“He seems… very serious for a seven-year-old.”
“That’s because he thinks he’s forty.” Aditya chuckles. I turn my head slightly.
“He wasn’t always like that,” I say quietly.
“What changed?” I swallow.
“Life.” The word comes out softer than I intended. "He was four when we lost papa, he didn't understand everything yet he was so strong...much stronger than me." There’s a long pause after that.
Then he says quietly, “He’s protective of you.”
I smile faintly. “Very.”
“He threatened to kick me today too.”
“He means it.”
“That’s reassuring.”
I laugh softly. The sound feels strange in the quiet room. “Don’t worry,” I tell him. “If he ever attacks you, I’ll try to stop him.”
“Try?”
“He’s surprisingly strong.”
“Great,” Aditya says dryly. “I married into a very dangerous family.” I cover my mouth to hide another laugh. For a moment the room goes quiet again.
But it’s a different kind of quiet now. Less tense. Less awkward. Just… calm. Then he says softly, “Divya?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m glad you messaged me.”
I turn my head slightly on the pillow. “Even if this turns into a disaster?”
“Even then.”
His voice is steady. Because suddenly I realize something.
This situation is strange.
Unexpected.
Maybe even a little reckless.
But lying here in the dim light, listening to his quiet voice from the other side of the bed—For the first time in months, I don’t feel completely alone.
5. TRAITORS
DIVYA
I wake up to the sound of metal hitting metal.
At first it slips quietly into my dreams, some distant clatter that my sleepy mind tries to ignore, but then it comes again—sharper this time. A spoon knocking against a bowl. The steady scrape of something being chopped. A cupboard opening, then closing with a dull thud.
My eyes flutter open slowly.
The morning light is pale and soft, leaking through the thin curtains beside the bed and stretching across the floor in quiet streaks. For a moment I lie still, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out where exactly I am in that strange foggy place between sleep and waking.
