Kanishk

I look up from my laptop at the knock on my office door. My body stiffens for a moment, and I hold my breath, waiting for whoever it is to step inside.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise when I see Aayan walk in. He's wearing a plaid shirt paired with dressy trousers, his hair slicked back neatly, as if he just stepped out of a magazine shoot. He throws me a glance, half acknowledgement, half mischief, before dropping onto the couch by the glass windows with an easy, practised motion.

"Doctor hone ke baad bhi insaan itna free ho sakta hai, pata nahi tha mujhe," I tease, pushing back my chair, loosening my tie, and letting myself sink into it.

I've been trying to trace the internal breach, going through login records, timestamps, anything that could hint at how it happened. The IT team is already on the hunt, scanning for matching IPs and flagged devices, but so far, nothing.

What's baffling, though, is that all the stolen files came from the laptop I barely ever take out of the house. It usually sits in my home office, locked away, gathering dust until I decide to work from there. The only other person with access to that room, besides me, is Dad.

"Free nhi hu, but I needed serious advice, iss liye aagaya," My friend replies as he gazes out the window, staring at the afternoon sky like it's something fascinating.

I tilt my head to the side, curiosity sparking at his words. Pushing myself up from the chair, I straighten my shirt, running my hands over the fabric to smooth out any creases. Then, with deliberate steps, I walk over to him and stop in front of the couch, crossing my arms and fixing him with a steady look.

"Idhar meri khud ki problem khatam nhi ho rahi, aur tujhe advice chahiye?" I scoff looking at his smug face with annoyance.

He simply shrugs, as if my presence doesn't faze him at all. Then, with a small, amused smirk, he sits up straighter, his eyes locking onto mine. He raises a single finger and points to the couch in front of me, his gesture casual but deliberate, like he's silently commanding me to sit, daring me to resist.

Jerk.

I narrow my eyes at him, but the corner of his mouth curves like he's already won. With a small sigh, I drop into the couch opposite him, crossing one leg over the other as if to remind him I'm not following orders, I'm choosing to sit.

"Well, I can't exactly go ask someone else for advice about your sister," he says, his tone light but laced with challenge. "Unless... you want me to go talk to your dad?"

He leans back, arms draped across the cushions, watching me with that infuriating glint in his eyes.

"Funny of you to assume that my dad would have time for your nonsense when he doesn't even have time for his own children." I murmur, harden my gaze as I stare at him.

He lets out a choked chuckle as he shakes his head, "Sometimes I forget that we can always bond over daddy issues we never wanted. But that's beside the fact."

He pauses, his eyes softening for a brief second before the usual mischief creeps back in. "Look, I'm not here to poke at old wounds. I'm here because... well, you actually care. That's rare."

The room falls silent for a beat, the air thick with something unspoken. He shrugs again, as if trying to dismiss the weight of the moment. "So... want to talk or just glare at me all day?"

I lean forward slightly, narrowing my eyes but letting a small smirk play at my lips. "Well, that depends on what you want advice on about my sister."

The corner of his mouth twitches, as if he's debating whether to tease me further or take the question seriously. For a moment, neither of us speaks, the silence stretching just long enough for the challenge to hang between us. Then he exhales slowly, as if deciding it's more fun to keep me guessing.

"She's avoiding me." He exhales, the frustration in his voice barely concealed.

"Which one?" I ask, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes, pretending not to care.

Without answering right away, he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers ruffling the sleek strands before he locks eyes with me again. "The younger, stubborn, disobedient one," he mutters, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "The one who thinks ignoring me will solve all her problems."

He leans forward slightly, his expression softening just enough to show that there's more beneath the annoyance, something like concern, or maybe helplessness.

I let out a low chuckle, "Toh main kya karu isme?" I draw it out, my smirk widening, the sarcasm dripping from every word. My eyes gleam with mischief as I give him an exaggeratedly innocent look, as if the whole mess is his own headache and I'm under no obligation to care.

