Chapter 30 Shadows On Empty Street
Neeti slowly places the lunchbox on the table, her voice barely a whisper, “I’ll leave now… sorry if I disturbed you.”
Sunaina smiles again, this time with the satisfaction of victory. “Neeti, next time don’t worry about lunch. I’ll take care of Shorya sir.”
Neeti don’t reply. Neeti simply lower my head and walk out of the cabin. But in my heart, a new wound is carved one that might never heal.
Neeti return to Shekhawat Mansion, exhausted, broken, and silent. Neeti's face is pale, lifeless, as if her soul has given up.
Without saying a word to anyone, She walk straight to her room, her steps slow and burdened, each one dragging with emotional fatigue.
As soon as she enter her room, she shut the door behind, walk to the bed, and sink down to the floor beside it. And then I break down completely.
Tears stream down her face in silent waves, my sobs echoing off the quiet walls. Her heart screams, but no sound comes out except the painful gasps of grief.
Clutching myself tightly, she whisper through her tears, “What have I done to deserve this?”
She cry until her strength gives out and eventually fall asleep on the floor, her body curled in pain, her face still wet with tears.
Meanwhile, Shorya returns home. His car is parked just outside the mansion, but he doesn’t step out immediately. He sits still, staring at the mansion’s entrance through the car window. Her face flashes before his eyes, and unexpectedly, a pang of guilt stabs at his heart.
He remembers how Sunaina spoke to her in the office, taunting her, insulting her, and for the first time, Shorya doesn’t like it.
He thinks, “What have I become? She only cared for me and I kept pushing her away.”
After a long breath, he gathers courage and steps out of the car, walking inside the house and straight toward his room. Not out of love, but because something inside him something still human demands it.
As he opens the door, the room is dark, dimly lit only by the soft glow of moonlight streaming in through the window. And then he sees she, Neeti sleeping on the floor, her face streaked with dried tears.
His heart twists. He walks closer and, without a word, gently lifts her in his arms.
Startled by his touch, her eyes flutter open. She feel his arms around her, and for a moment, her heart races but not out of love, out of fear and pain. She quickly pull away, backing off as if his touch has burned her.
He slowly walks toward her, sits beside her on the edge of the bed, and gently takes her hand. Without resisting, she allow him to guide her up onto the bed, sitting quietly, waiting. Her heart is already shattered, and yet she sit with quiet strength, bracing for what she know is coming.
Shorya takes a deep breath and speaks, his voice calm but firm, “Neeti, I need to tell you something important I don’t want to hurt you, that’s not my intention. But today, I have to be honest.”
She stare at him, her gaze empty. She don’t ask questions; her silence is full of unspoken pain.
He continues, “I don’t love you. I love Sunaina. Our paths they’re not meant to be together. And I don’t want you to keep holding on to something that isn’t real.”
Her lips tremble slightly, but she say nothing. Her heart clenches, yet her face remains composed too used to hiding pain by now.
He adds softly, “I know you care for me, you try to do everything for me, and I respect that but I can’t spend my life with you, Neeti. The more you try, the more I feel suffocated. And though I hate when people are rude to you, I just can’t pretend that this marriage means anything to me.”
Silence.
She take it all in, like a quiet storm raging inside her, yet she do not let it show. After a pause, she give a small nod, as if accepting a painful reality I have already feared.
She smile faintly, her voice soft but composed. “It’s okay… You should freshen up. I’ll go prepare dinner.”
With those few words, she stand, adjust her dupatta, and walk toward the door. Shorya watches her go, his lips parted as if he wants to say more, but nothing comes out.
She turn once, glance at him with eyes that have cried too much, and leave the room. Her steps are slow, carrying the weight of a heart broken quietly, without drama, without tears just a quiet acceptance of being unwanted.
Shorya stands still, feeling a strange sense of relief. “At least she didn’t argue… at least she understood.” Satisfied in his own way, he heads toward the bathroom to shower.
On the other side, the early evening sky is painted in hues of red and orange, as if foreshadowing something ominous. I have just left the Shiv temple. Like every day, I pray with all my heart, but today, instead of peace, my heart feels restless, deeply uneasy, as if warning me that something is not right.
I sit quietly in the car, staring out the window as the vehicle makes its way toward Rajput Mansion. The roads are eerily empty, unusually quiet for this hour. Not a single person in sight, not a single car passing by just silence.
Suddenly, the car screeches to a halt. A group of men dressed in black, with the stance and look of trained bodyguards, stands in the middle of the road, blocking my way.
Alarmed, I step out of the car, my voice sharp with anger. “Who are you? Why have you blocked the road? What do you want?”
The men say nothing. Their eyes are cold, their expressions blank. Before I can say anything else, someone comes from behind, swift and silent, and presses a chloroform-soaked cloth against my face.
I struggle, gasping, “Let me go… who… who are you…” But my strength quickly fades, and everything goes blurry. My body weakens, and in a matter of seconds, I lose consciousness.