CHAPTER XIV WI$H LI$T
The afternoon light in Nayonica Sen's apartment had softened into something gentler, almost forgiving, as if the sun itself had grown tired of bearing witness to the fractures of the previous nights.
Dust motes danced lazily in the slanting beams that cut through the sheer curtains, illuminating the deep maroon walls and the geometric gold trim that gave the space its soul.
The low velvet sofa still bore the imprint of two bodies curled together earlier, and the faint scent of coconut shampoo and vanilla lingered like a promise of sanctuary.
Ishaani sat on the edge of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, staring at nothing in particular.
Nayonica had stepped into the kitchen to make more tea, giving her a moment of quiet that felt both necessary and terrifying.
The weight of everything pressed on her chest — Devika's slap, Vedika's hurt, the public kiss, the way her family had splintered in front of flashing cameras.
She felt grey and hollowed out. Like the sun had been swallowed whole and then spat out in the black waters, forcing her to accept the fact that she was the sole origin of all the damage being inflicted on her closest people.
Her sisters didn't wish to talk to her properly; instead stuck to yelling at Ishaani, her best friend's father was in a jail cell because Ishaani's girlfriend served as his prey where one thing led to another making the good girl of the circle throw hands.
Her father was possibly mad at her and she had no idea how to put it back to normal.
She looked down at her hands, once and thoroughly—her friends used to say she had the Midas Touch, pertaining to the fact that Ishaani had this habit of mastering everything in a given time frame, or how if she decided to get her hands on any project, it would come out looking almsot better than its initial stage (no matter how perfect it was in it's former stages).
But, now everything she touched was turning to sadness. It appeared as though, her magic had faltered.
DING!
The doorbell rang pulling Ishaani out of her cranial chambers.
Ishaani didn't move at first. Nayonica called from the kitchen, "I'll get it!"
But the second ring came sharper, more urgent. Ishaani huffed and stood, padding barefoot across the geometric rug, and opened the door. The person beyond the threshold looked down at her, taking Ishaani's blood pressure by a storm.
Tara stood on the threshold.
She looked like a woman who had walked through fire and come out the other side still burning.
The Parisian blue saree from the other night had been replaced by a simple black top and jeans, but exhaustion clung to her like a second skin.
Her usually sharp, commanding posture was curved inward, shoulders hunched as if the weight of her own brilliance had finally become unbearable.
Her hazel eyes — normally so cool and calculating — were raw, red-rimmed, and hollow, glistening with unshed tears she refused to let fall.
Her lips were parted slightly, breath shallow, like she had run the entire way here on pure adrenaline and willpower alone.
"Hey!"
"Tara?"
For a split second, neither of them moved.
Then Tara's tall form swayed. Her knees buckled as the last fragile thread of composure snapped.
She collapsed forward with a broken, barely audible sound — not quite a sob, but something deeper, more visceral, like the quiet unravelling of a woman who had spent years pretending she was unbreakable.
Without wasting even a breath, Ishaani caught her.
Her strong, trained arms wrapped around Tara's waist instantly, holding her up as Tara's forehead dropped heavily against her shoulder.
The scent of Tara's perfume — bergamot and smoked vanilla — was faint now, mixed with the faint salt of dried tears and the lingering trace of fear.
Tara's body trembled against hers, tall frame folding into Ishaani's smaller one like she had finally run out of places to hide.
"Take me in," Tara whispered, voice hoarse and small against Ishaani's neck, barely more than a breath.
"Please, Ishi... just take me in." Her grip on Ishaani's shoulders tightened involuntarily when Ishaani stepped backwards simply to close the door, making the shorter girl halt in her tracks.
"No...." Tara didn't know what had changed in her demeanour from when she had sat in her car up until she had seen Ishaani's face—the stark contrast baffled even herself, but she couldn't pinpoint the immediate cause for those changes.
The only solid thing she knew was that she needed Ishaani now that she had finally seen her again.
It was easier to ignore things when they stayed out of our vision. Tara was no exception to the rule.