His amusement fades almost instantly, replaced by a flash of irritation. He exhales sharply and runs a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the frustration. "Yaar, can you just do something about it?" he snaps, his voice low and strained. "I don't even know what to do at this point. I'm desperately in need for help. Desperately."

There's a beat of silence. His eyes search mine, desperate but guarded, as if admitting it's bothering him more than he wants to show. I lean back, watching him for a moment, letting the quiet stretch. His fingers drum restlessly against the cushion, his jaw working as if holding something back.

Finally, after the pause, I tilt my head, the teasing edge softening into genuine curiosity. "But... why do you care?" I ask quietly, the question slipping out before I can stop myself.

Aayan hesitates, his fingers nervously combing through his hair as if trying to smooth away the embarrassment. He glances at me, then looks away again, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Well..." he starts, his voice low and unsure. He swallows hard, then blurts out, "We kissed... and then she ran away from me."

For a moment, I just stare at him, my eyes widening so much they nearly pop out of my head. My mouth falls open like I've just heard something absurd, something only an idiot would do. I spring halfway up from the couch, my hands flying into the air in disbelief.

"You what?!" I bark, my voice louder than I intended, sharp with shock. "You kissed her... and she ran away?" I shake my head as if trying to process how stupid this sounds.

I stand fully now, my couch pushed back with a loud scrape, and I cross my arms tightly across my chest, my jaw tightening. "What did you think was going to happen?" I snap, pacing a step or two, my eyes blazing with mock fury. "That she'd start singing a love song? That she'd just melt and swoon all over you?" I throw my hands up, exasperation pouring out of me.

I stop in front of him, pointing a finger like I'm about to lay down the law. "When exactly did this genius move happen?"

Aayan's eyes go wide, like I've just threatened his life. "Promise me you won't kill me," he blurts, holding up both hands like a kid caught sneaking out past curfew. His lips press together, and he shoots me a pleading look.

I arch an eyebrow, my lips twitching. "I'm listening," I snap, though amusement bubbles under the surface.

He exhales shakily, rubbing the back of his neck as if preparing himself for a public execution. "It... it was when your dad was in the hospital," he mutters, eyes flicking to me for a hint of mercy. "Everything was chaos... I don't know what came over me."

I freeze mid-breath, my eyes going impossibly wide, jaw slack. The words register slowly, like they're bouncing around in my brain before landing in total disbelief. My hands twitch, my chest tightens in both shock and incredulity.

"You... what?!" I roar, "You kissed her... then she ran away... when my dad was in the hospital?! Are you insane?!"

Before he can answer, I grab the nearest couch pillow and, in a mix of exasperation and mock fury, fling it squarely at his face. It lands with a soft thud, covering half his head.

Aayan mumbles from under the pillow, muffled but sheepish, his hands pressing it down as if trying to make himself disappear. "I... I know... it was stupid..."

I roll my eyes so hard I think my skull might ache, pacing in exasperation while muttering under my breath about his idiocy. "And you expect what from me now? To call up my sister and tell her that you want to do what?"

Aayan flinches, one hand still awkwardly pressing the pillow against his face. "No, no, I... I wasn't thinking you'd do that," he stammers, voice almost squeaky. "I just... I don't know... I thought maybe you could, I don't know, advise me or something?"

I stop pacing mid-step and glare at him, disbelief written all over my face. "Advise you? On what, how to get her to run away again? Or maybe a masterclass in terrible timing?"

He swallows hard, and finally lifts the pillow, revealing a troubled face. His eyes dart everywhere but to me, and he keeps the pillow aside.

"Can you just sit, and we can talk it out." He sigh.

I shake my head slightly before I reluctantly fall into the seat in front of him. I cross my arms in front of me, before glaring at him waiting for him to speak.

"Kanishk, it's not just about a kiss. This wasn't the first ime she's ran away from me. She's been distancing herself, avoiding me ever since I've come back here," He lets out a shaky exhale before looking at me. I catch a glint of emotions in his eyes I've never witness before, and my heart softens at the sight.

