Advit's POV

Vikram's words still echoed in my head, replaying like a broken record.

"If you were less rebellious, if you would stop rejecting me, loving you would be so simple."

Loving you? That phrase alone was enough to throw the world off its axis. The irony hit like a punchline to a cruel joke—Vikram Grewal, of all people, speaking like a man stricken by love. Vikram, whose name was synonymous with destruction and deceit, now playing the role of a star-crossed lover? 

It was laughable, absurd. Like Ravana, the demon king himself, waking one morning with the delusion that he could rise to Lord Ram’s grace and goodness. But demons do not shed their skins so easily. A Ravana does not become Ram overnight. Or perhaps ever

"What makes you so fond of her?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

For all I knew, Vikram never cared much for the idea of marriage. It was just another thing his family was handling for him. He never seemed interested-until now.

He leaned back, exhaling as if recalling a memory.

He leaned back, exhaling slowly, the kind of breath that carried the weight of a memory. His gaze wandered, unfocused, as though he were sifting through fragments of his own indifference. 

"I wasn’t concerned about who I was going to marry,"he began, his voice low, almost distant. "It wasn’t something I ever thought about. At first, I wasn’t interested at all. Mom and Dad kept discussing her with Dadi—her qualities, her character—but I didn’t care. It was just noise. Marriage… it was never something I concerned myself with. Just another family obligation I had to endure.

Who she was didn’t matter to me—I didn’t even remember her name the first few times Mom and Dad brought her up. I didn’t ask. I didn’t listen."

That made sense.

Vikram’s voice dropped lower, his words carrying a weight that seemed to pull the air from the room. 

"They showed me her photo," he began, his tone almost detached, as if recounting a story he wasn’t sure he wanted to share. "Still, nothing. Just another face in a sea of faces. I didn’t care. Why would I? Marriage was never something I thought about, never something I wanted. It was just noise—background chatter from Mom, Dad, and Dadi, filling the house with their plans and expectations."* 

He paused, his fingers tightening on the edge of the bed, the tension in his grip betraying the calmness of his voice. 

"But then… I heard things. People talked about her. Not just her name or her family, but her. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke, the way she made people feel. And I grew curious. I didn’t want to be curious, but I was. And then… I saw a video."

His gaze flickered, distant, as if he were watching the memory play out in his mind. "She was smiling. That radiant, carefree smile—like the morning sun breaking through the clouds. And the way she danced with her eyes… it wasn’t just captivating. It was consuming. It was the kind of thing that makes you forget where you are, who you are, and why you’re even watching. And for someone like me, someone who’s spent his life suffocating under the weight of control and power, that kind of freedom is intoxicating."

*"And then I met her."* 

There was a shift in his tone—a subtle crack in the armor he always wore. *"She wasn’t what I expected. She didn’t care who I was or what my name meant to other people. She wasn’t interested in my money, my family, or the life I could give her. She looked at me like I was…"* He paused, his jaw tightening, the words caught in his throat. *"Like I was just another man trying to impress her. And she wasn’t impressed."* 

A hollow laugh escaped him, a self-deprecating sound that felt as foreign as the vulnerability in his voice.

"Do you know how rare that is? To meet someone who doesn’t want anything from me, who doesn’t care about the noise and the reputation? For the first time, someone saw through me, and it wasn’t admiration in her eyes—it was defiance. Pure, unyielding defiance."

He leaned back slightly, his eyes flickering with something darker, something deeper. "At first, I hated it. I hated her. She challenged everything about me—my control, my authority, my sense of who I was. And yet… I couldn’t stay away. She makes me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling. Things I’m not even sure I understand."

Vikram’s lips curled into a faint, bitter smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "So, what makes me so fond of her? Maybe it’s the way she doesn’t care about me, and yet she’s the only person I can’t stop thinking about. Maybe it’s the way she makes me question everything I thought I knew. Or maybe…"

His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "Maybe it’s because she’s the only person who’s ever been brave enough to reject me, and I’m too much of a fool to let her go."

scoffed, the sound sharp and unrestrained. "Is that love you’re feeling?" 

His eyes snapped to mine, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. "No,"

"But it made me want to see that smile in person. And when I finally met her—she wouldn’t even look at me."

