CHAPTER II WHISPERED CONFESSIONS
Tara hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But fate was cruel like that - often forcing you face-first into truths you weren't prepared to face.
"It wasn't you. It was her. Tara."
Her own name sliced through the air, sharp and unwelcome, like a slap.
Tara froze. The air in the Rajvanshi manor became thick and suffocating, her throat going drier than the Sahara. She could still feel Ishaani's voice trembling, each word raw and messy, heartbreak blooming in the silence that followed.
Ishaani. The girl she had rejected. The girl she had turned away with the kind of clinical precision only a coward could muster. It felt like a confession lingering in the air between them, a weight neither of them could shake off.
The unaccepting fact that Tara found her mind drifting from even the working procedures of her undercover Sahastra sex-trafficking unveil deal when she thought of Ishaani made her feel such incompetence deeply embedded into her bones.
How she worked through her days with Vedika trying to stay ambiguous to these government hollowing rats whilst deliberately ignoring the gnawing punches of Ishaani's sadness in her heart-was beyond her.
Vedika would skin her alive if she ever mistakengly found out what went down with Tara when she thought of Ishaani.
Suddenly, the walls of Tara's carefully constructed restraint began to fracture, the very foundations she had built to protect her heart crumbling beneath her feet.
She took a shaky step back, almost stumbling, and caught a glimpse of herself in the antique mirror. Silk blouse, spine straight, lipstick perfect - the image of composure she wore like armor. But her eyes? They screamed chaos.
"You idiot," she muttered to herself, voice low and hoarse. "You thought you were protecting her."
When she'd turned Ishaani down just a few weeks ago - when she'd said, "I don't think this is right, you're too young, I'm too close to your family" - she'd believed she was being noble. Responsible. Righteous.
But noble felt overrated now. Standing in this moment, nausea and fury churned within her as she watched the aftermath of her rejection burn through the one who had once looked at her like a god.
Ishaani's broken plea echoed in Tara's mind, each word shattering her resolve - a sharp, anguished voice cracking under the weight of guilt. Tara wanted to scream. The idea that Ishaani thought of her while nestled in someone else's arms wasn't flattery; it was torment.
Desperate for distance, Tara walked toward the hallway, but the opulence of the Rajvanshi manor closed in around her.
Golden chandeliers glimmered, spilling light across the marble floors; everything was far too perfect, far too clean.
A house like this didn't deserve to bear witness to such painful confessions.
She stopped in front of a window, pressing her palm against the cool glass. Her pulse raced, dizzying thoughts spiraling. The woman reflected back at her wasn't the image she had carefully crafted over the years.
"God," she whispered, a bitter laugh escaping her lips - a sound void of humor. "You actually thought you could stay untouched."
But she was touched - scorched, really. Because Ishaani Rajvanshi had loved her. Still loved her, it seemed. And Tara, in her arrogance, had thought saying "no" would simply erase that love.
Instead, it had seeped into silence, morphed in the warmth of someone else's embrace, and echoed in confessions she was never meant to overhear.
As she leaned against the wall, sliding down just enough to admit she wasn't as in control as she liked to think, memories assaulted her.
That night when Ishaani had confessed, eyes sparkling like a star on the brink of burning out.
"You make me feel seen, Tara," she had said, and Tara had responded with a polite smile, sealing off the vulnerable part of her heart.
Now that memory felt cruel. Had she crushed something divine?
Her chest tightened painfully. You did the right thing, she warned herself.
Vedika's little sister.
Nine years younger.
Off-limits.
But righteousness had never felt this hollow.
Tara thought about Nayonica - fierce, magnetic Nayonica - and wondered if she truly understood the battlefield she was stepping onto. Did she know that Ishaani didn't just love Tara? She worshipped her. This wasn't mere desire; it was devotion dressed as disaster.
Tara inhaled sharply, tears pooling in her eyes, blurring her vision.
"And you rejected that," she whispered bitterly. "You walked away like it meant nothing."
Because she had. And because she had to.
Yet, hearing Ishaani's voice crack - so vulnerable, so achingly free - shattered something inside Tara. She wasn't supposed to feel this way - not now, not after saying no - but the truth pulsed beneath her skin like a fever: She wanted Ishaani. She always had.
Not for her body, not for the thrill; she craved the terrifying honesty in Ishaani. The way she loved like it was war.
Tara pressed a trembling hand to her lips, fingers brushing her quivering lower lip. She squeezed her eyes shut, involuntarily replaying Ishaani's radiant smile in her mind. "You can't," she murmured, the words barely a sob. "You can't undo this."
