Chapter- 44

The two-storey house stood draped in mourning, surrounded by a silence that felt both sacred and agonizing. The condolences had become repetitive, the incense sticks had burned halfway down to ash, and the framed photograph of Aarti, draped with a fresh garland, had become impossible to look at without something inside breaking apart. Every glance at her smiling face reminded them of a life that had ended far too soon.

Relatives and neighbours were scattered across the drawing room, speaking in hushed whispers that only deepened the heaviness hanging in the air. Sitting quietly beside Ananya, Eshita couldn’t stop staring at Aarti’s photograph. The girl’s smile refused to leave her mind. A young woman had paid the ultimate price for standing up, for fighting not for herself, but for another girl’s dignity, another child’s future.

Her gaze shifted towards Ananya. The young lawyer sat silently beside Aarti’s mother, holding the grieving woman close as she cried into her shoulder. Across the room, Ekansh sat beside Aarti’s father, trying to console a man whose world had collapsed overnight. Aarti had been the only child of her aging parents, their pride, their hope, their reason to keep dreaming. Now all that remained were memories.

It had been nearly an hour since they had arrived. Aarti’s body was still under police custody. The authorities had refused to release it immediately as the post-mortem and forensic formalities were still underway. Meanwhile, every news channel had already begun delivering its own version of the truth, painting Aarti’s death as an act of cowardice rather than asking the questions that truly mattered.

How did Aarti disappear just hours before the hearing? Why had she returned home instead of reaching the courtroom? Why had her phone suddenly gone unreachable? How had no one seen her enter the house when several neighbours had watched her leave earlier that morning? And above all... what had happened during those missing hours?

Every unanswered question screamed that something was terribly wrong, yet people seemed far more interested in creating stories than searching for answers. That frightened Eshita more than anything else.

She understood rivalry in the business world. She had seen powerful people destroy one another over contracts, money and influence. But this kind of cruelty... where society itself became the executioner... was something she had never imagined. Sometimes words spoken in soft voices could wound far deeper than any weapon ever could.

“Yeh toh hona hi tha,” One woman whispered to another. “Karmo ka phal mila hai ladki ko. Ek achhe, shareef aadmi par itna ghatiya ilzaam lagaya tha.”

“Galti toh maa-baap ki hai,” another replied without a trace of shame. “Pehle hi ladki ko uski had mein rakhte toh aaj yeh din dekhna nhi padta.”

“Sahi keh rahi hain aap bhenji. Suna hai pichhle mahine kisi ameer baap ki aulaad ke saath bhi ghoomti phirti thi. Ab samajh aaya sab...”

“Meri beti ne kuch galat nhi kiya!” Ravi, Aarti’s mother, broke down as the words tore through her heart. Her anguished cry echoed through the house, silencing the room for a brief moment before dissolving once again into muffled sobs.

She felt utterly helpless. Only a few days ago she spoke to Aarti over the phone. Her daughter had insisted she was safe. She had asked her parents not to believe everything shown on television and promised she would come home soon to explain everything herself.

Ravi had believed her. A mother’s heart often recognizes the truth in her child’s voice long before anyone else can. But when Aarti’s phone remained unanswered for days, Ravi and her husband travelled overnight from their small village to see their daughter, only to arrive at a house filled with mourners instead.

As if losing her child wasn’t enough, she was now forced to listen to strangers calling Aarti a liar, characterless, attention-seeking and immoral. Every accusation felt like another handful of soil being thrown over her daughter’s memory.

Ananya slowly rose to her feet stepping protectively in front of her aunt. Her usually calm expression had disappeared long before.

She looked at the lady dead in the eyes, “Aap yahan sirf afsos zahir karne aaye the. Agar zara si insaniyat bhi nhi dikha sakte aur meri bhen ke baare mein bakwaas hi karni haitoh aap yahan se jaa sakte hain.”

The woman rolled her eyes dismissively. “Akad toh dekho in logon ki. Humein bhi koi shauk nhi hai yahan aane ka. Insaniyat ke naate he aa the. Warna tumhare bhen jasie ladkiyan samajh par bojh hoti hain. Achha hua samay se pehle hi...”

“LEAVE!” Aarti’s father roared with a fury no one had expected from the broken old man. His breathing turned ragged. He clutched his chest, coughing violently as tears streamed uncontrollably down his face. Even after death, his daughter was being dragged through the mud.

