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Sometimes, the universe strips away our illusions by forcing us to see people for who they truly are, rather than who we need them to be.

The journey to her Dada-Dadi's (grandparents') house was a blur of breathless panic and suffocating dread.

Isha's hands shook against her damp clothes, her mind replaying the flashing red lights of the police van over and over again. She had always known her extended family harbored deep-seated resentment over the ancestral property, but in this moment of sheer desperation, she foolishly believed that blood would answer the call of blood.

When she pushed open the heavy wooden main door, the contrast hit her like a physical blow. Inside, the living room was warm, filled with the rich aroma of cardamom tea and lighthearted laughter. Her Dada-Dadi sat comfortably on the divan, while her Chacha and Chachi were sharing a happy morning conversation.

The laughter died instantly the moment Isha stumbled into the room, her face pale, tears cutting clean tracks through the dust on her cheeks.

"Isha? Kya hua beta? Tum ro kyun rahi ho?" her Dada asked, a flicker of genuine confusion and concern crossing his aging face as he set his teacup down.

("Isha? What happened child? Why are you crying?")

Isha went near the center table, her voice breaking into hysterical fragments.

"Dadu... Dadi... Mamma ko police le gayi! Kisi ne ... mujhe nahi pata main kahan jaoon, kya karoon! Meri mummy bilkul nirdosh hain, please kuch kijiye!"

("Grandfather... Grandmother... The police took Mamma! Someone has framed her. I don't know where to go, what to do! My mother is completely innocent, please do something!")

The room went dead silent. But it wasn't the silence of shock-it was a heavy, calculated stillness.

Isha looked up, expecting her uncle to grab his car keys or her aunt to comfort her. Instead, she saw her Chachi's lips curl into a sharp, venomous smirk. Her aunt deliberately took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes gleaming with a sick sense of victory.

"Paapi pett, Isha... galti nahi tho kyun lejate hai !".Chachi spat out, her voice dripping with absolute malice as she used deeply offensive, derogatory language to attack Neha's character.

"Badi shareef banti phirti thi na? Ab aukaat samne aa gayi.

("The sinful stomach, Isha... this is exactly what your mother does for money! She used to pretend to be so innocent, right? Now her true reality is out. ")

Isha froze, the breath completely knocked out of her lungs. She stared at her own Chachi in absolute horror. The words felt like physical slashes against her skin. It wasn't just indifference; her aunt was silently,
aggressively celebrating her mother's ruin.

Panicking, Isha turned her tear-filled eyes toward her Chacha, silently begging him to defend his elder brother's wife. But her uncle stood entirely still, crossing his arms, looking out the window as if she didn't even exist. His cold silence carried a crystal-clear signal: We do not care whether you live or die.

In their twisted, greedy minds, the gears were already turning. They were actively calculating the massive advantage this arrest handed them. For months, they had pursued a false property claim against Neha, trying to prove that the ancestral land didn't belong to her late husband.

Now, with Neha locked behind bars on a criminal charge, they had the perfect weapon to destroy her credibility in court. It was an added edge-a goldmine handed to them by a stroke of luck, and they were silently rejoicing.

Seeing the sheer cruelty in the room, Dadi frowned slightly, nudging her son's arm.

"Arre, thoda toh lihaaz karo. Akhir tumhari bhatiji hai... jao, jaakar zara check toh karo police station mein kya maamla hai."

("Hey, have some decency at least. After all she is your niece... go, at least check the police station to see what the matter is.")

But Chacha-Chachi remained absolutely adamant, refusing to budge an inch.

"Hum nahi jaane wale kisi thane-kachehri mein" Chacha muttered dismissively.

("We are not going to any police station or court for her!")

Isha's heart broke into a million jagged pieces. The agonizing realization crashed over her-why had she even come here? She had brought her rawest vulnerability and laid it before the people who wanted to celebrate their agony. She had lowered her guards before her worst enemies, hoping for a shred of humanity, only to be stepped on.

She stood up slowly, her knees trembling, feeling lower and more defeated than she ever had in her entire life.

