So let’s begin,

VANSHU’S POV – OUTSIDE SEHGAL HOUSE

The gate shut behind me with a soft click.

Too soft.

Like the house didn’t even realise I had walked out.

Cold air hit my face instantly, sharp enough to sting. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. My footsteps echoed against the pavement—too loud in my own ears, too fast for someone who didn’t actually know where she was going.

Bas nikalna tha.

Bas saans lena tha.

Because if I stayed one second longer—

I would’ve either screamed…

Or broken down.

Neither option was safe right now.

I walked past the familiar streetlights, past neighbours’ parked cars, past the corner where we usually stopped to rant about school rules. My mind replayed everything on loop—merciless, ruthless.

“Dar lag raha hai ki ek din tum dono busy ho jaogi…”

“Ki main tum dono ke liye priority nahi rahungi.”

My throat tightened.

Seriously, Khushi?

You really think that?

I scoffed under my breath, a humourless sound.

Busy ho jaana?

Haan. Possible.

Life badal jaana?

Sure.

Par bhool jaana?

Chhod dena?

Is it that easy?

Kisi ko pure dil aur jaan se pyaar karne ke baad bhool jaana?Jiski ek choti si takleef hume pareshaan karti h us insaan ko chod dena jaise wo kabhi exist hi na karta ho..

Nhi kabhi nhi..

I kicked a small pebble on the road harder than necessary. It skidded away, disappearing into the dark.

Anger flared again—but this time it wasn’t loud.

It was quiet.

Heavy.

Personal.

Mujhe bura nahi laga ki usse darr laga.

Mujhe bura laga ki usse hum pe laga.

That she thought we were… temporary.

Like convenience.

Like phases.

Like something life would just… replace.

I stopped walking for a second, chest rising sharply as I took a deep breath.

Akshu.

The image flashed uninvited—Akshu under that blanket, pale, stubborn even in sleep. The way her fingers had curled around Khushi’s hand like it was instinct. Like home.

Hum teen.

Three sides of the same triangle.

Ek crack—

Aur poori structure hil jaati hai.

My anger dulled, replaced by something more dangerous.

Hurt.

Because Khushi didn’t just doubt our future.

She doubted us.

And that cut deeper than any fight ever could.

I leaned against a lamp post, head falling back slightly as I stared up at the dark sky. No stars tonight. Just clouds—heavy, layered, restless.

Perfect.

Mujhe gussa nahi aata agar koi aur hota.

Koi teacher.

Koi outsider.

Koi random insaan jo humein jaanta hi nahi.

Par Khushi?

Jo har choti baat notice karti hai.

Jo sabse pehle khadi hoti hai jab koi humpe ungli uthata hai.

Jo kehti hai “hum teen alag-alag nahi, ek hi hain.”

Usse yeh sunna…

I pressed my lips together hard.

Maybe that’s why it hurt so much.

Because it mattered.

I pushed myself off the lamp post and resumed walking, slower now. The anger had burned itself out, leaving behind exhaustion and too many thoughts.

Radhika ma’am ke words.

Khushi ka darr.

Akshu ka fever.

Ma’am ka aise urgently jaana.

Sab ek hi din.

Universe ka timing bhi kamaal ka hota hai.

I rubbed my face with both hands, breathing out slowly.

Khushi weak nahi hai.

I knew that.

She’s scared.

Insecure.

Triggered.

Par darr tumhe yeh right nahi deta ki tum un logon pe shaq karo

Jo tumhare saath khade rahe hai jab koi aur nahi tha.

Trust bina bole hota hai.

Explain karna pad jaaye na—

Toh kahin na kahin darar aa hi chuki hoti hai.

I crossed the road and sat down on the low boundary wall near the park—our park. The one where we’d once sworn we’d never let anything break us.

Funny how life tests promises.

I stared straight ahead, jaw set.

I wasn’t walking away forever.

I was just stepping back—

Before the hurt turned into bitterness.

Because no matter how angry I was—

Akshu was sick.

Khushi was fragile.

Aur hum teen…

We were still each other’s weakest point.

And strongest too.

I stood up, pulling my jacket tighter around myself.

Raat lambi hone wali thi.

Aur main jaanti thi—

Jab wapas jaungi,

Yeh baat ignore nahi hogi.

Isse face karna padega.

Par abhi nahi.

Abhi—

I needed to breathe.

And for the first time in a long while…

I walked on,

Empty-handed,

Alone with my thoughts,

Not knowing exactly where home felt like anymore.

---

LIVING ROOM –CONTINUED

Khushi stood frozen in the corridor, Vanshu’s footsteps still echoing in her ears even though she was already gone.

Her chest felt tight. Too tight.

Suddenly, everything she had been holding in since morning came crashing down.

Khushi (breaking down, whisper-shouting to herself):

“Ahhhh… yeh kya kar diya maine…

Bas is liye… bas is liye main tumhe nahi batana chahti thi, Vanshu…Jis baat ka darr tha wahi ho gaya. Maine tumhe hurt kar diya.. Aise nhi bolna chahti thi mai yeh baat.. Kaha chali gayi ab tum.. bas safe rehna.. Tumhare peeche bhi nhi jaa sakti baccho ko akela chod ke..”

Her eyes burned.

Her hands shook.

Khushi (voice cracking):

“Sab us Radhika Ma’am ki wajah se ho raha hai…”

“Aur main toh hoon hi bewakoof.. Faltoo ki baatein sochti hoon bas.”

The word tasted bitter on her tongue.

Frustration surged—hot, uncontrollable.

Bhakk!

Before she could stop herself—

THUD!

Once.

Her knuckles stung.

She didn’t stop.

Twice.

Her fist slammed into the wall beside her.

Pain shot through her knuckles, sharp and immediate, but she barely felt it.

She leaned her forehead against the wall, breathing hard, tears slipping down silently.

Control, Khushi… control…

And then—

CRASH!

A sudden sound from upstairs.

Something falling.

A startled voice.

Small footsteps.

Khushi froze.

Akshu.

Her heart skipped.

Wiping her tears hastily with the back of her hand, Khushi spun around and ran upstairs, two steps at a time, panic replacing guilt in an instant.

---

UPSTAIRS – AKSHU’S ROOM

The door was already half open.

Noise spilled out.

Too much noise.

Khushi stopped short.

Inside—

Total chaos.

Aashi stood right in the middle of the bed, arms flailing dramatically, face red with anger.

Aashi: “Vanuuuu mere crayons wapas kar! Wo mere hain! Mumma ne bola tha!”

Vanu sat on the floor, legs stretched out, Barbie dolls scattered around her like fallen soldiers. She clutched a bunch of crayons tightly, half-laughing, half-annoyed.

Vanu: “Nahi! Wo mere hain!Tere wale toh tune paani mein daal ke kharab kar diye the. Yeh mere hain, jaa ke Kiku ke le le!”

Near the table, Kiku stood on her toes, tugging curiously at something placed dangerously close to the edge.

Kiku: “Yeh gir gaya toh kya hoga?”

And in the middle of all that—

Akshu.

Sitting up on the bed.

Hair messy. Eyes half-open. Jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.

The blanket was bunched near her legs, clearly thrown aside in irritation.

Her eyes were bloodshot. Her cheeks flushed.

Sleep—completely shattered.

Khushi’s heart sank.

Khushi (sharp, loud): “Aashi! Vanu! Kiku!”

All three froze instantly.

They turned towards her.

Aashi blinked, suddenly innocent.

Aashi: “Khushi didi…”

Khushi rushed straight to Akshu’s side.

Khushi (soft, worried): “Akshu… tum uth gayi?”

Akshu shot her a glare.

Akshu (irritated, hoarse): “Kya lagta hai dekh ke?”

She pressed her fingers hard against her temples.