Perhaps it was finally dawning on her that the spectacle she had pulled on the Sen's estate was morally wrong regardless of intention, but pulling Ishaani into it for her profit was selfish and cruel, no matter how she tried to rationalise it by saying it was Ishaani and she would do anything to protect her, yet knowing that she was the one who had put Ishaani in the position to protect her.
The allegations by Vedika and Devika felt like reality body slamming her every time, hence why she was avoiding talking about it and shifting blame so much.
She didn't want to admit it out aloud but upon seeing Ishaani's sweet face, she couldn't continue lying, at least not to herself.
At the intrusive thoughts, Tara pressed her face harder into Ishaani's shoulder, bent down to a fraction to fit into Ishaani's strong embrace.
Ishaani didn't hesitate. She tightened her grip, one arm around Tara's waist, the other sliding under her knees, and lifted her with surprising strength.
Tara's head lolled against her shoulder as Ishaani carried her inside, closing the door behind them with her foot.
Nayonica appeared briefly in the hallway, took one look at the scene — Tara trembling in Ishaani's arms, Ishaani holding her like she was the only solid thing left in the world — and quietly retreated to her study without a word.
The door clicked shut, granting them the privacy they desperately needed.
Ishaani carried Tara to the guest room, the space simple but warm with its deep maroon walls and soft linens.
She lowered Tara gently onto the edge of the bed, but Tara didn't let go.
She pulled Ishaani down with her, curling into her lap, face pressed against Ishaani's stomach as if she could hide from the consequences of her own brilliance.
Ishaani held her tightly, one hand stroking through Tara's hair, the other rubbing slow circles on her back. "Talk to me," she whispered. "What happened? Why are you here?"
Tara was quiet for a long moment, breathing unevenly against Ishaani's shirt. When she finally spoke, her voice was raw, stripped of its usual velvet armour.
"I couldn't stay there," she admitted, the words tasting like ash.
"After you left... after Devika slapped you because of me.
.. after Vedika looked at me like I was the reason everything was breaking.
.. I just... I couldn't breathe in that house anymore.
Your father hates me, he's mad at you because of me, and no one likes me there.
Hell, I don't think anyone likes me apart from you.
" Tara blurted out, looking up at Ishaani, who developed a crease between her eyebrows, yet tightened her hold around the older woman.
"I read your letter again — the one you wrote me.
The one I keep in my car like a talisman.
And I realized I couldn't do this without you.
Not tonight. Not after what I did." Tara said, abruptly making Ishaani make a questioning face, as if not catching up to the pace of the story.
Tara continued her story, but pulled away from Ishaani, thinking she didn't deserve the safety from the one person whose safety she jeopardized.
"I planned everything at the Sen party. I let him take me to that study.
I loosened the saree myself. I screamed when I needed to because I knew the cameras would catch it.
I knew it would destroy him publicly, and better than any documents ever could.
But I didn't think about what it would do to you.
Watching that and seeing him touch me. I made you watch me put myself in danger, and you still chose to fight for me.
You punched him. You risked everything. For me. "
Tara's shoulders trembled. Not with tears — Tara Kapoor didn't cry easily — but with the deep, burning anger at herself. She couldn't make eye contact with Ishaani, not after knowing she stood in the wrong. She was afraid Ishaani would catch the treachery and unfaithfulness to honesty in her eyes.
"I'm supposed to be the one protecting you," she whispered.
"Not the one forcing you to bleed for my plans, your sisters are right to hate me.
I dragged you into this. I made you choose between your family and me.
And you chose me. Every single time. Even when it cost you Devika's hand across your face.
Nobody deserves someone as horrible as what I turn out for you"
Ishaani's expressions altered only once when, Tara said she was horrible which only made Ishaani's hand latch out to wrap around Tara's shoulder and pull her into her arms.
Ishaani's arms tightened around her, pulling Tara closer until she was practically lying on top of her, head tucked under Ishaani's chin.
"It wasn't your fault," she said fiercely.
"You didn't force me to do anything. I chose to stand with you.
I chose to fight for you because I love you.
Because the thought of losing you to someone like him drove me to my wits' end.
