ch 20 cruel holi
Then next day morning its HOLI FESTIVAL
Morning came with laughter outside shouts of "Holi hai!
", bursts of colors, splashes of water balloons, the whole neighborhood alive with festivity.
The fragrance of gujiya and thandai floated in the air, children ran past in the streets, and even Revati's mocking laughter rang through the courtyard as she played with colors with Sameer and neighbors.
But inside i locked in storeroom, the world was still.
i sat curled up on the cold floor, back against the wall, my knees pulled to my chest. The tears that had poured through the night had long dried, leaving salty streaks on my cheeks. my eyes were swollen, my lips cracked, but now... there was only silence inside me.
No more sobs. No more fighting the door. Just... staring at the wall opposite, as though it might open a way out.
The muffled sounds of joy outside only deepened the hollow in my chest. Every laugh, every splash of water, every call of "Bura na maano, Holi hai!" was like a cruel reminder of how locked away you were how unwanted.
A faint bruise darkened on my cheek where the slap had landed yesterday. my wrist still ached where he had dragged me. And my heart... that had grown heavier than any wound on my body.
Outside, colors painted the world.
Inside, your world stayed colorless.
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The Malhotra mansion's vast garden looked like a battlefield of colors. Crimson, green, blue, pink clouds of powder filled the air, laughter echoing across the estate. But it wasn't the brothers' playful nature that fueled the chaos. It was Raj.
The five-year-old darted between them with mischievous giggles, his tiny hands clutching water balloons, his face smeared with every shade imaginable.
Wherever Raj ran, everyone followed—guards, maids, even Meera, whose laughter rang like music as she tried to catch her son before he climbed into yet another flowerbed.
Kabir roared with laughter when Raj hurled a balloon at him. "Arre chhote, tujhe lagta hai tu mujhe gira dega?!" He charged after the boy with exaggerated steps, but Raj was quick, hiding behind Aarav's tall frame.
The eldest Malhotra, Aarav, stood there in a simple white kurta now streaked with red and yellow.
He didn't chase or shout like his brothers.
His mere presence was enough calm, steady, a towering figure that even in play carried an aura of authority.
Raj peeked from behind his leg, squealing when Kabir threatened to scoop him up.
Raghav adjusted his glasses, shaking his head at his brothers' antics. But when Raj splattered purple powder across his face, even the cold strategist cracked a smile, pulling the boy onto his shoulders. "You little ghost," he muttered, but his eyes softened as Raj clapped in victory.
Aditya stood nearby, sleeves rolled, his scarred knuckles dusted with color.
He wasn't much of a festive man, but Raj had him cornered too.
The boy's innocence had disarmed the soldier so much so that when Raj threw a fistful of pink powder at him, Aditya didn't dodge.
He just smirked, ruffled the kid's hair, and let the laughter wash over him.
From the outside, it was a perfect picture: powerful men, feared across the world, reduced to playful uncles by a five-year-old. The mansion echoed with warmth that morning.
But even amid the laughter, Aarav's sharp eyes scanned the gathering. Everyone was there Kabir drenched in colors, Raghav with Meera and Raj, Aditya smirking with a drink in hand. Everyone was laughing, celebrating...
Except for one face.
His gaze lingered just a moment longer on the empty spot at the side veranda—the place where he had half-expected to see you. For reasons he couldn't explain, a flicker of unease passed through his chest.