"I admit it. I disappeared on you guys. I ghosted your sister too. I know it was stupid, and I know it's far too late for me to come here asking for a solution. But... you're my last hope to reach her."

His head drops low between his shoulders, heavy with the weight of what he's about to say. He pauses, as if gathering the courage to continue, the silence stretching for what feels like minutes.

Finally, he looks up, voice quieter, raw. "I'm sure this makes you want to kill me. I know exactly how you are with your sisters. But I can't fake it anymore. I can't hide how I feel for her. It's more than just attraction. I would... I would die for that woman. Coming here, asking you for advice... it only proves that."

He swallows, eyes burning with desperation. "I love her, man. Wholeheartedly. I'd run to the ends of the earth for her. And even if you refuse to help me, I'll find another way. But all this chasing, all this waiting, it's tearing me apart. Moment by moment, piece by piece, I feel myself losing hope of ever being with her. Losing... myself."

His hands clench at his sides, jaw tight. "This craving I have for her... it's insane. Unexplainable. I don't know if you've ever been in love, but this is killing me more than I ever imagined it could."

I blink at him, stunned into silence. Aayan, usually so aloof, so careful to mask any trace of feeling, standing here like this, raw and open... it's almost surreal. The confident, teasing guy I know is gone, replaced by someone desperate and fragile, someone who's letting himself be seen. My mind races, and I can't look away.

I see through him. It's like staring into a reflection I didn't know existed, only someone a little stronger, a little more hopeful than me. Someone willing to bare his heart even when the risk of rejection looms over him like a storm.

I have been in love. I still am. And just like he's chasing Kaynaaz, I am chasing Ipshita, chasing after someone who holds a piece of my heart, someone whose affection I crave and whose attention feels like the world. It's exhausting, relentless, and yet... unavoidable. One moment they're close, warm, almost untouchable, and the next they pull away, wrapped in excuses or silence, leaving you grasping at shadows.

I realize then—this is why he came to me. Not because he needed my permission, but because even someone as composed as Aayan needs an anchor when the heart is in turmoil. And somehow... I understand him. I understand the ache of longing, the fragile hope that love could be returned, and the quiet terror of losing it all.

I shift in my seat, arms crossed, feeling the weight of my own unspoken words, and for the first time, I see the raw truth of what it means to love someone so fiercely it hurts.

I lean back slightly, letting out a slow breath, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. The anger, the disbelief, the humor, all of it fades, leaving only a quiet, steady understanding.

"You know," I begin softly, voice low, careful, "I get it. I really do." I study him for a moment, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands fidget, the haunted look in his eyes.

"It's not easy... loving someone so much that every second without them feels like a lifetime. Chasing them, hoping they'll stay, hoping they'll understand... it's exhausting. It wears you down, bit by bit."

I let my gaze drift toward the window for a second, thinking of my own heart, of Ipshita, of the ways I've felt the same ache he's describing. "I've been there too. Still am, in my own way. And seeing you... it's like looking at a mirror, just with someone slightly braver. Someone willing to say what's tearing him apart instead of hiding it."

I turn back to him, placing a hand lightly on the armrest near his. "You're not alone in this, Aayan. And you don't have to pretend to be strong all the time. We can figure this out... together. I'll help you think through this, help you plan. But I can't force my sister either. I can only ever ask her to let go of whatever she holds over your head, not bargain her into feeling what she doesn't wish to."

He looks at me, a mix of relief and disbelief in his expression, as if he didn't expect someone to actually understand him. I give him a small, reassuring nod, letting him know: I'm here. I'm not judging. I just... get it.

I let a small, knowing smile tug at my lips, shaking my head lightly. "Alright, listen to me," I say, leaning forward, voice firm but calm. "You've been bottling this up for too long. Enough of hiding, enough of waiting. Take her out, somewhere simple, somewhere you can actually talk, and just say it. Say everything you feel. No games, no tricks, no chasing shadows. Just speak your heart."

