SAANVI'S POV

My mind went blank.

I sat frozen, my fingers digging into the armrest of the couch as my knees trembled beneath me. “H-How?” I whisper, shaking with disbelief.

“She was found dead… in the farmhouse,” Papa said.

A sharp gasp escaped me as my hands flew to my mouth. My chest clenched with an ache I could not describe. Tears blurred my vision before I even registered them falling.

“Saanvi, calm down,” Maa said gently, reaching out to me. I turned to her, struggling to see her through the sting in my eyes.

“Maa…” My voice cracked. “Navya... my sister… she—how…” My hands trembled uncontrollably as I leaned forward, and she pulled me into a hug. I clung to her.

No matter how much I fought with Navya, no matter how many times I said I hated her… I never meant it. Not like this. Never like this. Her death didn’t just feel tragic it felt wrong. It felt cruel. She was my little sister. How was I supposed to accept this?

“Saanvi,” Maa whispered again, pulling back to cup my face. Her thumbs gently wiped the tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t know how to breathe. I didn’t know how to exist in this moment.

“I just… need to be alone for a while,” I managed to say, lowering my gaze to my lap.

Papa let out a long sigh. “Alright. We’ll be outside. Call us if you need anything.”

I gave a faint nod as they stood up and left the room, quietly closing the door behind them.

The silence that followed was deafening. I sat still, my body shaking as sobs built up in my chest. I pressed my hands to my face, trying to hold them in, but they spilled out anyway. After a long minute, I rubbed my face roughly and forced my eyes open, inhaling deeply in an attempt to steady myself.

I reached for my phone. My fingers were cold as I opened the gallery and scrolled all the way down to the oldest photos. There, buried among years of memories, was a picture of me and Navya. I was nine and she was seven, scrunching her nose at me just as I snapped the photo.

“Why are you sitting alone, Saanvi?” Navya asked, sliding her bag off her shoulder.

I kept fidgeting with the strap of my school bag, eyes fixed on the hospital reception desk. “Something’s wrong with Papa,” I mumbled.

She just dug into her pocket and pulled out a small chocolate. “Uh...here. Take this.”

I glanced at it, then at her. “But it’s your favourite. You never share it.”

“Just take the chocolate, Saanvi. Can you stop asking so many questions? It’s honestly exhausting. This is why I don’t like sitting with you.” She shoved the chocolate into my lap along with her school bag. “I’m leaving. Just sit here and eat it. Bye.” She turned and walked away.

A broken cry escaped my lips as the memory hit me with full force.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. A Google notification flashed across the screen.

Dhruv Malhotra, global pop sensation, mourns the tragic loss of his elder sister, Navya Malhotra, found dead in a farmhouse yesterday. Dhruv was last seen at New York airport late last night.

My heart sank. “Shit... Dhruv.” I wiped my face quickly, standing up in an instant. Dhruv would be devastated. He was always the sensitive one. I couldn’t let him go through this alone.

I changed quickly into a simple white kurti, barely paying attention to the time, and headed downstairs. Maa looked up from the couch, her face still pale, and Papa’s brows furrowed the moment he saw me.

“Saanvi? Where are you going?”

“I need to go see Dhruv. He… he’s alone in this, Maa. I don’t know how he’s going to handle it. I have to be there.”

“I’ll come with you,” Papa offered immediately, already standing up.

I shook my head. “No. Please, let me do this. I can handle it. If anything happens, I’ll call you, I promise.”

He hesitated, clearly torn, but after a long moment he gave a reluctant nod.

“I’ll be back soon,” I said softly, grabbing my bag. “I won’t be long.”

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I parked the car and stepped out, coming to a halt in front of the house. The sight of it made my chest tighten. I drew in a slow breath and pressed my lips together, trying to gather the courage to walk in.

"You could’ve come with Dad... Why did you come alone?"

