As soon as Kanika stepped into the house, she made a beeline for her room, bolting the door shut behind her. Without even changing, she collapsed onto her bed. And with that, the dam she'd so tightly held back began to break—tears streamed silently down her face, soaking into the fabric beneath her.
No one in the house noticed; no one ever did. Her presence—or absence—was seldom of any consequence to them.
She was a chapter in their story that no one cared to read.
Kanika's POV:
What wrong have I said?
I only said what was right… but he—he yelled at me. If he had some issue with his sister, he could’ve told me calmly. He could’ve just said not to interfere in their personal matters… but no, he chose to scream, to trash me with his words like I meant nothing.
I know I’m an outsider, just a friend. I have no right over him, or his family affairs… but still, I’ve never raised my voice at him. I’ve always listened to him like I’m his docile daughter—his shadow. I let his bossy attitude slide every time, and yet today, he chose to humiliate me.
She wiped her tears roughly, the motion as harsh as the words that echoed in her head. The tears may have slipped out quietly, but inside her, a storm was raging—loud, violent, unrelenting.
Her hands moved furiously as she yanked off her jewellery, tossing each piece onto the bed, the floor—anywhere but the places they belonged. The once-careful Kanika had been replaced with a girl scorned.
“Enough, Mr. Anakveer Rajput! From today onwards, I won’t let you boss me around. You didn’t want me interfering in your personal life? Fine. Main, Kanika Guhilot, aaj ke baad tumhein apni life mein interfere karne ka haq nahi doongi.”
With that, she took her phone and blocked him from everywhere.
Then she lay down to sleep—unaware of the chaos she had just invited with this one impulsive act.
Anakveer’s POV:
“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!”
“Ani, why aren’t you picking up the damn phone?” What the hell is wrong with her phone?”
“Ani bacche, ek baar phone utha lijiye… I never wanted to scream at you. I can explain—please, just pick up the call.”
Pacing like a lion in a cage, Anakveer was still dressed in the black shirt and pants he had worn while dropping her home. Her silence was a punishment more severe than any word she could've thrown at him.
When Kanika didn’t speak a single word to him during the ride home—not even a “bye”—he knew he’d screwed up. Badly.
At first, he thought she just needed space. A few hours. Maybe she'd call back once she cooled down. Maybe just to scream at him, but at least… something.
But now it was well past midnight. His calls were going unanswered. His texts were left on ‘delivered’. Voice notes sat unplayed.
His breathing turned shallow. Panic and fury began tightening like a noose around his chest. The thought of her ignoring him was like a personal betrayal.
Doesn’t she know? Doesn’t she realize that for the past eleven years, I’ve only fallen asleep after hearing her say “Goodnight”… and only woken up with her “Good morning”?
Was their bond so fragile that she could cut him off without a word? This silent treatment—it was worse than shouting. Unacceptable.
Clenching his phone so tightly that his knuckles turned bone-white, he dropped into bed, one knee bouncing nervously, his brain spiraling between go see her now and give her time.
One part of him wanted to barge into her house, into her room, hold her by the shoulders and force her to talk.
The other… reminded him she was still just a girl. She needed time. Space.
With a groan, he ran his hand through his hair.
Fine, he thought bitterly. Tonight, she can have her silence. But tomorrow—we're ending this.
The entire night passed by without a wink of sleep for him. He lay wide-eyed, either staring blankly at his phone screen or mentally rehearsing every word he would say when she finally called… if she called.
Again and again, he played out the conversation in his head—how he’d explain, how he’d make her understand, how he’d bend the broken pieces of their bond back into place. He
The Next Morning
The clock struck nine.
Anakveer pov:
She must be up by now…
He stared at the screen, waiting.
Still no call.
“Chlo, thoda aur wait kar lete hain Anak… ek ghanta aur. Shaayad wo busy hongi… after all, mera baccha religious hai.
Aur aaj to mujhe leke bhagwan se kaafi complain bhi karni hogi. Time to lagega… aur breakfast bhi to karegi,” he murmured to himself, as though the words could soothe the burn in his chest.
