E N D
The mansion stood tall against the fading evening sky, untouched by time, untouched by loss.
Warm lights spilled from its tall windows, soft and inviting, as if nothing inside had ever broken. The gates opened and closed with quiet precision, expensive cars gliding in and out, people moving with ease, with purpose.
Everything looked... normal.
Too normal.
Reevan stood across the road, his figure still, almost blending into the cold evening shadows. His eyes were fixed on the house that had once been hers.
The house that had once held Ira.
Her laughter.
Her anger.
Her chaos.
Her existence.
Now.
It held nothing.
Not a trace. Not a memory. Not even her name.
He exhaled slowly, his breath turning into mist in the freezing air, his fingers curling tightly inside his coat pockets.
"So this is how easily people move on..." he murmured under his breath.
A year. That's all it took.
Inside those walls, everything had shifted.
Power had shifted.
Loyalty had shifted.
Love had shifted.
And at the center of it all.
Niya.
Arav Veyansh had made his decision long ago.
A promise, they called it. A reward for her goodness, obedience.
For standing by him when everything was falling apart, when the company was collapsing, deals were failing...When the empire itself was slipping through his hands.
They all said it was Niya who stood beside him, she was the one who handled the pressure, rebuilt what was breaking.. breaking.. The Veyansh Empire.
And Ira?
Ira became the reason everything had broken, a mistake, burden, name they used when they needed someone to blame..
"He promised her one-fourth..." Reevan whispered faintly, his gaze darkening.
That was the story. That was the fairness of it.
A quarter of the empire, shared equally among the children.
Among the family, But death?..death changed everything.
And Ira...she was dead, so her share didn't remain hers...It never does. Now Niya didn't stand with one-fourth but she stood with half. Fifty percent of the Veyansh empire. Half of the power, half of the legacy, half of everything that once had Ira's name attached to it.
"How convenient..." he murmured, a faint, humorless smile touched Reevan's lips.
The rest of the family had adjusted just as easily.
Neil, the second brother, had chosen to leave, to follow his own path.
Modeling. A life far away from business, from responsibility, from everything that once tied him to this house, he walked away.
Just like that.
And the eldest, the perfect and untouchable one.
A doctor.
A CEO.
The pride of the Veyansh name.
And now? He didn't stand alone but niya stood beside him.. like his own sister he consisdered,Respected and powerful as he was.
The main doors of the mansion opened, reevan's gaze lifted instinctively.
A sleek car pulled into the driveway, stopping smoothly at the entrance. The guards straightened immediately, their posture shifting with silent respect.
The door opened and niya stepped out first.
Draped in elegance and expensive silk dress, wrapped in quiet authority, her movements were calm, assured. There was no hesitation in her heels and steps, no doubt in her presence.
She looked like she belonged there, like she had always belonged.
Then Viaan stepped out behind her, his hand moved naturally to her back, guiding her forward as they walked inside together.
Very close to him and comfortably, like nothing had ever been broken between them...
Like they were not the reason of Ira's death.
"They look happy..." he muttered, reevan's jaw tightened. The words tasted bitter, because they were, they were happy.
"They really forgot her..." he said quietly, his eyes never leaving them.
No hesitation, guilt and the shadow of the girl who had died because of everything that happened inside those walls.
Inside the mansion, Ira no longer existed...
Her pictures had been removed..
They didn't put her pictures again, even after her death, will help everyone to move on fast, they reasoned.
Her presence erased. The corridors that once echoed with her voice now held someone else's laughter.
Someone else's name.
Niya.
Always Niya.
Reevan took a slow step forward, his gaze hardening, something dark settling deep within him.
"They didn't just forget her..." he murmured. "They replaced her."
His eyes lingered on the doors long after they had closed behind them.
"Everything that was hers..." his voice dropped, quieter now, heavier, "...they handed it to someone else."
A pause.
A long, suffocating pause.
"And they call it fate."
His lips curled slightly, but there was no humor in it...
"Fate.."
A year had passed, a whole year.
And yet, time hadn't moved for me the way it did for everyone else.
Winter had taken over the graveyard completely now.
Snow covered everything in a thick, endless sheet of white, like the world itself had decided to bury its sins. The trees stood bare and lifeless, their branches stiff with ice, scratching softly against the grey sky whenever the wind pushed through.
It was quiet. The kind of silence that didn't bring peace, only made the emptiness louder.
Yesterday, people had come.
A lot of them.
Because it was Ira's first year death aniversery.
I had seen them from a distance.
Hidden behind the far end of the cemetery, where the shadows stretched longer and no one bothered to look.
Her mother was there. Neetha.
