Sayonee (Re-writing)

S i x

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Laila
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Danish closed the door behind him quietly before leaning against it.

The room was dim except for the bedside lamp beside me, rain tapping softly against the balcony rail outside.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

I sat cross-legged on the bed watching him carefully.

"Promise me you won't get angry," I said finally. "And promise you'll answer honestly."

A tired smile touched his face. "That sounds dangerous."

"I'm serious, Bhai Jaan."

His expression softened immediately.

"Fine," he sighed. "I promise."

I looked down at my hands for a moment before speaking.

"I heard your conversation yesterday."

The silence that followed felt immediate and heavy.

Danish straightened slightly.

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough."

His jaw tightened.

I hated that look on his face.

That look everyone gave me lately—as if they were trying to decide how much truth I could handle.

"Who's threatening you?" I asked quietly. "And why didn't you tell me?"

"Laila—"

"No." I shook my head quickly. "Please don't dismiss it again. I deserve to know."

He rubbed a hand over his face slowly before sitting down at the edge of the bed.

"It started a few months ago after I became more involved politically," he admitted. "At first it was just online threats. Then messages. Then calls."

A cold feeling settled inside me.

"And the police?"

"We went to them."

"And?"

"And nothing stopped."

The frustration in his voice startled me.

For the first time, he sounded tired instead of confident.

"They don't even know who's behind it yet," he continued quietly. "And the more attention I got publicly, the worse it became."

I stared at him.

"So your solution is marriage?"

His head lifted immediately.

"That's not what I said."

"That's exactly what Khaloo implied."