I don't regret it. Not even for a second. "
Ishaani could feel Tara's heart rate pick up, its beat pressing against her chest. She peered down at Tara, who was clutching Ishaani's shirt around the torso.
"However, if you had told me about your plan, I would have yelled bloody murder to make it even more believable.
" Tara's silent laugh resonated with Ishaani's breathing, "I don't care what you have or haven't done.
You inflicted no harm upon me, and I'd swear on my unborn children even though, I'd die childless that you have no bone of evil when it comes to hurting me.
I trust you, Tara and I love you....so much. "
Tara lifted her head, eyes searching Ishaani's face. "Even after everything? Even after your sisters turned on you? Even after your father—"
"Even then," Ishaani interrupted, voice steady.
She cupped Tara's face with both hands, thumbs brushing away the exhaustion etched there.
"You are not a curse, Tara. You are not misfortune.
You are the best thing that's ever happened to me.
And if my family can't see that... then that's their loss. Not mine...not ours."
Tara let out a shaky breath, inclining upwards until thier foreheads pressed together. "I don't deserve you."
"You do," Ishaani whispered, leaning in until their lips brushed. "You absolutely do. This....and so much more."
The kiss was slow, deep, and full of everything they couldn't say — relief, fear, love, desperation.
Tara's hands slid under Ishaani's shirt, palms warm against bare skin, holding on like she was afraid Ishaani would disappear.
Ishaani tangled her fingers in Tara's hair, pulling her closer, pouring every ounce of reassurance into the kiss.
Tara's knee dug into Ishaani's thigh as Tara inclined herself to walk her hand over to Ishaani's neck, gripping softly, making Ishaani's hand drop to her waist, holding her steady and pulling her closer, which was almost impossible by humane standards.
When they parted, Tara dropped herself and rested her head on Ishaani's chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart.
"I'm here," Ishaani whispered, stroking her hair.
"I'm not going anywhere. Not even when you kill someone.
I haven't felt this painful urge to stay close to anyone else like I've done with you—" Tara cut her off shortly, "I'm not killing anyone, just for your kind information. You don't need to worry about that."
Ishaani kissed Tara's head nonetheless, and continued, "What I mean is, that you can do anything in the world, you can be hated by anyone in the world, people might frown upon you, even call you names, but I will never listen to any background noises.
I will stand beside you, or behind you pertaining to what you prefer and act as your bristling wall of strength.
I'd give up my all for you, my arrogance, my pretentiousness, my judgement, my ego, my anger.
You can't tell yourself that you don't deserve any of it when I'm vehemently driven to provide you with everything that can be provided. "
Tara couldn't hear anything further without possibly tearing up so she sat up straighter, and she simply mushed Ishaani's cheeks together, pecking her lips in the process. "I can't absorb all of that in a single day."
Ishaani covered Tara's hand with her own, over her face, "Seriously, Tara, you're my star, and I've already wished upon you."
(Tara is= Star, in Hindi. I can understand why Tara felt something all of a sudden)
Tara felt a strain so deep in her chest that thinking it was palpitations would be an understatement. She dove back into Ishaani's chest and gripped her body tightly.
"Bambi...."
The afternoon had bled into a quiet, golden evening inside Nayonica Sen's apartment.
The deep maroon walls absorbed the dying light like velvet, turning it into something warmer, more intimate — a sanctuary carved out of old-world glamour and quiet defiance.
The air carried the faint, comforting scent of coconut shampoo, vanilla candles, and the lingering warmth of two bodies that had finally found rest.
Tara and Ishaani had fallen asleep curled together on the guest bed like two pieces of a puzzle that had been forcibly separated and finally allowed to fit.
Ishaani lay on her back, one arm wrapped protectively around Tara's waist, her smaller frame a steady anchor.
Tara had tucked herself against her, head resting on Ishaani's chest, one leg thrown over Ishaani's thigh, the torn remnants of her earlier composure now replaced by the rare vulnerability of true exhaustion.
Their breathing had synced sometime in the late afternoon — slow, deep, and synchronized, as if even in sleep they refused to be apart.