Akshu: “Yeh circus chal raha hai yahan… kaise neend aayegi kisi ko?”

Khushi winced, guilt washing over her.

She glanced at the kids, then back at Akshu.

Khushi: “Sorry… maine bola tha na shor nahi karna…”

Aashi climbed down from the bed, still fuming, pointing at Vanu.

Aashi: “Didi, yeh Vanu mere colours le rahi hai! Maine kuch nahi kiya!Aap isko bolo mujhe wapas kare!”

Vanu immediately shot back.

Vanu: “Yeh mere hain, didi!Papa ne mujhe diye the, maine sambhaal ke rakhe the!Isne apne saare colours paani mein daal ke kharab kar diye, aur phir bolti hai—dekho colour wala paani!”

Khushi inhaled sharply, forcing herself to stay calm.

Khushi (firm but gentle): “De do na use Aashi. Akshu didi ko fever hai. Unko rest chahiye… Aap log upar aaye hi kyun? Neeche khelne ko kaha tha na ma’am ne?”

Vanu’s anger melted immediately.

Vanu: “Sorry Akshu didi… hum disturb nahi karna chahte the.Par yeh Aashi mujhe pareshaan kar rahi thi.”

Akshu glared at Vanu, muttering under her breath.

Akshu (murmuring): “Saara kiya-dhara iska hi hai…Ma’am ko jaa ke bataya nahi hota na, toh mera laptop abhi mere paas hota. Vanshu se kam nahi hai yeh… chhoti Vanshu.”

Khushi heard it but chose not to react.

Before she could say anything—

Kiku, who had lost interest in the argument, spotted Khushi’s phone lying on the study table and picked it up.

Kiku: “Khushi didi… main aapka phone dekh loon?”

Khushi turned instantly.

Khushi: “Kiku.. Mumma ne zyada phone dekhne se mana kiya hai na?Toh phir phone kyun uthaya?”

Kiku pouted.

Kiku: “Didi please… bas thodi der ke liye…Main mumma ke aane se pehle rakh dungi, promise… Mujhe dekhna hai… main bore ho rahi hoon.”

Khushi shook her head.

Khushi: “Bore ho rahe ho toh Aashi aur Vanu ke saath khelo… Drawing kar lo. Par phone nahi milega.”

Kiku folded her arms stubbornly.

Kiku: “Wo dono fight kar rahe hain… khel nahi rahe… Aur mujhe abhi drawing nahi karni.. Please dekhne do na…”

Khushi finally sighed, completely fed up.

Khushi: “Achha, theek hai.. Dekh lo. Par sirf cartoons.. Cartoons chhod ke kuch aur lagaya na—

She narrowed her eyes.

Bathroom mai band kar dungi, aur mumma bhi nahi bachayengi.” Clear?”

Kiku’s face lit up.

Kiku: “Yayyy! Clear! Sirf cartoon! Doraemon laga do na!”

Khushi nodded briefly, already exhausted.

Behind her, Akshu exhaled sharply, irritation fighting with exhaustion.

Akshu: “Khushi yaar… le jao inko yahan se… Abhi please— She pressed her temples again.

Mera sar phat raha hai.

Khushi’s guilt doubled.

She moved closer, gently pulling the blanket back over Akshu.

Khushi: “Akshu please… wapas let jao.Thodi neend aa jaayegi toh bukhaar bhi kam lagega.”

Akshu shook her head stubbornly.

Akshu: “Ab nahi aayegi.Neend udd chuki hai.”

Khushi swallowed hard.

Khushi: “Please… ek baar try toh karo.”

She turned back towards the kids, her voice dropping into a strict whisper.

Khushi: “Aashi. Vanu. Kiku. Bahar chalo teeno. Abhi.”

Aashi opened her mouth to protest—

One look at Khushi’s face stopped her cold.

They obeyed reluctantly, gathering their things.

As Vanu stepped out, she muttered under her breath—

Vanu: “Aashi ki wajah se mujhe bhi daant pad jaati hai… chodungi nahi isse main.”

The door closed behind them.

Finally.

Silence returned.

But the damage was already done.

Akshu lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling.

Akshu (tired, bitter): “Great.Ab poora headache bonus mein mil gaya.”

Khushi sat beside her, heaviness settling in her chest.

Khushi: “Main hoon na…Bas aankh band kar lo.”

Akshu didn’t reply.

But she didn’t push her away either.

Khushi gently placed the cold cloth back on Akshu’s forehead, smoothing her hair back with careful fingers.

Khushi (soft, almost pleading): “Please Akshu… thoda sa rest kar lo.Ma’am aa jaayengi toh aur daant padegi.”

Akshu huffed weakly.

Akshu: “Haan toh daantne do. Mujhe ab nahi sona. Mera laptop do yaar… please… ma’am ke kamre se.” Us Vanshu ki wajah se wo bhi le liya ma’am ne.”

She glanced around the room.

Akshu: “Waise… wo hai kahan?So gayi kya wapas?”

Khushi’s heart skipped.

Abhi batana theek nahi hai,

she thought.

Aise hi chidchidi hai… ab bata diya toh baat aur bigad jaayegi.

She forced her voice to stay steady.

Khushi: “Nahi… Vanshu bahar gayi hai.Thodi der mein aa jaayegi.Tum aaram karo. Baccho ko main dekh lungi.”

She straightened, tone firm now.

Khushi: “Aur laptop—bilkul nahi laane wali...Ma’am mujhe chhodengi nahi… Aur Vanshu bhi toh chup-chaap rest karo.”

Akshu stared at her for a second, then turned her face to the side.

Akshu (grumbling): “Tum dono milke mere dushman ban gaye ho…”

Khushi didn’t smile and left the room giving her final warning to sleep.

DOWNSTAIRS – LIVING ROOM / KITCHEN

Khushi went downstairs toward the living room, still mentally juggling a hundred things at once—Akshu’s fever, Vanshu’s words, the kids, Bela not at home.

And then she saw it.

The kitchen.

Or rather—

The disaster zone that used to be the kitchen.

Vanu and Aashi were inside, standing on tiptoes near the counter, desperately trying to grab packets of chips, chocolate bars, snacks and bowls. Popcorn kernels, and chips were scattered everywhere—on the slab, on the floor, even near the sink. One packet lay torn open, half its contents spilled like tiny landmines.

A bowl was tilted dangerously almost on the verge of falling and breaking. Salt and masala tins were open. The gas knob thankfully untouched till now.

Khushi froze.

For one horrifying second—

Her brain stopped working.

Khushi (shocked, loud): “VANU—! AASHI—!”

Both girls jumped.

Aashi turned around guiltily, popcorn stuck to her palm.

Aashi (quick explanation): “Khushi didi, hum popcorn le rahe the…”

Vanu nodded enthusiastically.

Vanu: “Haan didi, TV ke saath popcorn achha lagta hai na… isliye lene aaye the.”

Khushi’s shock turned into instant panic.

Images flashed in her head— Morning’s kitchen lecture. Bela’s strict warning.

Her voice sharpened.

Khushi (angry, firm): “Pagal ho gaye ho tum dono?! Kitchen mein aane se mana kiya tha na?! Mumma ne subah kya bola tha—yaad hai ya nahi?!”

Aashi shrank back slightly.

Aashi (small voice): “Hum sirf popcorn—”

Khushi didn’t let her finish.

Khushi: “Bas! Abhi ke abhi yahan se bahar jao. Dono.”

She pointed toward the living room.

Khushi: “Chalo, bhaago yahan se. Abhi.”

Vanu tried once more.

Vanu: “Par didi, humne gas nahi jalaya—”

Khushi (cutting her off): “Mujhe ek shabd bhi nahi sunna. Gas jalta hi ya nhi.. Ek minute aur yahan khade rahe na—

She lowered her voice dangerously.