By noon, he was frantically redialing her number—again and again. Texts piled up, unanswered.
And then… it hit him.
She had blocked him.
Everywhere.
Silence dropped like a guillotine.
In one violent surge, fury shot through him like lightning. His eyes reddened, veins protruded along his neck. He stood deathly still and muttered in a voice low and menacing—
“Ani, you better contact me by the end of the day… or you won’t like the way I reach out to you.
I already made it clear—iss friendship mein koi stepping back nahi hoga. Aur aapne dare kiya mujhe shut out karne ka?
Tsk tsk… wrong move bacche.
---
**At Ani's Place**
Kanika slowly descended the stairs, her footsteps light, almost cautious. Her intention was simple—grab her lunch and take it back to her room. She rarely lingered in the common areas of the house, having long accepted her silent detachment from her family.
The tragic part? They didn’t even notice. To them, she was just the difficult middle child, lost in her own world—too stubborn, too sensitive, too much.
As she reached the living area, her eyes fell on a heartwarming scene—one she had never been a part of. Her mother was feeding a sweet dish, likely a YouTube-inspired experiment, to her elder daughter and youngest son, both laughing, judging, approving.
Her sister chirped, “Maa, it's awesome!”
Her brother took another bite and groaned dramatically, “Ufff, foodgasm!”
Kanika turned her eyes away from the tableau and walked silently into the kitchen. Her mother finally noticed her and smiled as if remembering she had a third child.
“Kanika, aj maine masoor pak banaya hai. Tum bhi khaake batao kaisa bana hai—kitchen counter pe rakha hai,” her mother offered, cheerfully.
Kanika gave a faint smile, trying hard not to sound bitter. “You know naa maa, I don't like sweet stuff. But don't worry, jo bhi aap banati ho, it always tastes good. Annapurna ka vardaan hai aapke haathon mein.”
She began plating her lunch mechanically, not even sparing a glance at the sweet dish. After what she had just seen, it might as well have been poison. That sweetness, to her, felt like salt on a wound.
**Her inner monologue kicked in, sharp and unforgiving.**
*Once again, they proved how irrelevant I am in their lives. Maa made the sweet, fed them first, lovingly. I didn’t even know she was cooking. And when she offered it to me, it was with that same smile, yes, but it didn’t carry the same warmth. For them, I’m a backup option—always the afterthought. They say I’ve distanced myself, but never once have they wondered why. These tiny acts? They’ve already carved a canyon between us.*
She was about to retreat to her room when her elder sister’s voice sliced through the air like a blade laced in sugar.
“Kanika… you didn’t want to try the sweet—is it really because you don’t like it or are you just jealous that mom fed us first and not you? Uhm? Uhm?” she taunted, smirking.
Kanika didn’t miss a beat. “If God hasn’t given you a good face, at least try to speak well,” she replied with a calm, tight-lipped smile. Ice cold.
Infuriated, Swati snapped back. “Oh please, as if you're Miss Universe! Look at your balloon-like figure. Whether you admit it or not, you're a pendulum between us siblings—swinging left and right without a clue why.”
Meanwhile, their younger brother, thrilled by this free entertainment, chimed in through giggles, “Ek moota haathi jhoom ke chala…”
That was her breaking point. Ani had always been insecure about her curvy figure and thick thighs.completely unaware how ravishing she looks.
She exploded, “Ek laat khayega tabhi dimaag shaant hoga, kutta!”
Fate, however, had other plans. Her father entered the scene at that very moment.
“Kanika! What kind of language is this, haan? Is this how you talk to your younger brother? What will he learn from you?” he scolded in his typical righteous tone.
That was it.
Kanika, already teetering on the edge, cracked wide open.
Now Kanika, already battling an identity crisis and the constant weight of her inner demons, could no longer hold herself back. She snapped—voice trembling, eyes burning with unshed tears:
“Why is it always me? Why am I the one you come down on? Don't talk like this, don't talk like that. you should talk with respect to your elder sister , you should talk cautiously around your younger brother—as if I’m the only one responsible for keeping things civil!