I nearly choked on laughter, the absurdity of it all catching me off guard.

"She wouldn’t look at you? That must’ve been a first."* 

He ignored my jab, his gaze distant, as though he were replaying the memory in his mind.

"Yesterday, I was nervous," he admitted, the words sounding foreign coming from him. "I kept fidgeting, couldn’t sit still. And then, when she entered the room…"

He paused, exhaling sharply. "I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She must’ve noticed, because she kept looking away, hiding her eyes from me. Those beautiful eyes."

His fingers tightened on the edge of the bed, his voice dropping lower. "She was even more beautiful in person. But the only problem was… she refused to show me the smile I’d seen in the video. That radiant, carefree smile. It was like she’d locked it away, and I couldn’t find the key."

I frowned.

Come to think of it... Sapna never smiles at man with handsome faces. So, she had never smiled at me either.

Not even once.

She smiled at others.

But when it came to me?

She scowled.

"Even at our first meeting, she was terrified of me. The sight of her trembling like a twig on a windy night was quite unpleasant. I don't want to see it again. I tried getting close to her, but whenever I'm near, she's always trying to get away, challenging me. Making me want to chase after her."

I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"Let me get this straight-you're obsessed with a girl who barely acknowledges your existence?"

His jaw tightened. "You think this is funny?"

"I think it's hilarious. She behaves the same way with me. The moment I try to help her, she slaps my hand away like I am offering poison. And the second I get close, she turns away like I’m the most repulsive thing she’s ever seen."

I sighed heavily.

"Her actions makes me laugh sometime, but there are also moments they made me feel angry so far. It's annoying because I don't even know what her problem is."

I can't fix the rift between us, because I don't know what I did wrong.

Vikram’s scowl deepened, the furrow in his brow almost comical if not for the tension radiating from him. 

"Good," he muttered.

"Good? How the hell is that good?"

He smirked. "It means you're not my competition."

I watched him carefully. His usual cocky smirk was absent, replaced by something... calculating.

"I thought you two were close," he added casually, his gaze never wavering from mine. "You even took her to watch the sunset."

I huffed, crossing my arms. *"Not at all,"* I replied flatly. 

His smirk deepened, this time with a dangerous glint. "Congratulations, Advit Grewal."You’ve officially saved yourself from being on my murder list."

I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath. This damn dickhead. 

Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but smirk at the absurdity of it all. The irony was almost too much to bear. 

*"Okay, one thing, Vikram," I began, my voice steady, as if I were trying to reason with a particularly stubborn child. "If you’re serious about this—about her—please, be gentle with her."

His eyebrow arched, that familiar glint of amusement sparking in his eyes. *"Gentle?"* he repeated, his tone laced with mock surprise. "Now that is an unexpected request coming from you." 

I sighed, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. "Yeah, well, consider it a rare moment of wisdom. Don’t make me regret it."

I exhaled sharply, giving him a look that should have removed that smirk from his face, but Vikram was immune to both sense and consequence.

He raised a brow, amused.

"Listen," I said, taking a serious tone.

""She is complicated-unlike the girls you've dated before. With them, you made their lives complicated after being with you. But with Sapna? She's already complicated. You don't have to break her-she's already broken. She's not someone you can understand by glancing at a single page of her life. She is an entire book."-one you will never fully understand if you don't know how to read between the lines."

His smirk faltered. Barely

The wind outside carried the sound of distant temple bells ringing—perhaps a sign that my words were of divine wisdom. Or perhaps just an ill-timed coincidence.

*"Her emotions,"* I continued, my voice steady but firm, "...are not like those of women who wear them openly. You might think she is indifferent, but you couldn’t be more wrong. She notices everything—every glance, every word, every action. She sees you, she sees me, she sees everyone in this house. And she remembers." 

I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. "So watch your behavior carefully, Vikram. Because whether you realize it or not, she is noticing everything." 

And I wasn’t just saying it for his benefit—I meant every word.

I had felt the full force of that clarity myself. 

Last night, deep in that forest, beneath the canopy of towering trees, she read me like an open book.

She had described my life in ways that sent shivers down my spine.