—toh mumma ko call kar dungi.”

That did it.

Both girls froze.

Then ran.

Barefoot. Popcorn still clutched in Aashi’s hand.

Khushi stood there for a moment longer, chest rising and falling, anger mixing with fear.

Her gaze swept over the mess.

The spilled popcorn and chips. The open drawers. The disturbed shelves.

And suddenly—

Morning flashed in her mind.

Bela’s strict voice in the kitchen. The warning. The anger. The rules.

Her shoulders slumped.

Khushi (muttering to herself): “Aaj poora din hi test lene pe tula hua hai…”

She rolled up her sleeves.

No choice.

She bent down and started picking up the popcorn kernels one by one, dumping them back into the container. She wiped the slab, closed the drawers, turned off everything that shouldn’t have been touched.

Her movements were quick. Mechanical.

But her mind wasn’t calm.

Khushi (to herself, bitter sigh): “Snacks dekh ke hi dimag kaam karna band kar dete hain yeh log ka… abhi Ma’am ne dekha hota toh bhagwaan jaane kya hota.”

She grabbed the broom, sweeping the floor carefully.

As she cleaned, she realised how empty it felt.

No Bela. No Vanshu. Akshu sick upstairs.

And her—

Trying to hold the house together in Bela’s absence with sheer willpower.

She straightened slowly, looking around the now-clean kitchen.

Quiet again.

Safe again.

Khushi exhaled, rubbing her forehead.

Khushi (softly): “Bas… thodi der aur sambhalna hai.”

She turned off the kitchen lights and stepped back into the living room—

Already bracing herself for whatever chaos came next.

She stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on the towel. The living room lights were dim, TV volume deliberately kept low—cartoons playing in the background.

For a second, it felt… calm.

Too calm.

Her eyes immediately searched the room.

Vanu and Aashi were sprawled on the carpet in front of the TV. Aashi sat cross-legged, popcorn bowl in her lap—somehow procured from where, Khushi didn’t even want to ask anymore. Vanu lay on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, eyes glued to the screen.

Kiku sat on the sofa, legs dangling, clutching Khushi’s phone like it was a treasure.

Khushi stopped mid-step.

Her eyebrow twitched.

Khushi (calling out): “Kikuuuu.”

Kiku flinched, looking up.

Kiku: “Haan didi?”

Khushi walked over slowly, arms crossed.

Khushi: “Phone ka kya rule tha?”

Kiku blinked innocently.

Kiku: “Sirf cartoon…”

Khushi sighed.

Khushi: “Sirf cartoon thodi der ke liye bola tha. Tum abhi tak pakde baithi ho.”

Kiku lowered her gaze.

Kiku: “Bas yeh episode khatam ho jaaye…”

Khushi leaned closer, voice dropping.

Khushi: “Episode khatam hone ke baad phone mere haath mein hona chahiye. Samjhi?”

Kiku nodded immediately.

Kiku: “Ji.”

Satisfied—for now—Khushi turned toward the other two.

Her eyes landed on the popcorn bowl.

Half-empty. Butter smears on the rim.

Khushi closed her eyes for a second.

Khushi: “Yeh popcorn kaha se aaya?”

Aashi immediately hugged the bowl protectively.

Aashi: “Didi humne gas nahi jalaya!” “kuch bhi nahi!”

Vanu nodded vigorously.

Vanu: “Haan haan, Shanti Didi ne subah banaya tha, bas table pe rakha tha!”

Khushi stared at them.

Long.

Hard.

Then—

Khushi (slow, warning tone): “Agli baar… kitchen ke paas bhi gaye na— She raised one finger.

—toh seedha mumma se baat karwaungi. No discussion.

Both girls gulped.

Together: “Okay…”

Khushi softened just a little.

Khushi: “Ab shanti se baith ke dekho. Awaz bilkul kam. Akshu didi so rahi hai.”

Aashi lowered the volume with exaggerated care.

Aashi: “Bilkul low…”

Khushi nodded.

She sank onto the armchair near the staircase, positioning herself so she could see both the living room and the stairs at the same time.

Guard mode: ON.

For a few minutes, only cartoon music and munching sounds filled the room.

Khushi’s eyes drifted upstairs again.

Akshu.

She imagined her tossing under the blanket, fevered and stubborn even in sleep.

Her chest tightened.

Khushi (thinking): Vanshu hoti toh… She stopped herself.

No.

Not now.

She pressed her palms together, breathing slowly.

Just then—

A loud thud echoed from upstairs.

Khushi’s head snapped up instantly.

Heart racing.

Khushi: “—Akshu?”

She was on her feet in a second.

Vanu noticed.

Vanu: “Didi kya hua?”

Khushi forced calm into her voice.

Khushi: “Kuch nahi. Tum log yahin baitho. Hilna bhi mat.”

She rushed toward the stairs, taking them two at a time—

Every step echoing the same thought in her head:

Please… please ab iski tabiyat thik ho bas…

And without waiting—

She pushed open Akshu’s door again.

OUTSIDE – STREET NEAR SEHGAL HOUSE | EVENING

Vanshu walked slowly now.

The sharp edge of her anger had finally dulled, replaced by a heavy, tired calm. Her steps were quieter, her breathing steadier. The fight kept replaying in her head—but not loudly anymore. Like a distant echo she was trying not to listen to.

She rubbed her arms against the cold and was about to cross the road when—

A soft sound stopped her.

A whimper.

Barely audible.

Vanshu halted mid-step.

Her eyes scanned the pavement instinctively.

And then she saw him.

Curled up near the corner of the footpath, half-hidden behind a broken slab, was a small puppy—brown and white, mud-stained fur, eyes glossy with pain. One of his hind legs was clutched awkwardly close to his body.

Blood.

Fresh. Dark. Still seeping.

The puppy whimpered again, trying to shift, then cried out softly and froze.

Vanshu’s heart dropped straight into her stomach.

“Oh no… hey… hey baby…” she whispered, already crouching down.

The puppy looked up at her.

Big eyes. Scared. Trusting despite the pain.

That did it.

Vanshu didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

She rushed to him, kneeling carefully beside the pavement.

Vanshu (soft, urgent): “Shh… shh… it’s okay… main hoon na…”

She checked the leg gently—her fingers barely touching. The puppy flinched immediately, letting out a sharp cry.

Vanshu sucked in a breath.

“Shitt… kaafi bura laga hai…”

The wound was open. Bleeding. Probably hit by a bike or car.

Her chest tightened.

I can’t just leave him.

She looked around frantically.

Streetlights. Closed shops. A few people walking past, some glancing briefly, most not stopping.

Her first instinct—

Phone.

She reached into her jacket pocket.

Nothing.

Her hand froze.

Right.

She had walked out without it.

“Great, Vanshu… just great,” she muttered under her breath.

She looked back at the puppy, who was now shivering slightly, breathing unevenly.

“No… nahi. Phone ke bina bhi kuch na kuch karna padega.”

She slipped one arm carefully under the puppy’s chest, the other supporting his injured leg as gently as she could.

The puppy yelped softly, then stilled—trembling, but not resisting.

Vanshu held him closer instinctively.

“I know… I know… dard ho raha hai… Bas thoda sa aur, okay?”

She stood up slowly, adjusting her grip so his weight was supported evenly.

He was light. Too light.

Her throat tightened.

She looked around again, eyes scanning desperately.

“Excuse me!” she called out to a man passing by. “Yahan paas mein koi veterinary clinic hai kya?”

The man glanced at the puppy, then pointed vaguely down the road.

“Shayad… do galli chhod ke left. Wahan ek hospital jaisa kuch hai.”

“Thank you,” Vanshu said quickly, already moving.

