𝐒𝐚𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I stood frozen in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection I had come to despise.
My back… a canvas of scars. Each mark burned like a cruel reminder that no matter how hard I tried to smile, no matter how much I forced myself to move on, the truth would never leave me.

And now… this?

Now the reason behind these scars, the face behind my nightmares, is him. The one I trusted. The one I thought would protect me.

My breath hitched. My knees trembled, struggling to hold the weight of my fury and despair. My fists clenched, but even then my body betrayed me, shivering under the storm of anger, helplessness, and fear tangled inside me.

“Why…?” The whisper slipped out, cracked and hollow, like the voice of a child begging for answers she knew she would never get.

How could I be so blind?
How could I live under the same roof, eat at the same table, breathe the same air as the man who destroyed me?
All this time… all these days… I was living with the monster who had stolen my life.

My lips quivered, but my heart screamed louder than my voice ever could, I trusted you… and you shattered me.

“Saaisha, listen to me very carefully. Never talk to strangers, and also don’t take anything from a stranger. Okay?”

“Okay, mumma,” a little girl replied, her two ponytails bouncing, brown eyes wide and innocent, puffy cheeks puffed out in a cute pout. She stood there in her tiny school uniform, clutching her bag straps tightly.

“Especially boys,” her mother added softly.

Little Saaisha’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why? Is there any difference between girls and boys? Strangers are strangers na, mumma…”

Her mother’s eyes lingered on her, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “Saaishu… mera bacha, I’ll tell you this when you’re big, okay?”

The little one lifted her pinky finger, stubbornly insisting, “Promise?”

Her mother linked her pinky with hers, whispering, “Pinky promise.”

Beaming, little Saaisha wrapped her arms around her mother’s legs. “Okay! Then I promise too. I’ll never talk to strangers and I’ll never trust them. My mumma is always right.”

Years later, I stare at my own reflection, a bitter-sweet smile tugging at my lips before collapsing into pain. My whisper trembles against the silence.

“I’m sorry, Mumma… I broke the promise. I trusted a stranger. And he… he left me with scars I can never erase.”

My chest rises with a shaky breath. “But… you broke your promise too, Mumma. You never told me the difference. You never warned me what makes boys dangerous. You left it for the world to teach me. And the world… taught me with cruelty, with blood, with pain that tore me apart.”

My hands curl into fists, knuckles turning white. I want to cry, to let it all out, but my eyes refuse as if my tears have been trained to stay locked, no matter how much I suffer.

“Dadi also left after you and papa. Why did you all leave me, Mumma? Why? If you had to go… why didn’t you take me along? Why did you leave me behind in this cruel world?”

My voice breaks, desperation cracking through. “I don’t want this freedom anymore, Mumma. I don’t want strength. I just want you… your arms, your hugs, your forehead kisses, your hand running through my hair.”

I sink to the floor, whispering, pleading.

“Come back, Mumma… please. Don’t set me free. Just lock me away with you. Please… Mumma…”

My feet stumbled into the bathroom, as if pulled by some invisible weight. I twisted the shower knob, and icy water cascaded over me in merciless torrents. It hit my skin like needles, but no matter how hard it fell, it couldn’t wash away the filth that clung to me.

My trembling hands slid down to my back, tracing the jagged scars etched into my skin reminders carved deep into me.

A shiver crawled up my spine, and before I could stop myself, my nails dug into the marks, scratching, tearing, punishing.

This is my punishment.

My punishment for trusting a stranger.

“What are you doing? Stop it now!” one voice inside me screamed, desperate, protective.

“No… keep going,” another hissed, dark and cruel. “You deserve this. Let the pain remind you—never trust again.”

“But why? Why would he do this to you?” the first voice pleaded.

“Because he is a man,” the second spat back, venom dripping from every word.

“Not all men are the same”

“Oh really?” The second hissed. “That’s a pretty line for debates and books. But in reality? Every girl carries a story. And in every story, the culprit is always a man.”

I pressed my palms against my ears, shaking my head violently as if I could silence the war.

“But think, Saaisha,” the first voice tried again, “if he truly wanted to destroy you… why did he save you? Why did he take you in? Why did he listen, why did his family care for you?”

Before the thought could complete, the second voice cut in sharply, mercilessly.

“That’s exactly what monsters do. They don’t wear horns, they don’t have sharp teeth. They smile with us, sit with us, feed us kindness… and when the time is right, they strike. He healed you so he could own you. He listened so he could learn your every fear. He kept you alive so you could never fight back.”

The words echoed in my skull like a death sentence. My breathing quickened until it was no longer steady, just shallow gasps clawing their way out of me.

“Stop!” I screamed, clutching my head with both hands, my nails digging into my scalp. The sound of my own voice tore through the bathroom, raw and broken.