Aayan blinks at me, hesitation flashing across his face, but I continue, eyes sharp, voice a little more insistent. "And don't worry about her running away. I'll make sure she's in a place where she can't just slip off, somewhere she'll have to listen, somewhere she can actually hear you. No excuses, no distractions, no last-minute escapes."

He swallows, looking both nervous and relieved, and I give him a small, teasing grin to lighten the weight of it all. "You've got one shot, man. Use it wisely. Be honest. Be messy if you have to. But don't hold back. Kaynaaz deserves to know, and so do you."

Aayan exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair, as if trying to calm the storm inside him. "You know, it's weird," he mutters quietly, almost to himself. "I never thought I'd be the type to wear my heart on my sleeve. But here I am, infront of you out of all people."

He glances at me, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension. "Anyway, enough about my emotional disaster. What about you? How's the breach thing going? Any leads? Or are you still drowning in chaos?"

I go quiet, sinking deeper into the chair, my gaze fixed on the ceiling as if staring long enough might untangle the mess in my mind. Aayan's words fade into the background, replaced by a cyclone of thoughts I can't control.

The breach.

Those files, they weren't taken from the office, or some random system. They came from my house. My own home. The place I've always considered inviolable, the one corner of the world I can truly call mine. The thought makes my stomach knot. How is this even possible? Who had access? And why?

I rub my temples, eyes narrowing as frustration coils tighter with every passing second. Every step, every precaution I thought I'd taken, suddenly feels meaningless. My office laptop, the locked rooms, the security protocols, they're all supposed to be foolproof. And yet here I am, staring at the undeniable proof that someone crossed that line.

My chest tightens, a low tension buzzing through my veins, and I can feel my jaw clenching without even realizing it. Someone got in. Someone close. Or at least someone who knows the patterns, knows the routines, knows how to slip past me without leaving a trace.

I exhale slowly, almost a hiss, as a mix of disbelief and anger gnaws at me. My sanctuary feels violated, my sense of control slipping through my fingers like sand. And the worst part? I don't even know where to start unraveling it.

Aayan clears his throat softly, the sound cutting through the fog in my head. I glance at him, and he shifts slightly, shoulders tense but steady.

"Oye, Kanishk?" he says, his voice gentle but insistent, pulling me back from my spiral.

I blink a few times, forcing myself to let go of the confusion for just a moment and bring my attention back to the present.

I take a slow breath, letting my thoughts settle just enough to respond. "Alright," I say, voice calm but firm, as I gather my focus. "Here's what I know so far... the logins, the timestamps, they all point to a device that's been inside the house. That means someone either had direct access, or they knew enough about my routine to bypass the security."

I glance at Aayan, his eyes still fixed on me, and the edge of worry in my tone softens. "I'm finding it harder day by day to trust anyone. A violation from the office itself would've been reasonable. But why would someone from my own house be out to ruin things for me? It doesn't make any sense at all."

Aayan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers fidgeting against his knee. He clears his throat, glancing at me with a hesitant, almost guilty expression.

"Dekh.. I don't know if this is... crazy, or if I'm reading too much into it," he begins cautiously. "But, what if Ipshita had something to do with the breach?"

I freeze mid-thought, eyes narrowing as I try to read his expression. "And what exactly brings you to that conclusion?" I question, my voice sharp but controlled.

He swallows hard, shrugging nervously. "I mean think about it. All the files, the access from your house, she's the only one who spends time there beside you and your dad. I don't know, maybe she didn't mean anything by it, or maybe it's a coincidence, but I had to say it. It's the only lead that makes sense right now."

I let out a long, incredulous sigh, eyes narrowing as I turn to him. "You sound like my dad," I snap, voice tight with frustration. "Do you even hear yourself? Why would she, my wife, be out to ruin me without reason?"

I run a hand through my hair, jaw tight, exhaling sharply. "Ipshita isn't your enemy. And she sure as hell isn't trying to sabotage me. You guys need to stop painting her like she's some villain just because she's not constantly hovering around, waiting for you to suspect her."