A little further, she stopped another woman.

“Aunty, veterinary hospital… idhar paas mein?”

The woman frowned, thinking.

“Haan beta, main bhi dekhi hoon ek. Aage signal ke paas… par thoda door hai.”

Vanshu nodded.

“Koi baat nahi. Thank you.”

She tightened her hold on the puppy and started walking faster, every step careful, measured.

The puppy whimpered again, burying his face weakly into her jacket.

Vanshu swallowed hard.

“Bas thoda sa aur… please…Main tumhe theek karwa dungi, okay?”

Her mind raced.

Akshu. Khushi. The kids. The house.

All of it faded.

Right now, there was only this small, trembling life in her arms.

And she wasn’t about to fail him.

She followed the directions blindly—left turn, narrow lane, another crossing—asking strangers whenever doubt crept in, trusting anyone who pointed her forward.

No thinking. No second-guessing.

Just one goal.

Save him.

As she hurried down the dimly lit street, Vanshu realised something quietly, painfully clear—

No matter how hurt she was… No matter how angry…

She could never walk past pain and pretend she didn’t see it.

Not his.

Not anyone’s.

And clutching the injured puppy closer to her chest, she kept moving—

Heart pounding, arms aching, hope stubbornly alive.

BACK AT HOME–

UPSTAIRS – AKSHU’S ROOM | EVENING

Khushi pushed the door open quietly.

And froze.

Loud music blasted from Akshu’s phone—some high-energy track vibrating through the room. Akshu was sitting cross-legged on the bed, blanket discarded, phone in one hand, furiously tapping the screen with the other.

Gaming.

Fully awake. Fully annoyed. Zero resting.

Khushi’s jaw dropped.

Khushi (in disbelief): “Akshu… tum kya kar rahi ho?!”

Akshu didn’t even look up.

Akshu (irritated): “Game khel rahi hoon. Dikh nahi raha kya?”

Khushi rushed in and lowered the volume in one sharp move.

Khushi: “Bukhaar mein music full volume pe? Aur game?Ma’am ne kya bola tha—REST KARNE KO!”

Akshu finally looked up, eyes flashing.

Akshu: “Mera phone hai.Mera room hai… Meri marzi.”

Khushi took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

Khushi: “Akshu please… drama mat karo.. Sirf thodi der rest kar lo.”

Akshu scoffed.

Akshu: “Rest-rest-rest.Bas yehi rat laga rakhi hai tum sab ne. Mai bilkul theek hoon.. Bukhaar h sirf koi fracture nhi hua h ki bed mai padi rahu bas...”

Before Khushi could react—

She reached out and snatched the phone from Akshu’s hand.

Khushi (firm): “Bas.” “Enough.” “Phone bandh.”

Akshu stared at her like she’d committed a crime.

Akshu (furious): “Khushi!” “Phone do mera!”

Khushi shook her head.

Khushi: “Nahi.” “Jab tak bukhaar hai, phone nahi.”

That was it.

Akshu jumped off the bed.

Akshu (angry, loud): “Tum bhi Vanshu jaise behave kar rahi ho!” “Mujhe control karna band karo!”

She grabbed her hoodie and stormed toward the door.

Akshu: “Mujhe bhookh lagi hai.” “Main neeche jaa rahi hoon.” “TV dekhungi.”

Khushi panicked.

Khushi: “Akshu ruko—!”

Too late.

Akshu was already halfway down the stairs.

---

DOWNSTAIRS – LIVING ROOM

Akshu marched straight to the sofa and grabbed the TV remote.

Akshu: “Main cartoon nahi dekh rahi. Movie lagao.”

That triggered it instantly.

Aashi sprang up like she’d been attacked.

Aashi: “Nahi! Shinchan chal raha tha!” “Remote do!”

Vanu lunged from the other side.

Vanu: “Akshu didi, mumma ne bola hai bachche pehle TV dekhenge!”

Akshu held the remote up high.

Akshu: “Main bimar hoon.” “Main pehle dekhungi.”

Aashi gasped dramatically.

Aashi: “Hum bhi chhote hain!” “Hum bhi important hain!”

Khushi came running in, heart sinking.

Khushi: “Bas bas bas—” “Sab shaant ho jao!”

No one listened.

Vanu grabbed a cushion and tried to distract Akshu.

Vanu: “Remote do na!” “Please!”

Akshu dodged.

Aashi grabbed another cushion.

Aashi: “Attack!”

Before Khushi could stop it—

WHAM.

A cushion hit Akshu’s shoulder.

Akshu: “Arre!”

She retaliated instantly, throwing it back.

Akshu: “Tum dono pagal ho kya?!”

That was the spark.

Within seconds—

Cushions flew. Soft toys were launched. Someone screamed. Someone laughed.

Kiku joined in by throwing a teddy twice her size.

Kiku: “Boom!”

The living room turned into a battlefield.

Khushi stood in the middle, spinning, trying to catch everything at once.

Khushi (shouting): “STOP!” “Sab log ruk jao! Ghar mai failao please.”

No effect.

A toy hit the lamp. A cushion knocked over a bowl. Popcorn scattered again.

Khushi’s patience snapped.

Khushi (at the top of her lungs): “BASSSSS!”

The room froze.

Mid-throw. Mid-laugh. Mid-chaos.

Khushi stood there, breathing hard, eyes blazing—not angry, but overwhelmed.

Khushi: “Enough.” “Ab ek bhi cushion uthaaya na—” She pointed sternly. “—toh maarungi mai sabko pakad ke dimaag kharab kar diya h ekdum.”

Silence.

Akshu looked suddenly tired. Aashi looked guilty. Vanu slowly lowered the cushion.

Khushi closed her eyes for one second.

Just one.

Khushi (exhausted, softer): “Akshu… upar jao.” “Rest karo.”

Akshu opened her mouth to argue—

Then swayed slightly.

Khushi noticed instantly.

Her heart clenched.

Khushi (gentler now): “Please.”

Akshu scoffed, irritation still bubbling under her skin.

Akshu: “Mujhe nahi karna rest, kaha na.” “Ma’am kahan hai waise?”

Khushi hesitated for half a second.

Khushi: “Wo urgent case ke liye bahar gayi hain.” “Tumhe bhookh lag rahi hai na? Ruko, main biscuits ya kuch light sa dekh leti hoon.” “Abhi baith jao please… isse pehle aur zyada tabiyat kharab ho jaaye.”

Akshu shook her head immediately.

Akshu: “Nahi, mujhe biscuits nahi khaane.” “Main kuch online order kar rahi hoon… noodles wagera.” She looked up briefly. “Tumhe kuch khaana hai?”

Khushi’s eyes widened.

Khushi: “Arre pagal ho kya?!” “Abhi fever gaya bhi nahi hai aur bahar ka khana?” “Light snacks se thoda kaam chala lo.” “Ma’am aayengi toh dinner bhi hoga aur dawai bhi.”

Akshu rolled her eyes, already unlocking the phone.

Akshu: “Yaar nahi khaane mujhe wo biscuits.” “Main order kar rahi hoon.”

Before Khushi could stop her, Akshu snatched her phone back and started scrolling, adding items to the cart.

That was all the invitation the kids needed.

Vanu bounced closer instantly.

Vanu (excited): “Akshu didi, mere liye bhi karo na!” “Mujhe ice cream chahiye—thandi thandi!” “Chocolate wali!”

Aashi clapped her hands.

Aashi: “Haan mujhe bhi!” “Oreo wali ice cream!”

Kiku started hopping near Akshu, peeking at the screen with shining eyes.

Kiku: “Mujhe kit-kat wali!” “Aur ek large pizza bhi… hum sab milke khayenge!”

Akshu smirked faintly despite herself.

