ALIA-THE BURDEN

Radhe Radhe ✨

The basement reeked of damp stone and iron, shadows stretching long across the walls from the dim single bulb that hung above. In the center of the room, a woman sat tied to a chair, her wrists bound so tightly that red marks burned against her skin. Her breath came shallow, her eyes darting to every corner, every movement.

Around her, the silence was guarded by men-broad, armed, expressionless. Their presence was heavy, a wall of muscle and vigilance that made the basement feel smaller, suffocating.

Then the air shifted.

The iron door creaked open, and two figures stepped inside. Heels clicked against the concrete floor, each step steady, unhurried, like a drumbeat of inevitability. Their presence swallowed the room whole, making even the bodyguards straighten.

They didn't need to announce who they were. Their aura said enough. Power draped over them like a cloak-silent, commanding, undeniable. Their eyes glimmered sharp, filled with the kind of grace that wasn't fragile but lethal. One glance from them carried weight heavier than any weapon in the room.

The tied woman froze. Her chest tightened as their shadows stretched toward her, cold and certain.

It was not the bodyguards who held the power here.
It was them.

One of the women broke away from the other, her movements fluid yet deliberate. The soft rustle of her silk saree-dark, almost like midnight itself-was the only sound that dared to exist in that charged silence.

She stopped before the bound figure, her heels clicking once more as she came to a halt. Slowly, she leaned forward, her hand rising-not rough, not hurried, but with the casual authority of someone who knew she did not need to rush.

Her middle finger hooked beneath the woman's chin, lifting it with the slightest tilt. The bound woman's head jerked back involuntarily, forced to meet the stranger's gaze.

Those eyes... they were calm, almost gentle, but beneath that calmness swirled a storm that could tear empires apart.

"Hmm," the woman murmured, voice smooth as velvet yet sharp enough to slice through the air. "Kaafi aachi banti ho..."

Her touch was deceptively light, almost affectionate, but the tension it carried made the prisoner's skin prickle. The bodyguards didn't move; they didn't need to. The dominance in the room already belonged to her.

Behind her, the second woman folded her arms, watching with a faint smile-a smile that promised no mercy, only judgment. Together, their presence was overwhelming, as if the air itself bent to their will.

The woman's lips trembled, but no words escaped. Her throat had locked tight.

The woman holding her chin tilted her head slightly, studying her like one might study a broken doll.

"Tujhe yaad hai na Mai kon hu," she whispered, leaning just close enough for her perfume-dark jasmine, intoxicating- to mix with the damp stench of the basement, "Tujhe laga hume kuch pata nhi chalega."

Her finger slid away, leaving the woman trembling, but the weight of her presence lingered heavier than chains.

The finger slipped away from the woman's chin-only to return with devastating force.

CRACK!

The sound of the slap echoed against the concrete walls, louder than the hum of the flickering bulb above. The woman's head snapped to the side, hair spilling across her face. A thin line of blood traced her lip where her teeth had cut into flesh. Her eyes watered, not from emotion but from the sheer sting of the blow.