~♡AUTHOR'S POV ♡~
|Manhattan|2:35AM|
The watch buzzed again.
A silent pulse a new message.
“The traitor has been identified. Final order awaits.”
His fingers hovered over the screen, but he didn’t press anything.
Instead, his gaze turned to the single photo on the far end of the desk.
A polaroid old and fraying.
Four kids squinting in sunlight.
One shielding his eyes, one grinning with mischief, one already mid-complaint, and one the girl with the paintbrush smearing color across his cheek.
He picked up the photo gently. Touched the faded edge.
“Time really is a bastard,” he muttered.
◇◇◇
Far away, in Bhopal in her flat.
Avantika sat on her bed, legs tucked under the embroidered quilt.
The phone lay next to her, still warm from the call.
Her fingers brushed over the locked screen, pausing on his name.
No matter how hard he tried to sound composed, she had heard it.
That half-second pause. That silence between his words. That aching gentleness he tried to bury every time she said “Bhai.”
She knew he was hurting.
And she missed the boy who once painted mustaches on everyone’s faces when they slept.
Who once cried silently when he got blamed for the prank he hadn’t done, just to protect the one who had.
She still believed he hadn’t changed.
He had just gotten really, really good at pretending.
|Manhattan| 2:45AM|
Kiyansh set the polaroid down slowly, like something sacred.
The edges were worn soft from years of surviving inside his journal or maybe from fingers that kept returning to the past when the present got too sharp.
But the world didn’t wait for nostalgia.
Not in his world.
The encrypted ping echoed again this time with an embedded key phrase.
TARGET CONFIRMED: THE SERPENT HIDES AMONG THE ROSES. AWAITING CROWN’S WORD.
He exhaled. Long. Slow.
In the reflection of the glass window, he could see his own silhouette tall, still, and unreadable.
But in his own eyes, he could see the fracture. The ghosts.
The boy who once laughed until his stomach hurt, now living in a man who didn't remember what peace felt like.
And still, he was expected to rule. To protect. To avenge.
He reached for his secure tablet, unlocking it with a fingerprint and a coded heartbeat rhythm.
The message appeared in real-time.
“Traitor confirmed. Last chance: keep or cut?”
He tapped the reply box.
His fingers didn’t hesitate but his soul paused.
The traitor.
The one who had been feeding whispers to those who had orchestrated betrayal with his enemies.
He blinked once then typed.
“Mark the roots. And Burn not only the roots but the whole tree ”
A second passed. Then two.
A new reply blinked in:
“Acknowledged.Only ashes will remain. Everything else shall be erased.”
He leaned back again, this time letting the shadows pull over his face like a second skin.
He never said "kill." He never had to. His words were scripture. His silence, law.
Still… the price of command wasn't cheap.
Because deep down, the boy from the palace garden still asked What if they just made a mistake? What if you were wrong? What if you’re turning into what you swore you'd destroy?
He clenched his jaw and silenced the thought.
Too late for doubts.
Too late for mercy.
He walked over to the small wooden box in his closet old, carved with roses and lion motifs.
Inside, tucked beneath was yellow velvet cloth covered, weathered notebook: Her diary.
The one she always wrote in and never showed anyone except him sometimes and he would tease her this habit calling it childish
He opened to the page she'd marked with a sunflower sticker.
“If anything happens to me… just know, I was never afraid. Not when you all were with me. Never when we were together. And if someone ever betrays us don’t hesitate. Promise me, you won’t. And i will always be with you all.”
He closed the book gently, forehead resting against its spine.
“I never do.” He murmured
◇◇◇
|Law School Courtroom |Bhopal|
~♡KAUSHIKI'S POV♡~
When i enter Trial practice room.
Students were already seated in pews, shuffling papers.
A mock judge seated at the bench. The flag of justice looms over all.
Taraksha was already standing, ready to prosecute.
I enters a few seconds late, expression calm but razor-sharp.
Mock Judge was one of the professor who said "Today's mock trial State vs Rajat Sen begins now. Defense, you're late, Ms. Jaiswal. Try not to make it a habit."
I replied murmuring
"Never, sir. Just got caught up in something important."
Taraksha added dryly.
"Let’s see if your arguments today are as creative as your excuses."
There were a few chuckles making me jaw tighten faintly.
This women Can't live without annoying me like take a break women. But if she thinks she can go away with that then she is awaiting a rude awakening.
My voice was measured and calm too calm for comfort.
"Only if your arguments are as solid as your sarcasm, Ms. Singh"
The duel began. Verbal jabs, rising stakes.
Taraksha stood tall, confident, charging with bold language, trying to poke holes in witness testimony.
I, in contrast, waited like a chess master letting her speak, letting her falter, before slipping in one calm rebuttal that caused a pause in the room.
Taraksha snapped.
"Objection my lord. The defense is twisting the facts and arguments with emotional baiting."
I slowly replied with a sarcastic smile.
"Is it a bait if the facts and arguments you stated bites you back Ms. singh?"