The water kept running, but no stream in this world could drown the voices inside me.

I turned off the shower, wore my clothes, and sat on the bed, my head sinking against the headrest. My eyelids grew heavy, and when I closed them, I heard it,

“Saaishu…”

A manly voice, deep yet soft.

My heart jolted, but my lips curved instantly into a smile.

“Papa…”

“Yes, my brave bacha… Do you remember what papa always taught you?”

My throat quivered. “Do you really think I’m brave, papa?”

“Yes. My Saaishu is always brave.”

I bit my lip, tears pressing at the corners of my eyes. “No… Papa, please… take me with you. Please take me with you…”

Silence.

“Papa?” I whispered again, almost begging. “Listen to me na, papa… please…”

But no voice came.

No arms stretched out to hold me.

No warmth.

And then,

I woke up with a jolt. My chest heaved, my eyes searching the room in desperation.

“Papa…” My voice cracked.

But he wasn’t there.

The emptiness of the room stabbed deeper than a knife.

I was suddenly back in another memory…

Little me, sitting cross-legged on the bed with Maa.

“Mom, you said I should stay away from strangers,” I had asked innocently. “But if a stranger comes and talks to me?”

Maa smiled faintly, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Ignore them. Don’t talk. And if you ever feel something wrong, just run. Run as fast as you can, okay?”

I nodded, my small face full of curiosity. “Okay…”

But before I could ask more, a strong voice interrupted from behind.

“No. My Saaishu won’t run—she will fight.”

My little head turned, eyes sparkling. “Papa!”

I ran to him, and he scooped me into his arms, twirling me until my laughter filled the room. Then he sat me on his lap, his eyes steady, his voice firm but loving.

“If you ever find something wrong, if someone tries to do bad to you, you will not run, Saaishu. You will fight back. Because cowards run. And my Saaishu is not a coward. She is brave.”

I had giggled. “Yes, I’m brave. Not a cow… Cow? What, papa?”

He chuckled, brushing his nose against mine. “Coward. Forget that. Just remember—you are brave. Always.”

And I had nodded with a big smile. “Yes, I’m brave.”

my lips trembled as I whispered, “I remembered everything, papa… but no… I’m not brave.”

I drew my knees to my chest and buried my face, my shoulders shaking.

“I can’t, papa… I don’t have strength. I make you ashamed, na? You’re not proud of me anymore…”

The words fell like broken glass, cutting me from inside.

“They didn’t leave me like before, Papa… this time I couldn’t run, I couldn’t fight back. My legs gave up… my voice was locked inside my throat, and when it finally came out, when I screamed, when I begged.
You know what they did? They beat me for it. For daring to cry. For daring to let my pain escape.”

My whole body trembled, as if the memory itself was beating me all over again. My nails dug into my palms until they burned, but the ache in my chest was louder.

“Tell me, Papa… when my cries were turned into sins, when every tear was answered with another wound.
How do I gather the courage to fight again?
How do I stand tall when my very breath, my very voice was treated like a crime?”

My throat choked, every word dragging itself out like shards of glass.

“Maybe… maybe I’m just weak. Maybe I’m not meant to fight at all. Because no matter how much I try, I always lose. I’m not strong, Papa… I’m not like the girl you raised. I’m broken. Shattered. And every time I try to pick up my pieces, life stomps them harder into the ground.”

My lips quivered, the words spilling before I could stop them.

“Maybe I really am a coward…”

“Yes… a coward.” My voice cracked, the label digging into my skin.

“I’m not brave… I’m not the girl you would have been proud of…”

“Papa must be ashamed of me.”

I clutched my chest, as if my heart was collapsing in my own hands, the whisper breaking me more than the screams ever did.

“I’m nothing, Papa. Nothing but a coward…”

I don’t know when my muttering stopped and when sleep finally dragged me down. My body was tired, but my heart… It was heavier than ever.

Then, in that darkness, I felt something. A gentle touch. Fingers running softly through my hair. I smiled in my sleep, my lips whispering unconsciously, “Mumma…”

But when I opened my eyes, it wasn’t Mumma.

It was Meera aunty.

For a second, my heart sank, but her warm smile steadied me. “Good morning, beta,” she said, her voice so soft, as if afraid I might break again.

“Good morning, aunty,” I whispered, forcing my lips to curl into a faint smile.

Her eyes widened slightly, as though my voice itself was the gift. She bent down, kissed my forehead, For a fleeting moment, it felt like home again.

“Now go and freshen up, let’s have breakfast,” she added, brushing my hair back from my face.

I nodded obediently and went to get ready. The mirror reflected a pale, fragile girl with trembling eyes. Was this really me? I forced myself to walk out and head to the dining room.