And that's what scared me the most.

How could someone I had only just met see straight through me? How could she pick apart the person I pretended to be and uncover the things I worked so hard to hide? It was unsettling, like standing bare and vulnerable under her gaze, with no armor to shield me. 

Vikram, for all his bravado, didn’t understand the depth of what he was dealing with. Not yet. But he would. If she could read me so easily, she would read him too—

Vikram exhaled sharply, shaking his head with that practiced indifference he loved to wear like armor. But there was something else beneath it—a flicker of curiosity he couldn’t quite hide. 

"Are you sure you met her only yesterday?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. 

I smirked, a slow, deliberate curl of my lips. "Unlike someone, my EQ is high," I shot back.

Vikram scoffed, the tension in his jaw betraying his irritation. "What the hell does that even mean?"* he snapped.

I smirked. It was true. His EQ was pathetic.

I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I let the silence hang heavy, punctuated only by the faint grin lingering on my face. 

"And one more thing, Vikram," I said finally, my voice steady but laced with unmistakable authority. "Stop touching her without her permission. Have some damn self-control. Be a man." 

His smirk faltered for just a second—a flicker, barely noticeable—before he leaned back, regaining that infuriating composure. "Gentle and restrained advice coming from Advit Grewal. I’ll make sure it’s framed and hung in the drawing room,"* he replied mockingly, though his eyes held a trace of something darker. 

His lips curled into something dark. " And you must know this~You're asking for the impossible."

I exhaled sharply, the weight of his arrogance pressing down on the room. 

"She hates physical intimacy—especially from men," I said, my voice steady but laced with irritation. "Don’t come crying to me when she starts hating you for it."* 

Vikram leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "It’s impossible for any woman to hate the touch of her future husband," he said, his tone dripping with misplaced confidence. 

No wonder marital rape was on the rise.

"Future husband?"* I echoed, my voice sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. "You might want to rethink that mindset, Vikram. Because if you keep acting like her feelings don’t matter, you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t slam the door in your face—permanently."

"And what will you, if she ever run away. What if she runs away and you never finds her back?" I asked.

He muttered under his breath, " Before she could entertain such ideas...I'll tie her up until she agrees."

My blood ran cold.

I stared at him, horrified, but before I could speak-he moved toward Sapna,

Vikram knelt beside her, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against her forehead with unsettling ease.

"She doesn’t seem feverish," he muttered, his voice eerily casual, as if this moment was nothing more than routine. 

" What are you upto?"

He looked at me, *"Relax,"* he said coolly. "I’m just checking. She seemed out of sorts earlier, didn’t she?"

Then, he took her wrist, his fingers pressing lightly against her pulse. 

"Normal," he murmured, his voice calm, almost clinical. 

I stayed silent, my thoughts swirling, but his gaze snapped to me, sharp and unyielding. 

"Tell me exactly what happened,"* he demanded, his tone leaving no room for evasion. "Why did Bhabhi say she’s sick?"* 

My throat tightened, the weight of his question pressing down on me. Images flashed in my mind—her face, pale and drawn, her tears slipping silently down her cheeks. The way her voice cracked, barely above a whisper, as she spoke words that sent a chill through me. 

I didn't know what had happened to her in the past. But there was something there. A wound so deep that it made her recoil at the simplest touch.

Did she have an abusive ex-boyfriend?

Was she hurt by her own family?

The questions gnawed at my mind like a parasite.

It felt like I was being dragged through a maze, trying to understand her. But every turn led to more dead ends.

A past lover? An abusive relationship?

Or... something worse?

Did her ex-boyfriend abuse her?

Or...

Was it her father?

I clenched my fists.The possibilities gnawed at me, each one more troubling than the last. 

And damn it, I hated mysteries.

"Advit," Vikram snapped, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I blinked.

"How would I know?" I scoffed, my tone oozing with faint disbelief. "She's your future wife, not mine. Shouldn't you know her better?"

Then then I added." Did you know studies shows communication is the cornerstone of a healthy relationship?Something like 93% of it is nonverbal. Maybe you missed the memo while perfecting your ability to glare at people. Here’s a free tip—try listening for once. You might just surprise yourself."

