The party had ended. Apologies had begun.
Nitya sat quietly on the edge of the balcony in Ayansh's home, wrapped in a soft shawl, the city lights flickering like shattered memories. She wasn't crying anymore. She had done enough of that when no one was looking.
Ayansh leaned on the doorframe, watching her — not interrupting.
"They all cried," Nitya finally said. "But none of them asked why I disappeared."
Ayansh walked over, sat beside her. "Because they're scared to hear the answer."
She glanced at him. "They trusted Ritik more than their own blood. And now they act like they never saw the bruises."
"They probably didn't," he said gently. "Because they didn't want to."
Nitya nodded. "I'll make them see now."
Ayansh turned to her. "You sure you want to do this?"
She looked straight into his eyes. "Yes. But not with screams, not with violence. I'll make the truth louder than every lie they believed."
Ayansh didn't smile — he understood. This wasn't revenge anymore. This was justice with grace.
"Let's begin then," he said. "The web has to come undone slowly."
And that night, Ayansh started planning. They gathered every old text, every hidden recording, and every proof of Ritik's manipulation. His men moved quietly — gathering facts, not bodies. Nitya didn't want blood. She wanted clarity.
Meanwhile, the family began treating her gently. Her mother followed her with eyes full of regret. Her father tried to talk, hesitated every time.
But Ritik… Ritik didn't even show up.
He knew.
And Nitya knew — it was time.