Prayer in Silk

CHAPTER X CHAOS ACCESSION

Aurobindo Sen had the kind of face people trusted without realizing they had made a choice.

Soft-spoken, carefully gentle, silver threaded neatly through his hair at the temples like wisdom rather than age.

His linen kurta was pressed just enough-wealth that knew how to whisper instead of announce itself.

The sort of man doors opened for because he smiled as if forgiveness was already granted.

Devika Rajvanshi clocked all of that in the first three seconds.

They sat in the living room, whilst the mothers were in the courtyard talking about the rangoli, and this left the room as the house's quietest room, where the air smelled of oudh, jasmine and secrets that had learned to behave.

The light from the night lamps and fairylights streamed through tall windows, dust motes drifting lazily, the scene far too serene for what was being assembled inside it. Peaceful rooms had a way of lying.

Vedika stood by the window, arms crossed tight, jaw clenched like she was holding back an eruption.

Tara sat opposite Aurobindo, posture loose, fingers steepled, legs crossed, calm carved into every line of her body.

Devika didn't sit at all. She stood slightly behind them, neither looming nor retreating-just present in a way that made the air denser.

Aurobindo smiled, taking them in. "I must say, it's been a while since I've been interrogated in such good company."

"Conversation uncle," Tara corrected, sweetness concealing the disgust and prejudice. "Interrogations involve raised voices. We prefer civility."

Vedika scoffed before sense could catch up with her.

Devika's eyes flicked sideways-sharp, final. A warning shot.

Vedika exhaled hard through her nose and shut up, because she didn't wish to get an earful from her eldest sister.

Aurobindo noticed everything. That was his fatal flaw. He read too deep into stuff that was far too shallow for even the moderate gaze. Useless performative man- lacking depth and common sense.

"So," Tara continued, voice smooth, almost bored, "the Sahastra Alliance. Women uplifting women. A noble mission."

"Indeed," Aurobindo replied easily. "We've saved hundreds."

Devika shifted her weight. Barely perceptible. Her fingers tapped once against the back of Tara's chair.

Tara leaned forward an inch. "Saved is an interesting word."

Aurobindo's smile didn't falter. "Isn't it?"

Vedika snapped. "Funny how your offshore accounts don't reflect charity work."

Aurobindo turned toward her, still infuriatingly calm. "Charity is expensive, Vedika beta."

(Beta- endearment for a child)

"So is silence," Vedika shot back, temper flashing.

Devika moved then. One hand settled on Vedika's shoulder-not harsh, not comforting. Its Finality absurdly discreet.

Vedika swallowed and stepped back.

Aurobindo watched the exchange with polite fascination. "You run a tight ship," he said to Devika.

Devika smiled.

It was not a kind smile.

"I run people," she replied. "Ships sink."

For half a second, Aurobindo's eyes flickered. Just long enough. A stutter in the rhythm. A crack in the glass and how could Tara have missed it.

"Rajveer Malhotra," Tara said casually, as if commenting on the weather. "Still fond of Geneva?"

Aurobindo blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your Son in Law," Tara continued. "Ishicka is a close acquaintance of ours, remember? Funny how often his name appears beside yours."

Aurobindo chuckled. "Coincidences are the backbone of conspiracy theories."

Devika lifted a single finger.

Tara stopped.

Aurobindo relaxed slightly, mistaking restraint for retreat.

Devika leaned in then, just enough for him to feel her presence without touching him. "Coincidences end where patterns begin, Mr. Sen. And you've been very repetitive."

The silence thickened. Pressed down.

Aurobindo cleared his throat. "I believe this conversation is veering into inappropriate territory."

"Oh, it crossed that line ten minutes ago," Tara said pleasantly. "We're just seeing how far you're willing to walk."

He stood. "I think I'll take my leave."

Devika nodded once. "Of course."

At the door, he paused, hand on the knob. "You kids are very impressive. Amazing to see you all sky rocketing in each field of yours."

"You have no idea," Vedika muttered.

The door shut.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Vedika exploded. "I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Devika shot her a look sharp enough to cut glass. Vedika stopped mid-rant, teeth grinding.