Nayonica pushed the door open quietly, barefoot and silent, a glass of water in one hand and a plate of sliced fruit in the other. She had meant to wake them for dinner. Instead, she stopped in the doorway, the sight hitting her with unexpected softness.
Tara's usually impeccable posture was gone; she looked smaller, younger, her face relaxed in a way Nayonica had rarely seen.
Ishaani held her like something precious and breakable, her fingers loosely tangled in Tara's dark hair even in sleep.
The tenderness between them was palpable — raw, unguarded, and deeply intimate.
Nayonica's lips curved into a small, sad smile. She didn't wake them. She simply backed out, closing the door with a soft click, and returned to the living room.
Her phone buzzed again on the coffee table. Devika. Then Vedika. Then Devika again. The screen lit up repeatedly, insistent and demanding.
How the fuck can sisters not understand each other sometimes? I mean mine does.
Nayonica stared at it for a long moment, thumb hovering over the answer button.
Then she silenced the calls, placing the phone face down.
No one knew this address except Ishicka — her sister had made sure of that when she helped Nayonica find the place.
A powerful socialite's quiet protection.
No one else would find them here tonight.
She sank into the velvet sofa, legs tucked beneath her, and let the quiet settle around her like a blanket.
Some time later, the guest room door opened softly.
Tara stepped out, hair slightly tousled, eyes still heavy with exhaustion but clearer now.
She had changed into one of Ishaani's oversized t-shirts and a pair of soft shorts which looked too big around her hips, so those were Ishaani's too.
She looked... human. Vulnerable in a way that made Nayonica's chest tighten.
Tara paused when she saw Nayonica, offering a small, formal nod — the elegant art curator resurfacing even in borrowed clothes.
"I'm sorry for crashing like this," Tara said, voice low and sincere. "I didn't mean to impose. I just... didn't know where else to go."
Nayonica waved it off with a gentle smile, patting the spot beside her on the sofa. "You're not imposing. You're Ishaani's girlfriend. That makes you family in this apartment. Sit."
Tara hesitated for half a second before sinking down beside her, posture still graceful but shoulders slightly rounded. The silence between them was comfortable, weighted with shared understanding.
After a moment, Tara spoke again, quieter. "How are you holding up? With... everything about your father."
Nayonica let out a soft, tired breath, leaning her head back against the couch.
"I knew he was into shady shit. I've known thaat for years.
The money, the 'charity' fronts, the girls who disappeared after being 'helped.
' I simply turned a blind eye.... I and didi both.
It got me privileges, connections, a life most people could only dream of.
So I deemed it something under c'est la vie and moved further.
Hardly affects me now." She shrugged, though her eyes betrayed the quiet pain beneath.
"Ishicka didi can take care of me. She always has. "
At the mention of Ishicka, Tara's ears perked up. Something sparked behind her hazel eyes — sharp, calculating, the mastermind resurfacing for a brief moment.
"Can I talk to her?" Tara asked, voice careful but intent. "Ishicka, I mean. Soon."
Nayonica turned her head slightly, studying Tara with a faint, knowing smile.
Tara held Nayonica's phone in her hand, thumb hovering over the contact. Ishicka Sen Malhotra. Well, no longer Malhotra, thanks to Tara and Vedika. The name alone carried weight — power, danger, and a history that tangled like silk threads in the dark.
She pressed call.
The line rang only twice before a smooth, velvety voice answered, laced with lazy affection.
"Yes, baby?" Ishicka purred. "What do you want this time?"
Tara's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smirk. She leaned back against the couch, voice dropping into that low, expensive register that could make grown adults tremble.
"Depends," she drawled, the British lilt sharpening the words like a blade wrapped in velvet. "What can you offer?"
There was a beat of silence. Then Ishicka's tone shifted — sweet indulgence melting into something sharper, more guarded, the socialite mask slipping just enough to reveal the steel beneath.
"Who is this?"
Tara's smirk deepened. "Tara Kapoor. A little offended that you couldn't recognize my tone."
A low, amused chuckle came through the line. "Well, well. Why have I been called again? I already got you your girlfriend back."