Ekansh immediately caught hold of the old man before he lost his balance. Eshita rushed to fetch water. Across the room, Ravi broke down completely, her cries growing increasingly hysterical as Ananya wrapped both arms around her, desperately trying to keep her from collapsing. Everything was falling apart.

Ekansh clenched his eyes shut, inhaling a shaky breath. Regret was the heaviest punishment a person could carry, silent, relentless, and impossible to escape. And at that moment, it crushed him. He had been the one who asked for Aarti’s help. He had placed her at the forefront of a battle she never deserved to fight. To protect Ekta’s dignity. To shield a sixteen-year-old girl from humiliation, character assassination, and questions no child should ever have to answer. He had unknowingly pushed Aarti into the line of fire.

Now a family had lost their daughter. Two aging parents had lost the center of their universe. And even after death, Aarti’s dignity was being torn apart, her name dragged through the dirt by people who knew nothing about her. If there was one sin Ekansh would never forgive himself for, it was this. Aarti’s death had become a burden he knew he would carry for the rest of his life.

The room stilled into an almost suffocating silence, the sound of polished leather shoes echoing across the marble floor as Samar Singhania stepped into the house dressed in an immaculate white kurta beneath a charcoal waistcoat. His face carried the exact amount of grief expected from a respectable lawyer mourning the tragic loss of a family who lost their daughter.

A few journalists hovering over the house for hours tried to rush in for a bite. Ekansh’s security held them back effortlessly. Cameras shuttered, murmurs rippled through the gathering as people standing in the room stepped back instinctively, giving the man way without being asked. That was the kind of aura he carried, one that commanded respect before he uttered a single word.

Ekansh looked on as Samar put on the perfect performance of grief, walking towards Aarti’s frame, staring at it for too long with sympathetic eyes, offering flowers, joining hands and bowing his head in silent prayer as though mourning someone he had deeply cherished.

Ekansh looked down, startled, feeling a tight grip on his wrist. Eshita was holding his hand, which was normal, but her stance exuded fear. The way she was leaning on him, the way she stared at Samar... that was the most unexpected reaction he was witnessing.

Regardless of his shock, he drew soothing circles on her wrist to calm her down. “You don’t have to be scared of that bastard, Esha,” he whispered firmly, for only her to hear.

Eshita looked at him, before her gaze dropping on their hands. A soft gasp escaped her lips. She hadn’t realised she was digging her nails into his skin. For some reason, Samar’s presence deeply unsettled her. The soft expression he wore would have made her doubt Aarti first if she wasn’t aware of the truth.

That kind of calculated innocence creeped her out. She tried to pull back from Ekansh’s hand, but he didn’t let her, holding her hand firmly and protectively, providing his silent support and the courage she suddenly found lacking in herself.

Samar faced Ravi, joining his hands politely.

“Ma’am... aapki beti... Aarti bahut hi nek dil aur samajhdaar ladki thi. Bhagwan uski aatma ko shanti de aur aap sabko yeh dard sehne ki himmat dein.”

“What do you think you are doing here?” Ananya snapped. The restraint she was holding on to finally broke free after hearing his hypocritical words. The man was the most manipulative individual she had come across in her whole career. How could someone be so shameless?

The room fell silent. Several relatives looked at Ananya in confusion while a few exchanged disapproving glances.

Samar looked at her with nothing but composed sympathy, as though her outburst was only the reaction of a grieving sister. “I understand your anger, Ms. Kaur. But we can’t allow emotions to overpower facts. Maana ki aapki behen se galtiyan hui hongi... par aap uske liye sach se muh mod lein, yeh toh sahi nhi hai. We are lawyers... it’s our duty to stand with the truth, no matter how painful it may be.”

Ananya let out a bitter laugh. “Truth?” she repeated, taking a step toward him. “Tum aur sach? Don’t you dare stand here and preach about truth. I know you are behind my sister’s death. And I will make sure to dig out the real truth. You will pay for everything you have done. Just wait and watch.”

A murmur spread through the room. One elderly relative whispered, “Ananya yeh kya kar rahi ho? Ek toh yeh itna sab kuch hone ke baad bhi humare dukh mein shamil hone aaye hain aur tum in par hi ilzaam laga rahi ho...”