Even if she wanted to - even if she stormed over to Ishaani's door and confessed, "I made a mistake" - there would be questions, scandal, whispers tearing through family ties, dragging the Rajvanshi name into tabloids.
She wasn't sure she could survive another ruin like that.
But dear God, it was tempting.
Imagining Ishaani's hand brushing hers again, those soft lips meeting her own, that shorter frame leaning into her - what if she could be more than just Vedika's best friend? What if she could finally feel seen through Ishaani's fierce, ridiculous heart?
Tara let her head fall back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut, letting out a shaky breath. For the first time in a long while, she was uncertain - caught between desire and duty, drowning in a yearning that felt impossibly alive within her.
"You should've kissed her when you had the chance," Tara whispered to the empty hallway, her voice barely echoing back.
Deep down, she knew the truth she'd never admit: she was already in love with Ishaani Rajvanshi - the girl she had pushed away.
It all began with the smallest details.
A sound, a glance, a bruise blooming like an unwanted flower.
Tara prided herself on being oblivious, on gliding through life without pausing to care too deeply. But lately, her rhythm had been disrupted, replaced by the quiet chaos of Ishaani.
The manor buzzed with its usual commotion - Vedika and Tara were buried in work from the study while Ishaani drifted in and out like a ghost, oblivious that she was haunting her own home. And Tara... she couldn't help but watch.
From the corners of her eyes. From behind dusty books. From reflections in polished wood.
She caught glimpses of Ishaani during those strange, silent moments - standing barefoot in the garden, belting out Taylor Swift lyrics with reckless abandon, or rubbing at the bruises blooming across her knuckles like wilted petals.
Punching walls again, probably. Trying to feel something that didn't carry the weight of her name.
Tara wanted to look away. God, she tried. But her eyes were drawn like magnets.
One afternoon, Ishaani was in the kitchen with her mother. Tara could make out their voices from the study - a mix of domestic chatter and something more heartbreaking. Ishaani babbled, trying to distract her mother from the worry that hung in the air like smoke.
Her voice was so small, too small for a girl who was meant to harbor storms.
And Tara hated it.
She hated that Ishaani sounded that way because of her. Because Tara had chosen control over chaos, composure over honesty.
"You did the right thing," she told herself for the hundredth time, but the conviction behind it had long since faded.
Every time Ishaani laughed - forced and thin - Tara's pen slipped. When she fell silent - too long and too heavy - Tara's heart raced.
And then there were the bruises.
Ishaani's knuckles were perpetually adorned with faint marks, a testament to the guilt she wore under her skin. Just the other day, Vedika had remarked about Ishaani's hands, exclaiming, "You'll ruin your hands, idiot!" Ishaani shrugged it off, her eyes glassy.
That sight - of the girl who once lit up any room now standing half-broken, still trying to hold her head high - lodged itself in Tara's throat.
The guilt had evolved into a persistent rhythm, beating steadily inside her like a relentless metronome.
___________
Nights were the hardest.
Tara's sleep was fractured, her mind haunted by every creak of the house. She lay awake, half-expecting to hear Ishaani's voice, that gravelly "Tara" that echoed in her heart like an unfulfilled prayer.
Some nights, she stayed over because Vedika's laughter was a balm for the silence of her polished apartment. And in the dead of night, the manor would quiet down just enough for Tara to think she heard Ishaani cry. The faint, muffled sounds penetrated the walls, and they gutted her.
That thought clung to her like an unwanted perfume - invisible yet overwhelming.
She'd roll onto her back, staring at the ceiling, breathing curses through clenched teeth. Because the worst part wasn't just guilt; it was longing. She missed the playful banter, the way Ishaani burst into any room like a whirlwind. Missed how she could call Tara out without flinching.
Now, Ishaani wouldn't even meet her gaze.
And yet, Tara couldn't stop watching. Like a sinner helplessly witnessing her own salvation slip away.
___________
Two weeks before Diwali, Tara found herself on the balcony outside Vedika's room, a half-finished cup of coffee going cold in her hand. The sky was a brilliant orange, tranquil - too peaceful to match the storm brewing in her chest.
Down below, Ishaani was in the garden again, clad in a hoodie and sweats, hair pulled back tight. She was relentlessly pummeling the old training post as if it had personally destroyed her life. And maybe it had.
Tara could see each strike, the sharp puff of breath that followed, the way anger blazed in Ishaani's eyes.
Then came the stillness - Ishaani pressing her forehead to the post, murmuring something too low to hear.
Her earbuds were a permanent fixture these days, letting Tara imagine Ishaani was retreating into Taylor Swift's world once more.
