THE UNEXPECTED DESTINY

Meanwhile on the other side

The rain didn’t stop. It only got heavier. The loud drops danced over rooftops, splashed into puddles, and painted the roads with streaks of silver and sadness.

Anya sat curled into herself at the edge of a closed shop's shelter. Her dupatta was soaked, clinging to her like her problems. Her eyes were swollen from hours of silent crying, but the tears hadn’t stopped. Her stomach ached from emptiness, and her soul—well, that felt even hollower.

She hugged her bag close to her chest as if it were the only thing she owned in this world now.

What have I done to deserve this...?
Why me...?

The distant sound of a car slicing through the rain made her look up.

A sleek, black luxury car stopped right in front of her.

The tinted window rolled down slowly, and a calm, feminine voice spoke through the rain.

“You shouldn’t sit here like this, dear. Are you alright?”

Anya blinked, unsure if she was dreaming. Her lips trembled as she tried to stand but her legs wobbled under her. Before she could answer, the passenger door opened.

From the driver’s side stepped out a woman—mid-thirties, draped in a simple cream-colored cotton saree, yet there was a grace in the way she walked. Her umbrella barely shielded her from the downpour, but she didn’t care. Her eyes were kind, her presence warm. She didn’t carry a brand—but dignity.

“Come,” the woman said softly. “You’ll fall sick out here.”

Anya didn’t move. Her voice was locked behind the walls of fear and confusion. The woman crouched in front of her, her expression gentle.

“I’m Leela. I run a restaurant nearby. You might’ve heard of it—“luminous lily’”

Anya's eyes widened faintly. luminous lily was one of the most talked-about fine-dining restaurants in the state. She’d only seen it in magazines.

And yet, here stood its owner—modestly dressed, eyes full of concern.

Leela touched her arm lightly. “You’re shaking. You need to eat and dry yourself. Please. Come with me. I won’t ask anything you don’t want to share.”

Anya’s lips parted. “I... I don’t know...”

She was so tired. Tired of lying. Tired of being strong. Tired of pretending that everything was okay.

Leela didn’t wait for an answer. She opened the door wider.

“Sometimes,” she said gently, “you just need to accept a little kindness.”

Anya stared at her for a long second—and then nodded.

She got into the car.

---

The drive was silent.

Anya kept her eyes low, her hands curled into her lap. She didn’t speak. Leela didn’t pressure her.

Only once, during a red signal, Leela asked softly, “Why were you crying, dear?”

Anya didn’t answer at first. Then she whispered, “I have no one.”

Leela blinked, glancing at her from the corner of her eyes.

“No family?”

“No,” Anya said quickly, then hesitated. “My... husband... has a job outside the country. He left recently.”

She lied, not because she wanted to, but because the truth was still too painful. She didn’t want to speak about a marriage that wasn’t real to the man who refused to accept her. Not tonight. Not to someone who was already giving her so much.

Leela nodded slowly, sensing the hesitation. She didn’t pry.

“Alright,” she said. “Then for tonight... you can rest.”

---

Leela’s home was stunning—not in a flashy, golden-chandelier way, but in a calm, earthy way. Wooden floors. Warm yellow lights. Book-lined shelves. Scented candles. Everything felt... lived in. Safe.

“Come,” Leela said. “I’ll show you your room.”

The guest room was cozy, with soft grey sheets and a window that overlooked a garden. A bookshelf stood in the corner. A framed painting of a peacock danced in vibrant blues and greens.

“You can freshen up here. Towels are in the bathroom,” Leela said. “Take your time. Dinner is ready. It’s already 11.”

Anya nodded, her throat tight.

When she closed the bathroom door behind her, she finally broke.

Silent sobs wracked her as warm water poured down. But it wasn’t just pain anymore. There was something else. A strange, small sense of comfort.

---

By the time she came out, dressed in a simple night suit Leela had given her, the house smelled of warm dal, roti, and something sweet—probably kheer.

Leela was already at the dining table.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” she said with a smile. “So I made a bit of everything.”

Anya sat quietly. Each bite reminded her of home. She hadn’t eaten a proper meal in two days. Her hands trembled as she held the spoon, but Leela didn’t say anything. She only refilled Anya’s bowl without asking.

“I... thank you,” Anya whispered, eyes brimming again.

Leela smiled softly. “You don’t have to thank me. Everyone needs a place to breathe.”

They didn’t speak much after that. But something wordless passed between them—something deeper than introductions.

Later, as Anya curled into the soft bed, a strange calm settled in her chest.

She didn’t know what tomorrow held.

She didn’t know if her marriage would ever make sense, or if her pain would fade.

But tonight...

She was warm.

She was fed.

She was not alone.

And somewhere, deep in her heart, a fragile hope bloomed again.

---

Meanwhile, Leela stood in the hallway, watching the rain from her window, her arms crossed.

“She’s hurting,” she murmured to herself. “But she’s strong.”

Leela had seen women like Anya before—young, broken, yet carrying something powerful in their eyes.

She had once been one herself.

Divorced. Left behind. She had rebuilt her life from scratch. And now, seeing Anya...

She wasn’t sure why—but she felt connected to the girl.

Maybe fate had brought her here.

Maybe she could help.

And maybe, just maybe...

This girl would change something in her life too.