Akshu: “Okay, done.” “Main noodles khaungi.”

Khushi stared at all of them, disbelief slowly turning into exhaustion.

Khushi: “Akshu please… yeh sab mat karo.” “At least ek jagah baith jao.” “Dekho ghar ki kya haalat ho gayi hai.” “Ma’am already thaki hui hongi.. Yeh sab dekh ke aur gussa ho jayengi.. Sir bhi aate hi honge.”

She gestured helplessly around the living room—

Cushions on the floor, toys scattered, popcorn still hiding in corners.

Khushi: “Itni thand mein khud bhi ice cream kha rahi ho aur bacchon ko bhi khila rahi ho.” “Unki bhi tabiyat kharab ho jaayegi.”

Aashi waved her hand dismissively.

Aashi: “Arre didi, winter mein hi toh ice cream khaane ka mazaa aata hai!” “Aap bohot boring ho.” (turning to Akshu) “Akshu didi, aap karo order.” “Hum sab saath mein khayenge.” “Akshu didi best!”

Akshu shot her a sharp look.

Akshu: “Achha?” “Abhi toh pillow mere upar fek rahi thi.” “Ab main best ho gayi?”

Aashi went quiet.

Vanu jumped in quickly.

Vanu: “Arre didi, wo toh hum masti kar rahe the na…”

Khushi watched the scene unfold—

The arguing, the excitement, the mess—

And suddenly, something inside her just… gave up.

No one was listening.

Not Akshu. Not the kids.

And Vanshu—

She wasn’t even here.

A familiar tightness settled in Khushi’s chest.

Without saying another word, she bent down and started picking up cushions.

One by one.

She stacked them neatly on the sofa, gathered toys into a basket, wiped popcorn off the table with the cloth.

The chaos continued behind her—

Voices overlapping, Akshu still tapping on the screen, kids arguing over flavours.

Khushi stayed quiet.

Cleaning. Restoring order.

Because someone had to.

As she worked, her thoughts drifted unwillingly—

Vanshu kahan hogi abhi tak aayi nhi h…

Theek toh hogi na…

Her hands slowed for a moment.

Then she straightened again, pushing the worry aside like everything else today.

Khushi (to herself, barely audible): “Bas… thoda aur.”

She kept cleaning.

Holding the house together— while silently hoping

That nothing else would fall apart.

VANSHU’S POV – OUTSIDE | NIGHT SETTLING IN

My arms were starting to ache.

Not the dramatic kind of ache—

The slow, burning one that creeps in quietly and then refuses to leave.

The puppy lay curled against my chest, trembling slightly, his small body warm despite the cold air. One hind leg was pressed awkwardly close to his body, blood soaking into my jacket sleeve. Every now and then, he let out a soft whimper—more tired than scared now.

“Bas… bas thoda sa aur,” I murmured, adjusting my grip carefully. “Please… bas ruk jao.”

Streetlights blurred past as I walked faster, guided more by instinct than directions. Left. Right. Another turn. My breathing was uneven, not from exhaustion—but from fear.

What if it’s too late? What if I’m already late?

I shook my head, refusing to let the thought settle.

No. Nahi. Aisa nahi hoga.

I stopped near a tea stall where a few people stood talking.

“Excuse me,” I said quickly, voice tight. “Yahan paas mein koi veterinary hospital hai kya?”

One man looked at the puppy and frowned.

“Haan… aage signal cross karke right. White gate hai. Khula rehta hai raat ko.”

Relief hit me so suddenly my knees almost gave way.

“Thank you,” I said, already moving.

The puppy shifted weakly, his nose pressing into my collarbone. I held him closer without thinking.

“It’s okay… main hoon na.” “I’m not leaving you.”

As I walked, my mind—traitor that it was—drifted back.

Khushi’s face. Her voice breaking. Those words.

My jaw clenched.

Why didn’t she trust us?

The hurt resurfaced, sharp and sudden. I swallowed hard, forcing it down.

Abhi nahi, Vanshu. Abhi nahi.

Right now, this mattered more.

I crossed the signal, almost jogging now despite the pain in my arms. The clinic came into view—a small building, lights on, shutters half-open.

Hope flared.

“Please… please khula ho,” I whispered.

I pushed the gate open with my shoulder and rushed inside.

INSIDE – VETERINARY CLINIC

A middle-aged doctor looked up from behind the counter, surprised.

“Beta? Kya hua?”

I rushed forward, carefully placing the puppy on the examination table.

“Please… yeh injured hai.” “Pair mai chot lagi h bohot.. bleeding hai… bohot dard mein hai.”

The doctor’s expression changed instantly—professional, alert.

He examined the leg gently, pressing around the wound. The puppy whimpered.

“Haan… fracture lag raha hai. Deep cut bhi hai.” He looked at me. “Kaafi der ho gayi lagta hai.”

My heart sank.

“Par… bach jaayega na?” I asked, barely breathing.

The doctor nodded slowly.

“Time pe le aayi ho.” “Treatment lagega. Bandage, injection, X-ray.” “Tum guardian ho?”

I hesitated.

Guardian.

The word felt heavy.

“I—” I swallowed. “Main hoon.”

And in that moment, I meant it with everything I had.

“Okay,” he said. “Baahar baitho. Hum abhi shuru karte hain.”

I stepped back as they took the puppy inside.

The door closed.

Silence.

I sank onto the plastic chair outside, suddenly aware of how cold my hands were. My jacket sleeve was stiff with dried blood. My arms trembled—not from holding him anymore, but from everything catching up at once.

The house. Akshu sick. Khushi alone. The fight. The words I hadn’t let her finish.

Guilt crept in quietly, unwanted.

She’s handling everything alone right now, isn’t she?

I closed my eyes.

“Idiot,” I whispered to myself. “Gussa apni jagah… par ghar—”

I stopped.

No.

One thing at a time.

Right now— This life depended on me.

Minutes passed. Maybe more.

Finally, the doctor stepped out.

“He’s stable.” “Bandage ho gaya hai. Painkiller diya hai.” “Fracture hai—par manageable.” He smiled faintly. “Tumne achha kiya use uthake le aayi.”

Something in my chest loosened.

“Thank you,” I said, voice thick.

“Par,” he added, “isko kuch din care chahiye.” “Warm jagah.” “Rest.” “Dawai time pe.”

I nodded immediately.

“Haan.” “Main dekh lungi.”

The doctor studied me for a second.

“Phone number likh do.”

My heart sank again.

“Wo… mere paas phone nahi hai,” I admitted quietly.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“Kal aa jaana phir. Morning mein.” “Abhi isko yahin rakh lete hain overnight.”

I nodded, relieved.

As I stood up to leave, my eyes went back to the closed door.

“Main kal subah aaungi,” I whispered. “Promise.”

Outside, the night felt colder somehow.

I hugged my jacket closer and started walking back—steps slower now, heavier.

My anger was gone.

Only worry remained.

And as I walked under the dim streetlights, one thought followed me relentlessly—

No matter how hurt I was…

I needed to go back.

Because running away was easy.

Facing everything—

That was the hard part.

INSIDE – BELA’S CAR | NIGHT

Bela drove back home, the case finally closed now, she sighed in relief but it was only for a moment.. With one hand on the steering wheel, the other gripping her phone tightly. Traffic lights flashed past her windshield, but her mind was elsewhere—

Upstairs.

At home.

Akshu’s fever.

The kids.

Khushi and Vanshu handling everything alone.

Her jaw tightened.

She tapped the screen and started a video call, switching it to speaker as she drove.

The call connected.

Instead of Khushi’s face—

A familiar cartoon tune played loudly.

And then—

Kiku’s face popped up on the screen, eyes wide, phone held far too close.

Bela’s heart skipped.

