Khushi and Aarav sat quietly on the wooden bench tucked beneath an old gulmohar tree. The evening breeze whispered through the leaves, scattering the fallen petals at their feet. Neither spoke for a while. It was the kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward—it just lingered, like a moment waiting to settle into memory.
Then Khushi finally broke it.
“You know, Aarav,” she said softly, her eyes not meeting his, “do you know why I’m telling you all this?”
Aarav turned to her, puzzled. “No… why?”
She exhaled slowly, looking up at the darkening sky. “Because I’ve seen Ishika change since she met you.”
That caught him off guard.
“She’s… changed?” he asked, not quite sure how to process it.
Khushi nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. She’s not the same Ishika I knew a year ago. She’s become stronger. She’s not hiding behind silence anymore. She laughs more, smiles at the tiniest things. She seems lighter… like she’s finally learning to breathe.”
Aarav didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Her words clung to his thoughts like soft vines, wrapping around emotions he hadn’t been brave enough to admit.
“And whenever she’s around you,” Khushi continued, her voice now gentle, “she just… glows. You make her happy.”
For a second, he forgot how to breathe.
Khushi looked at him out of the corner of her eye, then spoke with a playful smirk, “You like her, don’t you?”
His heart skipped.
The question landed heavier than it sounded. And yet, her voice was calm, like she already knew the answer.
“W-What? Why would you think that?” he asked, attempting to mask the flush that was creeping up his neck.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she teased.
“Obvious? How?”
Khushi turned to face him fully now. “All of us have seen Ishika’s strange behavior—leaving school in a rush, spacing out sometimes, looking distracted. But none of us thought twice about it. We just accepted it. Only you noticed something was wrong. You pushed me for answers. You saw what others missed.”
Aarav lowered his gaze.
“And you notice everything about her,” she said with a soft laugh. “That’s how I knew.”
He scratched the back of his head, unsure of what to say. Maybe he was that transparent.
“Wait a second…” she leaned in slightly, narrowing her eyes. “Are you blushing?”
“What? No!” he said too quickly.
“Oh my god, you are!” she grinned.
“No, I’m not!”
Khushi laughed, standing up and stretching her arms. “Okay, okay, Mr. Cool. It’s late. Almost ten. Let’s head home before your secret crush leaks out any further.”
He chuckled, still flustered, and stood up beside her. “Yeah… I’ll walk you home.”
The two of them walked side by side under the faint glow of streetlights. When they reached Khushi’s house, she waved him goodbye with a knowing smile.
But that night, Aarav didn’t sleep.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Khushi’s words echoing in his mind.
Ishika had been suffering in silence. Living under restrictions. Desperately wanting to breathe but being held back by invisible chains tied to her father’s expectations.
And he—he hadn’t even known.
A heavy guilt settled in his chest. She had been smiling around him, yes. But behind that smile was pain he hadn’t noticed soon enough.
Why hadn’t she told him? Did she not trust him? Was he just another classmate to her, another face in the crowd?
But he didn’t want to be that. He wanted to be someone she could trust, someone she could lean on.
And most of all… he wanted her to be free.
He turned to his side, pulling the blanket closer, as a quiet resolve formed within him.
He didn’t just like Ishika. He wanted to protect her. From her loneliness. From the pressure. From the silence.
He just didn’t know how to begin.
But maybe… tomorrow, he would.
Earlier that evening…
The café was bustling with the usual end-of-day chatter—friends laughing, plates clinking, coffee machines hissing. But amidst all that noise, Ishika’s phone buzzed, pulling her eyes toward the glowing screen.
It was a message from her mother.
[MOM]: Your dad is coming home early today. Hurry and come back soon.
Another message followed right after:
[MOM]: I just found out now.
Ishika’s hands trembled slightly as she stared at the words. Her breath caught. A familiar fear crept in—cold and unwelcome.
Without saying a word to her classmates, she pushed back her chair and stood. No explanations. No goodbyes. Just a quick, nervous glance around before she left. Her legs moved faster than her thoughts. Outside the café, she called for a taxi with shaky fingers.
The ride back home was quiet, but not peaceful. Her heart was pounding, and her mind was spiraling with possibilities.
When the car pulled up in front of her house, she stepped out slowly, clutching the strap of her bag like it could somehow hold her together.
She stood there, just staring at the front door.
A lump had formed in her throat. Her hands were cold. Her pulse thudded in her ears.
It was always like this—the fear of going back.
After a few minutes of frozen hesitation, she finally rang the bell.
