Author's POV

A soft knock echoed through the room.

“The door is open,” Shaurya said, his tone calm but alert, eyes still scanning the papers on his desk.

The door creaked slightly... then opened wider.

And there she stood.

Saaisha.

Hesitant. Watchful. Holding a notepad and pen like armor.

She glanced around the room, her eyes scanning each face until they landed on Siya, who sat alone on the side sofa. Without a word, Saaisha walked toward her and sat beside her. 

Siya gave her a small, reassuring smile.

“What happened, Ishu? Do you want to say something?”

Saaisha nodded slowly.

Then, trembling fingers scribbled quickly on the pad:

 "I want to tell you all what happened to me that night."

A hush fell over the room. Every breath paused. Every gaze turned solemn.

Siya’s eyes widened, but she masked her shock with a steady nod.

“Yes, Ishu. You can tell us.”

Saaisha turned a few pages—already filled with her small, neat handwriting and handed them to Siya.

Everyone leaned in slightly, but no one spoke.

Siya began to read.

“That night, I stepped out of my apartment around 11.

I had a terrible headache, and there wasn’t a single medicine left at home.

I thought I’d walk to the nearby medical store. It wasn’t far, just beyond the park… but that stretch? Hardly anyone lives there. It’s always quiet. Too quiet.

 I kept walking.

Then—suddenly—a car screeched to a stop beside me.

The next few seconds are a blur.

Two hands grabbed me from behind.

One clamped over my mouth—there was a sharp smell, chemicals—chloroform.

Another held my arms tight.

I struggled. I kicked. I tried to scream.

But it was too fast.

Before I could fight, the world went black.

When I woke up…

I was somewhere else.

A dark, abandoned space—maybe a warehouse, maybe an old house—I don’t know.

My mouth was gagged. My wrists and ankles were tied.

So tightly, I couldn’t even move without bruising.”

Siya's voice shook, but she kept reading. Everyone listened like their hearts had been nailed to every word.

Shaurya's eyes dropped, instinctively, to Saaisha's wrists.

They were covered by her sleeves. But he knew—he knew—the rope marks were still there beneath the fabric.

“I’m ashamed to admit this… but I didn’t see their faces.”

Siya paused, her voice breaking.

But Saaisha’s words were unwavering.

 “Not even one.

I don’t know what they looked like.

Sometimes, they tied me a blindfold.

Sometimes… they wore masks.

I never saw their faces.

Never heard a name.

But I remember their hands.

I know how they touched me.

The way they grabbed my hair.

The way their palms pressed into my throat when I tried to scream.

The way their fingers tore through my clothes like they had done it a hundred times before.

And that, more than anything haunts me.

I don’t know their faces, but their touch?

It’s burned into my memory.

So when you ask me to help you find them...

When you want me to bait them, to recall something, to go through it again...

Tell me—how am I supposed to help you catch them...

If helping you means letting them touch me again?”

No one breathed.

The air itself recoiled, heavy with a grief that had no words.

Siya’s lips trembled. Veer looked down, his fist clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Ryan stood like a statue—frozen, yet burning inside. Rage radiated from him, quiet and lethal.

And in the middle of it all sat Saaisha.

She didn’t cry. Not one tear dared to fall.

But her gaze stayed rooted to the ground, her shoulders stiff with something deeper than fear—shame.

A kind of shame that no one deserved.

A shame that whispered,

"You should’ve remembered."

“You should’ve fought harder.”

“How can you not even recognize the men who destroyed you?”

Her heart thundered beneath her skin, but her face remained composed—too composed, like a girl who had learned to swallow storms just to survive.

Her hands trembled, but she didn't try to hide them. Maybe somewhere, a part of her believed she deserved to shake.

As if forgetting their faces was her failure.

As if not being able to fight back was her fault.

As if survival wasn’t enough.

And that was the cruelest part.

Not the memory.

Not the pain.

But the voice in her head that made her carry their sin as her shame.

She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t have to.

Her silence said it all.

Shaurya had watched every shift in her body, every flicker in her gaze.

The way she avoided their eyes—because the world had taught her that pain must be hidden to be palatable.

He had heard every word Siya read, every breath Saaisha took in between the words she couldn’t speak out loud.

And he didn’t flinch.

He absorbed it.

Each syllable settled into him like a scar etched on skin—slow, cruel, permanent.

The part where she said she couldn’t recognize their faces haunted him.

The shame she carried—not for what had been done to her, but for not being able to give him names—clawed at his soul like fire through paper.

Then, without a single word, he stood up.

Not abruptly. Not with noise. But like a storm gathering in silence.

His palms pressed against the arms of the chair with a force he didn’t realize. His body moved, but his mind was burning.

There was no trace of anger on his face—only something far more dangerous.

A quiet devastation.

A protective rage that doesn’t scream—it plans.

A vow forming in the pit of his chest that he wouldn’t let her carry this shame for another second.

That if justice meant burning down the world, then so be it.

His eyes never left her.

And in that gaze, there was no pity. No sympathy.

Only a fierce kind of respect. A promise.

