Raised in the cold shadows of a toxic family, YASHNA has learned to guard her heart. Love, to her, is nothing but a mask for manipulation, and trust is a rare commodity she can't afford. That is, until fate throws her into the path of VISHWANTH RAJU...
The 1990s were a dark and dangerous time in our tale, especially in the shadowed alleyways of the city where power was measured in fear and bloodshed. On a foggy evening, a young boy, no older than ten, ran after his lantern that he just flew in memories of his mother. The colorful paper structure soared high, leading him deeper into unfamiliar streets.
He skidded to a stop when he saw them : a man, a woman, and a child, huddled together in terror, their faces pale under the flickering streetlight. Towering over them was a man whose presence alone seemed to suffocate the air. His scarred face twisted into a cruel smirk as he raised a hand. With a single gesture, chaos erupted. Gunshots rang out.
The boy ducked behind a stack of crates, his small body is trembling as he peeked through a crack. He saw the family collapse, lifeless, the crimson stain spreading across the cobblestones. Before he could process the horror, rough hands grabbed him, dragging him forward.
"Boss," one of the men called, his voice gruff, "we've got a witness."
The boy was thrown to the ground before the mafia boss. His heart raced as he looked up, meeting the man's cold, calculating eyes. The scar running through the boss's brow only made him more terrifying.
The boss stared for a long moment before waving dismissively. "Leave him," he growled. "He's just a kid."
The guards hesitated but obeyed, releasing their grip on the boy. Before he could flee, the boss leaned down, his voice low and venomous. "Forget what you saw, boy. If you know what's good for you."
The boy's eyes brimmed with tears, but defiance burned in his gaze. He said nothing. Without a word, he turned and ran, his tiny feet pounding against the pavement. He didn't stop until he was far away, but the images of that night burned into his memory, haunting him with every waking moment.
...........
PRESENT DAY ,
The present day unfolded with a familiar discomfort. In a cramped, middle-class bedroom, the drone of an old fan filled the silence. Yashna stirred beneath her thin blanket, reluctant to wake, but the fan's hum abruptly ceased. Her mother, Usha, stood at the switchboard, her expression a mixture of irritation and disapproval.
"How many times have I told you to turn the light off before sleeping ?" Usha's sharp tone broke the fragile morning peace. "Do you know how much the electricity bill has gone up this month ? Every day it's something new with you. Do you think money grows on trees ?"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Yashna sat up, the weight of exhaustion still heavy on her shoulders. She wanted to snap back, to ask why her mother used the fan herself if expenses were such a burden. But years of holding her tongue had taught her it wasn't worth the fight.
"I am paying the bill with my salary," Yashna muttered, though the words felt hollow. Her meager earnings barely covered her own needs, let alone the family's endless demands.