My smirk deepened as the words I was about to say was sort of entertaining.

"you’ve heard of emotional intelligence? It’s this fascinating concept where you actually pay attention to how others feel and respond accordingly. Revolutionary, I know."

Advit tilted his head, his smirk deepening. "For example, did you know that studies show people with high emotional intelligence tend to form healthier relationships? They’re better at resolving conflicts, understanding nonverbal cues, and—brace yourself—respecting boundaries. All things that might be worth considering before you go around declaring yourself the center of someone’s universe."

I sighed dramatically, as if already exhausted by Vikram’s inability to grasp the point.

"But I suppose that level of effort doesn’t suit you, does it? After all, why bother learning when you can just smirk and assume you already know everything? It’s certainly an…efficient way to stay  clueless." 

Before Vikram could answer, a shadow appeared at the door.

The door swung open with a sharp thud, and my soul left my body.

I had been bracing myself for an argument with Vikram, preparing for the verbal sparring that always seemed to follow when arrogance met sarcasm. But I hadn’t prepared for this. For her.  but I hadn't prepared for her.

She didn’t say anything at first—she didn’t need to.

And I felt my soul leave my body.

Bhabhi.

And she was pissed.

She stood in the doorway, her presence crackling like the air before a thunderstorm. The soft flutter of her saree was the only gentle thing about her as she stepped forward. Her eyes darted between Vikram and me, sharp and unrelenting, and her anger was as unmistakable as the storm she carried with her. 

Why does she look like she’s about to commit a double homicide? 

I instinctively took a step back, the weight of her fury pressing down on me like a physical force. But Vikram—the absolute idiot—stood his ground, arms crossed, his expression as smug as ever. 

Of course, he would. The man had the survival instincts of a rock. 

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, and I could almost feel the temperature in the room drop. If looks could kill, Vikram would’ve been reduced to ashes on the spot. 

"What's your business here?" she demanded.

" Doctor Babu doesn't have any pending work to do, it seems. So, tell me- this is what you are doing instead of working." she added, glaring at Vikram.

I barely suppressed a laugh. Oh, this is going to be fun.

Vikram, of course, remained unbothered.

"I am a doctor, after all," he replied smoothly, his smirk returning. "Of course, I'm here to check on my patient. And if it's one's future wife, then all the pending work is worth ignoring. Checking on my future wife. Isn't that what a responsible husband should do?And work can wait. Priority can't, you know."

Bhabhi crossed her arms, her glare unwavering. "You make it sound like you’re tending to a VIP. Let me guess—your ‘future wife’ didn’t ask for this, did she?"* 

Vikram’s smirk widened, as if he found her retort amusing rather than intimidating.

"Ah, but isn’t that the beauty of it? A good doctor knows what’s needed before the patient has to say anything. It’s called being proactive," he said, his tone teetering on the edge of condescension. 

I finally let out a laugh, unable to hold it in any longer. "Proactive? Is that what we’re calling it now?"* I added, throwing a pointed look at him. 

*"Exactly,"* Vikram shot back, turning his smirk on me. "Some of us take our responsibilities seriously, Advit. Not that you’d know much about that."

She raised an eyebrow, not even attempting to hide her irritation. "Proactive? Annoying people until they throw you out of the room? Sounds productive." 

Vikram smirked,  casually against the suffocating tension in the room. "Annoying people? No, no, I’d call it… ensuring everyone’s aware of my presence. It’s a gift, really."

I couldn’t help but snort, unable to resist chiming in. "Oh, it’s a gift all right. A gift none of us asked for." 

Bhabhi shot me a look, half-amused, half-exasperated, before turning back to Vikram. "You’re impossible. Is this your grand plan? To just stand around spouting nonsense until everyone forgets why they’re mad at you?"

Vikram grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Well, it seems to be working so far, doesn’t it?"

I rolled my eyes, deciding to add fuel to the fire. "Careful, Vikram. If you keep this up, she might actually use that glare to set you on fire. And honestly, I won’t stop her."

Bhabhi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You two are insufferable. Do me a favor—grow up. Both of you."