Is it only my job to maintain the dignity of these relationships? What about them? Your ‘prince’ and ‘princess’?
Do they have no role in learning how to treat an elder sister with respect—or their younger one, for that matter?”
She turned toward her father, eyes glistening with fury and heartbreak.
“And your son—he’s already eighteen! He doesn’t need to ‘learn’ anything from me. He’s been taught enough, hasn’t he? But have you ever taught him or your favourite daughter to treat me with even a fraction of that respect and compassion you expect me to show.
Her father raised his voice in return.
“Enough, Kanika! Why do you think they’re only my prince and princess? You are too. Don’t forget, I sent you to the most expensive school among your siblings.”
Kanika scoffed. “Because I cracked the entrance test. They didn’t.”
It came out sharper than she intended, but once the words were out, there was no pulling them back.
She slammed her plate on the counter and stormed upstairs. Her father shook his head in disappointment.
“This girl’s anger is getting out of control.”
Her mother sighed at the untouched food. “Argh, she didn’t even eat. And if I go now, she’ll just lash out again”. She just presumed without trying .
But her elder sister, ever dismissive, let out a mocking laugh and said in a falsely playful tone,
"She’s just overreacting again, as always. God knows why she acts like all middle children are tragic victims while the rest of us are villains in her personal sob story. Seriously, maa-papa, you tell—I'm the eldest, he’s the youngest, and she’s stuck in between... toh technically, isn’t she just a pendulum? Constantly swinging left and right for no reason."
She burst out laughing at her own words, as if she’d just cracked the joke of the century.
Her parents chuckled too, shaking their heads fondly—none of them noticing, or maybe pretending not to notice, the weight behind those words.
To them, it was just harmless teasing. A family joke. But to Kanika, it was yet another crack in the already fragile foundation of belonging. Another tiny betrayal, disguised in laughter. A joke at her expense that didn’t just sting- it slowly pushed her further away.
---
**Inside Ani’s Room**
She locked the door shut behind her, locked it, and dropped face-first onto the bed—her sobs muffled into the pillow. Her chest heaved with silent cries, the kind that echoed more in the heart than in the air.
Why can’t anyone understand me?
Why am I always the problem?
She curled further into herself, arms wrapped tight around her trembling body as though trying to hold the pieces of her soul together. I never wanted arguments… never craved their attention. I’ve grown used to my own company now—comfortable in my silence, even if it gets lonely sometimes.
But they never stop. Always teasing, always mocking—calling it “family fun,” but it never feels like fun to me. They cross lines without even knowing it… or maybe they do. And every time, I’m left feeling like the bad guy—the ungrateful brat, the villain shoved into their perfect little world.
Her voice trembled, only audible to herself.
“I’m not what they make me feel like… I’m not that arrogant, stubborn, egoistic girl they think I am.”
Only if they know,the more they pushed me, the more i reacted. And with every reaction came guilt, and with guilt came distance—a version of me they created and i couldn't seem to erase.
*And now even Anakveer… the only person who made me feel safe… even he’s started taking me for granted. Maybe he thinks—when her own family treats her like this, why should I be any different?*
*It’s okay. I don’t need anyone. Not them. Not him.*
She turned off her phone and buried herself in her blanket, letting the demons in her head whisper lies as she cried herself to sleep.
---
**Midnight. 12:00 AM.**
The crescent moon floated in the velvet sky, casting silver shadows across the silent town.
Inside Kanika’s room, a silhouette crept in—quiet but purposeful.
She was curled up on her bed, eyes puffy and breath uneven from the crying storm she had weathered. Still half-asleep, almost unconscious, unaware of the presence near her.
A pair of eyes gazed down at her, dark and unreadable.
A voice, low and dangerously calm, broke the silence.
*“You didn’t do right by shutting me out, baccha… I gave you the entire day. I waited. Now it’s my turn. You won’t talk? Fine—I’ll make you. In *my* way.”*
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