"He's calculated," Tara said. "But he slipped."

"Enough," Devika replied. "For now."

That was when the laughter hit.

Not polite laughter. Not restrained. Unhinged, cackling, zero-regard-for-consequences laughter.

The doors to the front flew open like destiny had kicked them in.

"MISS US, BITCHES?"

Sparshi Malhotra burst in first, arms wide, pastel kurti and shimmering embroidery and a grin built entirely out of bad decisions. Saarakshi followed, sunglasses on, expression long-suffering and resigned.

"You're exhausting," Vedika said, as she realised it was the twins, Ishaani's best friends. She often times contemplated how they were friends, given the maturity gap but she rarely questioned it. The kids were funny to begin with.

"And hot," Sparshi added. "Important detail."

Saarakshi sighed. "She hasn't changed."

Vedika blinked. "Who let you people in?"

Amaya yelled from across the yard, "THEY brOUGHT CHOCOLATES."

"See?" Sparshi said smugly. "Beloved."

"You're late, Nayonica can before you all." Amaya said, walking into the living room then.

"Traffic," Saarakshi replied. "And Sparshi flirting with a biker."

"Correction," Sparshi said. "He flirted with me. I merely accepted."

"I hate everyone under thirty," Vedika muttered.

Devika arched a brow. "You are under thirty."

"Exactly."

The backyard collapsed into chaos-voices overlapping, Sparshi making obscene jokes about Diwali fireworks, Saarakshi hauling her away from the dessert table, Nayonica trading insults with surgical precision. Laughter spilled freely, reckless and loud, a distraction carefully earned.

Through it all, Aurobindo Sen's composed smile lingered in Tara's mind.

Too calm. Too clean.

And somewhere between threat and laughter, between fairy lights and unfinished wars, the knives quietly sharpened themselves.

Not tonight.

But soon.

And every single one of them felt it.

_____________

"MISS ME, WHORES?" Sparshi Malhotra announced as she walked to Ishaani sitting on the divaans of the backyard, arms flung wide like she was blessing the space with her presence.

Her grin was feral, unrepentant, eyes already scanning the garden as if she might flirt with a chair if it looked at her funny.

Saarakshi followed a step behind, calmer by necessity, tote bag slung over her shoulder, expression already halfway to an apology. "She hasn't spoken to a single person normally since the cab," she said wearily.

"I spoke honestly," Sparshi shot back without missing a beat. "Which is rare. Cherish it."

Ishaani blinked once. Then twice. Then the world lurched forward and suddenly all four of them were tangled together-arms colliding, hair in faces, laughter bursting out loud and unfiltered. Someone elbowed someone else in the ribs. No one apologized.

"A month," Ishaani said into Saarakshi's shoulder, voice muffled and incredulous. "A whole criminal month."

"Tell me about it," Saarakshi murmured back. "She discovered podcasts."

"They radicalized me," Sparshi said proudly. "Now I flirt with intent."

Nayonica snorted, lifting her glass. "You flirt like a lawsuit waiting to happen."

"Every girl wants me," Sparshi replied instantly, reflexive as breathing.

Ishaani groaned. "Jesus Christ, she's worse."

"Absence makes the slut louder," Sparshi said solemnly. Then she leaned in, eyes glittering with malicious curiosity. "So. Who here ruined their life romantically?"

Silence fell.

Not awkward. Not shy.

Thick. Delicious. Charged.

Nayonica raised her glass a little higher. "I'd like to propose a rule," she said coolly. "No lying. No pretending we're okay. We're too old and too hot for that."

"Speak for yourself," Sparshi said. "I'm eternally hot."

Saarakshi sat down between them, grounding as ever, like an anchor dropped mid-storm. "Start talking," she said calmly, "before she starts guessing."

Ishaani exhaled. Long. Slow. Like bracing for a hit she'd already agreed to take.

"I slept with Tara."

The backyard detonated.