The moment I reached near the table, my steps faltered.

They were all there.

And… he was there too.

My heartbeat turned wild, like it wanted to run away from my chest. Sweat gathered at the back of my neck. My palms trembled. I wanted to disappear, but before fear could paralyze me, a hand touched my shoulder.

I flinched.

But when I turned, it was Siya di. Her eyes were calm, reassuring, holding me steady. She gave me a small smile, the kind that told me without words—you’re safe here.

Without giving me a chance to run, she held my hand and gently pulled me to the dining table. She made me sit between them, as if protecting me. Everyone was present—Veer bhai, Ryan sir… even him.

I kept my eyes low, staring only at the plate in front of me. My hands shook as I picked up the spoon. I tried to eat silently, wishing no one noticed me. But deep down, I could feel it. Someone’s eyes on me. His eyes.

I didn’t dare look up.

Then his voice broke the silence. Low, calm, but it made me freeze.

“Mom… I’ll be staying at Ryan’s house for some days.”

I stilled. My spoon clattered softly against the plate.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Meera aunty simply nodded, as if she had already accepted his decision.

But my heart… it dropped.

He’s leaving?

Because of me?

Who cares I thought at first but he is a monster, If he wanted, he could have thrown me out of this house.

And this family is letting their own son leave. Because of me.

Why?

Then I started thinking about everything from the start.

His voice, his words—they echoed inside me like whispers that refused to leave.

“Marte huwe ko aur kya marta, isliye bacha liya… But if you still want to die, then maybe I should have let you.”

“But let me make one thing very clear to you, Lotus. You are my responsibility now, and I will not let any harm come near you. There is no choice in whether you want to live or not… you have to. It’s the only option you have.”

“Main rasta dikha sakta hoon, lekin chalna aapko hoga.
Rehnuma ban sakta hoon… lekin raahi nahi.
Main marham laa sakta hoon… lekin lagana aapko hoga.”

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

Every line cut through me. Every word pressed against my chest until it became hard to breathe.

If he is a monster… then why is he acting like a savior?

If he wanted to destroy me… then why is he healing me?

Why? Why?

The questions burned in my skull, loud and endless. My hands went to my head as I tried to shut them out, but they only grew louder. “Stop,” I shouted, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Ishu?” Siya di’s voice pulled me back, soft and concerned. “What happened? Are you okay?”

It hit me then, I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t in my room, lost in my thoughts. I was at the dining table. My hands trembled as I looked around, my gaze finally locking on him.

And this time… there was no fear in my eyes.

Only anger.

My chair scraped back as I stood, my palms slamming onto the table so hard that the dishes rattled. My voice shook, but it was loud, sharp, demanding

“Why? Why did you do all this?”

Author's POV

As Saaisha’s voice suddenly cut through the quiet clatter of plates sharp and trembling
“Why? Why did you do all this?”

The dining room froze.

Every fork stilled midair, every breath caught. Confusion rippled across the table as eyes turned toward her, some widened in shock, others narrowing in disbelief. But Shaurya, he didn’t flinch, didn’t defend himself, didn’t even blink.

Instead, he lifted his gaze to hers, straight into those storm-filled eyes. For a fleeting moment, his face betrayed something raw guilt, regret, or maybe both. Then, just as quickly, he dropped his eyes back to the untouched plate before him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice steady but low, yet heavy enough to echo in the silence of the room.

Saaisha let out a short, bitter chuckle that carried no trace of amusement only anguish. Her lips curved into a humorless smile.
“So… you knew what you did?”

Shaurya didn’t lift his head. He only gave the faintest nod, the weight of it sinking heavily into the tense air.

But that wasn’t enough for her. Not today. Not anymore.

“I want words, Mr. Rathore,” Saaisha’s voice roared, sharp enough to slice through the air. Her chair scraped against the floor as her body leaned forward, her rage surging like a storm finally breaking its dam.

Shock flickered on every face at the table, eyes darted between them, the air thick with disbelief.

But two pairs of eyes did not soften Veer’s and Ryan’s. Both men bristled, their fury simmering as their jaws clenched. For them, Shaurya wasn’t just a Chief Minister, not just a feared name in the shadows—he was family. Their brother. And nobody, nobody, spoke to him in this tone.

Ryan’s fist curled, his body shifting as if he would rise to silence her insolence. But Shaurya, without so much as lifting his gaze, raised his hand slightly. A silent command. Ryan froze, his chest rising with restrained anger before he finally looked away, his jaw tightening until his teeth ground together.

“Yes,” Shaurya finally spoke, his voice firm but strangely gentle, each word dragged from a place deeper than pride. “Yes, I know what I did. And I’m sorry for it. I shouldn’t have done it.”

