Chapter 11
Nisha
A small smile tugs at my lips as I stare at the screen, the words ‘Application Submitted’ flashing back at me.
I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, in the same spot I’ve occupied since I woke up hours ago.
My finger hovers over the trackpad for a moment longer before I finally close the mail tab and sink back against the headboard, a quiet sense of pride settling in my chest. I did it. I actually did it.
Closing my eyes, my mind drifts back to the conversation I had with Mr. Tiwari.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Mr. Tiwari?”
“Yes, speaking,” he replied in a deep voice.
“Mr. Tiwari, this is Nisha. Dr. Tanushree gave me your contact. She mentioned you run the online MBA program,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Ah, Nisha!” he had replied almost immediately, as though he’d been expecting the call. “Yes, yes, she did tell me about you. I’m so glad you reached out. How are you feeling?”
“I’m… getting there,” I admitted truthfully.
“Good. Now, let’s talk about your course. But before we get into how to start, could you tell me what stream are you looking at?”
“Marketing,” I answered without hesitation. “I’ve always been drawn to it. It’s always felt like the right fit.”
“That’s a smart choice. I’ll send you a link to the application form. The entire process is short and simple. You can fill it out at your own pace. And if you need any help, I’m just a call away. You’ve already taken the first step by reaching out. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me, feeling a little less overwhelmed than I had just moments before making the call. “Thank you, Mr. Tiwari.”
“You’re welcome, Nisha.” His voice came immediately.
I let out a slow breath and open my eyes.
Things will work out, I whisper in my mind as I stare back at the new MacBook.
A fresh smile tugs at my lips. It had been an unexpected, thoughtful gift, maybe even a little too much, if I’m being honest. But whatever it was, it gave me this odd, fluttery kind of happiness.
Over the past few days, I’ve tried to keep Sidharth at a distance.
But he never once backed away. In fact, he’s carved his presence so deeply into my life that pushing him out feels impossible now.
And somewhere along the way, without meaning to, I’ve started to trust him.
Just a little. But somehow, that little feels like a lot.
The buzz of a notification pulls me from my thoughts. I glance down at the screen, and my heart skips a beat when I see the words New Mail. Just two words, but somehow, they set my pulse racing.
It must be the reply from the university about my admission. My fingers move faster than my brain can catch up, as I open the email tab. But the moment my eyes skim over the words, the air is sucked right out of me.
Sender: Unknown
Subject: You Deserve Everything That’s Coming
A shudder passes through me. My fingers tremble over the trackpad as I click on the mail.
You bitch. You and your precious sister actually think you’ve won by putting Prakash behind bars, don’t you?
You really believed he was the one behind your accident, and that now you can live happily ever after?
Then, you’re even dumber than I thought.
Prakash was never the mastermind. He was just my puppet.
He only did what I told him to. And now that he’s rotting in jail, you’ve really pissed me off.
If you think you’re safe now, you’re dead wrong.
Because I was the one who wanted you gone.
I still do. You may have cheated death once, but next time, you won’t be so lucky. I’ll make sure of it.
My hands freeze. For a second, I just stare at the screen, my heart pounding so violently I can hear it in my ears. Who sent me this?
With each passing second, a chill runs down my spine. Unable to take it anymore, I slam the laptop shut, but the words still echo in my head. I’m the one who wanted you gone. I still do.
A sick, uneasy feeling twists in my gut. I thought I’d left the worst behind, but it turns out, the nightmare isn’t over yet.
No. I won’t let this scare me. I didn’t crawl my way back from darkness just to be pushed into another pit of fear.
My mind begins to race, struggling to think rationally instead of giving in to fear. This email makes one thing clear: Prakash isn’t alone like we assumed. He has someone. Someone with their own motive, someone who hates me enough to want me gone.
But who could I have wronged so deeply? The more I think about it, the more my mind spins, and still, no name comes to my mind.
My hands clench into fists in my lap. I need to know who it is. And there’s only one person who can give me that answer—the devil himself.