Tara's throat tightened, and her cheeks felt wet. She didn't realize tears were falling until one slipped down her face, hot and traitorous.
"You're such a fool," she whispered, her voice quaking. "You broke her just to feel noble."
And then, for one fleeting second, Ishaani glanced up. Their eyes met.
Ishaani's gaze was hollow and weary, yet somewhere deep within it, Tara could see a flicker of something soft. Something alive.
Tara looked away first.
Because if she hadn't, she would have climbed down there and done something unforgivable - like hold her, or apologize, maybe even kiss the bruises she had inadvertently caused.
But instead, she turned back, trapped once more in the shadows of the manor, watching while the girl she loved faded away.
Ishaani was fighting her own personal battle, and it felt like a war waged in silence.
Every time her phone buzzed, she silently prayed it was Nayonica reaching out.
But every time it was a marketing notification or just an empty message from someone else, the disappointment sliced deeper.
The worst moments were when it actually was Nayonica-a call she couldn't pick up, a text she was too afraid to answer.
Each time that happened, she loathed herself a little more.
How do you mend a heart when the whole mess started with it somehow being in the wrong body?
Nayonica had gone quiet.
Three missed calls.
Seven texts sent into the void.
Two voice notes left unsent, trapped in her drafts like secret confessions.
The silence hung heavy, a cold weight full of accusations.
It enveloped Ishaani like a thick fog, suffocating and relentless.
So, she filled the spaces with noise. She punched the bag in the boxing gym until her knuckles burned, blared music too loud at home, and laughed too much around her mother, trying to project an image of being fine.
But deep down, her eyes betrayed her-the truth always seeped through.
"Mumma, I'm okay," she'd say with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. When Vedika pushed for details, she expertly shifted the conversation. And when Tara entered any room, it felt like the air left her lungs completely.
Tara was everywhere-in her thoughts, her guilt, her very veins. It made Ishaani's blood run cold. No matter how hard she tried to punch the hurt away, behind her eyelids, the only face that haunted her was Tara Kapoor's-cold, perfect, and utterly unattainable.
The days folded in on themselves like shadows, growing heavier as Diwali approached. twinkling lights began transforming the manor into a golden wonderland, but inside, each soul carried its own darkness.
Tara pretended not to notice as Ishaani unraveled. And Ishaani? She pretended she wasn't still madly in love with someone who had flat-out said no. In the quiet spaces between the heartbeats of the festival, both of them fought desperately, hoping not to burn out again.
The Rajvanshi manor sparkled like a palace, hiding depths of heartbreak beneath the glittering surface. And as usual, the lights glimmered over layers of sorrow, each ray struggling to penetrate the dark corners where Ishaani fought to breathe.
Then, like an ominous melody in a horror film, Nayonica's laugh echoed across the ballroom. It was sharp and polished, reminiscent of a blade disguised as a beautiful ornament. Her bangles jingled when she raised her glass, catching Ishaani's eye like a warning.
Ishaani's fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, to apologize once more. For two weeks, she'd sent messages out into the void, pouring her heart into words Nayonica never read. And now, standing too close to her, every fiber of Ishaani's being ached to take a step back.
"You think you can just vanish and I'd wait around?" Nayonica's voice was sweet but dripped with venom. "You don't get to treat people like experiments, Ishaani."
Her words hit Ishaani like a physical blow.
"I didn't mean to-"
"You meant everything. You just didn't like what it revealed about you."
That cut deeper than Ishaani expected. Her throat constricted, the room began to spin, and before she could contain it, her lip quivered.
From behind an ornate wooden pillar, Tara Kapoor watched with the intensity of a still-life painting, every muscle in her body taut with restrained emotion.
She had convinced herself that she was finished thinking about Ishaani-that the girl was simply Vedika's little sister, a child, and thus off-limits.
But seeing Ishaani now-small, shaking, and subjected to someone else's cruelty-sparked something feral inside her.
As Nayonica turned away, a scoff escaping her lips, Tara felt a well of emotions swell and burst within her.
Without a second thought, she crossed the hallway, her heels striking the marble floor like the pounding of a war drum, purposeful and intense. She seized Ishaani's wrist in her grip, firm and unyielding, causing the girl to gasp in shock.
"Come with me," Tara hissed, her voice low and dangerous.
Before Ishaani could respond, Tara pulled her down an empty corridor lined with family portraits, leaving the party's laughter fading into the background.
Once outside in the courtyard, where strands of fairy lights swayed gently in the night breeze, Tara halted.
"What the hell was that, Ishaani?" she demanded, anger coursing through her voice.
