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The cold night air hit them like a slap—sharp, bracing, and unforgiving. But it was the good kind. The kind that jolts the soul, that tells you you're still alive, even after the world tries to rip that feeling from your bones.
They didn't speak at first.
They just walked.
Fast. Focused.
Not out of fear—at least not the kind they could name.
But something had shifted.
Something irreversible.
Ishika kept her eyes trained ahead, heart thudding loud enough to muffle the sounds of the city. Her fingers curled around the sleeves of the blazer still draped over her shoulders.
Still warm.
Still his.
She hated that she noticed.
Beside her, Prakriti matched her stride. Her heels barely made a sound, her posture as poised as ever, but her jaw tightened with every step.
It wasn't until they reached a quiet stretch of road, far from the chandeliers, wine glasses, and daggers disguised as words, that Prakriti stopped.
Ishika slowed. Blinked. "Why did you stop di?"
Prakriti turned slightly, her profile bathed in moonlight, sharp and unreadable. "I needed to breathe somewhere that didn't reek of hypocrisy."
Her gaze dropped—to the blazer.
"You shouldn't have worn that," she said, voice soft but pointed.
Ishika hesitated. "I didn't mean to."
A pause.
"I didn't mean to see him."
"Doesn't matter now," Prakriti muttered. "Everyone saw."
The wind curled around them like a whisper of things unsaid.
"He stared at you the entire time," Prakriti added after a beat, her voice unreadable.
"I didn't ask him to."
"I know."
"You shouldn't have walked into his room."
"Didi… you think this is all my fault?"
"No." The answer came without hesitation. "I think this is his fault. And his fucking brother's. Also that Jerk family."
Frustration edged into her tone. She raked a hand through her hair. "We walked into a house full of wolves in designer gowns and manicured threats. Now they've tasted blood."
Ishika looked down at the pavement. "I didn't mean to start anything."
"You didn't," Prakriti said. "They did."
Silence again.
But not the peaceful kind. The heavy kind. The kind that follows when two people realize a chapter has ended and another—more dangerous—has begun.
"I think…" Ishika whispered, "…someone was watching us leave."
Prakriti's eyes snapped to hers. They both knew who.
From the window, she meant.
From above.
Abhishek Agnihotri
He didn't stop them.
He simply watched.
And that made him more dangerous than any of them.
Prakriti took her sister's hand again. This time, not out of defiance—but protection.
"Come on," she whispered. "Before someone decides we're worth chasing."
The shadows swallowed them again.
But this time, it didn't feel like escape.
It felt like the beginning of something darker.
____________________
Back at the Agnihotri Mansion
The party was over, but the tension still roamed the halls like a ghost.
The clinking of cutlery at the dinner table sounded like mockery.
Abhishek Agnihotri sat at the head of the long table, glass of aged scotch untouched beside him.
He finally broke the silence.
"How are your studies going?" he asked, voice low, controlled. The question aimed with deliberate focus at one son in particular.
Ruhaan didn't look up. He kept slicing through his food like the question didn't deserve acknowledgment.
Aditya offered a half-smile, always the buffer. "It's going well. We're both—"
"I wasn't talking to you," Abhishek interrupted coldly. His eyes remained locked on Ruhaan.
A second passed.
Then another.
Ruhaan's knife hit the plate with a harsh clatter. He raised his head slowly, eyes storm-dark.
"Why?" he said. "So you can try to control me the way you controlled my mom?"
The air cracked like lightning.
"That's not how you speak to your father," Aditya snapped, standing halfway, trying to break the rising storm.
But it was too late.
Ruhaan's voice was a razor. "You want fucking answers? Fine. Studies are fine. Life is fine. Your control is intact. Everyone should be happy, right?"
Abhishek's eyes narrowed, fury restrained—but visible. "Control? You're living under my roof, eating my food, carrying my name—"
"Exactly!" Ruhaan yelled, pushing away from the table. "Your roof. Your table. Your name. Nothing ever belongs to me, does it?"
Aditya's voice wavered. "Please, both of you—"
"Stay out of it!" they roared in unison.
Then came the voice that no one needed to hear.
Niharika.
"Did the maids clean all the rooms today?"
A maid peeked from the hallway, voice unsure. "Every room, madam… except Ruhaan sir's. As per his order."
"I told them not to touch it," Ruhaan growled. "And don't act surprised."
"Why the hell would you do that?" Abhishek thundered.
Ruhaan didn't answer.
Because he knew the truth.
He could still feel her in that room.
Her scent. Her laughter. The defiance in her eyes as she dared to make his space her own.
He muttered, "I just did."
And with that, he stormed out, footsteps loud and fast on the marble floor. Aditya followed, calling out to him, but the door to his room slammed shut before he could reach it.
Alone in the hallway, Aditya exhaled, AGAIN!
when their relation will be improved or never?!
TO BE CONTINUED.....