Another sighed. “Dukh insaan se kya kya nhi karwata. Apni bhen ke jaane ke gham mein usne kya kiya, yeh bhi bhool gayi hai yeh ladki.”

“A truth that is yet to be proven remains nothing more than an allegation,” Ekansh stated calmly, all eyes immediately shifting towards him.

He glanced at the people. “And if you don’t know the complete truth, you shouldn’t be so quick to judge anyone.”

“Sahi kaha aapne, Mr. Sehgal.” Samar’s tone softened. “Truth always has two sides, but a few truths are also so deeply buried that people mistake them for lies. Don’t you agree?”

Ekansh stepped forward, his hands tightening inside his pockets to stop himself from punching the man, as he stood before Samar, their eyes locking in a silent battle filled with unspoken meanings that no one understood but them alone.

“You are absolutely right, Mr. Singhania.” Ekansh smirked faintly, “But you see... the deeper a truth is buried, the harder it pushes to reach the surface. And when it does... it burns everyone who tried to hide it.”

For the briefest moment, Samar’s eyes flashed at the mocking reply before he composed his emotions once again, only the corner of his lips curled up slightly.

He leaned forward for only Ekansh to hear. “Be careful, Mr. Sehgal. You have the most precious item of mine with you. In the process of finding truth, don’t forget the harm it will cause to everyone around you.”

“Which item are we talking about, Mr. Singhania?” Ekansh frowned, feigning innocence. “Maybe you are talking about the weapons I play with... guns, knives and bullets. My father has taught me how to use them all. Because other than that, there is only my family who stay in Sehgal House... and none of them belong to you.”

Samar shook his head with an amused chuckle, the corners of his lips curling into a smile that never reached his eyes, “Quite fearless you are, I am liking it. But let’s not forget you stared this…”

“No!” Ekansh interjected coldly, his gaze unwavering, “You started this the moment you thought innocent lives were disposable for your desires. And I will end it in ways you never imagined. You will watch your empire crumble brick by brick.”

For the first time, Samar fell silent. He had come to rile up Ananya to satisfy his own ego, but Ekansh was rubbing salt into his carefully concealed frustration. Throwing one last glance at Aarti’s garlanded photograph, then family, and finally at Eshita, he turned on his heels, leaving behind the same calm smile he had entered with.

“Sir, one question please...” A journalist called out, rushing after him as he stepped out of the house.

“What were you doing here, Mr. Singhania? Did you forgive the girl for tarnishing your image in public?”

Samar glanced towards the cameras with a composed smile. “I don’t hold any grudge against anyone. Let’s just move past this. A family lost their daughter... we shouldn’t add more bitterness to their grief by holding on to hatred.” Saying, he walked towards his waiting car without another word.

Even if Ekansh didn’t let him have his satisfaction completely, he was pleased with the outcome. The  seeds of doubt had already been planted in the minds of those watching, creating a gaint tree out of it long before.  After all, it was a story he had written himself, and turning it into a tragedy was his greatest masterpiece.

Anyways he didn’t care for such small specs on his way. He can crush them easily an dhe did that. His aim was Ekta. Soon the girl would be exactly where she belonged. And as for Ekansh Sehgal... Samar would enjoy playing with him head-on. His first strike was already on its way.

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Eshita scrolled through her phone, one comment after another igniting her frustration and anger. Her emotions were a tangled mess of helplessness, disbelief, and rage, colliding violently with the reality unfolding before her eyes. It felt as though the sheltered bubble she had lived in had burst without warning. Until now, she had only heard people speak about victim blaming. Today, she was witnessing it with her own eyes.

“Accha hua mar gayi, warna main isse maar deti.”

“What the hell! How can a girl be so shameless? Paisa aur publicity ke liye log kuch bhi karte hain.”

“Because of bitches like these, real victims suffer the most.”

“Iske saath sach mein uss aadmi ne kuch kiya hota toh achha tha... phir apni jaan deti toh itna gussa nhi aata mujhe.”

“Aisi ladkiyon ki wajah se kisi bhi aurat ki baat par yakeen karna mushkil ho gaya hai.”

Before she could scroll further, the phone was suddenly snatched from her hands. She flinched as Ekansh tossed it onto the back seat.