The judge raises an eyebrow. Students mutter in excitement because what could be better than watching live entertainment.
The tension was immediate.
We Both women, stood tall, refusing to budge.
Two different storms colliding one a thunderclap, the other a brewing cyclone.
The trial finally nears its close.
Taraksha’s tone is fiery her final argument crisp, strong, and equally dramatic.
"The defense paints a noble picture, but the truth doesn't require poetry it demands clarity. The accused made a choice, and choices come with consequences."
I walks forward slowly. Calm. Eyes trained on the judge.
"Yes, choices have consequences. And so do assumptions. If we punish a person based on assumptions not fact that even the noblest human being would be arrested."
There was a complete Silence in the hall.
Even Taraksha blinked once.
The judge leaned back, impressed.
Because somehow I was sure I won this round.
.
.
.
.
After the trail
The common room buzzed with voices, smells of reheated samosas,patties and chai fighting the unwashed cushions for dominance.
I sat curled on the chair with my thermosteel bottle of adrak chai.
A law book balanced half-shut on my lap, eyebrows furrowed in half-concentration along with earphones tucked into my ears.
The volume not too loud to make me deaf but not too low to let me hear unnecessary conversations around me.
A peaceful silence wrapped around me, only broken by her humming under my breath.
“Naa gilaf, naa lihaf
Thandi hawa bhi khilaf
Sasuriee.....
Naa gilaf, naa lihaf
Thandi hawa bhi khilaf
Sasuriee .....
Ho itani sardi hai
Kisika lihaf lehi leh....
Ho ja padosi ke chuleh se
Aag lehi leh
Ja padosi ke chuleh se
Aag lehi leh...
Beedi chlaile jkgar se piya, jigar ma badi aag hai...”
My voice was soft, almost casual, as i highlighted a key paragraph like it was a flirtation with the Constitution itself.
I was just… existing. Present but invisible.
~♡AUTHOR'S POV ♡~
“So I’m telling you coffee has dignity,” barked a boy from the other batch.
“Dignity? Bro, chai built this nation,” someone yelled back, sending a ripple of laughter through the room.
Kaushiki sipped her chai quietly, the steam curling upward, fogging the rim of her glasses for a second. She longed to slip unnoticed into the crowd sometimes, but her energy refused to let her fade.
That’s when Taraksha Singh strode in, hair pulled into a half-bun, her confidence trailing behind her like a cape.
The room shifted with her entrance people always noticed when Taraksha walked in.
She scanned the space, caught sight of the chai-versus-coffee debates happening in corners.
Then her gaze landed on Kaushiki silent, still, and absorbed in her own world as usual.
The memory of their last mock trial argument still left a bitter aftertaste, and Taraksha wasn’t about to let it slide.
Oh, look who’s ignoring everyone as if they’re not worthy of her time,” Taraksha said, folding her arms with a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe we should hang posters with her face Kaushiki Jaiswal: Mahanta ki Murat.”
A few heads turned. Some chuckled.
Kaushiki didn’t flinch. She lifted her cup again, serene as ever.
“Well, some of us like to mind our own business. You wouldn’t relate. And sure, if you want posters, go ahead. Might even inspire you to work harder.”
The jab landed. Laughter rippled.
Taraksha scoffed and leaned closer, her voice dripping with provocation.
“Oops, did I touch a nerve?” she teased, plopping into the chair opposite her. “Tell me, was it the weather, or are you always this… pleasantly annoying?”
Kaushiki finally set her book aside, earphones still dangling. She looked up, calm, steady unfazed.
“Believe me, darling, you’re nowhere near my nerves. As for my mood? Depends entirely on my surroundings… and the company I keep.”
Her lips curved into a mock-sweet smile before she added,
“And by the way are you always this loud, or do you save it for special occasions and… special people?”
A sharp intake of breath ran through the room.
Before Taraksha could fire back, a boy nearby clutched his chest dramatically and exclaimed,
“Ooooh! Round one begins!
Taraksha leaned in slightly. “I’m just saying… you could try joining conversations instead of sipping in the shadows. You might find people aren’t that scary.”
Kaushiki’s tone remained calm, but her gaze sharpened. “People aren’t scary. They’re exhausting. And I have far better things to do than waste time on meaningless small talk with people faking smiles. No, thank you very much.”
Taraksha paused, blinked, caught off guard for a heartbeat, then laughed.
“Okay, fair. I’ll give you that. But someday, you’re going to have to be more than mysterious eye-rolls and sarcastic replies. You will have to make friends or at least find someone you can talk to or accompany.”
Kaushiki gave a soft snort. “And someday, the pigs will fly and you’ll master volume control. Then, maybe, I’ll consider it.” She punctuated it with a playful thumbs-up.
Taraksha leaned back, stretching. “Touché.”
The moment fizzled back into background noise as the chai-versus-coffee debate flared anew.
Kaushiki opened her book again, a faint, reluctant smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t say it aloud, but… she knew it wasn’t terrible.
◇◇◇
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