Tara's gaze flicked toward the closed guest room door where Ishaani still slept, then back to the maroon wall. "Aurobindo Sen. You've heard."
"I have," Ishicka said, voice turning businesslike, cool and precise.
"My father was arrested in front of half of Delhi's elite.
Quite the spectacle, even for you. My road to the will just became clearer than crystal, sweetheart.
Don't even think about apologizing. You did what needed to be done.
I just can't believe that he would sink so low as to assault a woman so close to age to his daughter. "
Tara's fingers tightened slightly around the phone.
"Ishicka.....I need a favour. I need access to his private safe.
The one in his office at the Sen headquarters.
Files. Records. Anything that ties him to the offshore routes and the Sahastra network.
" Ishicka smiled on the other end, mentally applauding Tara's grit to not beat around the bush.
Ishicka didn't hesitate. "Done. I still have keys and access codes from when I was managing his affairs. I can get in tonight if you need it."
Tara let out a slow breath, the mastermind calculating three steps ahead. "Wait, but....Why are you helping me, Ishicka?"
A soft, dangerous laugh echoed down the line. "Because I like watching powerful men burn, Kapoor. And because you're entertaining. Don't flatter yourself too much — this isn't charity. It's a mutual benefit. Well, it wouldn't be intusive of me to ask....why you are doing this?"
Tara's smirk returned. "Fame.... before I go back to London. That's all I need."
Ishicka laughed again, richer this time. "Expect your package delivery by tonight or tomorrow morning. Now, let me talk to my sister. I don't even know how my baby is holding up."
Nayonica took the phone as if she knew exactly what Ishicka had said, "Hey!
I still haven't recieved my Kate Moss Reds.
" Tara chuckled at Nayonica's first statement.
The Sen sisters really took after their father—the delectable way how he didn't care about anyone else except his gain, really left an imprint on his daughters and it showed.
He was getting the finest taste of his own medicine.
"I'll get them for you. I haven't had spare time on my hands, recently. However, if you want, I can send you tickets for F1." Tara could hear Ishicka clearly.
Nayonica pouted, "Not now. Ishaani can't go with me currently."
Ishicka said something on the other end and Nayonica chuckled, saying, "Yeah, No, I don't care."
The call ended with a soft click.
Nayonica, then raised an eyebrow. "You're going to London?"
Tara set the phone down, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. "No. Your sister is a little twisted, trust me. She wanted me to say no. Otherwise she'd have to deal with me more if I kept staying here — or so she thinks."
Nayonica let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking her head. "She really is something else."
Tara stood gracefully, smoothing her borrowed t-shirt. "I should wake Ishaani up. We've been hiding long enough."
She moved toward the guest room, pushing the door open quietly. The sight inside made something tight in her chest loosen.
Ishaani was still asleep, curled on her side, hair messy across the pillow, face soft and vulnerable in the fading light. The sight of her — small, strong, and finally at peace — hit Tara like a quiet punch to the ribs.
She sat on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing gently through Ishaani's hair.
"Bambi," she whispered, voice low and warm. "Wake up."
Ishaani stirred, eyes fluttering open. The moment she saw Tara, a slow, sleepy smile spread across her face. She reached up, pulling Tara down into her arms without hesitation.
Tara went willingly, shifting until she was lying half on top of Ishaani, their bodies fitting together like they had been made for this. Ishaani's hands slid under Tara's shirt, palms warm against bare skin, pulling her closer.
The kiss that followed was slow at first — tender, almost reverent — but quickly deepened into something hungrier.
Tara's fingers tangled in Ishaani's hair, tilting her head back as she licked into her mouth, tasting sleep and relief and need.
Ishaani whimpered softly, arching up into her, one leg wrapping around Tara's hip.
Tara pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes dark. "We need to talk about what happened," she murmured, voice husky. "Yeah, I don't give a fuck." Ishaani said sleepily and pulled Tara closer.
Tara's answer was another kiss — deeper, more desperate — her hands roaming down Ishaani's sides, nails scraping lightly. The room filled with the soft sounds of breath and silk shifting against skin, the world outside fading into irrelevance.