Adrenaline rushes through me as I swing my legs off the bed. It’s time I paid Prakash a visit. I know he won’t give up the truth easily, but I can’t stand by and do nothing — not after that email. I won’t wait this time; not if it means someone I love gets hurt or, worse, if I lose someone again.
I glance at the wall clock. It’s two in the afternoon.
Two hours. That’s all I have before Sidharth shows up for his usual check-in. But these two hours should be enough.
Moving to my cupboard, I slide on a loose hoodie over my tank top and pull my hair into a messy bun. Grabbing my sling bag, I step out of my room.
As I reach the living room, my eyes fall on Sunita Aunty, seated on the sofa with a newspaper in hand.
She looks up at me. “Going out, beta?”
I nod, keeping my pounding heart in check and masking the tension with a calm I don’t feel. “Yeah… just thought I’d get some fresh air. Maybe grab a coffee at the place down the road.”
Her brows pull together, concern flickering in her eyes. “Wait, I’ll come with you. I could use a break too.”
I freeze for a second. “No, no need, Aunty. I won’t be long. I just need a breather,” I say, hoping she doesn’t catch the waver in my voice.
She still looks unconvinced. “Are you sure, Nisha? You look a little tense.”
I force a light laugh. Walking towards her and give her a quick hug. “I’m fine. Just tired of staring at the walls. I’ll be back before you even miss me.”
Before she can say more, I slip out the door.
The warm afternoon air hits my face as I step onto the street. I pull out my phone and quickly book a taxi. My fingers tap nervously on my bag as I wait for the cab.
When the cab pulls up, I slide into the back seat and mutter, “Police Station.”
The driver nods before pressing the accelerator.
As the city rushes past, everything outside turns into a blur. The weight of what I’m about to do presses heavily on my chest. I don’t know if this is brave or just plain stupid. Or maybe it’s both. But I have to see him. I have to try to find the answers to the email.
Forty minutes later, the cab halts outside the police station. I pay the driver with shaky fingers, mumble a thank-you, and step out, my heart pounding in uneven beats.
For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the building. The cream paint is chipped in places, and the signboard above the entrance has faded with time. But it’s not the worn-down structure that unsettles me; it’s the man inside.
I square my shoulders, take a deep breath, and walk in.
The moment I step past the heavy iron gates, I spot him… Inspector Viraj.
He’s sitting behind his desk, scribbling into a file, until his eyes flick up to see me. For a split second, confusion flashes across his face before he rises to his feet.
“Nisha?” he says, coming around the desk. “What are you doing here?”
I hesitate for a beat before the words leave my mouth. “I need a favor. I want to meet Prakash.”
His expression shifts instantly. The confusion deepens, then hardens into concern.
“Prakash?” he repeats. “I’m not sure that’s wise. Does Kavya or Sidharth know you’re here?”
I shake my head. “No. And I’d prefer it stays that way. Please, Inspector Viraj. I just… I need to see him. Just once.”
He studies me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to read the thoughts I’m not saying out loud.
“I’m not sure I understand,” he says at last. “He’s behind bars. There’s nothing more to—”
“Just one meeting,” I cut in, keeping my voice steady and calm without breathing a word about the email. Because if he finds out about that, he’ll loop in Sidharth, and I’m not ready for that storm. “It’s something I need to do for myself. Closure.”
Inspector Viraj still looks uneasy. “If Kavya or Sidharth find out…” he begins, his tone laced with warning.
“They won’t. Please. I’ll handle everything.”
He exhales slowly, his lips pressed into a line. Then he looks over his shoulder and calls out, “Deshmukh!”
A young constable appears from around the corridor.
“Take Miss Nisha to the holding cells. One supervised meeting. Ten minutes, no more.”
“Yes, sir,” the young constable replies.
Inspector Viraj turns back to me, still looking uncertain. “He doesn’t deserve your time, Nisha. Just be careful.”
I nod once, my heart pounding, and follow the constable down the corridor. The scent of rusted iron and sweat clings to the air, curling into my nostrils like a warning.