Shobha's jaw clenched. "Listen to me carefully, Vikram." Her voice was dangerously low. "Sapna has already made it clear. She does not want to marry you. Respect her decision. End this charade or whatever grand drama you have schemed for the future."

Vikram tilted his head slightly, as if weighing her words. Then, that smirk of his—arrogant, infuriating—resurfaced.

"I do respect her choice."

Liar.

"Shaadi mein Sapna ki approval se hi karunga. Nahi manegi toh manwa lunga." (I will marry her with her approval. If she doesn't agree, I will persuade her.)

Her eyes narrowed further, the fury in her gaze turning molten. "Manwa lunga? Do you even hear yourself? You’re not a savior, Vikram. You’re a problem—a stubborn, selfish problem that refuses to see the damage you’re causing."

Vikram chuckled softly, his arrogance practically radiating. "Damage? Bhabhi, you seem to underestimate me. Persuasion is an art, and I happen to excel at it. Why do you think people always fall in line?"

*"Because they’re too scared to challenge you,"* Shobha shot back, her tone sharper now, cutting through his calm facade. "But Sapna isn’t like them. She’s not going to bow to you, Vikram. She doesn’t fear you—she despises you. And you’re too blind to see it."* 

Vikram’s smirk faltered, just for a fraction of a second, but he quickly masked it, his expression hardening.

"Despise me now, maybe. But hate has a way of turning into something else entirely, Shobha. All it takes is time." 

"Time won’t change the fact that she doesn’t want you," Shobha snapped, stepping closer, her voice rising as she jabbed a finger toward him. "The more you push, the more you destroy whatever chance you think you have. Do yourself a favor, Vikram—let her go."* 

I was somewhere between horrified and impressed at his determination.

"Listen carefully, Doctor Babu,"* she said, her tone smooth but laced with sarcasm. "Sapna has already made it crystal clear that she doesn’t want to marry you. Respect her decision—or do you need a medical chart to explain the concept of ‘no’?" 

Vikram tilted his head, clearly unfazed, his own smirk creeping back onto his face. "AS I have said, I respect her choice,"* he replied, his voice overly sweet, almost patronizing. "But you know how it is—sometimes the patient doesn’t know what’s best for them. That’s why they need a doctor to guide them. An expert, really." 

Shobha’s eyebrows shot up, her amusement barely concealed. "An expert, huh? Funny, I don’t remember arrogance being part of the medical curriculum. Is that an elective now?" 

"Not arrogance, Bhabhi. Confidence," Vikram corrected smoothly, leaning against the wall as though he owned the room. "You should try it sometime—it might make your lectures less boring." 

Bhabhi let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head as she folded her arms across her chest. "Confidence? Is that what we’re calling it these days? Here I thought it was just an incurable case of inflated ego. Lucky for you, I’m a vet—I deal with stubborn animals all day."

"And yet, you still haven’t figured out how to tame me," Vikram shot back, his smirk widening. "Maybe you’re not as good at your job as you think." 

*"Oh, don’t worry, Doctor Babu,"* Shobha replied, her tone turning razor-sharp. "I don’t tame pests. I eliminate them."

The room fell into a deadly silence. Even the wind outside seemed to still, as if waiting for what would happen next.

Vikram tilted his head, an eerie calm washing over him. Something darkened beneath his eyes, something that could not be read. "You're challenging the wrong person, Bhabhi."

And just like that-he walked past her, leaving without another word.

But not before taking one last look at Sapna.

A look that sent chills down my spine.

The look of a man who had already made up his mind.

And for the first time, I saw something in his eyes.

Something I didn't want to acknowledge.

Longing.

He wanted to stay.

But he didnt.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence he left in his wake was deafening. 

And me? I stood there, caught in the whirlwind of emotions he’d stirred up. Horror? Maybe. A bitter sort of respect for his unrelenting resolve? That too. 

But most of all, I felt a strange unease. Because for the first time, Vikram didn’t seem like someone who was just playing a game. No, he looked like a man who would risk everything to win. 

And I didn’t know how to feel about that

And I... didn't know how to feel about it.

💦

The door shut behind Vikram, and for a few moments, there was only silence.

Then, suddenly-

"Advit, have you forgotten what I told you?"