I turned at the sound of Rudra’s voice. He had just pulled in, parking his bike beside my car. He removed his helmet, his eyes resting on me for a moment before he sighed.

I didn’t respond. My thoughts were already clouded with Navya her voice, her laugh, everything she was... and everything I would never see again.

Turning away, I clasped my trembling hands together, my fingers nervously intertwining as I stared at the door. A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.

"Don’t," I murmured as he reached for my hands. I tried to pull away, but he held them.

“Let’s just go in,” he added.

I bit my lip as we stepped forward. My stomach churned at the thought of seeing everyone again especially after I had lashed out at, a week ago during my celebration. I felt no strength left in my body. I wanted to cry, to collapse. But even that required energy I no longer had. I didn’t even have the energy to pull my hand away from his anymore.

Rudra reached out and pressed the doorbell, still holding my hand lightly, yet firm enough to keep me grounded. I stared blankly at the door as it opened.

Inside, people filled the hall, voices muffled under the thick veil of grief. My gaze drifted straight ahead and stopped.

There she was.

Navya.

Lying still in the center of the place wrapped in white cloth. Pranay sir sat on the floor beside her, staring into nothing. Chachi ji was cradling her, crying so hard her body trembled with each sob.

My grip on Rudra’s hand tightened as my knees weakened. Without a word, he moved closer, his arm coming around my shoulders to support me.

He walked me toward her, slow and steady, as though he knew I might collapse any second. When we reached her side, I sank to the floor, my legs folding under me. My eyes burned, the tears blurring her face.

I lifted a shaky hand and placed it on her cheek. Her skin was cold. My chest constricted.

“N-Navya…” I whispered.

"S-Saanvi!" Chachiji's voice cracked as she turned toward me. "Navya... see, beta, Saanvi is here. Please... wake up, see...Saanvi’s here." Her hands trembled as she pleaded, her eyes red and swollen, clinging to me like I was her last strand of hope. "Please, Saanvi... tell her to open her eyes... please, beta..."

My chest tightened as I looked at her at the hollow grief clinging to a mother who hadn’t yet accepted that her daughter was no longer breathing. My tears fell freely now, sliding down my face as I stared at her.

How do you explain to a mother that her daughter will never open her eyes again?

I leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cold forehead, my fingers gently brushing back her hair as though she might wake up annoyed like she always did when I touched her like that.

"I... don’t hate you, Navya," I whispered, my lips close to her ear. "I hope the next life gives you all the dreams this one couldn’t hold. The life you longed for... the love you deserved. Om Shanti."

My eyes shut tight as I breathed those final words, my throat tightening like a knot pulling from the inside.

Grief is strange it doesn’t scream, it seeps. Quiet and endless, like ink in water.

I slowly pulled back, wiping my face with trembling hands, forcing my lungs to draw in a full breath. I looked around, hoping to find Dhruv but he wasn’t there. A sudden panic twisted in my chest. He would be shattered. My brother wasn’t built to carry this kind of pain.

I stood, but my legs buckled beneath me. The room swayed but Rudra caught me immediately.

“Careful,” he said softly, holding me upright, his hand warm around my arm.

I met his eyes, my lips quivering. “D-Dhruv,” I managed to say.

He only nodded, and gently led me away. He settled me onto a couch tucked in the corner.

Time passed in a blur. Silence, murmurs, footsteps all part of the heavy rhythm of mourning. But my heart couldn’t rest.

After a while, I stood, slipping my hands from his.

“Where are you going?” he asked, rising immediately.

“I need to see Dhruv,” My heart cracked at the image of him alone his sorrow is an ocean he didn’t know how to swim through.

I made my way upstairs. I stopped in front of his room and took a deep breath, swallowing hard before knocking softly.

“Dhruv?”

There was no reply.

I knocked again. “Are you in there?”

Still no sound.

I wrapped my hand around the doorknob, turned it, and stepped inside quietly. His room was dimly lit. He sat on the floor beside his bed, facing the window.

