Prayer in Silk

PROLOGUE

Ishaani's fingertips curled tightly into her palms, anchoring her in the rising tempest of panic that churned within her.

It was an unsettling blend of shame and something sharper — desire, longing, frustration — all clawing at her insides, threatening to burst free.

She had perfected the delicate art of masquerading, expertly weaving smiles when required, laughing on cue, and offering the right words draped in the right tones.

Yes, and it in fact worked efficiently-- inexplanably perfect order of lies and decorum, woven so well that neither her sisters nor the woman who gave birth to her could see past the bristling wall of perfection and trust.

Yet, Tara was a force of nature, a tempest she could neither contain nor forecast. The woman was an epitome of a Dostoevsky Novel-- the frequency of unfurling unveiled the complexity of the pages and the grasp of the character over you.

All in all, the woman was a psychological maze with Vines so thick they slithered around your body, with concealed love, which upon tightening made you realize the love concealed was something far drastic.

"Think you can keep this charade alive?" Tara's voice sliced through the charged atmosphere like a knife, precise and unmistakable, demanding attention.

Her eyes glinted with an intensity reminiscent of wildfire, tearing through Ishaani's defenses with every bit of pent-up frustration she had harbored.

"Stop pretending, Ishaani!" seethed Tara, as she paced in front of Ishaani standing with her arms crossed and an ever-present crease between her brows.

Such a demeanor only fueled Tara's fury further, "Stop acting like everything's fine!

Bacho ki trah harkate mat karo! I see right through you! "

(Stop acting like kids!)

Time seemed to stall as Ishaani 's eyes froze mid-pace, her heart thrumming violently in her chest. The raw audacity of Tara's words — no, the sheer force behind them — scraped against the fragile veneer of control she had so painstakingly constructed.

For a fleeting heartbeat, the walls she had built wavered, and an unsettling realization washed over her: even Tara was weary of her game.

Even she could see the truth underneath the countless layers of pretense.

How couldn't she? The woman was too smart, too machiavellian for the witty yet blind surroundings of their emblazoned marble world.

How could've Ishaani thought that Tara Kapoor would have the patience to deal with the baby of the Rajvanshis, she wasn't a saint in Rishikesh ready to hurl difficulties out of Ishaani's path.

She didn't prefer Ishaani-- No, she tolerated Ishaani.

But Ishaani was no pushover; she wasn't a girl who folded in the face of confrontation.

Not tonight. Not in front of Tara. She summoned a defiant curve of her lips, a smile layered with bravado that masked the tremor threatening to unseat her.

Her voice came out sharper than she intended, a frigid blade wrapped in pride: "Don't fucking bother with it, Tara.

" Her head lifted higher, eyes locking onto Tara's with a dare, challenging her to retort.

Challenges were easier than confrontations--the former took the punches, whereas the latter rained them.

Tara's expression hardened, her jaw clenched, fingers balling into fists at her sides, a faint tremor betraying the storm brewing within her.

"You think you're strong? Hiding behind that flimsy mask of yours, pretending the world doesn't touch you?

You're pathetic—" Tara was cut short by Ishaani's sudden step forth, a wall ready to collapse over the very weak foundation of an emotional tremor.

Ishaani cut her off, the word leaving her lips like a lit fuse, icy but tinged with the trepidation just beneath the surface. "Bitch, please." Words which had been leaving the threshold of Ishaani's mouth since these past few days visited again, and instinctively, she couldn't leash them away.

Survival instincts of a Samosa!

It was a word laden with venom, designed to wound, to incite, to forge a chasm between them. It landed on Tara's heart like a thunderclap, and for a breath, the world around them seemed to freeze.

Then came the sharp reality, as Tara's hand stretched back and landed with the loudest SMACK!

— a resounding crack that echoed through the room, raw and electric.

Ishaani found herself pressed against the wall, the impact stealing the very breath from her lungs, eyes widening in disbelief at the unexpected violence of it all.

It was fierce, yes, and incredibly honest in a way she had never anticipated.

In an instant, years of stored fear, the relentless swallowing of her pain, the act of being untouchable — it all shattered into oblivion. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the edges of her resolve, her chest heaving with a weight she could no longer bear.

As all the defiance washed down, her faux brooding persona vanished into thin air.

She stumbled forward, unmoored, and yet Tara was there, vigilant, ensuring she didn't fall into the chasm of despair.

Ensured well that Ishaani never went through any discomfort on account of anyone present or absent, regardless their actions around her.

Tara's hands gripped Ishaani's shoulders, a firm but gentle anchor that drew her into a cocoon of warmth.

The air between them crackled with an intensity that was both overwhelming and comforting, a charged atmosphere suffused with unsaid words and unexpressed feelings.

Ishaani pressed her face into the crook of Tara's neck, her forehead sinking into the soft fabric, tears soaking through in a mix of defiance and release.

"Shhh... shhh..." Tara murmured, her voice low and steady, a soothing balm that sang of permanence in chaos.

Her fingers danced across the contours of Ishaani's shoulders, tracing a map of tension and vulnerability, deftly illuminating the unspoken weight Ishaani had carried for so long.

"It's okay. None of this is your fault. You've been too strong for too long.

.. but not tonight." Tara kept speaking, as she peppered light kisses to Ishaani's head, "I wouldn't have permitted you to leave to you bed with such a temperament. No, you deserve peace."

True, she did. And no war lead to peace....therefore, she let the woundings in her mind loose.

In her arms, Ishaani felt herself tremble, her body contorting into itself, vulnerable yet tethered.

Every heartbeat of Tara's chest echoed against her ear, each breath a reminder of the razor-thin line separating fury from tenderness.

The sobs shattered her composure, gasping for air that felt as elusive as hope.

Apologies collided in her throat, desires battered against her ribcage — she wanted to scream, to curl up and dissipate.

But Tara's presence was a steadfast lighthouse amidst the storm, holding her grounded.

"You don't have to hold it in anymore," Tara whispered, her fingers brushing through Ishaani's hair, trailing softly to her neck, a touch that was both protective and reverent. "Not with me. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

And in that moment, the dam fractured completely.

Ishaani surrendered to the flood of tears, allowing the fragments of her pride and the ache of her concealed longings to spill onto Tara's chest, soaking the fabric with what had been long overdue.

Tara cradled her like a fortress, her strength unwavering, and in that sanctuary, Ishaani felt liberated from the weight of scrutiny and judgment.

The argument, the slap, the anger — all of it dissolved into a quiet hum of intimacy that washed over the room like dawn breaking.

Tara didn't preach or scold; she simply allowed Ishaani to unravel, her presence a gentle caress, her unyielding embrace echoing the words Ishaani could not yet find: you're safe now. You're allowed to break. I'm here.

Ishaani's sobs eventually softened into gentle hiccups, hands gripping Tara's shirt, a lifeline of warmth connecting them.

As she lifted her head slightly, her glassy eyes met Tara's, heart racing with a blend of defiance and awe, mingling with something deeper, rawer — something neither dared to name.

Tara brushed her lips against Ishaani's hairline, breath ghosting over her temple with an intimate promise. "Don't worry," she whispered, each word deliberate, heavy with assurance. "You're going to be okay. You won't have to deal with anyone else anymore... I'm here. I won't let go."

Ishaani pressed herself closer, burying her face where she knows no one could find her, letting the heat, the anger, the desire, the safety wash over her like a storm finally breaking.

And in the chaos of her tears, she realized something terrifying and beautiful: she didn't want to run from Tara anymore. She didn't even want to fight.

Because Tara was the storm she had been waiting for. And for once, Ishaani didn't need to hide.