The words hung in the air like a blade—sharp, cold, impossible to ignore.

_“Your father called me the night before it happened, Ishika.”_

Her legs felt like they might give way. She gripped the railing tighter, knuckles white, nails digging into her palms.

“Liar,” she whispered. But it didn’t sound convincing even to herself.

Veeransh didn’t move closer. He didn’t need to. His voice alone was enough to hold her in place.

“He said two things that night,” he said slowly, watching her face for every crack. “One… I can’t tell you yet. Not here. Not like this.”

Ishika’s breath hitched.

“And the other?”

Veeransh’s jaw tightened. For a second, the mask slipped. Pain flickered in his eyes—real, raw, the kind he never let anyone see.

“The other was, _‘If I don’t make it out of this, protect her. Even if she hates you for it.’_”

The wind tore through the terrace, whipping her hair across her face. It felt like the world had shifted under her feet.

Her father’s voice echoed in her head, faint but familiar. _Protect her, beta. Promise me._

She’d heard it once, on a call that had gone dead mid-sentence. She’d thought it was fear. She’d never thought it was a message meant for _him_.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re making this up. You always make things up when you want control.”

Veeransh’s eyes darkened.

“Then ask me why I didn’t tell you this on day one. Ask me why I let you hate me. Ask me why I let you throw that mirror at me and still stood there.”

Ishika swallowed hard.

“Why?”

“Because if I’d told you the truth then,” he said quietly, “you’d have run straight into their hands. And I wasn’t about to let that happen. Not again.”

_Not again._

The phrase stuck to her skin like ice.

Her fingers trembled. “What do you mean, _not again_?”

Veeransh’s expression closed off, the wall sliding back into place. He glanced toward the door, listening. Footsteps. Badi Maa was coming.

“This conversation ends here,” he said lowly. “For now.”

Ishika’s chest tightened. “You don’t get to drop a bomb like that and walk away!”

He took one step forward, close enough that she could see the storm in his eyes.

“I’m not walking away, Ishika. I’m giving you time to decide whether you want to hear the truth… or keep living in the lie you’ve built to survive.”

Then he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there with her heart pounding and a name burning in her mind.

_Her father._

Badi Maa reached the terrace a moment later, her face lined with worry. She stopped when she saw Ishika’s face.

“Beti… what happened? Where is Veeransh?”

Ishika didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

All she could hear was the echo of Veeransh’s words, and the one question that wouldn’t leave her alone:

If her father trusted him… why had everything fallen apart anyway?

And more importantly…

Who had her father been afraid of?

---

Badi Maa placed a trembling hand on Ishika’s shoulder.

“Beti… what did he say to you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ishika couldn’t answer. Her throat felt sealed shut, her mind replaying one sentence on loop:

‘If I don’t make it out of this, protect her.’

She pulled away gently, forcing a shaky smile. “Nothing, Badi Maa. I’m just tired. I want to go to my room.”

Badi Maa studied her face for a long moment, then sighed. “Alright. But don’t lock the door tonight. Not again.”

Ishika nodded, but the moment she was out of sight, her legs carried her in the opposite direction—away from her room, away from people, toward the old study on the west wing. The one room in this haveli that still smelled like her father. Old books, sandalwood, and faint traces of his aftershave.

She’d avoided it for years.

Tonight, she couldn’t.

The door creaked open. Dust motes floated in the dim light. Her father’s desk was untouched, just like he’d left it the night before everything fell apart.

Ishika’s fingers brushed over the wood, trembling.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Papa?” she whispered. “Why him?”

She sank into the chair, pulling open the top drawer. Papers, old case files, a faded photo of them at her college graduation. And at the very bottom…

A folded piece of paper.

Her hands shook as she opened it.

It wasn’t a letter. It was a note. One line, written in her father’s hurried handwriting:

“If you’re reading this, it means I couldn’t keep my promise. Go to Veeransh. He knows.”

The paper slipped from her fingers.

Go to Veeransh.

He knows.

Her breath came in short, uneven bursts. All this time, she’d thought he was the enemy. All this time, she’d been fighting the one person her father had trusted with her life.

The door creaked again.

Ishika whipped around, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Veeransh stood in the doorway, his face half-shadowed. He hadn’t knocked. He didn’t need to. He just looked at her, at the paper in her hand, and said quietly:

“So you found it.”

Ishika stood up slowly, the note clenched in her fist.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?

Veeransh stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“Because the moment I said his name, they would’ve known I was talking to you. And if they knew that…”

His voice dropped.

“They would’ve come for you next.”

Ishika’s eyes stung.

“Who, ? Who are ‘they’? And what did my father do to make them want him dead?”

Veeransh stared at her for a long time. Then he walked to the desk, pulled out a drawer she’d never noticed, and placed a small, locked box in front of her.

“This is what your father left me,” he said. “Inside is the truth. About your parents. About me. About why you can’t trust anyone outside this room.”

He pushed it toward her.

“But once you open it, there’s no going back, Ishika. They’ll know you know.”

The room felt too small, too quiet.

Ishika stared at the box. Her hands hovered over it, shaking.

Outside, somewhere in the haveli, a phone rang once. Then stopped.

Veeransh’s eyes flicked to the door.

“They’re watching,” he murmured.

Ishika’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Then why are you still here?”

Veeransh met her gaze, and for the first time, there was no anger in it. Only fear. For her.

“Because I made your father a promise. And I don’t break promises, Ishika.”

He stepped back, giving her space.

“The choice is yours. Open it… or walk away forever.”

Ishika’s fingers trembled as they reached for the lock.

One click.

And the night changed.

---