"FINALLY," Sparshi screamed, slapping the table. "I KNEW IT. I WOULD LIKE TO THANK GOD, GAY PANIC, AND WHATEVER DEMON POSSESSED YOU-"

"Details," Nayonica cut in immediately, eyes sharp, surgical. "Not graphic. But vibes."

"Oh my god," Saarakshi groaned, covering her face.

Ishaani rubbed her hands over her eyes. "It wasn't planned. It was-messy. Soft. Intense. I woke up confused and horny and emotionally compromised."

Sparshi hit the table again. "That's the holy trinity."

Nayonica leaned closer. "And now?"

"And now," Ishaani said flatly, "she's sitting six feet away like social distancing is a moral principle."

Sparshi gasped theatrically. "A slow burn after the burn? Diabolical."

Saarakshi turned to Ishaani properly then, gaze steady, serious. "Do you want her?"

The question landed heavy. No jokes. No noise. Just truth, waiting.

Ishaani swallowed. "Yes," she said. "Which is the problem."

Nayonica nodded once. "Of course it is."

Sparshi tilted her head, studying her like prey. "Is this the 'I want her but the world is ending' kind of yes," she asked, "or the 'I want her so bad I might start acting stupid in public' yes?"

Ishaani didn't answer.

Sparshi grinned. "Say less."

She stood, stretching like a cat, utterly pleased with herself. "For legal reasons, I will not interfere," she announced. "For personal reasons, I absolutely will."

"Don't you dare," Saarakshi warned.

"Oh relax," Sparshi replied breezily. "I'm just going to exist loudly. If that causes yearning, that's not on me."

Nayonica laughed quietly into her glass. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm a public service."

They settled back into their seats, the night folding around them-crickets chirping, distant traffic murmuring, fairy lights casting gold onto skin and glass. Somewhere inside the house, power and politics and secrets hummed and plotted. But out here, it was just them. Unmasked. Loud. Alive.

"So," Sparshi said casually, "anyone else sexually frustrated or am I carrying this group?"

Saarakshi choked. "WHY would you ask that."

"Because silence is suspicious."

Nayonica lifted an eyebrow. "I'm fine."

"That's not an answer," Sparshi said. "That's a threat."

"I hate all of you," Ishaani muttered.

Sparshi beamed. "You love me. Deeply. Carnally."

Saarakshi buried her face in her hands. "I apologize on behalf of the faulty half of my genetics."

Nayonica leaned back, gaze softening, voice quieter now. "You know what I missed?"

They all looked at her.

"This," she said. "The noise. The honesty. The way we don't pretend we're saints."

Ishaani nodded slowly. "Yeah. Me too."

Sparshi lifted her drink high. "To terrible decisions, hot women, and the even hotter ME."

Saarakshi sighed-but clinked glasses anyway. "To surviving ourselves."

Nayonica smirked. "And to Ishaani finally admitting she's down bad."

Ishaani rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. "Shut up."

But she didn't mean it.

Tara came out under the pretense of being responsible.

The lie slid down easy; it always did. She adjusted the pallu of her saree with the material brushing against her visible waist, where her waistchain still lingered close to the skin.

Her posture was immaculate, her expression arranged into that diplomatic calm that fooled ministers and ruined men.

Behind her, the house hummed-Devika's presence upstairs felt like a loaded gun resting on a velvet cushion-but the backyard tugged at her anyway, insistent, magnetic. Because Ishaani was there.

She paused just inside the doorway, unseen for a breath, and took them in.

The four girls were arranged like a crime scene mid-cleanup-too much laughter, too many empty glasses, the air buzzing with the residue of confession.

Ishaani slouched too openly, laughed too loud, her eyes too bright in a way that screamed guilt.

Guilty energy. The kind that radiated I've done something and I'm terrible at hiding it.

Tara sighed quietly, already bracing herself, and stepped out into the light.

"Alive?" she asked mildly, voice even, polite. "Hydrated? No one bleeding?"

Saarakshi straightened on instinct, spine snapping into order. "All good," she said quickly. "Hi, Tara didi."

Nayonica nodded once, cool and measured. "We're civil," she added. "For now."