She had fallen to her knees near the grave, her hands trembling as she touched the coffin stone like she still expected warmth from it. Her cries... they hadn't stopped for a long time.
Her father stood beside her. Silent and very still.
Arav Veyansh.
A man who once carried pride like a crown now looked like a hollow shell of it. He didn't cry loudly. He didn't break like Neetha.
But his eyes they had already given up on everything.
Her brothers came too, the same brothers who hadn't spoken to her for years.
Now they stood there, heads lowered, guilt written all over their faces like it was carved into them permanently.
Too late.
Shanon was there.
The only one who had truly stayed by her side when no one else did.
Even the old nanny had come... her frail hands folded tightly, whispering prayers under her breath again and again.
And then.
Him.
Viaan.
He stood there longer than anyone else.
And beside him.
Niya. I had watched them all.
But I didn't go near. I couldn't. Because I didn't belong there. Not among people who had her when she was alive. Not among people who lost her... but still got to move on.
Today, the graveyard was empty again, they had all left.
Gone back to their lives.
Back to warmth.
Back to forgetting.
But I was still here.
I had been here since last night, Lying beside her grave.
The snow had soaked through my clothes hours ago. My body felt heavy... numb... like it was slowly forgetting how to exist.
Still, I didn't move. I didn't want to.
My head rested against the cold stone, right where her name was carved.
Ira Veyansh.
My fingers lifted slowly, brushing away the thin layer of snow that had settled over it again.
"Ira..." I whispered.
My breath came out in soft white fog, disappearing almost instantly into the freezing air.
For a moment, I just stayed like that.
"You know..." I murmured softly, my voice barely carrying through the wind, "they all came yesterday." A faint smile touched my lips. It didn't reach my eyes.
"Your mother cried a lot", my throat tightened.
"She kept calling your name... like you'd answer if she just said it enough times." I swallowed hard.
"Your father didn't say anything."
A pause.
"He just stood there."
Like a man who finally understood what he lost... when it was too late.
The wind picked up, brushing snow against my face.
"Your brothers came too," I continued quietly. "They looked..."
I exhaled slowly.
"Broken."
A short silence followed.
"And him..."
My jaw clenched slightly.
"Viaan came too." The name tasted bitter on my tongue.
"He stayed for a long time, he brought her with him." I let out a quiet breath and the words felt heavier than they should have.
"I didn't come close."
I turned my face slightly, pressing my cheek against the freezing marble.
"I didn't want to ruin your day."
A soft, hollow laugh escaped me.
Your day. The irony of it almost hurt.
"They're all trying to move on," I whispered.
The wind howled softly in response.
"But I can't."
My fingers curled weakly into the snow.
"I tried,I really did but every time I close my eyes..."
My voice broke.
"I see you." My chest tightened painfully.
"I should've been there, I should've stayed."
"You needed someone, and I left." The guilt never faded. Not even after a year. My breathing grew uneven.
The snow kept falling.
"I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought leaving would make things easier." I murmured. A bitter smile formed on my lips.
"But I was just a coward", the word lingered.
Heavy and ugly.
"I ran away."
Silence followed.
Only the sound of the wind remained, whispering through the empty graves.
After a moment, I spoke again, softer this time.
"Do you know something, Ira?" My eyes closed slowly.
"I still read your letters, your diaries, your poems, your stories."
A faint, broken smile touched my lips.
"Every single one, over and over again, they're the only thing I have left of you."
The cold had started to seep deeper into my bones now, my fingers barely responded anymore.
"I don't think I'll ever leave this place," I whispered.
"Not really."
Because this.
This was where she was. The only place left where she still existed, the wind howled louder.
Snow gathered over my body, over the grave, over everything.
But I didn't move. Didn't even try.
"Ira..." I whispered again.
And this time. My voice almost disappeared completely, as if even it was being buried along with her.
12 a.m.
The kind of hour where the world forgets to breathe.
I sat beside her grave again, my back resting against the cold stone, my fingers curled loosely around the edge like if I let go... I'd lose her all over again.
The candle beside me flickered weakly, its flame trembling every time the wind brushed past, threatening to die, but never quite giving up.
Just like me.
The dim yellow lamp in the graveyard barely lit anything. Shadows stretched long and uneven, wrapping around the graves like they were alive.
Watching.
Waiting.
The priest had seen me again today.. like everyday. He had tried to speak. Tried to make me understand.
"Son... let her rest."
But his words never reached me. They never stayed. They just... passed through.
Because how do you let someone rest. When they were never at peace?
I opened the diary slowly, my fingers brushing over the worn pages.
Her handwriting. Messy and Innocent.
"Ira..." I whispered under my breath, my throat tightening.
