The days had just began to taste normal again. Nitya had started smiling -softly, hesitantly- the kind of smile that comes after a long storm when the air still smells of rain. Her father's call that morning had felt like sunlight. "Everything will be fine now, beta," he'd said, and for the first time, she had believed him.
But peace never lingers long in her world. That afternoon, her phone rang again-the same name flashing, but a different voice trembling on the other side. A few broken words, and the world collapsed into silence.
She didn't cry. Not then. Not when they said it was sudden - a heart attack, stress, bad timing, fate. The voice blurred, the people blurred, even the fire did. Only the empitness stayed clear.
Yug arrived first, breathless and pale. His eyes carried the same disbelief that had frozen hers. He caught her before she fell near the pyre, whispering,"It's all right, Nitya... you're not alone." Ayansh stood a few steps behind, his hands clenched, his jaw tight-because he already knew something neither of them did.
That night, when the guests were gone and the house was drowned in silence, Yug sat outside on the steps, his head buried in his palms. Inside, Ayansh's phone buzzed - a single message glowing against the dark.
"It wasn't natural. Ritik planned it."
He read it twice. The words cut deeper each time. Through the half-open door, he saw Nitya sitting besides her father's photograph - hair falling across her face, fingers trembling around the frame.
"Any news?"
Ayansh swallowed the truth. "No... only that he's gone"
Yug nodded faintly, trusting him. But guilt weighed heavy on Ayansh's breath; lies always did.
When he finally went back inside, Nitya whispered to the photograph,
"I was late, Papa....."
Her voice cracked, and the sound felt like something breaking inside his chest.
He knelt beside her, gently setting the picture upright again.
"He'd want you to smile," he said softly.
She didn't answer, just stared through the glass as if waiting for it to move.
Outside, the wind rose, carrying with it a faint echo of laughter-wrong, distant, familiar. Ayansh's gaze hardened as he looked towards the night.
"Ritik.... you have no idea what her tears will cost you"
The candle near the photograph flickered once and went out. And in that faint curl of smoke, something inside Nitya shifted - the warmth of her father's light faded, and a colder fire quietly began to take its place.