"Ruhi, come fast!"

"I'm coming," I replied, huffing as I descended the stairs. Dheer had called me for the ninth time in the past hour.

"Here, have your breakfast," Mom said, placing the plate on the table.

Aloo paratha—crisp at the corners, soft in the middle, and without dhaniya. Just the way I liked it. But...

"Mom, I'm getting late," I whined, quickly rolling the paratha and taking a bite. I was about to rush out when Dad caught my arm and gave me that look.

"Sit down," he said, not even glancing up from his newspaper.

I sighed and quietly sat back down, unrolling my paratha and starting to eat properly while Dheer and Kiaan tried their best not to laugh.

After breakfast, I touched Mom and Dad's feet for blessings.

Mom adjusted the collar of my sweater. Dad gave me a quick nod and a quiet "Best of luck."

Kiaan popped a piece of chocolate into my mouth and handed me the rest of the bar.
"She liked the jewellery pieces you made. So you're definitely going to win the competition. Don't worry," he said.

"Huh?" I blinked.
"What's the connection between her liking the jewellery I made and me winning the competition?"

"She liked your gift. So the judges will love your designs too. Simple," he said with so much confidence that I realized—he's completely whipped.

"And don't worry, I've already asked everyone in my circle to vote for you," he added with that trademark bunny smile.

"And how many people are there in this 'circle' of yours?" I asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

"Umm... wait, let me check," he said, pulling out his phone like it was a serious calculation. What was there to check? It must be five or six... ten max. Okay, maybe twenty. Still, twenty votes can make a difference—there's a public voting system for choosing the top three winners.

"Five hundred and eighty-six."

"Huh?"

"Five hundred and eighty-six people in my circle are going to vote for you," he repeated, unfazed.

"Kiaan, I meant your college circle, not your followers," I said, smiling awkwardly.

"Oh, sh—woah. Bhabhi, why didn't I think of that before?" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "Gosh, I'll post the story right now. You're sure to win now!"

"...How many followers do you even have?" I asked, and instantly regretted it.

"You didn't follow me back?" he asked, and for the first time this morning, his smile faltered.

"Ah... actually, I... Okay, I didn't. But I'll do it later. Promise," I said, feeling a twinge of guilt.

"Hmm. I have 30.6k followers," he said flatly.

Thirty thousand?

Who on earth was following this boy to watch his dancing reels and almost-makeout sessions with his bike?

Finally, Dheer and I left for the upcoming battle.

Today was the first day of the competition. It would last five days.

Let me tell you guys a bit about my last twenty days. I don't know why but I kept having dreams of di our moments Those memories kept coming back. It should feel good but something is off with me and my mind and I knew that.

I am participating under Dad's company—but there are just jewels. No team. Nothing. Dheer offered me a team, but I didn't want that. I want to have a fair competition—with Shilpi, and my other competitors.

Shilpi is participating from Luxe Legacy, and I'm sure she's going to take the company name to the next level with this competition. She's smart, polished, and strategic. Everyone knows it.

As for me and my team—well, I'll tell you that secret later.

Right now, my major problem is Ella. She's been acting... strange. Distant. Off.

I asked the team about her. They noticed it too—her behaviour is weird now. She's always been a little aloof with others, sure. But not with me. Never with me.

She always shared everything with me.

Ruhi.

I blinked.

I guess it's time to visit the team.

Ruhi.

Huh?

"What are you thinking?" Dheer asked, and I realised—I had zoned out.

Again.

"Nothing," I replied quickly, too quickly.
Well... I still have to tell him about our team. I will. Just not now. After the competition.

"Are you nervous?" he asked softly, caressing the back of my hand with his thumb. A tender gesture, grounding.

"Maybe. Well... a little," I replied, honestly.

But that's a lie.
A small word for something that feels like drowning.

This competition is everything for me.

I had seen Di working so hard for it. I still remember that beautiful design she'd drawn... so detailed, so intricate. She said that after graduation, she'd join the company and participate. That she'd show the world her art—her vision. Her soul in gold and silver.

But her memories... her dreams... her designs...

All of it was destroyed.

Wiped clean, like her life didn't matter.
They came into the room, wore their gloves, and took everything. They didn't see her dreams. Just "evidence." Just... things.

After that incident, I was traumatised. I didn't speak to anyone. Not even Bhai. Not for three, four months.

I stopped talking.
Stopped eating.
Stopped existing.

I don't know what Bhai told Mom and Dad, but they never pressured me. Never asked me why I was acting this way. Why I wasn't going to school.

Maybe Bhai had already told them.

Maybe they already knew everything—just hid their fears behind a smile. Swallowed their pain so I wouldn't drown in mine.

After countless therapy sessions—none of which helped—I somehow stepped out of that shell. I don't even know how.