He bent slightly in front of her.

“Saaisha,” he called softly.

She didn’t look up.

“lotus… look at me.”

His voice didn’t command. It invited.

“You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.

You didn’t fail. You survived.”

With a pause, he continued

“Jab tak aap galat nahi ho,
aapki nazrein aur gardan—donon kabhi nahi jhukni chahiye.”

(As long as you're not wrong, neither your eyes nor your head should ever bow down.)

She looked up—hesitantly.

He gave a small, firm nod.

“Continue, Siya.”

“One of them… wore a locket.

In that locket, there was a photo.

And I saw that photo again—in one of your files.

The man in the photo didn’t rape me. But the man wearing that locket did.

He was the first one.

The one who wore that locket.

He wore a mask so that I can't see his face

He came toward me like I was prey.

Not a person. Not a girl.

Just… a thing he had already decided to ruin.”

My wrists were tied. My mouth was bleeding when I bit the gag trying to scream.

My legs kicked until my skin tore, but the ropes dug in deeper.

He pulled my shirt open like it was paper.

And when I tried to turn away, he gripped my jaw so hard, I felt the bone shift.

He said—

‘Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. 

And then—he entered me.

No warning. No pause. No mercy.

I felt my skin tear.

I felt something warm and thick ooze out between my legs.

I knew it was blood.

I could smell it.

My body burned like it was splitting in half, but he just laughed.

See?’ he said. ‘Victory. I was the first one to take you.’

I could see his face but his locket was hitting my face.

He didn’t stop. Not when I begged with my eyes.

Not when I passed out.

Not even when I bled all over his….”

Siya’s voice faltered, catching in her throat. Her breaths came faster now—not because of the words, but because of the pain behind them.

She wasn’t just reading anymore.

She was feeling it

The helplessness.

The violation.

The cruelty.

And above all—the question that had clawed at her chest 

Just because we have a vagina and they have dicks… does that give them the right to destroy us like that?

Her fingers trembled slightly around the paper.

A hand gently landed on her shoulder.

Startled, Siya flinched.

She looked up, eyes wide.

It was Veer.

The moment he saw her reaction, Veer quickly began to withdraw his hand, guilt flashing across his face.

But Siya—without a word—reached up and held his hand in both of hers.

Her grip was tight.

Not desperate.

Steady.

Veer understood. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stood there—his silence a pillar of strength, his hand a quiet reminder that she wasn’t alone.

Siya took a shaky breath… and continued.

"When I woke up, I was somewhere else.

Another room.

Another man.

It didn’t end.

This happened again. And again.

For three days.

Different places. Different men.

But always the same pain.

Always the same silence.

“And I never… saw… their faces.”

No one spoke.

Not a single tear fell from Saaisha’s eyes.

But everyone else?

They bled inside.

Shaurya stayed close to her. His hands were clenched. His heartbeat was loud in his ears. But his eyes never left hers.

He didn’t say ‘sorry’.

He didn’t say ‘I understand’.

Because there were no words strong enough.

Shaurya walked toward the table, his expression unreadable. He poured two glasses of water with steady hands, then turned and made his way to the sofa.

He handed one glass to Siya, the other to Saaisha. Both of them took it silently and drank, the cool water offering a momentary pause in the heaviness of the room.

After a beat, Shaurya inhaled deeply, his eyes gently lifting toward her.

“Can I ask something, Lotus?” he said softly.

Saaisha gave a small nod.

Shaurya cleared his throat, choosing his words with care, as though afraid that even one wrong syllable might break the fragile air around them.

“I’m sorry for asking this… truly. But the photo you mentioned—the one in the locket—can you tell me whose photo it was?”

He paused, unsure how to continue.

“I know this might remind you of things you’re trying to forget… but if there’s even a chance it helps us get closer to the truth—please, can you…?”

He stopped mid-sentence, his voice trailing into silence. He didn’t know how to say it without sounding cruel, and he didn’t want to hurt her. Not again.

But Saaisha didn’t flinch.

There was no fear in her eyes, no hesitation.

When she had decided to trust Shaurya, she had meant it with her whole heart.

She gave a quiet nod.

Shaurya immediately turned, collecting all the files from the desk and bringing them to her. He bend little beside her as she took them, her fingers brushing lightly over the edges, flipping page after page with purpose.

Veer, Ryan, Siya, and Shaurya stood silently, breath held, their hearts pounding in synchrony. The air had gone still, thick with expectation.

Then she stopped.

Her finger rested on a photograph.

It was a man—bald, in his fifties, a face that looked ordinary at first glance... and yet something about it sent a chill down Shaurya’s spine.

“This one?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Saaisha nodded once.

Shaurya’s gaze locked with hers. “The man who.. Who did this to you was wearing a locket… and this was the photo inside?”

Another nod.

And that was it.

No more words were needed.

The silence that followed felt deafening.

Veer, Ryan, Siya, and Shaurya exchanged glances—silent but heavy with realization.

One question echoed in every mind:

“Is this just a coincidence… or is history about to repeat itself?”

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