Wounded Heart ✔

Chapter - 6

The first light of dawn crept across the horizon, brushing the Amna Mansion in hues of gray and gold. The air was still, thick with the scent of dew, the world suspended in that brief moment before life began its daily noise. Inside, the house was quiet, but Amira was already awake.

Sleep never held her long. It hadn't for years. Discipline had replaced the comfort of dreams. She rose, slipped into her tracksuit, and tied her hair back with mechanical precision. The ritual was grounding. It reminded her that control was still hers—over her body, her mind, her silence.

Descending the staircase, she found them—her family. Half-dressed for their morning walk, cups of steaming coffee in their hands, laughter stilled at the sight of her. Their eyes widened with something between shock and disbelief.

They remembered. She could see it in their faces.

"Good morning," Amira said. Her voice was crisp, a register higher than the heaviness of the night before.

Khushi was the first to speak. "Good morning, Amira. Where are you going so early?"

"I'm going for my daily jogging, Mom."

The silence stretched, heavy and awkward.

Laksh frowned. "But you hate exercise. You always did. How come now—?"

"That was childhood," Amira interrupted, her tone even, emotionless. "People change. Habits change. I'll be back in forty-five minutes. Please have warm water with lemon ready when I return."

Khushi nodded faintly. She had no other answer.

Amira turned and walked out, Rider's nails clicking against the tiles as he followed at her heels. The others trailed behind, not out of habit but out of compulsion, as though afraid to let her slip away again.

Flashback – Age Six

The morning sun had barely risen when Arnav stormed down the corridor, determination etched across his face.

"Maa, Dad, today I'm taking Babygirl to the park with the others," he announced, ignoring Khushi's startled glance.

"She's only six, Arnav. Don't make her like you—a fitness freak," Khushi teased, earning a sharp glare.

"Love, she's not a baby. She's six already. Today, she's coming. That's final."

He opened Amira's door and stopped. She lay curled around her penguin plush—Pochu—her pout pressed into its soft fabric. Innocence painted across her small, stubborn face.

"Babygirl, wake up," Arnav coaxed gently.

"Papa... I sleep," Amira mumbled, turning away.

"Baby, after the walk, you can sleep again. And if you come, I'll get you ice cream."

For forty-five minutes, Arnav tried everything—stories, bribes, silly voices. She refused, clinging to her blanket, her eyes squeezed shut, tiny fists curled in protest. She had thrown a tantrum so fierce the whole household had laughed—except Arnav, whose patience snapped.

That morning ended in tears, frustration, and promises that she would never wake for exercise again.

Present

The park was alive with dawn—joggers, stray dogs, the faint rustle of leaves. Amira unleashed Rider, who bounded off joyfully, while she began her laps with measured steps, earphones resting loosely against her neck.

Abhishek jogged up beside her. "So. You don't like exercise, remember? Then why are you doing this now? Who are you trying to impress this time?"

Her eyes stayed fixed ahead. "I don't need to impress anyone, Bhai. I don't have time for childish games. I have more important things to do than waste myself on foolishness."