I walked toward him and slowly sat down beside him. “Dhruv,” I called softly.

He didn’t look at me. His eyes stared out the window, tears falling silently down his cheeks.

“Navya… she promised me,” he murmured after a long pause. “She said when I come back from New York after recording, she’ll finally say I’m a good singer.”

My heart cracked. I looked down, blinking rapidly to hold in my own tears.

“She said she’d be there when I perform in my first concert,” he whispered. “Five years ago she promised. And now… next month I’ll be on that stage and she won’t be there, di.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled him into a hug. He clung to me, and I felt his body shake as he cried against my shoulder.

“She isn’t here anymore, di. She left. Forever,”

I rubbed his back softly, holding him tighter as I silently wept.

“Navya di left… she’s never coming back,” he repeated, his sobs becoming louder.

I didn’t say anything. I just held him, trying to absorb some of his pain into my own chest.

Eventually, he grew quiet, still leaning into me. I pulled back and looked at him. His face was pale and soaked in tears. I cupped his cheeks and placed a kiss on his forehead.

“You always tell me what to do, di,” he said in a soft voice. “Whenever I’m lost… you help me. What do I do now? How do I stop this pain?”

I swallowed hard. How could I answer that when I hadn’t even figured it out for myself?

“Some things are meant to be endured, not solved.” I whispered. “Sometimes you just have to go through it.”

“It hurts so much,” he whispered.

“At some moments the kindest thing you can tell yourself is ‘I’m not okay...and that’s okay.’” I said, breaking into tears again.

“Let it hurt, Dhruv. Because pretending you’re fine won’t make the ache any smaller. But naming the pain makes it real and real things can be carried, even when they can’t be fixed.”

His cries grew louder, echoing through the room like grief itself had found a voice. It was raw, heart-wrenching and I held him tighter.

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I glanced at the clock. 8:15 p.m.

Dhruv’s head lay quietly on my lap, his tears now dry but his face still clouded with fear and fatigue. He hadn’t gone to see Navya one last time. He refused. His eyes had held that same terrified look the entire day like if he saw her, it would make the loss too real to bear.

I gently ran my fingers through his hair. His hand was still gripping mine tightly.

With a soft sigh, I carefully slid out from under him, trying not to wake him. I pulled the blanket over his shoulders and stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

Downstairs, I spotted Rudra sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the wall in silence lost in thoughts.

The moment he saw me, he stood up and walked over.

“You okay?”

“You should go back,” I said, not in the mood for conversations.

“And you?”

“I can’t leave Dhruv alone.” I turned to head to the kitchen.

“I’ll stay too.”

I paused mid-step, turning back to face him.

“Don’t think for a second that I’ve forgiven you,” I said blankly. “I still hate you. I just don’t have the energy tonight to fight or scream. So do me a favour... and leave.”

“I know. I’m not here to win forgiveness. I wouldn’t stoop so low to use grief for a second chance. I’m here because I’m genuinely concerned after everything that happened, and the threat I receiv—”

I frowned. “Threat?”

He paused, “Not exactly a threat. Just.... About your safety. That’s why I’m here. Whatever happened to Navya wasn’t just... random. And that scares me.”

“Keep your concern to yourself. I don’t need it.” With that, I walked into the kitchen.

I saw the food already prepared. Maybe the house help had done it, but no one had eaten.

“Ma’am?”

I turned and saw a woman, one of the house helps, standing behind me.

“Send food to Pranay sir and Chachi ji's room,” I said. She nodded and left.

I sighed, took some food on a plate and poured juice into a glass, placing both on a tray. I made my way upstairs and noticed the couch was empty. I guess he left.

I opened the door and sat on the bed beside Dhruv, trying to wake him up. Even after several attempts, he refused to eat. But somehow, I managed to make him drink the juice.

“I’ll be back after some time, Dhruv,” I whispered. He just sat silently.