Because only I know what I felt during those days.

Only I remember the weight.

The way every breath felt like betrayal—because she wasn't breathing anymore.

Every night, I had the same nightmare.

Di... calling me. Screaming for help. Her voice echoing through the dark like a haunting lullaby. Her cries, her screams, the maniac laughter of those monsters—it never stopped. It rang in my head like a curse.

I was terrified of blankets.
A blanket. 

Because one night, I had that nightmare again.
And I ended up in the hospital.

Why? Because I tried to cover myself, and I couldn't breathe. My body wouldn't move. I was shaking, trapped.

In my dream, it wasn't a blanket.
It was him.

That man—hovering over me. Touching me. Biting me. His weight pressing down on my chest. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my wrists—dug his nails into my skin and started choking me.

I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
I was suffocating.

I turned my head—desperate for escape—and then I saw her.

Di.

Lying beside me.

Her face turned toward mine, eyes wide open. That... that last smile she gave me frozen on her face.

And those monsters—those filthy men—still on top of her.

Pranav...
That bastard was laughing while biting into her dead, lifeless body.

My body became still. Numb. Cold.

I just lay there. Looking at her.

At what was left of her.

And I thought...

Maybe if I die, I'd finally be free.

Free from the nightmares.
Free from the haunting.
Free from remembering her scream that day—how it never stopped, how it echoed in my chest even after my ears stopped hearing.

Maybe I'll be able to start over again in some other world.
One without monsters.
One without memories.
Without pain.
Without me.

Next day, I woke up in a hospital bed.

That day... I saw something in Bhai's eyes that I'd never seen before. A kind of hollow grief mixed with guilt, like he'd been carrying a corpse in his soul for far too long. I always knew he blamed himself—for what happened to Di, for what happened to me. For not being there. And maybe... maybe he wasn't wrong.

I know he had feelings for Di. Maybe it started as a harmless crush, a quiet admiration. But somewhere along the way, it had turned into something deeper—something tender and terrifying. I'd told him so many times to at least tell her.

 To confess. To take a chance. But he always smiled it off and told me not to meddle. "It's just a crush, Ruhi. That's all."

But if it really was just a crush... why did he give them such a brutal death?

Sometimes, even now, I feel chills crawling over my spine remembering what he did to those monsters. No hesitation. No mercy. Just wrath... the kind that burns everything it touches.

Do you guys want to know how Ishaan had killed the culprits of AAdhira?

That's when it hit me.

I wasn't the only one drowning.

Bhai... he'd loved her too. He lost her too. And because of me—because I shattered into pieces—he didn't even get the chance to mourn her.

That day, I finally broke my silence. After months of saying nothing, I looked him in the eye and whispered a shaky "I miss her." He cried. He cried for her, for me, for everything we lost. We held each other, two broken souls clinging to the only thing we had left: each other.

And that day, I made a promise.
I'll never be a burden to Bhai again. No matter how shattered I feel inside, I'll smile for him. I'll live for him.

A thumb gently brushed away the tears from my face.

That's when I realized—I'd been crying. Trembling.

I looked up.

Dheer.

His eyes were glistening. He was trying so hard to hold back his own tears, biting his lower lip, his breath hitching. His face was twisted in pain... because mine was.

"Why are you crying?" I asked, barely able to get the words out. My voice cracked like thin glass, my throat raw, sore.

"Yo... You were having another panic attack, Ruhi." His voice came out strained, like the words were strangling him on the way out.

Panic attack.

Suddenly, I noticed the tremors in my body—how I was still shaking. My hands, cold and limp, were cradled between his warm ones. He was rubbing them slowly, grounding me, anchoring me.

I looked at him.

He wiped his own tears first, then mine, with the back of his trembling hand. His touch was so tender it nearly broke me all over again.

"Ruhi... let's go back."

I blinked at him, trying to read his face. He was serious.

"Dheer, today's the competition. We can't go back."

He swallowed hard. "But what if you have another panic attack there? You won't be coming back until it's over. I don't want you to be alone in that crowd, not while you're carrying this kind of pain."

There was something about the way he said it. The way his voice cracked—like he was begging.

And I hated that.
I hated seeing him like this.

He was Dheer Rathore. The man who ruled rooms with a look. Who made people rise to their feet just by entering. Not this—this soft, broken boy begging the universe to spare me more pain.

"Dheer... I'm fine," I whispered. "I-I wasn't having a panic attack. I was just... zoned out, thinking about something."

A lie. And a bad one. But he didn't call me out. He just nodded slightly, staring at our hands.

Then he asked, quietly, "What were you thinking about?"

I took a shaky breath. I couldn't lie anymore.

"Memories."

I paused, trying to gather the words that had been choking me for years.

