Inside the room, Sam whispered to Saisha, brushing her hair gently as she sobbed in her lap, "He'll see it one day, Saisha. The truth always comes to the surface."
"I know... I need to sleep." Her voice cracked, soft as a whisper, yet heavy like a storm. There was a strange pain wrapped around those words, not the kind that screams, but the kind that quietly begs to disappear. But sleep wasn't what she needed. She needed an escape from everything.
From Angel. From Aman. From the truth that was clawing inside her heart.
Meanwhile, back in the villa's living area, Angel sipped her orange juice, her eyes following Aman as he got up, concern all over his face.
"Angel, you start breakfast. I'll go check on Saisha."
She smiled sweetly, that sickeningly perfect smile hiding all the venom beneath.
"Aman, wait. Let her be. She just needs some time. I know her... she'll come around."
Her voice was calm, gentle, and practiced. She knew exactly how to say the right things to keep him right where she wanted. But Saisha... Saisha was curled in her bed, her eyes half-closed but her heart wide open, still waiting for Aman.
Even in sleep, she was waiting. Because in every version of her dream, Angel had already taken him away.
By evening, the villa was alive again. Cameras were being set up, props arranged, today was the day they were supposed to shoot the video Aman had been planning for weeks. Saisha's role was minor, but Aman kept glancing toward the staircase. She hadn't come down.
"Is Saisha not coming?" he finally asked, unable to hold it in.
Angel turned to him, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.
"I don't think so, baby. She's in no shape to help you today... emotionally, you know?"She almost looked concerned. Almost.
But fate is strange. It doesn't care who's ready. Just when Aman gave up, she arrived. Messy hair tied in a loose bun, eyes tired, lips pale... but she came. Even when she had every reason to break, she showed up.
And Aman, he left Angel's hand. Just like that. He walked straight to her, something in his chest tightening.
"Saisha? Are you okay?"
She didn't meet his eyes. Didn't answer his concern. Didn't give him a smile.
"Hmm. Where are the props? I can start with that."
She walked past him like his presence didn't matter, and somehow, that hurt more than if she had yelled at him. There had never been anything overly special between them, no confession, no obvious flirtation — but still, something had changed, and Aman felt it in his bones.
As she picked up the prop basket, her fingers trembling slightly, Aman stood there, confused.
Why did this feel... wrong? Why did it ache?
Angel watched from afar, her painted lips twitching. She had played her move. And for now, she was winning.
But what Angel would never understand was this: You can steal someone's identity, but you can't replace someone's soul.
And Saisha... Saisha had something Angel never would: A silent kind of strength. A heart that loved without needing to be loud. And one day, Aman would realize that.
Sam had whispered it just last night as Saisha cried in her arms:
"He'll know, Saisha. One day, he'll see it was always you."
And when he does, Angel won't be able to do anything but watch —as his heart finds its way home.
The room buzzed with chaos, lights being set, cameras tested, scripts shuffled. And there she was. Saisha.
Her eyes were dull, her face drained, her body still carrying the weight of last night's heartbreak. Yet she moved, helping, adjusting the props, pretending like she was okay.
Until suddenly—Crash.
A prop stand slipped from her hands and clattered onto the floor, breaking into pieces.
A beat of silence passed. And then,
"Are you blind?! This was fragile! Who let her handle it anyway?" A crew member snapped harshly, his voice slicing through the air.
Aman looked up from across the room, his eyes narrowing. He had been watching her, quietly, constantly, and saw the way she flinched. Saw the way she looked at him. Just for a second. A flicker of hope —Gone.
"Sorry..."She whispered, barely audible, and turned away.
"Why would he take my side anyway?" She thought to herself bitterly, walking out of the room like her presence never mattered.
But he followed.
"What the hell was that?" Aman's voice boomed, startling everyone.
He marched toward the crew member, eyes blazing.
"Can't you see what state she's in? Are you all blind? She's crying half the night, and still shows up to help. Do you know she's not even getting paid for this? I am paying all of you — and she didn't even ask for a single thing!"
His voice cracked on that last line.
Angel stepped forward, trying to calm him with her usual sweetness.
"It's okay, Aman. It was her fault. Why are you defending her so much?"
He turned to her, almost like seeing her for the first time.
"No, Angel. It's not okay. And you—" He paused. "You were never like this. What's happened to you?"
Without waiting for a reply, he left the room, his chest tight, heart racing, fists clenched. He knew where he had to go.
He stood outside her door.
Locked.
He knocked gently. "Saisha?" Silence. He rested his forehead against the door.
"Hey... I'm really, really sorry about what happened. It shouldn't have. I'm sorry."
No reply.Just silence. He sighed and walked away.
Inside, she sat on the floor beside the bed, knees to her chest, face buried. But the tears had nothing to do with the broken stand.
She wasn't crying because someone yelled at her. She was crying because...
Every time love came close — something snatched it away.
First Sam.
Then Yash.
Now Aman.
There was always someone. Always a reason she wasn't enough.
And now, even though Aman stood up for her...Even though he came to her door…He still walked away.
Just like all the others.
"Why is it always someone else who takes away what I love the most?"
She didn't have the answer. But her heart was breaking.
Slowly. Silently. Completely.