I placed the tray back in the kitchen and turned to leave, but paused when I saw the same lady.

“Did you send the food?” I asked.

She nodded, “But they aren’t eating,” she said and went back to her chores.

I rubbed my fingers together. What should I do? Should I go to them? But why? No, I won’t. I came here for Dhruv,

But...

“Saanvi beta, have some food. You’ll fall sick like this.” Chachaji spoke softly as he held out a spoon in front of my lips. “Taffy would be sad watching you from up there…” he added, glancing toward the sky.

I stared at him blankly, my arms curled around my knees. “I’m not a child, Chachaji. Please stop saying such things.” I pushed his hand away gently, turning my face to the side.

He sighed, the spoon clinking lightly against the bowl as he placed it back.

“But if Taffy were still here, wouldn’t you have eaten? Now that she’s not, you're being like this. You’re… admitting she’s really gone.”

His words stung. I slowly turned toward the photo frame resting on my lap, Taffy’s little grin frozen in time beside mine. My fingers instinctively tightened around the frame.

I’m not forgetting you, Taffy, my thumb brushing her tiny face in the photo. Never.

I felt the burn behind my eyes, but I just nodded faintly and opened my mouth. Chachaji gently fed me the first spoonful.

He smiled. “That’s like my precious.”

Just then, Chachiji entered the room, her saree rustling softly against the floor. She carried a tray with a glass of juice and a folded napkin.

“Okay, juice too. Ek toh meri bacchi kabhi aati nahi hai… aur dekho kitni patli ho gayi hai.” (My daughter never visits… and look how thin she’s gotten) She said with a frown, placing the tray on the side table and settling on the edge of the bed. She picked up the glass and brought it to my lips.

“Chachiji, I really don’t want—”

“No.” She sighed looking at me. “I just want to keep you with me forever,” she whispered, brushing her fingers gently through my hair like she used to when I was little. “You look so tired… so worn out.”

Even I want to live here, Chachiji…

Without another word, I took the glass from her hand and drank the juice slowly. Her palm rested softly on my head the whole time.

I bit my lip, a bitter weight pressing down on my chest. They were with me the entire time when I came back to India during Taffy's death. I sighed and stepped out of the kitchen.

Stopping in front of the door, I hesitated for a second before gently knocking and stepping inside.

The sight broke something in me.

Chachi ji was on the floor, leaning back against the bed, her eyes fixed on Navya’s photo on the wall. Her expression was blank. A tray of untouched food lay beside her.

I quietly walked over and sat beside her on the floor, folding my legs under me.

"Chachi ji," I called softly.

Her eyes moved slowly, registering my presence. “Saanvi...” her lips quivered. “N-Navya...” Her voice cracked and the rest of the words dissolved into tears.

Without a word, I leaned in and wrapped my arms around her. Her body trembled as she broke down against my shoulder.

“I don’t know how to face you,” she whispered through broken sobs. “After what Navya did to you... I feel pathetic. I’m crying on the shoulder of the woman whose life my daughter ruined. I’m her mother, Saanvi, and I couldn’t stop her.”

“Please don’t say that, Chachi ji,” I murmured, gently rubbing her back in slow circles. “You’re not responsible for Navya’s choices.”

I pulled away just enough to look at her and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her hands trembled as she tried to fold them together in apology.

“I’m sorry, Saanvi—”

I quickly held her hands in mine, “No, please… don’t. You don’t need to apologize. This wasn’t your fault.”

Her face crumpled again as she shook her head. “What she did to you… it was wrong, I know that. But I can’t switch off what I feel. She was my daughter. My Navya. And now… she’s gone. She won’t ever come back. That thought alone feels like a knife in my chest.” Her voice cracked as she broke down again.

I didn’t try to stop her. I couldn’t. I would never be angry at her for crying over Navya. At the end of the day, no matter how much a child has hurt others, a mother never sees her child as completely lost. That bond doesn’t disappear with mistakes. Or death.

