⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟐˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
But Tara only pouted, stubborn in her innocence. "No sorry, mumma! You cly? You shout also? Dadaa make you cly... he is bal?" (No sorry, mumma! You cried? You shouted too? Did Dadaa make you cry... is he bad?)
Just then, Roohi's voice rang from the doorway, calm yet firm. "Yes baby, your dadda is really bad. Don't call him dadda now," she said softly.
At the sound, Tara's teary eyes widened, and in the next second, her little face lit up. "Looi maashi!" (Roohi maasi) she squealed, wriggling with excitement in Ritvika's arms.
Ritvika blinked, watching the sudden change in her daughter's expression as joy replaced the traces of tears. Tara reached out her tiny hands toward Roohi, demanding to be carried.
Roohi's heart melted instantly. She stepped forward, and Ritvika gently passed Tara into her arms. Hugging the little munchkin tight, Roohi showered her with kisses all over her face.
"Yes, my cutie pie... kaise hai mera baccha?
Haan? Miss kiya maashi ko?" she cooed, her voice overflowing with affection.
Tara giggled, squirming in her embrace, her small palms pressing against Roohi's cheeks. The room that just moments ago echoed with cries was now filled with the sound of innocent laughter, easing Ritvika's heavy heart—if only for a fleeting moment.
Roohi settled on the edge of the bed with Tara in her lap, still planting small kisses on her chubby cheeks. Tara, her giggles fading, looked up at her maashi with curious, blinking eyes.
"Looi maashi... mumma cly... dadda bad?" she asked in her broken words, innocence dripping from every syllable.
Roohi's jaw clenched, but she kept her tone sweet and soft for the child. "Yes, baby... he made your mumma cry. That's why he's bad. You don't talk to him now, okay? He doesn't deserve you or your mumma's love."
Tara nodded solemnly, as if she understood every word. Her little hand patted Roohi's cheek before she whispered, "No talk dadda... dadda bad... mumma good... maashi good."
The weight of those childish words made Ritvika's chest tighten painfully. She immediately stepped forward, shaking her head. "Roohi, please... don't say such things in front of her. She's too small, she doesn't—"
But Roohi cut her off, her eyes burning with a quiet fury even as her voice stayed calm for Tara. "No, Ritu. Let your daughter also know the truth. Let her know how bad her so-called dadda is. At least she won't grow up idolizing the man who broke her mumma."
Ritvika's lips parted, a protest dying in her throat. Tara, meanwhile, rested her head against Roohi's shoulder, her tiny voice echoing like a dagger in the silent room: "Mumma no cry... maashi no cry... dadda bad."
Ritvika's heart shattered.
Roohi kissed Tara's whole face, showering her with affection. Tara giggled and hugged her tightly, her little arms clinging around Roohi's neck.
"Looi maashiii... pathaaaaa!" Tara squealed suddenly, her eyes sparkling as she announced her demand.
Roohi threw her head back with a laugh. "Arre wah! Seedha paratha? Mere cutie pie ki tummy khali hai, hmmm?" she teased, booping Tara's nose.
Tara nodded eagerly, clapping her tiny hands. "Haan pathaaaaa... pathaaaaa!"
Roohi stood up with Tara in her arms, turning to Ritvika with a triumphant smile. "Bas, ab hogaya decide. Maashi apni princess ke liye paratha banayegi. Aur tum bhi, Ritu—you're eating properly with us, samjhi?"
Ritvika tried to protest faintly, but Tara tugged her dupatta and chirped, "Mumma... pathaaa!" her innocent insistence leaving no room for denial.
Ritvika's lips curved into a small, weak smile as Roohi carried Tara towards the kitchen, her voice ringing through the apartment, "Aaj ka dinner—special maashi ke haathon ka paratha!"
The apartment had fallen into a hushed stillness. Tara was fast asleep, her tiny body curled up peacefully under the soft blanket, her breaths steady and calm. The faint yellow glow of the night lamp painted the room in a warm halo.
Ritvika sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers absentmindedly caressing her daughter's soft hair.
Her eyes looked tired, hollow with the weight of everything that had happened.
Roohi came quietly, holding two mugs of warm milk.
She placed one near Ritvika and sat down beside her, studying her friend's face in silence for a long moment.
Finally, she spoke, her voice low but firm.
"Ritu... how long are you going to keep breaking yourself like this?"
Ritvika blinked at her, startled, but said nothing.
Roohi took Ritvika's hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. "Your life has turned into a mess, and it's not your fault. But, Ritu, you can't just sit back and let it swallow you. You need to think about yourself. And more than that, you need to think about Tara."
At the mention of her daughter, Ritvika's eyes glistened. She turned to look at Tara, her chest tightening.
Roohi continued, her tone sharper now, almost protective.
"She's so small, Ritu. She doesn't even understand what's happening around her.
But do you really want her to grow up in a house where she sees her mother treated like this?
Where she feels unwanted? You also had to secure your future and hers.
What if tomorrow something happens to you? What will Tara do then?"
Ritvika's lips quivered, and her tears spilled over. "I know, Roohi... I know. But it's not that easy. I don't even know where to start."