"What do you mean-?"
"You know exactly what I mean!" Tara snapped, her amber eyes igniting with fury. "First me, now her? You just jump from one person to the next, not caring what you destroy in the process! You're like a storm-wild and reckless!"
The jealousy clawed at her, a visceral urge to push Ishaani away and simultaneously pull her in-to shake her sense back or to capture her lips in a desperate kiss.
"You pushed me away!" Ishaani shot back, her voice quivering. "You made me feel disgusting for loving you, Tara didi!" Her eyes shimmered like water, reflecting every tumultuous feeling hidden beneath the surface of Tara's seemingly impenetrable exterior.
The words struck Tara like a lightning bolt, giving her pause. For the briefest moment, her resolve faltered.
"Don't call me didi right now," she warned, her tone dropping an octave, both soft and menacing.
"Why not?" Ishaani shot back, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Her hands shook-was it heartbreak or adrenaline? In that moment, Tara couldn't tell. "That's all you've ever wanted me to see you as. This perfect, untouchable saint. My reverence, right?"
"Reverence?" Tara spat, the word dripping with disdain. "And now you're begging for scraps of attention from that Regina George knockoff?"
"You think I wanted to?" Ishaani's voice trembled, wide-eyed and vulnerable. "You think I don't hate myself every second? I can't stop seeing you, Tara! I-"
Ishaani gasped down another breath of air in that congested and tensed atmosphere.
You haunt everything!"
Her voice cracked mid-sentence. Her eyes filled up before her breath could catch.
Tara felt her breath hitch in her throat, her jaw tightening as the weight of Ishaani's words hung in the air. Fury sparked within her-not at Ishaani, but at herself for feeling so vulnerable.
"I've ruined everything, and now you want me to move on?
" Tara's heart raced, every part of her aware of how raw and exposed she felt.
The memories of late-night talks and stolen glances swirled around in her head like a whirlwind, mingling with burgeoning emotions she had tried so hard to suppress.
Then Ishaani's voice broke through, a whisper that danced lightly on the air yet packed a punch powerful enough to shatter walls. "I've been in love with you since I was fifteen. You were my cathedral, Tara Kapoor. An atheist's god."
At that moment, something inside Tara shattered.
All her defenses crumbled, her rules and boundaries melting away like ice under the sun.
The very air around them seemed to thicken, and her chest stuttered, rising and falling like she had sprinted for miles.
One moment, her gaze softened, brimming with emotion; the next, it flared with something fierce and undeniable.
"Do you even know what you're doing to me?" she whispered, the question almost slipping from her lips before she could stop it.
With an almost unbearable vulnerability, Ishaani's voice was barely above a breath. "Yes. And I still can't stop."
The space between them crackled with tension, a surge of emotions piled high over the years, waiting to burst free.
As if pulled by an unseen force, Tara reached out, her fingers trembling as they gently cupped Ishaani's face, treating it like something precious and fragile-something that could disappear if she wasn't careful.
Ishaani stayed still, eyes brimming with tears, lips slightly parted, an echo of longing that resonated in the silence.
In a rush of daring, Tara gripped Ishaani's dupatta, pulling her closer until their bodies collided, the impact soft yet electrifying.
Ishaani gasped, surprise flooding her expression, but Tara didn't hesitate.
One arm slipped around Ishaani's neck while the other settled on her shoulder.
Tara lowered herself slightly, fitting against Ishaani, and pressed her lips to hers.
What began as tentative blossomed into something fierce and wild-a kiss that ignited like wildfire, raging through them.
It wasn't just a confession; it was the crumbling of two years spent in denial.
Every bit of anger, longing, and something reverent clashed in that moment.
Tara's fingers tangled in Ishaani's hair, and Ishaani's breath hitched, caught halfway between a sob and a prayer.
It was a kiss that felt like both punishment and absolution, a release that had been years in the making.
When they finally pulled apart, both gasping for air, Tara pressed her forehead to Ishaani's, eyes squeezed tightly shut as if she could block out the reality of what had just happened.
"This is wrong," Tara murmured, her voice trembling with disbelief.
"So is pretending you don't want me," Ishaani shot back, her eyes glimmering with tears under the glow of the fairy lights surrounding them.
Suddenly, fireworks erupted outside, brilliant and merciless, echoing through the night. Tara flinched at the first loud crack, feeling the burst resonate deep within her chest. Ishaani, however, smiled-a small yet broken expression, a flicker of hope amidst chaos.
"Happy Diwali, Tara Kapoor," she whispered, the sound tinged with something bittersweet.