The words should have struck her like victory, yet they shattered something instead. Saaisha’s eyes widened, disbelief flickering across her face. This... this wasn’t the answer she had braced herself for.

Her heart screamed for a different truth, a denial, some furious outburst from him that would prove her wrong. Because inside her, two voices were at war. One whispered relentlessly, He’s a monster. He destroyed everything. The other fought back, fragile and desperate, No… he can’t be. Not him.

And now, with those words, he had given her no shield, no excuse, no lie to cling to.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out only the ache of betrayal swelling in her chest.
Why didn’t he deny it?
Why didn’t he fight back?
She had wanted... needed... him to rise, to snatch away the blade of doubt cutting her from the inside. Instead, he had pressed it deeper himself.

She whispered, “So… all this was just a facade.”

Her voice was so faint that under normal circumstances no one would have caught it, but the heavy silence in the room carried every syllable to everyone’s ears.

She turned her gaze back to Shaurya, her eyes trembling yet steady.

“Then why, Mr. Rathore? Why this facade? Why play the good man who saves lives, when in reality you’re the one who destroys them?”

Her voice quivered, but her words struck like knives.

“You’re not a saviour… you’re a monster.”

Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out, broken and sharp.

“A monster who first destroys, leaves scars… and then pretends to heal them, as if that makes him righteous.”

Her last words cracked, her breathing heavy and uneven.

Shaurya’s lashes lifted, shock flashing in his eyes. “What… what are you saying?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and confusion.

“You… monster… you…” she tried to say, raising a trembling finger towards him, but her breath faltered, words choking in her throat.

Shaurya froze, every muscle in his body stiff. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe.

Then came Siya’s soft, steady voice.

“Ishu, relax. Sit down first… breathe, hmm? Inhale… exhale… I’m right here.”

Saaisha clung to her words like a lifeline. She followed her rhythm, shaky breaths slowly evening out. When her chest finally calmed, she collapsed into Siya’s arms, hugging her tightly as if holding on for dear life.

And then, in a broken whisper meant only for Siya, yet loud enough to shatter every heart in the room, she said,

“Your brother is a monster. He’s one of them. The ones who destroyed me.”

Siya’s hand froze mid-air for a split second. Around them, the others stiffened, shock flashing across every face. But in the next moment, they all steadied themselves. Because deep down, they knew Shaurya, what he was capable of and what he wasn’t. There was no if or but in that.

Still, they remained silent. Because right now, they needed to hear her side. What made her believe this?

Meanwhile, Shaurya sat unmoving in his chair, her every word replaying in his head like shards of glass cutting through him. This time, he wasn’t just shocked—he was wounded.

What have I done to make her think this way? Where did I go wrong?

The question wouldn’t stop echoing in his mind.

Siya spoke gently, “Ishu… look at me.”

Slowly, Saaisha turned her eyes towards her. Siya asked softly, “Why do you think he’s one of them?”

Her throat tightened. With pain glistening in her eyes, Saaisha whispered, “You don’t trust me, do you? Then ask your brother… he just admitted it himself. He said he knew what he did and even apologized.”

Siya’s breath caught for a moment, then she said firmly, “I trust you, Ishu. But Bhai… he doesn’t even know what you’re accusing him of.”

Confusion clouded Saaisha’s face. “Then why did he say sorry?” she asked in disbelief.

Turning toward her brother, Siya pressed, “Bhai, why did you apologize to her?”

Shaurya blinked, caught off guard. Siya repeated, sharper this time, “Bhai… tell us. Why did you say sorry?”

Clearing his throat, Shaurya hesitated, then finally muttered, “Because… I touched you.”

The room stilled. Saaisha froze, staring at him with wide eyes. Shaurya continued, a bit awkwardly, “Yesterday… when you were falling, to save you, I… I had to hold you. That’s why.”

For a second, there was only silence. Then Saaisha blinked, her lips parting. “Hein…?” she breathed.

And instantly, three voices. Veer, Ryan, and Siya echoed together, “Heinnn?!”

Shaurya looked all of them and said, “I thought that had triggered her so that's why I said sorry.”

Saaisha, siya, veer and Ryan was looking at him like he had gone mad.

But while the four exchanged bewildered glances, Shaurya’s parents were watching him with quiet pride. Their smiles weren’t mocking, they were the smiles of two people who understood their son better than anyone else. They had seen the weight he carried, the lengths he went to protect others, and in this small gesture of guilt and apology, they saw his heart.

Knowing what was about to unfold between the younger ones, his parents quietly excused themselves from the room. They didn’t need to hear the rest of this conversation. They had once listened to stories far worse, had once witnessed pain too cruel to put into words. Their hearts had already been broken once before, and they no longer had the strength to sit through such discussions again.

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