Aayan swallows hard, leaning forward slightly, his tone pleading but steady. "Kanishk, be reasonable for a second," he urges. "I know your dad can be a dick, but there must be a reason he suspects her too. It's his company as much as it is yours. You can't just ignore that."

He runs a hand through his hair, eyes locking onto mine, trying to get me to see past my frustration. "And I get it, you care about her. I know you hold feelings for her, and she's your wife. But don't you think you might be letting those emotions cloud your judgment? Maybe it's not even Ipshita. Maybe it's someone else in the family."

He leans back slightly, voice softer now, almost desperate. "Stop guarding yourself with emotions for a second, Kanishk. Really think about it. Step back. Look at the facts, not the feelings. What's actually pointing to her, and what's just, your heart making excuses?"

His words hang in the air, and I feel a twinge of conflict. Logic and emotion are tugging in opposite directions, and for the first time, I realize I need to step back or risk letting my protective instincts blind me completely.

. . .

The room is dim, bathed in the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp. Outside, the city hums quietly, but in the mansion, the only sounds are the faint click of the laptop keys under my fingers and the steady rhythm of running water from the shower.

A sharp ping cuts through the quiet, making me flinch. I glance at the notification, heart skipping a beat. A video file is attached. The subject line reads: "Sir, we've just recovered this video from the cam in your home office. I think you should take a look."

I freeze, every muscle in me taut, a chill running down my spine. My fingers hover over the trackpad, hesitant, like touching it might make the moment vanish or explode. The hum of the shower fades into the background as my pulse quickens. I feel the tension coil in my chest, every instinct screaming to brace for what I'm about to see. I take a slow, steadying breath, and finally click the file.

The video plays, and my stomach twists as I recognize the office instantly, my desk, the neatly arranged files, the drawers I thought were untouched. My eyes widen as a figure enters.

Ipshita.

She moves quickly, almost frantically, rifling through the drawers, her movements sharp and hurried. Papers rustle under her hands, and I can almost hear the muffled tension of her breathing through the faint audio feed. She pauses every few seconds, scanning the room nervously, as if she's aware that she shouldn't be there.

My pulse hammers in my chest. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Every instinct screams at me, confusion and disbelief tangling with the fear that this could confirm Aayan's suspicions.

Then, her eyes catch the corner of the camera. For a split second, time seems to stretch. She freezes, her hand halfway through the drawer, and her face flickers from surprise to alarm. My heart drops, and just as I lean closer to see her reaction more clearly, the video cuts off abruptly.

The screen goes black.

I sit back, breath catching in my throat, mind racing. Questions swirl violently, my chest tightens, and a low, frustration coils through me. Everything feels suddenly heavier, the air around me thick with the weight of unanswered questions.

I sink back into the pillows, staring at the black screen as though it could speak, as though it could undo the image burned into my mind. My hands tremble, half with anger, half with disbelief, and a hollow ache settles deep in my chest.

Everything we'd built, every quiet morning, every shared glance, every whispered laugh, feels fragile now, like glass suspended over a void. And in that void, I see her, rifling through my drawers, unaware of the camera but not of the chaos she's leaving in its wake.

Questions circle me like vultures.

Was this really her? And if it was, why? Could I have been so blind, so naive, to trust her without question? Or worse, was all of it a carefully painted illusion, a life, a love I'd built together with her on fragile lies?

The room grows colder, emptier, as if the walls themselves are echoing the emptiness in my chest. My heart tightens, a slow, relentless squeeze that threatens to crush me from within. I close the laptop slowly, each second stretching into a heartbeat of grief.

Nothing feels certain anymore.

Not her. Not the life we've built.

Not even myself.

And in this silence, a painful truth settles over me like ash: maybe everything I believed, every moment I felt her getting closer, every second I thought I was winning over her love, has been nothing but a beautifully constructed lie.