I held her again, more tightly this time.

“It’s not wrong to feel what you’re feeling. Navya didn’t deserve the end she met, and she was still your daughter. Your love for her doesn’t make you wrong. It makes you human.”

Chachi ji just wept, her hands clinging to mine like a lifeline.

And in that moment, I understood she wasn’t going to eat. No matter how much we insisted or coaxed, grief had its own rules. I couldn’t force her out of it, not today.

I gave her hand one last squeeze, then stood up and stepped out of the room, letting silence be the comfort she needed more than anything else.

I was walking through the hallway when the sound of soft sniffles caught my attention. I paused, glancing toward the half-closed door to my right.

It was Navya’s room.

My steps slowed. Frowning, I gently pushed the door open.

Inside, Pranay sir sat on the edge of the bed, his back to me. His shoulders were hunched, and I could see him clutching the pillow as his body trembled with silent sobs. His fingers gripped the edge of the fabric like he was holding onto something that was already long gone.

I exhaled quietly and lowered my gaze for a second, then stepped inside.

“Pranay sir…”

He stiffened. Quickly, he wiped his face with his palms, but he did not turn around.

I just walked closer, noticing the untouched glass of juice on the side table. I picked it up and offered it to him.

“At least have a few sips,” I said gently, holding it toward him.

He shook his head, eyes still down. “I’m fine.”

I quietly placed the glass back down and sat across from him without a word, letting the silence fill the space between us.

After a pause, he spoke. “Did you and Dhruv eat?”

I met his eyes for a moment. “Are you missing her?”

His lips quivered, and a choked sob escaped before he nodded slightly, then shook his head, as if unsure what to admit. “I saw her today in the woods. Her body was burning, and all I could think was… it was my hands that lit the fire. My own hands.” He paused, his voice cracking. “I never thought I’d see this day. I thought I’d go first. I was supposed to go first.”

He buried his face in his hands.

Something in my chest twisted painfully. I could not even begin to understand the depth of what he was feeling but watching him like this... it broke something in me.

I reached out, hesitantly, my hand hovering near his.

“Pranay—”

Startled, I pulled my hand back instantly and looked behind him.

Mr. Malhotra was standing at the doorway.

I rose from my seat without a word and turned toward the door.

I met his eyes briefly as I approached. And for the first time, I saw something different in them. Fear. He looked at me like he wanted to say something.

“Did you eat, Saanvi?” he asked, “You have to take your medicines too… right?”

“That’s none of your business,” I said, and brushed past him, not waiting to hear whatever else he had to say.

I stepped out of the room, I was lost in my thoughts, rubbing at the dull ache in my chest, when I bumped into someone.

“Ow,” I hissed, instinctively reaching for my head.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice said. I looked up to see Vikram bhai. He placed a hand on my forehead, gently rubbing.

I quickly brushed his hand away.

“By the way,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, “why is Rudra sitting outside on his bike? He’s been there for a while.”

I closed my eyes, massaging my temple, frustration flooding my chest. That man will be the death of me not because of what he does, but because of how he makes me feel. It was exhausting. That man had a special talent for lodging himself in my life like a migraine. Why couldn’t he go back to his house instead of staying out there like some half-assed bodyguard?

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “And I’m not interested either—ow!”

Suddenly, my chest tightened sharply, like someone had cinched a rope around my lungs. I gasped and clutched the left side of my chest, stumbling slightly. My breath caught, shallow and quick, and a cold sweat broke across my forehead.

Damn it. I forgot my medicines. OG is going to kill me before this heart even gets a chance to. He must’ve called me too but where the hell is my phone?

“Saanvi!” Vikram bhai grabbed my arm and quickly led me to the couch, making me sit down carefully.

“Is it hurting?” he asked, crouching in front of me. His voice had softened, his eyes full of concern.

“Wait here—I’ll get water.”

