Taniya's POV
The sky was overcast today.
Not dark, just… grey. Like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to cry.
I sat on the bench, fingers wrapped around a paper cup of lukewarm coffee. Ella had gone to use the restroom, and for a moment—I was alone. Really alone. No Shoaib beside me. No Ella talking books and metaphors. Just me.
And that crawling feeling again.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Nothing.
A couple jogging. A kid chasing pigeons. A woman on the phone, arguing in French.
But still—the weight pressed on the back of my neck. Like someone was breathing behind me. Watching.
Too many times now.
It’s not in my head anymore.
I stood abruptly and threw the coffee into the bin, walking faster than I should’ve. My steps didn’t echo. But the fear inside me did.
When I reached Ella, I smiled like always. Like nothing was wrong. But she looked at me strangely.
> “You okay, Tanny?”
“Yeah. Just got cold.”
“Want to go?”
“Please.”
---
He was in the living room when I walked in. Shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, scrolling through his phone with that casual disinterest that always felt… calculated.
He looked up. And smiled.
Not warmly. Not cruelly. Just… Shoaib.
> “You went out again.”
“With Ella.”
“I know.”
He leaned back. “You looked nice in that scarf.”
My stomach twisted.
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear before I slipped into the bedroom.
> “You’re quieter these days,” he said.
“So are you.”
“Do you miss them?”
“Every day.”
He didn’t answer.
Just walked away.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Not because of Shoaib.
He was in the next room, talking to someone on speaker—probably dishaan bhai again, too worried about denial's declining health, and trouble raising that innocent child, sometime i really want to mother him , but knowing the man's psychotic behaviour i cut this Idea in my mind,
Dawood, Danish Bhai and Denial bhabhi's son , doctor said due to ivf and premature condition, he turn out to be specially acclaimed child, his body is growing but mind remain the same, pay allah give him health,
It was the silence in my heart that scared me.
The part that wasn’t angry anymore. Or terrified. Or broken.
The part that was numb.
That silence was louder than anything he ever screamed at me.
I looked at the window.
The curtain moved slightly. But maybe it was just the wind.
Still—I locked it.
And that night, I dreamed of paint-stained fingers…
Of eyes that burned like stars…
And a voice that said, “Don’t lie to yourself. You were always mine.”
...
It was raining today.
Not the thunderous, dramatic kind.
Just soft drops tapping on the windowpane like whispers I couldn’t quite understand.
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Gereksiz İntikam
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