’s concern. “She’s been… distant lately. Ever since Nandini’s engagement to Dhruv was announced, I’ve sensed something was off.”

Raman lowered his paper, giving his wife his full attention. “You think she’s upset about the engagement?”

“She hasn’t said anything outright,” Anandita replied, her eyes drifting toward the grand staircase, as if willing Tarini to appear. “But you know how close the girls were growing up. This has to be hard for her.”

As if summoned by her mother’s thoughts, Nandini entered the room. Dressed in a simple, yet elegant white salwar, her long hair fell in waves over her shoulders. She looked like a vision of calm, her features delicate, her expression serene. But beneath her soft exterior, Nandini carried the weight of expectation—both from her family and from the world around her.

“Mumma, Papa,” she greeted them warmly, her voice as sweet as her presence. “Good morning.”

Anandita smiled, her heart swelling with pride. Nandini was the epitome of grace, the perfect daughter, the one who always put others first. “Good morning, beta,” she said, gesturing for Nandini to join them. “Have you spoken to your sister?”

Nandini’s smile faltered slightly, a shadow passing over her face. “Not yet. Tarini’s been… well, she’s been keeping to herself.”

Raman folded the newspaper and placed it aside, his eyes narrowing in concern. “The two of you haven’t spoken? That’s unusual.”

Nandini hesitated before replying, her eyes darting toward the stairs where Tarini still hadn’t emerged. “I’ve tried, Papa. But she avoids me. I think… I think she’s having a hard time with everything. Maybe she needs more time to adjust.”

Anandita sighed again, this time with a tinge of sadness. “Tarini has always felt things so deeply. Even as children, when something didn’t go her way, she would retreat into her own world.”

Raman’s jaw tightened. “She needs to come out of that world now. She should be happy for you, Nandini. Dhruv is a good man, and this marriage is a blessing for both our families.”

“I know, Papa,” Nandini replied softly. “I just wish Tarini would talk to me. I miss her.”

Before anyone could say more, the soft clack of heels echoed through the hallway, and Tarini appeared at the top of the stairs. She descended slowly, her movements deliberate, her face a mirror image of Nandini’s, but with a colder edge. Where Nandini’s eyes sparkled with kindness, Tarini’s held something darker—something that had been growing in her ever since Dhruv entered their lives.

“Speak of the devil,” Raman muttered under his breath, though there was no malice in his tone. He loved both his daughters deeply, but Tarini’s recent behavior had begun to worry him.

“Good morning,” Tarini said as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her voice smooth, yet distant. She was dressed in striking contrast to Nandini—a bold, dark blue dress that clung to her form, her makeup perfect, her lips painted a deep crimson. Everything about her exuded confidence, but it was the kind that left a lingering chill.

Anandita stood and walked toward her daughter, her smile forced. “Tarini, we were just talking about you. Why haven’t you been joining us for meals? You know we miss having you here.”

Tarini’s smile was thin, barely reaching her eyes. “I’ve been busy, Mama,” she said dismissively, glancing at Nandini with a look that wasn’t lost on anyone in the room. “Besides, it seems everyone’s focus is on the wedding preparations now. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“You’re not in the way,” Nandini said, stepping forward, trying to bridge the ever-widening gap between them. “Tarini, you’re my sister. I need you by my side, now more than ever.”

Tarini’s eyes flicked to her sister, a flash of something unreadable crossing her face. “I’m sure Dhruv can fill that role quite well,” she said coldly, turning away as she walked toward the window, her fingers trailing along the edge of the table. “You don’t need me anymore.”

Raman rose from his chair, his patience wearing thin. “Enough, Tarini. This behavior is childish. Nandini is getting married, yes, but that doesn’t mean she’s leaving you behind. We are a family.”

Tarini’s back stiffened, but she didn’t turn to face them. “A family,” she echoed softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is that what we still are?”

Nandini took a step closer to her, her voice filled with desperation. “Tarini, please. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you so distant, but whatever it is, we can fix it. You and I… we’ve always been together.”

Tarini finally turned, her face a mask of cold indifference. “Not always, Nandini. Not anymore.”

As the tension hung thick in the air, Anandita’s heart ached for her daughters—two reflections of each other, yet so painfully separate. She had hoped that with time, the rivalry between them would fade, that love would conquer whatever unspoken jealousy lingered in Tarini’s heart. But as she looked into her daughter’s eyes, she saw something far more dangerous. Something that made her wonder just how deep the wounds ran—and if they could ever be healed.

And for the first time, a chilling thought crossed Anandita’s mind: what if Tarini didn’t just feel left behind?

What if she was ready to destroy everything that stood in her way?