“Kya kar rahi hai?” He scolded, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Maine kaha tha na, ignore these comments. Baar baar yeh sab dekhne se kuch nhi badlega... sirf tu aur zyada hurt hogi.”

Eshita’s gaze dropped. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Main bas... I hate all of this, bhaiya. Jo log aaj Aarti ke baare mein keh rahe hain... I can’t even imagine Ekta being forced to go through the same thing. How can people be so blind? I understand supporting someone you admire, but blindly refusing to question them... believing they are incapable of doing anything wrong... placing them on such a high pedestal that the truth itself stops mattering... how can people do that?”

Ekansh reached across the console and gently rested his hand over hers. “Power can blind people, Eshita. Money can buy narratives. Most people don’t see the truth... they see the version they are shown often enough to believe. It takes time for the truth to surface.”

“So long that people lose their lives waiting for justice?” Eshita asked, her voice cracking. “A justice that arrives only after someone’s death... what’s the point of it then?”

“This is only the beginning, Esha. If you think this battle will end with a small fight, you are mistaken. Every fight against powerful people demands a price. Those who choose to stand with the truth almost always lose something before they gain anything. We can fight with everything we have... but we cannot expect victory without sacrifice.”

Eshita slowly withdrew her hand. “Then I just hope that we don’t lose anyone else before the truth wins.”

Ekansh went silent. He couldn’t reassure that. Some prayers carried too much fear to be answered with words. A war that is fought with conviction comes with a price even before justice finds its way. Perhaps that was the hardest lesson of all. You could do everything right and still watch innocent people suffer.

His thoughts shifted to Samar Singhania. The man’s unnerving composure, the quiet confidence with which he carried himself, and the complete absence of fear unsettled Ekansh more than open threats ever could. Truth to be told, dangerous people rarely announced themselves. They waited, observed, calculated, and struck only when the moment favored them. If Samar was the opponent, then every step would have to be measured carefully...

A deafening blast echoed from somewhere behind them, shattering Ekansh’s chain of thoughts. The entire car jolted violently, throwing both siblings forward against their seat belts.

“What was that?” Eshita gasped, instinctively turning around.

Her eyes widened in horror as their security team’s SUV was hurled into the air, flipping twice before crashing onto the road with a thunderous impact. Metal screeched against asphalt as shattered glass and debris scattered across the highway. Thick smoke billowed upward while vehicles swerved violently, some coming to an abrupt halt as frightened pedestrians ran in every direction.

Ekansh’s eyes shot to the rear-view mirror. Before he could react, a sharp crack split the air. The side-view mirror exploded into countless shards, the glass showering across the window.

Without wasting another second, He pulled Eshita down below the dashboard.

“Stay down,” He ordered firmly, patting her head reassuringly before slamming his foot on the accelerator.

The engine roared to life as the car shot forward through the nearly empty stretch of road. Ananya’s house was almost an hour away from the Sehgal Mansion, located on the outskirts of the city. He had left only because his father had called, saying Ekta had grown restless and refused to calm down. His father had yet to know how to clam Ekta, leaving Ekansh with no choice but to head back himself. But this sudden attack caught him completely off guard.

His grip tightened around the steering wheel as he instinctively changed routes. He glanced in the mirror and the view made his blood run cold. Three black SUVs had already fallen in behind them. They weren’t following anymore. They were hunting in manic speed.

Another sharp crack echoed through the air. Ekansh ducked lower over the steering wheel.

“Sambhal ke, Eshita!” He shouted, pushing her back down as she tried to lift her head and look back.

His eyes darted to the rear-view mirror again. Three vehicles. Armed men. His mind raced. He had taken the wrong route in the panic, and the road ahead narrowed into a stretch with very few exits. He wasn’t carrying his gun either. For the first time in years, he found himself with almost no options. Except one.

“Call Rajeev,” He commanded, thrusting his phone into Eshita’s trembling hands.

After a decade, this was only the second time he was reaching out to the very man he had once sworn he would never seek again, no matter how desperate the circumstances became. Life had a cruel sense of irony. The promises we make in peace are often the first casualties of war.

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Do you think Ekansh is at fault? Or was it inevitable?

Your thoughts on Ekansh and Samar interaction?

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