Sparshi Malhotra looked up slowly. Painfully slowly. Like a shark sensing blood and deciding how theatrical it wanted to be about it. "Oh," she said, grin blooming with malicious delight. "You're the hot one."

Ishaani's soul exited her body and did not file a forwarding address.

Tara's eyebrow twitched. Barely. The kind of movement you missed unless you were trained to read micro-expressions or had loved her long enough to fear them. "I'm just checking in," Tara said coolly. "That's all."

"Yeah?" Sparshi leaned back, eyes glinting, swirling her drink like she was bored and dangerous. "Because last night someone here"-she pointed lazily, lethally, in Ishaani's direction-"walked like she'd been rearranged spiritually."

"I will kill you," Ishaani hissed, venomous and panicked.

Saarakshi was on her feet in half a second, crisis-management mode engaged. "Okay! Wow! Speaking of walking-Tara, have you seen the rangoli out front? It's-"

"-criminally bad," Nayonica cut in smoothly. "Like a hate crime against symmetry."

Sparshi, undeterred and thriving, continued cheerfully. "I'm just saying, if my wrists ever looked like that after a night, I'd-"

"Sparshi," Saarakshi snapped, sharp enough to draw blood.

But Tara's attention had already shifted. Her gaze moved-slow, deliberate-and landed on Ishaani.

Hard. Sharp. Assessing.

Not angry yet, which was worse. Controlled.

The look she used across negotiating tables when someone thought they'd gotten away with something.

Ishaani froze under it, her smile collapsing, heart stuttering like it had forgotten its lines.

Tara said nothing. She let the silence do the cutting, let it stretch until it pressed against ribs and teeth.

Then, clipped. Polite. Razor-edged. "Ishaani. Upstairs. Later."

It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.

She turned back to the others, expression smoothing like nothing had happened. "Enjoy Diwali."

And she left.

The door slid shut behind her with a soft, definitive sound that felt like a verdict being sealed.

Silence detonated.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Ishaani exploded, jumping to her feet so fast her chair scraped violently across stone. "Are you clinically insane?"

Sparshi blinked, genuinely impressed. "Wow. Aggressive. Is this foreplay?"

"I will actually end you," Ishaani snapped, full fury unleashed, accent flattening under stress. "You do not joke about shit like that in front of her."

Nayonica stood instantly, shoulder to shoulder with Ishaani, a quiet show of solidarity. "Yeah, no," she said flatly. "That was foul. You poked a dragon with a dildo."

"First of all," Sparshi said, hands raised, still grinning, "it was a metaphorical dildo."

"Second of all," Saarakshi cut in, voice deadly calm, "you almost got her killed."

Sparshi looked between them, clocking the tension, the panic, the very real fear-and then she burst out laughing. "Oh my god," she said. "You're scared."

Ishaani laughed too, sharp and hysterical. "Scared? I'm dead. I'm a ghost. I'm the cautionary tale of a dumb bitch who couldn't keep her mouth shut."

Nayonica squinted at her, genuinely puzzled. "Why are you this terrified?"

Ishaani stared back like she'd been asked why the sky existed. "Have you seen Tara Kapoor?"

Sparshi nodded solemnly. "Facts. She could step on my throat and I'd apologize."

"STOP," Saarakshi yelled, massaging her temples.

Ishaani collapsed back into her chair, hands covering her face. "She told me," she groaned. "One instruction. One. Don't blow the cover. And what do I do? Sit next to Quagmire with a mic."

Sparshi gasped, offended and delighted. "You think I'm Quagmire? That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said."

Nayonica sighed, already reaching for her bag. "Okay. We're leaving. Before Devika senses stupidity and executes someone."

They gathered their things in a flurry of muttered curses and half-suppressed laughter, the night still buzzing around them. At the gate, Nayonica stopped, turned back, and pulled Ishaani into a tight hug-no jokes this time, no sarcasm. Just warmth. Steady. Real.

"I'm thankful for Diwali," she murmured into Ishaani's hair. "You're not alone. Don't spiral."

Ishaani hugged her harder, chin resting on her shoulder, breath finally slowing. "Yeah," she said quietly.

And for the moment, that was enough.