MOHABBAT-E-DIWAANGI ( Book 1)

55. Bury alive

AVANTIKA'S POV

Sleep never touched me, sukoon never belonged to me-until I questioned him.
His answer came so effortlessly, yet it carried the weight of a truth only I could feel-his love, raw and pure.
But knowing that his peace rested beside me wasn't enough to chain me there.
Silently, I slipped out of bed, careful, deliberate... not allowing anyone to notice.
Each step down the stairs echoed a secret, the shadows wrapping around me as my black outfit blended with the light.
No one knew where I was going-maybe even I didn't. All I knew was that mystery had begun to walk with me.

It was evening, the sky outside painted in dying shades of orange and purple, the last rays of the sun slipping through the carved windows of the haveli (mansion). I crept down the stairs, every breath shallow, every movement a whisper. The marble beneath my feet was cool, carrying faint echoes I tried hard to silence. The golden light flickered weakly against the antique chandelier, casting long, trembling shadows that made the corridors feel alive.

Draped in my black outfit, I melted into the gathering darkness, hiding behind a tall pillar. My heart thudded so loud I feared it might give me away. And then, without warning, a hand closed around my wrist - cold, steady - and for a heartbeat, I froze, caught between fear and the strange stillness of twilight.

I turned, and it was Maa. Relief escaped me in a quiet gasp. She stood there in the dim evening glow, wearing that impossible smile - the smirk that always felt like a family signature, khandan ki nishani (mark of the family) - as if mischief and mystery both ran in her blood.

Her eyes gleamed knowingly, reflecting the fading sun. Slowly, she raised her thumb and mouthed, Best of luck. Then she squeezed one eye shut, as though she already knew every detail of the secret I thought I had buried.

My eyes went wide - seriously, I could feel them pop - but she said nothing more. She simply released my wrist, her touch slipping away like the last strand of daylight, and walked off. Her saree whispered against the marble as she vanished into the corridor, leaving behind the twilight silence - heavier than any question, darker than the night still waiting to fall.

My fingers tightened around the phone as I dialed a number only a handful of people in this world had. He picked up in the first ring - the man who worked under Armaan, the very same man who once helped train me under Armaan's watch. His voice came low, steady, almost like the shadows themselves had answered.

"I'm going out," I told him, my tone sharp, commanding. "Aur suno... not a word. Not even to your soul." (Not even to your soul.)

There was silence on the other end, but not hesitation. His silence was his promise. The kind of loyalty that didn't need explanations.

I cut the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket, my eyes scanning the long corridors of Rajawat mansion. One by one, I moved past the cameras, slipping into the blind spots I had memorized long ago. The guards stood lazy at their posts, half-aware, half-bored. Yupp, Rajawat mansion does have security loopholes, I thought bitterly. Lagta hai patidev sahi se kaam nahi kar rahe. (Looks like husband isn't doing his job properly.)

Keeping my steps light, I slipped out into the evening air, the gates of the haveli shrinking behind me. To anyone else, it would look impossible. To me, it was a path I'd carved in silence - a path only I knew how to walk.

It was evening, the sky outside painted in dying shades of orange and purple, the last rays of the sun slipping through the carved windows of the haveli (mansion). I crept down the stairs, every breath shallow, every movement a whisper. The marble beneath my feet was cool, carrying faint echoes I tried hard to silence. The golden light flickered weakly against the antique chandelier, casting long, trembling shadows that made the corridors feel alive.