"It was Di's dream to participate and win this competition. She had this spark when she talked about jewellery, about design. She used to draw these beautiful sketches and tell the story behind every single piece. 

Rings, necklaces... even loose stones. Everything had meaning to her. If that incident hadn't happened, she would be here. She'd be the one standing on that stage, and I would be in the audience—cheering for her like always."

Dheer's thumb froze against my skin. His eyes flicked up to meet mine.

"Don't you have her designs? Or anything she left behind?" he asked, voice soft.

I smiled weakly, eyes stinging again.

"I wish. When I visited her room after that incident, it was... empty. Cold. Stripped bare. Bhai told me the police took everything—her sketchbooks, her laptop, even the half-finished earrings on her desk. They said it was for the investigation. 

But it felt like they erased her. Every trace. That room... it doesn't feel like hers anymore. It's haunted."

Dheer's brows furrowed. His nose scrunched the way it always does when he's angry and sad at the same time.

I reached up and smoothed the lines on his forehead, trying to calm him.

"Now let's go. We're getting late. I'll be fine," I said. "I'll be too busy to think about anything else."

He nodded slowly, but I could tell he was still lost in thought, still not convinced.

I took one more deep breath.

For Di. For Bhai. For the girl I used to be.

I was going to win this competition. Not just for the title.

But to keep Di's story alive.

Finally, we reached the airport.

The competition was taking place in Beijing, China, and the theme was Folklore. Fitting, I guess — a country soaked in legends, forgotten tales, and timeless designs. 

I was supposed to be going with Dheer. I'd be staying in the hotel allotted by the competition team, and he'd booked a hotel nearby since his company was also participating. He said he'd be there the whole time. Said he wanted to.

But as we moved toward the boarding gates, right when it was time to present our boarding passes, Dheer suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled me aside. His steps were a bit too fast, his grip a bit too tight.

Then, without saying anything, he hugged me.

"Hey... what happened?" I asked, confused, trying to read his face.

He pulled back slightly, eyes not meeting mine.

"Ruhi, you go."

"What? What do you mean?"

"You go to China first. I'll be there before the final round," he said. His voice sounded distracted — not calm or reassuring — but tense, like something was bothering him. Something urgent. He was glancing to the side, lips pressed in a tight line.

"Why?" I asked, my voice raising a little in panic. "You said you'd be there from the start. And your company's participating, isn't it? You have to be there. Are you sick? Are you not feeling well? We can take the next flight, it's fine — let's just go get checked." My hands moved automatically to his forehead, searching for warmth, for some clue — anything.

But he caught my wrist gently, stopping me.

"Ruhi, try to understand. I... I can't lie to you. Something came up. Something really important. I need to deal with it first. But I swear, I'll be there for you. 

Before the final round, I promise. I've already messaged Kiaan, he'll take the next flight and be there with you."

He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

And I don't know why, but it stung — it hurt.

My heart thudded painfully against my ribs. Because this wasn't the plan. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. I wasn't brave enough to face all that alone.

I thought I was okay. I told him I'd be fine.

But I wasn't fine. I was fine because he was there.

His presence made the memories quieter, the pain softer. But without him, between the jewels and the sketches and the endless designs, I'd be right back in Di's world. The one that ended too soon. The one I couldn't save. And I didn't know if I could come out of that all over again.

"Don't go," I wanted to say.
"Please don't leave me alone in this."

But I didn't. I just stood there — swallowing it all.

The boarding announcement snapped through the speakers, sharp and cold.

I turned around quickly, before he could see the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. His voice came from behind me — calling my name. But I didn't look back.

Because I knew the moment I did, I wouldn't be able to move.

And then the fear crept in —not loud, not sudden, but slow and familiar, like a shadow that never really left.

Not the fear of the unknown,
but the fear of feeling that guilt again.
Of standing in the middle of shattered memories
and realizing you were the one holding the hammer all along.

Di used to say jewellery tells a story.
But I carry two parts of the same story.

The world will mostly relate with the first one, 

they will cry and show sympathy for the first one .
But what if the second...
what if the second is darker than they can bear?
What if I can't bear it?

What if the tale that should've ended in sparkle
ends instead in silence?

Every sparkling thing is not gold.

And even if it is gold... it can still have a thin layer of dust clinging to it.
Invisible at first. But slowly, it settles in the cracks, dulls the shine. Corrupts what once felt pure.

It's not about gold.

Do you guys want to know how Ishaan had killed the culprits of AAdhira?

Now every character of this book have a partner be it krish, kiaan, dheer, dheeraj, kush,or ishaan except Luv. 

What kind of love story do you want for luv?

They all are going to have there own books.

Your love and support mean everything. 

TARGET : Let's reach 90 comments and 20 votes before the next chapter—can't wait to share more with you all.