Roohi reached up and wiped her tears, her own eyes fierce with determination. "You'll start with one thing, Ritu—by deciding that you and Tara come first. Always. Not his family, not his so-called rules, not his temper. You and Tara. That's it."
The words hung heavy in the air. Ritvika drew in a shaky breath, leaning her head on Roohi's shoulder.she allowed herself to feel a tiny flicker of relief—like someone was finally holding her up instead of tearing her down.
Ritvika finally broke the silence, her voice trembling. "Roohi... fine, I left that house. But now what? How am I supposed to raise Tara alone? She's so small... she needs everything. I don't even know if I can manage it."
Roohi leaned forward instantly, her eyes fierce but soft at the edges.
"Ritu, stop underestimating yourself. You've already done the hardest part—walking away.
The rest? We'll figure it out. Look around.
.. this apartment is yours now. I rented it for you before even stepping into that mansion because I knew this would be needed.
You're not homeless. You and Tara have a roof already. "
Ritvika blinked, her throat tightening. "But how long will I manage, Roohi? I... I was working with Vidyut before, in his office. Tomorrow itself, I'll resign. I can't go back there."
Roohi didn't even flinch. "Good. You don't need his office, his money, or his name anymore. You've got your dignity, and that's worth more than anything. That's the first step—you've already cleared it."
Ritvika looked at her blankly, her voice a whisper. "And after that? What's left?"
Roohi's gaze softened, but her tone remained firm. "The second step, Ritu. Becoming independent. No more surviving on what others give you. You'll earn. You'll stand on your own feet. You'll build a life for Tara that no one can take away."
She reached out, gripping Ritvika's hand. "I'll say this one last time—come with me, leave this city. We'll start fresh. Why stay in a place that suffocates you?"
Ritvika shook her head faintly, eyes brimming with stubbornness and pain. "No, Roohi. Not now. Tara has already lost so much. I don't want to uproot her again."
Roohi exhaled deeply, finally nodding. "Fine. As you wish. But remember this, Ritu—strength isn't about staying quiet and enduring. It's about fighting back, for yourself and for Tara. And that fight starts with independence. Tomorrow, you'll take that step."
Ritvika swallowed hard, fresh tears running down her cheeks. But for the first time, they weren't just tears of defeat—they carried the weight of a mother's determination.
The morning sunlight streamed softly into the small apartment, spilling across the dining table where three plates were set—two with food, one with a mess of crumbs where little Tara had already claimed her share.
She was busy breaking her paratha into pieces with her tiny fingers, humming a gibberish tune to herself.
Ritvika sat quietly, pushing her food around with her fork. Roohi noticed but didn't comment, giving her space. It was Ritvika herself who broke the silence, her voice hesitant but steady.
"Roohi... do you know of any workplace that has a vacancy right now? Somewhere I can apply immediately?"
Roohi looked up, startled, almost dropping her spoon. "Ritu, are you serious? You've just come out of hell last night. At least rest for a few days, gather your strength. Don't push yourself like this."
Ritvika shook her head firmly, the exhaustion in her eyes shadowed by determination. "No, Roohi. I can't afford rest. Not when Tara depends on me for everything. If I sit back now, I'll never get up again. I need to start somewhere, even if it's small. I need to stand on my own."
For a moment, Roohi studied her—her pale face, her trembling fingers clutching the spoon, the quiet fire in her gaze.
Then she sighed, giving in. "Alright. Fine.
If that's what you want, then I'll look into it.
I'll ask around, check online, talk to a few contacts.
Once I find something, you'll be the first to know. "
Relief flickered across Ritvika's features. She gave a small nod, her lips pressing together as if to hold back emotions. Tara banged her tiny hand on the table just then, laughing loudly at her own mess, breaking the heaviness in the air for a brief second.
Roohi shook her head with a faint smile, standing up to grab a napkin when suddenly—
Ding-Dong.
The sound of the doorbell cut through the apartment, sharp and unexpected. Both women froze for a moment, exchanging confused glances.
Roohi set down the napkin slowly, wiping her hands on her kurti. "Who could that be this early?" she murmured under her breath, her brows furrowing.
She glanced once at Ritvika—who instinctively shifted closer to Tara, her hand protective over her daughter's little arm—before walking cautiously towards the door. The sound of her footsteps echoed faintly in the stillness as she reached for the handle.
And with a deep breath, Roohi pulled the door open.
When she pulled open the door, a delivery man stood outside holding a medium-sized box. "Parcel delivery," he said flatly before handing it over. Roohi hesitated but accepted it, her brows knitting closer together as she noticed the label.
Her lips parted in disbelief. "Ritu... yeh... yeh tere naam par hai," she called out, her voice echoing slightly with confusion.
(Ritu... This... It's in your name.)
Hearing that, Ritvika instantly stood up, walking towards her with a worried frown. "Mere naam pe?" she repeated, surprise clear in her tone. Her eyes darted to the brown box in Roohi's hands.
(My name?)
