Threads of Destiny

Broken Truths-2

Ishita awoke to find the bed empty, the sheets cool beside her. Confused, she sat up, her eyes scanning the spacious room. Sunlight streamed in through tall windows, casting a golden glow across the sleek, modern decor. Then she spotted Barun, standing near the balcony, his broad, bare chest catching the light, a white towel wrapped low around his waist. He looked effortlessly alluring, every bit the man who knew his own power.

Barun turned, his eyes meeting hers with an unreadable expression. “You should leave,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “My parents will be here soon, and they’ll worry if they see you.”

Ishita raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. “Or… we could take a shower together.”

He shook his head, a curt decline, and without another word, picked up his iPad and sank into the chair by the window, engrossed in his work. Disappointment flickered across Ishita’s face, but she masked it quickly, gathering her things.

Later, the rich aroma of brewing tea filled the elegant dining room. Barun’s mother, Rekha, sat at the head of the table, her eyes betraying her hidden worries despite the composed smile she wore. She watched her son enter, noting the tension in his stride. Pouring him a cup of tea, she finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. “Barun, about Ishita…”

He didn’t look at her, focusing instead on his phone. Rekha sighed, her heart heavy. “You need to marry her. It’s not right, giving her hope.”

Barun’s jaw tightened, but he forced a casual tone. “We’re not committed, Maa. Our intentions are clear. Two adults can spend time together without it meaning anything more. It’s normal nowadays.”

The conversation hung heavy between them as he grabbed his keys and phone, his mind clearly elsewhere. Without another word, he left, leaving Rekha alone with her unspoken worries.

---

By the pond, Kali sat on a large stone, her eyes distant as she hurled rocks into the water, watching the ripples spread and fade. The sun glimmered off the surface, but her thoughts were dark. She picked up another stone and threw it, the splash breaking the silence.

The scent of cigarette smoke drifted through the air, sharp and intrusive. She stiffened, turning to see Barun lounging on a nearby bench, a cigarette in hand. His smirk was almost a challenge. “Here to beat me again?” he drawled.

Kali’s fingers tightened around a stone, the urge to throw it at him was overwhelming. But she stopped, remembering his mother. Instead, she spoke, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are you really aunty's son? Or did they adopt you? You’re nothing like her.”

Barun’s eyes flashed, his tone harsh. “Don’t call her ‘Aunty.’ You’re nobody to her.”

She grinned, defiance blazing in her eyes. “Aunty… Aunty…” she repeated, her voice rising, taunting.

Barun turned away, deliberately ignoring her, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The silence stretched between them, heavy with words left unsaid, battles fought without weapons.

The silence hanging between them shattered when a voice pierced the air, raw and accusatory. “Kali!”

Both Kali and Barun turned to see a figure striding toward them along the edge of the pond. It was Ravi, his face contorted with anger. The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the water, and the rustling leaves whispered in the tense air. Birds scattered from the nearby trees as Ravi’s steps grew louder, his presence intruding on the fragile calm.

“So this is where you are,” Ravi sneered, his eyes darting between Kali and Barun. “With another man, while I’ve been searching for you like a fool!”

Kali’s eyes narrowed, her voice sharp as she shot back, “Why are you even here? Did your precious colleague kick you to the curb, so you came crawling back?”

Ravi’s expression softened, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Kali, you know why I did that. It was your mistake,” he said, his tone almost pleading. “A man has his needs. She was nothing but a distraction. I love you.” His eyes glimmered with a twisted sincerity. “As long as you let me sleep with you, I don’t have a problem being your companion.”

The air grew thick with tension. Kali’s hands clenched into fists, her body trembling with restrained fury. The pond beside them reflected the storm brewing in her eyes, the ripples in the water mirroring her churning emotions. She struggled for words, something that would cut deeper than any insult, something to wound him the way he had wounded her.

Suddenly, she turned to Barun, her voice clear and defiant. “I’m going to marry him,” she declared, each word striking like a hammer on stone.

Ravi’s eyes widened in shock. For a moment, there was silence—the kind that holds the weight of unspoken histories, of betrayal and defiance. The wind rustled the reeds by the water, carrying the scent of smoke and broken promises. Barun said nothing, his gaze fixed on the horizon, as if watching a story unfold he had no interest in finishing.

Ravi's face twisted with disbelief, but Kali stood firm, her words hanging heavy in the stillness of the afternoon.

Once Ravi had left, Kali retreated into her own world, struggling with the storm of emotions inside her. Barun watched her from a distance, captivated. Kali stood tall despite her short height, every movement radiating a fierce intensity, like a lioness ready to pounce. Her dark, lustrous hair was tightly braided, though a few rebellious strands had broken free, swaying gently in the breeze. The morning oil still gave her hair a soft sheen, catching the sunlight and contrasting with her simmering anger. Some strands fluttered across her face, slipping over her eyes, almost defiant. With a sharp, impatient flick, she swept them behind her ear, the gesture brimming with barely contained fury.

Her posture was rigid, shoulders squared, and back straight, the tension in her body palpable. Her light brown skin glowed under the afternoon sun, highlighting the healthy strength she carried. Her frame wasn’t lean, but solid and strong, each movement deliberate and powerful. Muscles in her arms flexed subtly as she clenched her fists, then released them, as if trying to steady herself. The sharp angle of her jawline tightened, lips pressed into a firm line, betraying the storm of emotions within. Her eyes burned with a raw intensity, scanning the distance but focused on something unseen—lost in thought or battling inner turmoil.

Her steps were heavy with purpose, each stride asserting her presence. The fabric of her kurta clung to her, emphasizing the quiet strength of her form—grace intertwined with fire. As she pushed back her hair again, her forearm tensed, a hint of veins visible beneath the skin, a testament to her quiet power. Even in her frustration, there was deliberate control, a wild energy that made it impossible for Barun to look away. She was a force of nature—short, strong, unbridled, and fiercely beautiful.

She glanced briefly at Barun, and for a moment, he thought she might say something, offering some explanation. But instead, she turned abruptly and strode toward her scooter, her steps determined. She tried to start it, but the engine refused to cooperate. With a flash of frustration, she kicked the scooter, her eyes scanning the surroundings, as if the world itself were conspiring against her.

Setting the scooter on its double stand, she kicked the starter repeatedly—three, four times. "Thank God I have some weight," she muttered to herself. Finally, the engine roared to life. Without another look at Barun, she sped off, leaving him behind, his mind tangled in the chaos she had stirred.