Bela (sharp, strict): “Kiku…?Aap Khushi didi ke phone ke saath kya kar rahe ho?”

Kiku froze.

Cartoon sounds continued faintly in the background.

Bela: “Khushi kahan hai?Aur Vanshu?”

Kiku gulped.

Kiku (thought, panicked):

Agar mumma ko pata chala main phone pe cartoon dekh rahi hoon toh gussa ho jaayengi…

Nahi nahi… mumma ko nahi pata chalna chahiye…

Bela’s tone hardened.

Bela: “Kiku.. Bolo… Dono didi kahan hain?”

Kiku immediately straightened, putting on her most innocent face.

Kiku: “Mumma… Khushi didi na… Wo Aashi, Vanu aur Akshu didi ko chup kara rahi hain. Wo teeno lad rahe the na…”

Bela’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Bela (shocked): “Kya?Lad rahe hain?Akshu uth gayi hai?Maine use sone ko kaha tha na!”

Kiku nodded quickly.

Kiku: “Haan mumma, wo uth gayi.” “Abhi wo teeno khane ke liye fight kar rahe hain.Akshu didi ko bhookh lagi hai na…” “Isliye wo noodles mangwa rahi hain.. Aur tasty thandi-thandi ice cream bhi…”

Bela’s eyes widened.

Bela (angry, incredulous): “Kyaa?!” “Ice cream?!” “Yeh ladki pagal ho gayi hai kya?Bukhaar mai ice cream mangwa rahi h!”

She took a sharp breath.

Bela: “Aur Vanshu kahan hai?”

Kiku hesitated for a second—then spoke.

Kiku: “Wo toh… bahar chali gayi. Khushi didi se gussa ho ke. Aur maine dekha tha Khushi didi na wall ko maar rahi thi.”

Bela slammed the brake slightly at a signal.

Bela: “Kya maar ragi thi matlab.. Aur vanshu kaise bahar chali gayi?” “Aise kaise?” “Wo bhi itni raat mein?Kahan gayi hai?”

Kiku shook her head, genuinely unsure.

Kiku: “Nahi pata mumma…” “Abhi toh sirf Khushi didi hain.” “Wo Aashi aur Vanu ke peeche bhaag rahi hain.” “Aur Akshu didi TV dekh rahi hain.”

She smiled proudly, clearly faking her innocence.

Kiku: “Mai good girl hoon na mumma.” “Mai Khushi didi ki help kar rahi thi.” “Phone aaya toh maine uthaya.”

Bela didn’t smile.

Her face had gone still—dangerously calm.

Bela (thought):

Yeh kya ho raha hai…

Main bahar kya nikli, ghar jang ka maidan ban gaya.

Aur Khushi aur Vanshu ke beech ladai?

Aaj tak aisa kabhi nahi hua…

Aur vanshu bahar chali gayi matlab? Kaha gayi h? Uff yeh bacche pagal karke chodenge mujhe.”

She steadied her voice.

Bela: “Kiku.” “Camera ghumao.” “Mujhe dikhao ghar mein kya chal raha hai.”

Kiku obediently turned the phone to the back camera.

And Bela saw everything.

Akshu sprawled on the sofa, TV volume painfully loud, popcorn in her hand like nothing mattered.

Aashi and Vanu darting across the living room, hiding behind the curtains, shrieking—

Aashi & Vanu (shouting): “Pakdo pakdo!”

Khushi(running behind them): “Aashi.. Vanu ruko.. Bhaago nhi aise.. Maine kaha na sunai nhi de raha kya.”

Cushions flying.

Toys scattered.

Khushi in the middle of it all—running after them, hair dishevelled, voice raised, clearly exhausted.

And Vanshu—

Nowhere.

Not in the frame. Not even a glimpse.

The living room looked like a storm had passed through it.

Bela’s chest tightened painfully.

Bela (low, controlled—dangerous): “Achha.”

Just one word.

But it carried everything.

Anger.

Worry.

Fear.

She pressed the accelerator as the signal turned green.

Bela (to Kiku): “Kiku, phone Khushi ko do.” “Abhi.”

Kiku: “Mumma wo toh Aashi ko pakadne mai busy h.. Aap baad mai baat kar lena.”

Her eyes flicked to the road again, mind racing.

Vanshu bahar hai.

Akshu ki tabiyat thik nhi hai aur TV ke saamne baithi hai.

Khushi akeli sab sambhaal rahi hai.

Her jaw clenched.

Bela (internal):

Aaj ghar pahunchte hi…

Koi bhi nahi bachega.

VANSHU’S POV – OUTSIDE THE VETERINARY CLINIC | NIGHT

I walked a few metres away from the clinic.

Just… walked.

No direction. No destination.

The clinic lights faded behind me, swallowed by the darkness of unfamiliar lanes. The adrenaline that had kept me going—holding the puppy, running on urgency—slowly drained out of my body.

And suddenly—

I stopped.

Really stopped.

My breath hitched.

I looked around.

Street. Dim lights. Closed shops. Strangers’ houses.

Not a single familiar landmark.

My heart skipped.

Wait.

Yeh jagah toh… jaani pehchaani nahi lag rahi.

I turned back instinctively.

The clinic gate was no longer visible.

Just another lane. Another turn.

Panic crept in—slow at first, then sharp.

“Nahi… nahi… nahi,” I muttered, spinning slightly.

Where am I?

I tried to remember the way I had come.

Left… right… signal… galli…

Nothing lined up anymore.

Everything looked the same.

My chest tightened painfully.

Phone.

The reflex hit instantly.

I shoved my hand into my jacket pocket—

Empty.

The reality crashed into me like cold water.

“Mera phone toh Ma’am ke pass h…” my voice came out barely above a whisper.

No phone. No maps. No contacts. No way to call home.

I swallowed hard.

Okay. Calm down, Vanshu. Calm down.

I forced myself to take a breath.

One. Two.

But my body didn’t listen.

My heart started racing. Palms sweaty. Breathing shallow.

Main ghar kaise jaaungi?

I walked a little faster, choosing a random direction.

Then another.

Then stopped again.

Still nothing.

A car passed by. Two men laughed loudly near a tea stall. Someone shut a gate.

The city moved on—

And I stood there, completely lost.

Alone.

A horrible thought hit me all at once.

Khushi. Akshu. Ma’am.

Ghar pe sab kaise hoga? Akshu bimar hai. Khushi akeli sambhaal rahi hogi. Aur main… pata nhi kha aa gayi hoon.. Yeh toh school ke aas pass ka bhi area nhi lagta.. Ek toh andhere mai kuch samajh bhi nhi aa raha.. Kisse puchu?

I clenched my fists.

“Great, Vanshu,” I muttered bitterly. “Ek kaam toh dhang se ho nahi sakta.”

My throat burned.

I looked up at the dark sky, blinking fast.

Nahi rona. Abhi nahi.

I turned to a random passerby.

“Excuse me,” I asked hurriedly. “Sehgal Mansion… yahan se kaise jaa sakte hain?”

The man frowned, shook his head.

“Naam nahi suna.”

My chest sank.

Another person.

“Aunty… yahan paas mein kahi Sehgal Mansion h aapne dekha h?”

She looked confused.

“Nahi beta… kaafi door hoga.. Mujhe nhi pata.”

Door.

Kitna door?

Which direction?

My breathing grew uneven again.

I hugged my jacket tighter around myself, suddenly very aware of the cold—and the vulnerability.

Itni raat ho rahi hai… Aur main yahan…

A wave of panic finally broke through.

What if I don’t find my way back? What if something happens? What if—

No. Stop.

I pressed my palms to my face for a second.

Think.

Police station. Hospital. Kuch toh hoga jahan help mile.

I looked around again—really looked this time.

At the end of the road, faintly visible—

A board.