Roohi nodded, still unsettled. "Par yeh possible kaise hai? Ritu, yeh apartment toh maine kal hi rent kiya tha. Address bhi naya hai... phir kaise kisi ko pata chala ki tu yahan hai?" Her voice carried genuine disbelief, as though the box itself was mocking their secrecy.
(But how is this possible? Ritu, I rented this apartment yesterday. The address is also new. How did anyone know you were here?)
Ritvika's steps slowed as unease seeped into her chest. She looked from the parcel to Roohi, then back again. "I don't understand...—" She stopped midway, biting her lip.
Both women fell silent, the air around them growing heavier. Tara, too young to grasp the tension, only blinked curiously from the dining table, swinging her little legs.
Finally, Roohi placed the box carefully on the center table, her fingers brushing against the tape that sealed it shut. "Ritu..." she whispered, her voice carrying both hesitation and fear.
Ritvika took a sharp breath, her hands trembling slightly as she touched the edge of the box. Their eyes met—two pairs filled with the same question, the same uncertainty.
After a long pause, they exchanged a silent nod. Together, with their hearts thudding in unease, they decided to open it.
As the tape tore open with a sharp rip, the box flaps fell apart to reveal rows of neatly packed strips, bottles, and small cartons.
Roohi blinked, her face twisting in confusion. "All this... Medicines?" she murmured, pulling out a bottle and turning it in her hand.
Her brows furrowed deeper as she picked another strip. "Itni saari medicines ek saath... kiski hain yeh?" she whispered, clearly unable to make sense of it.
(So many medicines at once... Whose is this?)
But beside her, Ritvika froze. The color drained from her face as her eyes locked onto the names printed on the strips. Her chest tightened with recognition—these weren't just any medicines. These were hers.
Her fingers trembled as she reached into the box, pulling out one familiar pack after another. Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Roohi, still unaware of the truth, tilted her head, searching her best friend's face for answers. "Ritu... You... Why are you so nervous? Do you know whose medicine this is?" she asked, the unease in her voice sharpening.
Ritvika's throat went dry. She wanted to respond, to mask her reaction, but the weight of the truth pressed against her chest. She managed only a faint nod, clutching the box's edge for support as her eyes blurred.
Roohi, still confused, looked back into the box. "But... Who sent it? And why you? I just don't understand..."
The air between them grew heavy—one with unanswered questions, the other with unspoken truths.
Roohi frowned, picking up one strip after another, her eyes skimming over the medical names.
At first, it didn't make sense, but the more she read, the more her stomach twisted.
Her breath hitched as realization sank in—these weren't just random medicines.
They were all for heart-related conditions.
Her face hardened, voice sharp with disbelief.
"What the hell is this? Heart medicines?
Who would even think of sending such nonsense?
" she muttered, her anger rising with every second.
She shoved the box slightly, spilling a few more strips onto the floor.
"This is sick—what kind of joke is this?
Whoever sent this must have lost their mind. "
The sharpness in her tone filled the small living room, her fury echoing off the walls. She cursed under her breath, ready to toss the box aside, but then—
A soft, trembling voice broke through the storm.
"They're mine..."
Roohi's head snapped toward Ritvika. For a moment, she thought she'd misheard. "What did you just say?"
Ritvika's hands clutched the edge of the couch, knuckles turning white, her lips pale. She didn't look up, just whispered again, steadier this time, though her voice carried the weight of years she had tried to hide.
"These medicines... they're mine."
The air seemed to freeze. Roohi's breath caught in her throat, her anger dissolving into pure shock. The box lay between them like a ticking bomb, its contents suddenly more terrifying than anything else they could have imagined.
Roohi's entire body went rigid. She stared at Ritvika as if the ground beneath her feet had just disappeared. "What do you mean they're yours?" Her voice cracked, sharp and panicked all at once. "Ritu, don't play with me right now. Tell me this isn't true."
Ritvika finally lifted her gaze. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and for a long, unbearable moment, she said nothing. That silence made Roohi's chest tighten even more.
Roohi's hands shook as she grabbed Ritvika's shoulders. "Answer me, dammit! Why are these medicines in your name? Why do you have them? What's wrong with you?" Her words tumbled out fast, broken by fear.
Ritvika winced under the pressure of her grip but didn't stop her. She knew Roohi deserved the truth—the truth she had been burying under fake smiles and silence for too long.
Finally, her lips parted, and her voice came out low, almost fragile.
"I... I have a heart condition."
The words felt like knives slicing the air. Roohi staggered back, her hands falling limp at her sides. "No..." she whispered, shaking her head as if refusing to let it sink in. "No, Ritu. Not you. Please don't tell me this is real."
But Ritvika's tears spilled, confirming everything without another word.
The box of medicines sat open between them—silent proof of the cruel truth that Roohi could no longer deny.
━━━━━━?? ━━━━━━
I had only heard before that the Wattpad community is toxic, but now I've actually seen it myself.
Thank you so much, everyone. The next update will come once I figure out where exactly I'm "throwing tantrums" and on whose head I'm apparently "climbing.
" Let me get that clear first, then I'll drop the next chapter.