Shit.

turned to her, blinking with all the innocence I could muster. *"Uh… no?"* 

I scratched the back of my head, the universal gesture of someone trying to look harmless. *"Because he’s a doctor,"* I ventured, my tone teetering on the edge of defensiveness. 

*"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!"* she exploded, and the sheer volume nearly made me jump out of my skin. 

I blinked at her, tilting my head slightly, the gears in my mind turning with an exaggerated slowness. "Bhabhi… you’re swearing? You?"

She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed by my theatrics. "Yeah. So what? You think only men have the right to curse?"

"No, no, of course not," I replied instantly, bowing low enough to look absurd.

"How dare I insinuate such injustice? Please, accept my most humble apologies, Bhabhi. Should I kneel too? Or perhaps perform an interpretiv dance- like belly dance or tweark by waist and bum to express my regret?"

Her lips twitched—almost imperceptibly—but the glare didn’t budge. I straightened up, throwing her my best disarming grin. 

*"You know,"* I added casually, tapping my chin as if deep in thought,

"statistically speaking, research shows that people who swear are often more honest and emotionally expressive. Clearly, your vocabulary puts you leagues ahead of the rest of us mere mortals." 

She rolled her eyes but didn’t interrupt, which meant I had room to keep pushing my luck.

*"In fact,"* I continued, folding my arms with mock seriousness,

"I believe they should make cursing a core subject in school. 'Advanced Swearing Techniques: How to Make Someone Regret Their Life Choices in Under Ten Words.' You’d be an excellent guest lecturer."

At that, she finally cracked—a short, exasperated laugh, quickly followed by her shaking her head. "You’re insufferable, Advit,"

"Bhabhi, I've been meaning to ask you something."

She glanced at me, waiting.

I hesitated before asking, "Bhabhi... why are you so against this marriage?"

"Why are you so against this marriage?" I asked. "Aren't you happy that your friend will finally have someone? Besides... Vikram is...well a responsible man. Isnt that enough."

She didn't answer immediately.

Instead, her eyes softened as she looked at Sapna.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, as if debating whether to say something or not

*"Responsible?"* she repeated softly, the word laced with disbelief.

"Advit, being responsible doesn’t make someone a good match. It doesn’t mean they’re capable of understanding her, of respecting her."

She crossed her arms, her voice hardening.

"Sapna is not just ‘someone’ who needs to be ‘taken care of.’ She’s a person with her own dreams, her own choices, her own mind. But you know what Vikram sees? A prize. Something to win, something to own."

I opened my mouth to argue, but she raised a hand, cutting me off.

"And don’t you dare bring up her happiness. Marrying Vikram would not make her happy. It would break her."

Her words struck a chord, each one heavy with conviction. For once, I didn’t have a quick retort or a witty comeback. I just stood there, taking it in. 

She exhaled sharply, her gaze softening just slightly.

"You want to understand, Advit? Then don’t look at this marriage as some neat solution to her problems. Because it’s not. It’s the exact opposite." 

It was the way she looked at her-like she was holding a secret too painful to share.

And suddenly, I didn't want to know.

Because deep down, I had a feeling I wouldn't like the answer.

But the question had already escaped my lips.

*"Why is she scared of physical intimacy?"* 

The room seemed to grow colder, the silence stretching uncomfortably. 

Shobha’s expression darkened, her jaw tightening as if she were bracing herself against a memory she didn’t want to revisit. 

I hesitated, the weight of her silence pressing down on me. *"Has anything bad happened to her in the past?"* I asked, my voice quieter now, almost reluctant. 

Her gaze flicked to me, sharp and guarded. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, finally, she exhaled, the sound heavy with something I couldn’t quite name. 

*"Yes,"* she said, her voice low but steady. 

My heart clenched. 

*"Something very bad happened."* 

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice even.

"Did her ex-boyfriend abuse her?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Shobha’s eyes didn’t meet mine, her gaze fixed on some distant point as if the answer were written there. 

Then—finally—she sighed, the sound carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. 

"It’s not my story to tell, Advit,"she said quietly, her tone firm but not unkind.

"But yes, something happened. Something that changed her. And it’s not something she can just forget or move past because someone thinks she should."