He returned almost immediately, pressing a glass into my hand. I took it and drank slowly, the coolness helping to calm the tightness in my chest. He brushed his hand over my arm in reassurance.

“You forgot your meds, didn’t you?”

I needed my beta-blocker to keep my heart from overworking itself, and I hadn’t taken it today. Even a single missed dose could push my heart into dangerous territory, especially on emotionally stressful days. OG had packed extra tablets in my purse just so I wouldn’t forget. They were always with me. But somehow, in all this mess, I must’ve missed it.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, trying to push myself up.

“Shut up and sit down,” he said, pushing me gently back into the seat by my shoulder.

“You can’t skip medicines. You know that, Saanvi. Still acting like a reckless idiot.” He rummaged through his trouser pocket, muttering under his breath, and pulled out a small strip of tablets.

He held them out toward me. “Here. Take it now.”

My brows furrowed. It was the same. A beta-blocker. Prescribed for CAD. But why was he carrying this?

My gaze snapped up to his face. “Why do you have this?” I asked slowly, suspicion creeping into my tone. “This isn’t a common medicine people carry unless they’ve been prescribed. Why are you carrying it around in your pocket?”

He froze, lips parting slightly as if to speak, then closing again. He licked his bottom lip nervously his usual tell when caught off-guard.

“I... I just carry it, okay?” he said, stumbling over the words, then quickly gaining speed as it always did when he lied, “And stop questioning me, Saanvi. Just take it. But wait—did you eat anything first?”

“I’ll just take the medicine now,” I replied, reaching for it.

He didn’t let go. “Are you out of your mind? You can’t take this on an empty stomach, you know that it can make you nauseous or dizzy.”

He stood and walked off toward the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

I sat there, my thoughts spiraling. He knew exactly how the medicine worked. The dosage, the side effects. Everything. Not just that… four tablets were already gone from the strip. And the way he’d reacted when I questioned him it wasn’t casual.

Why would he know that? Why would he need to?

Something didn’t feel right.

He returned with a food platter and sat beside me on the couch. I reached out to take it from him, but he pulled it slightly away and calmly started mixing the rice and dal with a spoon.

“I can eat it myself,” I said, reaching again.

He didn’t react, just brought the spoon near my mouth with that same unreadable expression.

“Chup hoja aur khana kha,” (shut up and eat) He muttered flatly.

“Stop ordering me,” I snapped.

“Saanvi,” he warned with a sharp look.

I rolled my eyes and finally gave in, taking the first bite.

“Okay, enough, I can’t eat more,” I said after a few minutes.

He stared at me like I had just said something absurd. “Mushkil se saat bites khayi hai tu.” (You've barely eaten seven bites.)

“Toh? (So)” I raised an eyebrow.

“Eat more. Just one.”

“Fine. Just one,” I muttered and opened my mouth again.

“Enough now,” I said, holding my palm up to stop him.

“It’s eight now,” he said. “Remember when I taught you even and odd numbers? You told me even numbers sound evil, and odd ones feel good. It’s even now. Eat one more to make it odd.”

I blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “Are you seriously using childhood psychology on me?”

He didn’t say anything, just gently nudged the spoon forward. I stopped his wrist halfway, narrowing my eyes.

Yet somehow, he still managed to get me to take the bite. I sighed as I chewed.

“Nine bites,” he said, nodding. “Now just one more will make it ten. Ten sounds satisfying, no?”

I glared at him. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m full,” I protested, trying to lean back.

“Last one. I swear I won’t ask again.”

I let out a long, annoyed breath and took the final bite.

“You know wha—”

“Shut up, I’m not eating more,” I interrupted, grabbing the water and swallowing my medicine.

“You’re still a traitor. And manipulative,” I muttered, pushing off the couch.

He let out a soft sigh and stood up too. “Might be.”

“How’s Dhruv?” he asked as I stepped away.

“Not fine,” I said quietly and turned, walking back toward Dhruv’s room.

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