POLICE AID POST.

My heart jumped.

Haan. Haan.

I didn’t waste another second.

I started walking towards it—almost jogging now, fear pushing me forward.

As I moved, one thought kept looping in my head, louder than all the rest—

Bas ghar pahunchna hai.

Bas wapas pahunchna hai.

And for the first time since I had walked out—

I realised something painfully clear.

Leaving had been easy.

INSIDE – SEHGAL HOUSE | LIVING ROOM

The doorbell rang.

Once.

Then again.

Food delivery.

That single sound shifted the entire mood of the house.

Aashi jumped off the sofa first.

Aashi (excited): “Aa gayaa! Khana aa gaya! Yaayyy!!”

Vanu ran behind her.

Vanu: “Pizza hoga na?Mera ice cream bhi!”

Kiku clapped her hands, hopping in place.

Kiku: “Yayy! Bhookh lagi thi mujhe!”

Akshu had already settled herself on the sofa, blanket half-draped around her shoulders, phone in hand.

Akshu (calling out lazily): “Khushi, jaldi lo na… bhookh se jaan ja rahi hai.”

Khushi didn’t respond immediately.

She stood near the window, arms crossed tightly around herself, eyes fixed outside.

Vanshu abhi tak nahi aayi.

Her chest felt tight.

Kitni der ho gayi hai…

Another bell ring snapped her back.

She moved mechanically, opened the door, paid the delivery boy, and brought the bags inside.

The smell of hot noodles and pizza instantly filled the living room.

The kids cheered.

Within minutes—

Warm food boxes were opened. Steam rose into the air. Pizza slices were grabbed. Noodles were twirled eagerly.

Aashi, Vanu, Kiku—and Akshu—all gathered around the centre table like nothing else mattered.

Aashi (mouth already full): “Wowww! Mazaa aa gaya!”

Vanu: “Maine bola tha na online order best hota hai!”

Kiku: “Pizza bada wala hai! Sab milke khayenge!”

Akshu picked up her fork, clearly more interested in the food than her own condition.

Akshu: “Dekha, Khushi? Biscuit se better hai na?”

Khushi sat down on the edge of the armchair.

Didn’t take a plate.

Didn’t move.

Her eyes kept drifting to the main door.

Vanshu kahan ho yaar…

Inside her head, the chaos was louder than the one that had just ended.

Why did I say it like that?

Why couldn’t I stop myself?

Usse aise bolne ki kya zaroorat thi?

She clenched her fists in her lap.

Agar usse kuch ho gaya toh?

No.

Don’t think like that.

She closed her eyes briefly, pressing her palms together.

Bhagwaan ji… bas theek se ghar wapas aa jaaye.

Kuch bhi ho… bas safe ho.

Across the table, Akshu noticed her stillness.

Akshu (mouth full, frowning): “Tum kha kyun nahi rahi ho?”

Khushi forced a small smile.

Khushi: “Abhi mann nahi hai.. Tum log kha lo.”

Aashi leaned closer.

Aashi: “Didi aap bhi lo na! Pizza garam hai!”

Khushi nodded absent-mindedly.

Khushi: “Haan haan… thodi der mein.”

But her eyes were still on the door.

Still waiting.

Still counting seconds.

Outside—

INSIDE – BELA’S CAR | SAME TIME

Bela drove faster now.

The city lights blurred as anger simmered under her calm exterior.

Akshu awake. TV on. Ice cream. Chaos. Vanshu gone. Khushi overwhelmed.

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Bela (to herself, furious): “Ek bhi baat nahi maani kisi ne…Ek bhi.”

Her phone lay on the seat beside her, the call still echoing in her mind.

Vanshu didi bahar chali gayi… gusse mein…

That line refused to leave her head.

Bela’s jaw clenched hard.

“Ghar pahunchte hi…” she muttered, “Sabki class lagne wali hai.”

She pressed the accelerator.

Back at home—

The kids laughed, food disappearing quickly. Akshu ate despite the fever. The living room felt full—

Yet one space remained painfully empty.

And Khushi felt it in every breath.

Waiting. Praying. Blaming herself.

Akshu noticed it this time.

Really noticed it.

She paused mid-bite, fork hovering in the air, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at Khushi.

Akshu: “Tum itni shaant kyun ho?”

Khushi blinked, pulled out of her spiral.

Khushi: “Huh?” “Kuch nahi…”

Akshu didn’t buy it.

She leaned back against the sofa, studying her.

Akshu: “Jab tum ‘kuch nahi’ bolti ho na…” “Tabhi sabse zyada kuch hota hai.. Ab bataogi kya hua h.”

Khushi forced a small smile. Didn’t reply.

Akshu’s gaze drifted instinctively towards the main door.

Then back to Khushi.

Akshu (carefully): “Tum Vanshu ke liye tension le rahi ho na?”

Khushi’s fingers curled tighter around the edge of the armchair.

Akshu continued, tone softer than before.

Akshu: “Wo aa jaayegi, yaar… thoda walk kar rahi hogi.. Vanshu hai… kahin gayab hone waali nahi hai.”

Khushi nodded faintly.

Khushi: “Haan… pata hai…”

But only she knew—

That this wasn’t just worry.

It was guilt.

Her own words replayed again, sharp and unforgiving.

“Dar lag raha h ki mai tum dono ke liye priority nhi rahungi.”

Khushi swallowed hard.

Aashi, completely unaware of the emotional undercurrents, shoved a pizza slice toward her mouth.

Aashi (excited): “Khushi didi khaoooo!” “Itna tasty hai!”

Vanu joined in instantly, holding a forkful of noodles dangerously close.

Vanu: “Haan didi, ek bite toh banta hai!” “Sirf ek!”

Kiku climbed onto the sofa, balancing carefully.

Kiku: “Mumma ke aane se pehle kha lo!” “Nahi toh daant padegi!”

Khushi tried to laugh it off.

Khushi: “Arre bas bas—” “Main kha lungi baad mai abhi bhookh nhi h—”

Too late.

Aashi pushed the slice closer.

Vanu leaned in. Kiku giggled.

Khushi (half-laughing, half-protesting): “Pagal ho kya tum log—Ruko—”

And just then—

CLICK.

The front door opened.

Cold air rushed in.

The laughter died instantly.

Bela stood at the entrance.

Uniform jacket still on. Hair tied tight. Eyes sharp.

Anger practically radiated off her.

The scene in front of her froze time.

Pizza boxes open. Noodles on the table. Ice cream tubs melting. TV on. Volume high.

Akshu on the sofa—wide awake. Aashi, Vanu, Kiku crowded around Khushi. Khushi mid-protest, pizza slice inches from her face.

Silence crashed into the room.

Bela didn’t shout.

Didn’t move.

She just looked.

Slowly. Carefully. Taking everything in.

Her gaze stopped on Akshu.

Then the food.

Then the TV.

Then Khushi.

Then—almost imperceptibly— the empty space where Vanshu should have been.

Bela (low, dangerous calm): “…Interesting.”

No one breathed.

Aashi slowly lowered the pizza slice.

Vanu froze mid-giggle.

Kiku slid off the sofa quietly.

Akshu straightened slightly, suddenly aware of the trouble they were in.

Khushi’s heart dropped to her stomach.

Bela closed the door behind her with a soft thud.

That sound felt louder than any shout.

Bela took one step forward.

Then another.

Bela: “Main sirf do ghante ke liye gayi thi.”

Her eyes never left Akshu.

Bela: “Do ghante.”

She looked around again.

Bela: “Aur ghar ka yeh haal hai?”

No one spoke.

Khushi’s throat tightened. Guilt, fear, worry—everything collided at once.

Bela’s voice sharpened just a fraction.

Bela: “Akshika.. Tumhein maine kya bola tha?”