As we approach the holding cells, I spot him.
He’s sitting on a bench inside the dimly lit cell, his elbows resting on his knees, head bowed, like he’s just another weary man serving time.
But I know better. That posture, that stillness, it’s all a mask.
One I’ve seen before. One that hides the rot beneath.
He senses me before I can speak because he lifts his head. The second our eyes meet, his lips curl into a grin. Not the kind that welcomes, but the kind that slices straight through you. Cold. Calculated. Mocking.
“Well, well…” he drawls, a smug gleam in his eyes as he rises to his feet. “Sleeping Beauty awakens and walks into hell to meet the devil himself.”
I don’t respond. I step closer and stop right outside the bars. The constable gives me a brief glance, then positions himself near the entrance, far enough to give us space, close enough to intervene if it turns ugly.
I take in Prakash’s disheveled brown hair, his sunken cheeks, and the shadows under his eyes. And yet, despite it all, the arrogance in his posture hasn’t faded.
“You look good, I must say. Just like the first time I laid eyes on you,” he says, his brown eyes roaming up and down in quiet appraisal.
My fists clench at my sides, but I don’t rise to the bait. “I made a mistake loving a devil like you.”
“Of course you did,” he winks. “But then again, love has a way of turning even smart women into fools. You were my prettiest fool, Nisha.”
The words sting like a slap, but I refuse to let him have that power over me now.
“I didn’t come here for nostalgia,” I say coldly. “I came for answers.”
“Oh?” He tilts his head and leans against the bars casually. “Are we playing Twenty20 now?”
Ignoring his question, I ask one of my own. “Someone sent me an email threatening me and my sister.”
He looks at me with mock innocence. “You think I sent it?” He shakes his head, then lets out a low, sinister chuckle. “Do you think I get internet privileges in here, Nisha?”
“I know it’s not you,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the fire in my chest. “But the person who sent me the email clearly said that you two were a team, that you were doing all of this on his orders.” I lock eyes with him. “So stop playing games, Prakash, and just give me the name.”
“And if I don’t give you the name, what will you do? Ask the cops to beat it out of me?” He grins, daring me to do just that.
“I will, if I have to.”
His smile turns darker. “Go ahead. Do it. Burn the whole world down if you want. But you won’t get a name from me.”
My jaw tightens, my chest burning. “Who is it, Prakash?”
He shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Let’s just say loyalty isn’t as dead as you think.”
Before I can reply, he leans in, his breath sickeningly calm.
“And if the cops touch me, you’ll get your stage.
But so will I. Imagine the headlines: The tragic survivor, Nisha, and her torrid affair with the man who ruined her.
The public will eat it up. You won’t get a name, but they’ll get a show. ”
For a split second, my breath catches, not from fear, but from the ache of recognition. How had I ever loved this man? Maybe now I understand that what I thought was love was nothing but poison.
“You think I’m afraid of what people will say?
Let them know about us. Let them talk. Let them write their headlines.
You’re forgetting something, Prakash… I survived you.
And if you think our affair going public is going to scare me back into silence, then you’ve clearly forgotten who the hell I’m now.
” I lean closer. “You want a show? Fine. But remember, when the curtain falls, the villain always loses.”
He claps loudly in mockery, his grin widening. “Wow… I didn’t know the little lamb had turned into a tigress,” he drawls, tilting his head as he studies me. “Guess the coma did more than just keep you alive.”
Knowing I won’t get a name, and totally done with the conversation, I say coolly, “Enjoy your cell, Prakash. Rot in it. I may not have the name now, but I promise, I’ll find it soon.”
His grin doesn’t falter. “Until then, sleep with one eye open, sleeping beauty.”
Just then, the constable steps closer. “Madam, time’s up.”
I stay still at first, staring at Prakash, fury simmering behind my eyes as I take in that smug, infuriating smile.
Then, without another word, I turn and walk away. His laughter echoes down the corridor, but I don’t look back. I’m done giving him that power.