"This one... you wrote when you were eleven..." A bitter smile touched my lips.
"Eleven." A child. Just a child and yet
I began to read, my voice low, almost lost in the wind.
'It was all dark... again and again,
My heart still begged for warmth in pain,
Wake me up, wake me up from this sleep,
Before I broke apart..like a fragile leaf..'
_Ira
I stared at the page, my vision blurring slightly.
"She was already tired..." I murmured. "At eleven...how long were you hurting, Ira?"
My fingers tightened on the paper.
The wind picked up, brushing against the candle. The flame shook violently but didn't go out.
I let out a slow, broken breath and leaned my head back against the stone.
"You kept asking someone to wake you up..." I whispered. My voice cracked slightly.
"But no one came, did they?" My eyes closed slowly.
"And when I finally came..."
A pause.
A painful one.
"I left."
The words barely came out, but silence around me shallowed everything. I lowered my head, pressing my forehead lightly against the cold surface of her grave.
"I'm here now," I whispered.
Too late.
Always too late.
"I'm here..."
I stared at the page
Again and again and again.
longer than I should have. My fingers trembled slightly as they traced over the faded ink, as if touching the words would somehow bring me closer to her.
"You wrote this... when you were just thirteen?"
My voice came out hoarse. Disbelieving.
"Just thirteen..." I let out a hollow breath, shaking my head slowly.
I had read this poem before.
Many times. Too many times. And yet every time felt like the first. Like the wound had never really closed.
'Let my smile stitch with loosened thread,
Let the storms make homes inside my head,
They called it strength, I called it disguise,
Let them hear my silent cries.'
I lowered the diary slowly, pressing it against my chest.
"Ira..."
My voice barely existed now.
"You were screaming... even then."
The pages had ended.
One after another... I had read them all.
Every poem.
Every word.
Every piece of her that she had poured into ink because no one ever listened when she spoke.
My fingers had stopped turning the pages at some point.
I didn't even remember when.
The diary lay open in my lap, the last page staring back at me like it knew I wouldn't be able to finish it. The candle beside me flickered violently now, its flame weak, struggling against the growing cold.
The wind had turned harsher and crueler.. cutting through my thick skin.
I tried to speak.
"I... I..." My voice started to fail me slolwly..
Perhaps because it's been days.. since I had eaten or drink anything.
My throat felt dry. Tight. Like even breathing had become something distant.
"I..Ir..." I whispered bu her name barely made it out.
My hands trembled as I tried to lift the diary again.
The last poem.
I needed to read it. I needed to hear her one last time, but my fingers... they weren't listening anymore. They were feeling very stiff and heavy.
And the cold had started to settle inside my bones.
Not outside but inside.
My vision blurred slightly. The edges of everything softened, like the world was slowly slipping away from me.
"Ira..." I tried again, weaker this time.
A breath. A ghost of a sound. Something felt wrong... very wrong.. very very wrong.
My eyes shifted slowly to the side.
"Dawn...?"
My voice cracked.
The blackbird lay near the edge of the grave, its small body unnaturally still against the snow.
"Witty...?"
The spider... motionless beside it.
They hadn't moved in hours. Days, maybe.
I didn't know anymore.
"You guys..." I swallowed hard, forcing my voice out, "you didn't even eat, did you...?"
No response. No movement. Nothing.
"D... Dawn... Witty...?" I tried again, a little louder this time.
My voice sounding desperate but the silence remained.
And then it hit me. They weren't resting orsleeping.
"They..." my breath hitched. "They're... gone...d..dead"
My chest tightened painfully.
"They went to you... didn't they?" I whispered, my gaze drifting back to her grave. A broken smile touched my lips.
"Couldn't stay here without you..."
My hand moved slowly, painfully, reaching out. I touched them one last time.
Cold. Just like the stone beneath me, just like everything else.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
"Take them with you..." I murmured faintly. "To wherever you are..."
The wind howled louder and candle flickered wildly, then steadied again...barely alive.
My fingers tightened weakly around the diary again.
"I have to... read this..." I whispered.
"The last one..." my vision blurred further. Darkness started to crept slowly at the edges.
"Love..love..l..me", I opened my mouth.
Tried to speak, tried to read.
But no words came out, only a broken breath.
"I can't..." I whispered, my voice barely there.
A tear slipped down, disappearing into the cold.
"I'm sorry..."
The numbness had spread completely now and my body felt distant.
Like it no longer belonged to me.
The diary slipped slightly from my hands.
My head grew heavy.
Too heavy.
"Ira..." I breathed out one last time.
My forehead rested against her grave, cold stone meeting colder skin.
And then..
Everything went dark....