The door creaked open. It was their servant who answered. He stepped aside to let her in.
As she entered, the heavy silence of the house hit her like a wall.
Her mother sat on the living room sofa, hunched over, her face buried in her hands. Ishika’s steps were soft, almost soundless, but her voice broke through the stillness.
“Mom?” she called gently.
Her mother’s head jerked up instantly.
“Ishika! Where were you?” she asked, her face filled with a mixture of relief and panic.
“I was with my classmates,” Ishika replied, her voice low.
“You really made me worried,” her mother said, pressing her palm to her forehead like she was trying to ease the ache of the day.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” her mother whispered, rising and pulling her into a tight hug. For a brief moment, the warmth of that embrace made Ishika feel like a child again—safe, if only for a few seconds.
Then the dread returned.
“Where is Dad?” she asked quietly.
“He’s upstairs… in his room,” her mother said, hesitating slightly.
“Is he… angry?”
A pause. Then a nod. “Yes.”
Ishika’s chest tightened.
She sat down on the sofa, her knees weak, her mind spinning. Her mother handed her a glass of water. She drank it slowly, the cold liquid grounding her for a moment.
Then she stood.
“I’ll go talk to him,” she said, more to herself than to anyone else.
Her mother looked alarmed. “No, you shouldn’t go. He’s really angry right now. Go to your room. Rest for a while.”
But Ishika shook her head.
“No. I want to talk to him now.”
“Ishika…” her mother’s voice trembled, pleading.
“Mom, please,” Ishika said, meeting her eyes. “I can’t avoid it forever, can I? I have to face it… sooner or later.”
There was a long silence between them—only the quiet hum of the fan above and the muffled tick of the wall clock filled the space.
Finally, her mother let out a tired sigh. She looked at her daughter, not as a girl, but as someone learning to stand tall, despite the storm inside her.
“Okay,” she said softly.
Ishika nodded once, then turned toward the stairs, her heart pounding louder with each step she took.
Ishika climbed the stairs slowly, each step heavy with hesitation. Her fingers were cold as they reached for the polished wooden door of her father’s room. She paused, took a breath, and knocked gently.
There was a pause. Then a sharp voice echoed from within.
"Sumiti, I don't want to talk right now."
Ishika swallowed the lump in her throat. "Dad, it's me... Ishika."
A silence followed. No response. Heart thudding, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Her father stood by the tall window, his back to her, hands clasped behind him. The curtains danced slightly in the breeze, casting restless shadows across the floor.
She stepped in. “Dad?” she called, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn’t turn around.
“Dad, will you please… look at me?”
Finally, his voice came—cold, clipped, and distant.
“What do you want now? I don’t want to talk to a daughter who doesn’t respect her father.”
“It’s not like that, Dad, I—”
“Oh, and now you’re making excuses?” he snapped, still not facing her. “Where did you learn that? From those classmates of yours?”
“Father, I—”
“Keep quiet!” he roared.
Ishika flinched. Her entire body tensed. She began trembling, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself like she was trying to shrink out of sight.
“I told you to come back before seven, didn’t I?”
“Y-Yes,” she stammered.
“Then where were you?” he thundered. “Do you even know what time it is now?”
“Nine...” she said softly.
“Louder!” he barked.
“Nine… it’s nine.”
“What were you doing? Tell me. Where were you?”
“I was at a café… with my classmates,” she replied, barely able to hold his gaze.
His head turned sharply. Fury darkened his features. “What were you doing there?”
“We… we were celebrating.”
“Celebrating?” he repeated with disbelief. “What’s so special today that deserves a celebration?”
“Our results. We all passed… we were just happy.”
A cruel scoff escaped his lips.
“Have you lost your mind, Ishika? Do you forget who you are? You’re not like them. You’re not meant to mix with people below your level. Hanging out in cheap cafés, doing these… middle-class things. Are you stupid?”
“Dad, please…”
“Shut up!” he snapped again.
Ishika fell silent. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her whole body trembling.
“That’s enough. From now on, you’ll do as I say. No questions. No arguments.”
She looked up slowly, stunned. Her voice came out broken. “What… what do you mean?”
“You’re going back to your previous school. Starting tomorrow.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “But Dad—”
“No more arguments!” he said firmly, turning away again.
A heavy silence settled between them. The weight of his decision crushed every word trying to rise in her throat.
He didn’t look at her again. Instead, he spoke with cold finality. “Are you planning to stand there all night?”
“N-No… I—”
“Then go to your room,” he said.
