Rain hammered the tin roof of the outhouse where Aarav lived — a small servant quarter tucked behind the mansion. The sound was deafening, yet inside, it was silent.
Aarav sat on the cold floor, staring at the old photograph in his hand — a worn-out picture of him and Tara from their childhood, both grinning at the beach. Her hair had been tied in two messy ponytails; she had ice cream on her nose.
He smiled faintly. Then his chest ached again.
> “You don’t belong in my world.”
The words repeated in his mind like thunder.
He didn’t blame her. Maybe she was right. Maybe he didn’t belong. But then… where did he?
He closed his eyes and whispered to the picture, “I’ll still protect you, Tara. Even if you don’t want me near.”
The door creaked. Vikram stood there — Tara’s father, and the man who had saved Aarav’s life.
“Aarav,” he said softly. “Beta, you haven’t eaten since morning.”
“I’m fine, sir.”
Vikram sighed. “You’re not. I can see it. You and Tara fought again?”
Aarav shook his head. “No, sir. It’s just… she’s growing up. Things change.”
Vikram nodded slowly. “Change doesn’t mean distance, son. You both are family.”
Aarav smiled politely, but his eyes betrayed the truth.
---
Next Morning – Tara’s Bedroom
Tara sat at her study table, pretending to do homework. But her eyes were red.
She kept glancing at her phone, waiting for a text that wouldn’t come.
Myra flopped on her bed, scrolling through Instagram. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Tara muttered.
“Sure?” Myra smiled slyly. “Because ever since you told that servant boy off, you look like you got dumped.”
Tara’s head snapped up. “Don’t call him that.”
Myra laughed. “Relax! I was just joking. But come on, Tara. You need to stop feeling guilty. He’ll get over it. He should know his place.”
Tara’s jaw tightened.
“You don’t know him,” she said quietly. “He’s not like others.”
Myra smirked. “Exactly. That’s what makes him dangerous.”
Tara turned away, clenching her fists under the table.
Dangerous? No. Aarav could never hurt her.
But the way his eyes had shattered last night — it haunted her more than she wanted to admit.
---
Later that week
Aarav started avoiding the main house. He still did his chores, still kept his promises — but he moved like a ghost, silent and invisible.
Meera, Tara’s mother, noticed. One afternoon, she found him fixing the old garden light.
“Aarav,” she called gently. “Come have tea with us.”
He froze. “Ma’am, I’m fine here.”
“Nonsense,” she smiled. “You’re like my son. Sit.”
He hesitated, then obeyed. But the moment Tara entered the room, everything tensed.
Their eyes met briefly — hers full of guilt, his full of quiet longing.
Meera felt it immediately — that unspoken storm between them. She decided not to mention it. Not yet.
---
That night…
Aarav stood on the terrace, watching the city lights. Mumbai was alive, glowing, laughing — everything he wasn’t.
From the other side of the terrace, he heard soft footsteps. Tara.
She hesitated before speaking. “Aarav…”
He turned, surprise flickering in his eyes.
She looked nervous, like she’d practiced this a hundred times.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For that night. I didn’t mean what I said.”
Aarav’s lips curved in a sad smile. “You did. And that’s okay.”
“No,” she stepped closer, voice trembling. “I didn’t. I was just angry. Myra said—”
He froze. “Myra?”
Tara bit her lip. “Forget it.”
Aarav studied her for a moment, then looked away. “You don’t have to explain. I’ve already accepted it.”
“Aarav…” her voice broke. “Can we please not be strangers?”
He closed his eyes. The part of him that still loved her screamed to forgive her — but another part, the wounded one, whispered don’t.
He opened his eyes slowly.
“I don’t think we can go back, Tara,” he said quietly. “Something broke. And I don’t know how to fix it anymore.”
Her eyes glistened. “Then let me try.”
Before he could answer, Meera’s voice echoed from downstairs:
“Tara! Aarav! Dinner!”
They both stepped back, the moment shattered again — fragile and unfinished.
Morning light spilled into the Malhotra mansion, golden and calm — but nothing inside felt calm anymore.
Aarav had started tutoring one of Vikram’s business friend’s daughters — Ananya — a quiet, bright girl who’d recently moved into their neighborhood.
She came every evening for economics lessons, sitting across the long wooden table with her notebooks and that soft, grateful smile.
Tara didn’t like it.
At first, she told herself it didn’t matter. He’s just helping her. That’s what he does.
But every time she saw Ananya laughing at something Aarav said, something twisted inside her chest.
---
Evening – The Study Room
Aarav leaned over Ananya’s notes.
“See this?” he said gently, tapping her page. “If you shift the demand curve here—”
“—the equilibrium changes.” She smiled. “Got it.”
From the doorway, Tara watched them, unseen.
Her jaw clenched. She’d never heard him speak to anyone like that since… her.
Ananya looked up and caught Tara’s gaze. “Hi! You must be Tara, right?”
Tara forced a smile. “Yeah.”
Aarav turned slightly. Their eyes met — just a flicker — but in that second, Tara saw what she feared most: he didn’t look at her like he used to.
---
Later – Tara’s Room
Myra sprawled on Tara’s bed, munching chips. “He’s teaching Ananya every evening now? Cute. Guess he’s moving on.”
Tara’s voice was sharp. “He’s not that kind of guy.”
“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think.” Myra smirked. “Boys like him, they play the silent-innocent type until they find someone richer.”
“Enough, Myra!” Tara snapped.
Myra only laughed. “Relax! I’m just saying… be careful. Sometimes people hide who they really are.”
That night, Tara didn’t sleep.
Every memory of Aarav — every smile, every scolding, every shared rain — played like a film she couldn’t turn off.
And Myra’s words echoed louder than the thunder outside.
---
The Next Day
Tara waited in the garden, pretending to check her phone. Aarav walked by, holding a stack of books for Ananya’s class.
“Busy these days?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
He paused. “Just work.”
“With her?” she blurted out.
Aarav looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… you spend a lot of time with Ananya now.”
He realized what this was — jealousy.
But instead of satisfaction, it only made him tired.
“She needed help,” he said quietly. “That’s all.”
Tara scoffed, folding her arms. “You always have a reason, don’t you?”
Aarav’s expression hardened for the first time. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Tara.”
Her heart dropped.
He’d never spoken to her like that before.
---
Night – The Outhouse
Aarav sat at his desk, working under the dim lamp.
Every word Tara had thrown at him still echoed in his head, slicing through his calm.
He picked up the locket Tara had given him — a small token of belonging — and whispered, “Why does it hurt more now, when I’ve already lost her once?”
Myra, her eyes glinting.
She texted someone:
> Phase one complete. She’s turning against him.
---
At the Malhotra Mansion – Same Time
Tara lay in bed, sleepless again.
Her pillow was damp with tears she wouldn’t admit to anyone.
“Why does it feel like I’m losing him… when I’m the one who pushed him away?” she whispered into the dark.
In her room Myra is smirking— a predator satisfied with her first taste of blood.
---
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