They didn't offer a single piece of guidance on how to pull Neha out of that hellhole. As Isha walked blindly toward the door, Dadu merely sighed, offering a hollow, empty consolation.

"Beta, himmat rakho. Sab theek ho jayega."

("Child, stay strong. Everything will be fine.")

No action. No support. Just a closing door.

The moment Isha stepped out of the iron gates of the estate, the gray sky finally split wide open. A heavy, torrential downpour commenced, washing over the empty streets as the afternoon light died.

The rain soaked through her clothes instantly, but she couldn't feel the cold. The emotional numbness was too absolute. Walking blindly along the deserted pavement, the venomous words of her aunt and the cold stares of her family began to warp inside her own head.

The shock turned inward, mutating into a vicious, agonizing guilt. She clutched her head with both hands, the heavy raindrops hitting her face as she began to bitterly curse her own existence.

"Kyun peda hui main? Meri kismat hi manhoos hai... jab se hosh sambhala hai, sirf takleef aur rona hi likha hai meri zindagi mein. Pehle Papa chale gaye, aur ab Mamma jail... main. Main hi sabse badi galti hoon. Kaash main kabhi iss duniya mein aati hi nahi! Toh itna dard nahi sehna padta"

("Why was I even born? My fate is cursed... ever since I gained consciousness, only pain and crying have been written in my life. First Papa left, and now Mummy... I couldn't even save her. I am the biggest mistake. I wish I had never come into this world! My very breaths are a burden on everyone... I can't even find help for my mother.!")

The weight of her own self-hatred became too heavy to bear. Her strength completely gave out, and her knees buckled. Isha collapsed directly onto the hard, wet concrete of the pavement, her hands slamming into the puddles crying her shattered heart out into the rain and thinking in her mind,

What could be a greater misfortune than to constantly crave a shred of love and affection despite being surrounded by your so called own people as per the society?

And clearly... main mohabbat ke maamle mein toh badkismat hoon hi, par apne sage rishton ke maamle mein usse bhi zyada... I am cursed even more."

(I am quite unlucky in getting love from people)

Through the thick sheets of falling rain, Shivansh was walking by and his eyes caught a familiar, devastating sight. Isha, completely drenched and broken, kneeling on the pavement, her shoulders shaking violently with heavy sobs.
​His heart stopped. He recognized the pain.

​He dashed across the water-logged pavement and dropped down heavily onto his knees right in front of her, completely disregarding the mud and the rain.

​"Isha! Isha, look at me!" Shivansh called out, his voice laced with a raw, panicked terror. He gently but firmly reached out, his hands grasping her trembling shoulders to pull her up from the floor.

​As Isha raised her head, her wet hair sticking to her face, Shivansh felt a sharp ache pierce his chest. The absolute, unfiltered agony and genuine concern shining in his deep eyes was the first warm thing Isha had felt all day.

​"What happened, Isha? Why are you like this? Please, tell me, I'm right here," he pleaded, his hands sliding down to securely hold her freezing wrists.

​Looking into Shivansh's kind, protective face, the last of Isha's defenses completely disintegrated. She lunged forward, clutching the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, iron grip, burying her face into his chest as she wailed against the sound of the roaring thunder.

​"Shivansh... mujhe Maa chahiye! Mujhe kuch nahi chahiye... mujhe aur kuch nahi chahiye, Shivansh! Bas meri Mamma chahiye ko wapas la do... mujhe meri Maa chahiye!" she screamed out through her violent hiccups, her voice cracking with the primal grief of a child lost in the dark.

("Shivansh... I want my Mother! I don't want anything... I don't want anything else, Shivansh! Just bring my Mummy back... I want my Mother!")

​Shivansh didn't ask further questions. He didn't offer empty words. He simply wrapped his strong arms tightly around her shivering frame, pulling her flush against his chest, shielding her from the cold torrents of the world. As the rain continued to pour, he held her close, silently swearing to himself that he would move heaven and earth to bring her out of this dark storm.

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