Akshu opened her mouth—

Then closed it.

Because for the first time that night—

There was no argument left.

And standing there in the middle of the wreckage— Khushi realised something painfully clear.

Vanshu ka na hona sirf ek absence nahi tha.

It was about to turn into

the biggest question of the night.

Akshu shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.

Akshu (low, defensive): “Ma’am… main bas—”

Bela lifted her hand.

Just slightly.

Akshu stopped mid-sentence.

Bela (calm, ice-cold): “Bas kya?”

Her gaze dropped pointedly to the pizza box. Then the noodles. Then the melting ice cream.

Bela: “Bukhaar mein noodles.” “Ice cream.” “TV full volume.” “Rest ka matlab yahi hota hai tumhare liye?”

Akshu swallowed.

For once— No comeback came to her mind.

Aashi tried to lighten the mood, sensing danger.

Aashi (tiny voice): “Mumma… humne bas thoda sa khaya…”

Bela’s eyes snapped to her.

Not angry.

Just sharp.

Aashi instantly shut up and hid half behind Vanu.

Bela took a slow breath, controlling herself.

Then—

Bela: “Vanshu kahan hai?”

The question landed like a stone.

Khushi’s breath hitched.

Akshu looked around instinctively—then frowned.

Akshu: “Wo… Shayad walk pe gayi h mujhe nhi pata ma’am—”

Bela turned to Khushi.

Her eyes narrowed.

Bela: “Khushi.”

Just her name.

Nothing else.

Khushi straightened immediately.

Khushi (soft, guilty): “Ma’am… Vanshu…” She hesitated. “Wo… bahar chali gayi.”

Bela’s jaw tightened.

Bela: “Bahar.” “Kaise?” “Kab? Aur tumne use roka kyu nhi”

Khushi’s voice trembled despite her effort to stay steady.

Khushi: “Aapse baat karne ke thodi der baad…” “Hum dono ke beech thodi… behas ho gayi thi.” “Wo gusse mein nikal gayi.”

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Bela slowly turned away, pressing her fingers to her forehead.

Bela: “Tum logon ko idea hai na…” “Abhi kya time hai?”

No one answered.

Bela looked back, eyes blazing now.

Bela: “Ek ladki…Raat ko…Akeli bahar chali gayi aise hi aur tumhe hosh hi nhi h.”

Khushi’s face drained of colour.

Bela took a sharp breath, forcing herself to calm down—for the kids.

Bela: “Aashi.” “Vanu.” “Kiku.”

All three straightened instantly.

Bela: “Tum log apne room mein jao.” “Abhi.” “TV band.” “khana baad mein.”

Aashi opened her mouth to protest—

One look from Bela shut it instantly.

They scrambled away silently.

The living room emptied.

Only four remained.

Bela. Khushi. Akshu. And the unanswered fear hanging in the air.

Bela turned back to Khushi.

Her voice was quieter now.

But far more dangerous.

Bela: “Mujhe poori baat batao.” “Ek-ek detail.” “Abhi.”

Khushi’s eyes filled. Her voice broke.

Khushi (voice shaking): “Ma’am… main—” She swallowed. “Maine Vanshu se kuch aisa bol diya…” “Jo mujhe nahi bolna chahiye tha.”

Akshu looked between them, confused.

Akshu: “Kya bola?”

Khushi’s voice cracked.

Khushi: “Wo baat abhi imp nhi h.. Abhi vanshu ko dhundhna important h Ma’am.”

Bela’s patience snapped her voice came louder than intended..

Bela: “Khushi speak up.”

Khushi flinched.. She barely managed the words.

Khushi: “Wo maine kaha ki..Ki mujhe darr lagta hai…Ki ek din wo log busy ho jaayenge…Aur mujhe chhod denge.”

Akshu froze.

Akshu: “…What?”

Bela closed her eyes briefly.

Understanding dawned.

Bela: “Toh Vanshu ko laga…” “Tumne uspe aur Akshu pe shaq kiya.”

Khushi nodded, tears slipping free now.

Khushi: “Mera matlab wo nahi tha…” “Par bolte waqt—” “Sab galat ho gaya.”

Akshu let out a slow breath, guilt and realisation crashing together.

Akshu (low): “Isliye wo chali gayi…”

Bela straightened.

Decision replacing anger.

Bela: “Ab rona baad mein.” “Pehle Vanshu ko dhundhna imp h.”

She grabbed her phone.

Bela: “Main thana call kar rahi hoon.” “Nearby patrols, hospitals, clinics—sab check honge.”

Khushi panicked.

Khushi: “Ma’am please—” “Police case—”

Bela cut her off sharply.

Bela: “Yeh police case nahi hai.” “Yeh responsibility hai.”

She paused, then looked at Khushi—really looked.

Bela (firm but not cruel): “Galti ho jaati hai.” “Par usse sudharna bhi humari zimmedari hoti hai.”

Khushi’s words hung in the air—fragile, broken.

The room was still processing them when—

The main door opened again this time.

Mahir stepped inside, exhaustion written all over his face. A long day. Meetings. Traffic. Noise.

He stopped mid-step.

Something was wrong.

Bela stood in the centre of the living room, rigid, phone in hand, anger barely contained.

Khushi stood frozen near the sofa, eyes red, shoulders tense.

Akshu sat quietly, pale, wrapped in a blanket—far too quiet for someone usually bursting with arguments.

And the house—

Silent in a way it never was.

Mahir frowned.

Mahir: “Bela… kya hua? Sab thik toh h?”

Before Khushi or Akshu could even open their mouths—

Bela turned sharply.

Bela (fast, firm, no room for questions): “Mahir ji, main explain nahi kar sakti abhi.” “Bacche upar hain— aap unke saath rahiye.. Hum log abhi aa rahe hain.”

Mahir blinked.

Mahir: “Hum… kaun? Kaha Jaa the ho itni raat ko achanak se?”

But Bela was already moving.

Bela: “Bas meri baat maaniye. Bacchon ko sambhaliye… Humlog aa jayenge thode der mai.”

Something in her tone told him this wasn’t the moment to argue.

Mahir nodded immediately.

Mahir: “Okay.” “Tum sambhal lo… main yahan hoon. Tension mat lena aur apna dhyaan rakhna.”

Bela didn’t wait another second.

She turned back to Akshu.

Bela (commanding): “Aur tum.” “Bukhaar ho ya nahi—” “Jacket pehno.” “Tum bhi chalogi.”

Akshu blinked, startled.

Akshu: “Main?”

Bela: “Haan.. Is waqt tumhara hona zaroori hai.”

There was no protest this time.

No sarcasm.

Akshu nodded silently and stood up, slightly unsteady. Khushi moved instinctively to support her, slipping Akshu’s jacket around her shoulders.

Bela grabbed the car keys.

Then she looked at Khushi.

For the first time since she’d entered the house, her voice softened—just a little.

Bela: “Khushi—Tum bhi aa rahi ho.”

Khushi looked up, startled.

Khushi: “Main…?”

Bela: “Haan.” “Kyuki jab Vanshu milegi—” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Usse sabse pehle tumse baat karni hogi.”

Khushi’s throat tightened painfully.

She nodded.

No excuses. No hesitation.

Determined.

Scared.

Guilty.

Bela moved toward the door, already in control again.

Bela: “Chalo.. Ek minute bhi waste nahi kar sakte.”

They stepped out together.

The front door closed behind them.

Inside—

The TV screen stayed dark.

The food lay untouched.

The laughter from earlier felt like it belonged to another lifetime.

Mahir stood alone in the living room now, the weight of responsibility settling on him as he glanced upstairs toward the kids’ rooms.

And somewhere out there—

Vanshu was alone.

And now—

Everyone knew it.

- - -

To be continued..