Author's POV

Saaisha walked quietly toward Siya’s room and knocked on the door. Inside, Siya was working intently on her laptop. She looked up at the sound and, upon seeing Saaisha, her lips curved into a soft smile.

“Come inside, Ishu,” Siya said warmly.

Saaisha returned the smile and stepped in, sitting down beside her. “Siya di…” she began hesitantly.

“Hmm, Ishu?” Siya replied, still smiling.

“I… I want to ask you something.”

“Of course. You don’t have to hesitate before asking me anything,” Siya assured her.

Saaisha fidgeted for a moment, lowering her gaze before speaking. “Actually… I want to know about all of your work.”

Siya blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“This mafia world…” Saaisha continued cautiously, “…like what you do… what is the name of the organization?”

Siya studied her for a few silent seconds, clearly debating with herself.

Saaisha, noticing the hesitation, quickly shook her head. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, Siya di. I was just… curious.”

She began to rise, but Siya caught her hand and gently pulled her back down.

“It’s called Kaala Darbar,” Siya said softly, “or you can call it Black Court. As Bhai told you before—we punish the ones whom the law fails to punish, and we protect the innocent from those who would harm them.”

Saaisha listened with complete focus, nodding slowly.

“That’s… a powerful name. Tell me more. Like… what do you all do there?”

A small chuckle escaped Siya.

“We each have different roles. And in the underworld, no one knows our real names only our identities.”

Her voice shifted, carrying the pride of belonging.

“I’m Saahiba—the head of the tech division.
Veer is called Hukum—he runs the intellectual division.
Ryan is Shaitaan—the head of the torture division.” She paused there.

Saaisha, eyes wide with curiosity, leaned forward. “And your brother?” she asked, almost in a whisper, as if afraid Shaurya would hear and scold her.

Siya’s lips curved into a fond smile.

“Bhai is Saarkar. He isn’t just our leader—he’s the heart and the mind behind everything. Kaala Darbar is his creation. For him, it’s not just an empire… it’s his pride, his reason to live, his everything.”

Saaisha lowered her head, her fingers nervously entwining with each other. The heaviness of that truth pressed down on her.

“What happened, Ishu?” Siya asked gently, noticing the shift in her.

Looking up at her with guilt swimming in her innocent eyes, Saaisha whispered,

“Yesterday… I crossed the line. I shouldn’t have said all those things to him. If Kaala Darbar is his everything, then I must have hurt him deeply.”

Siya immediately reached over, holding her hand with warmth and strength.

“No, Ishu… you didn’t cross any line. None of us are angry with you.”

Her voice softened further, but her eyes glistened with pride.

“You spoke the truth, and that takes courage. We aren’t hurt—we’re proud of you. We love this Ishu… the one who isn’t afraid to speak her heart, to stand tall even when the truth shakes the ground.”

Saaisha tried to smile but her voice trembled as she said,

“But… I slapped him. I even called him a monster… said such horrible things.”

Siya tilted her head, calmly asking,
“Are you feeling guilty?”

Saaisha lowered her gaze and gave a small nod.

“Then go and say sorry. He’ll forgive you,” Siya said simply.

“Huh?” Saaisha blinked in confusion.

“What? Bhai knows you didn’t do it intentionally. He won’t say anything. Just go, he’s probably in his office room.”

Taking a deep breath, Saaisha stood up. She walked back to her room, instead of heading straight to Shaurya, she began pacing restlessly, biting her nails.

“What should I even say? ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Rathore, I slapped you’?” She groaned, burying her face in her hands.
“Ugh, that sounds like I’m doing him some kind of favor by apologizing.”

Rolling her eyes at herself, she muttered, “Sorry, Mr. Rathore, for the slap. Bohat zor se pada hoga na? Uff… kya zor se pada hoga. Dekha bhi hai… sorry kehne ja rahi ho ya jale pe namak chhidakne?”

She stopped, huffed dramatically, then threw her hands in the air.

“Kal toh badi badi baatein ki thi maine… woh bhi seedha unki aankhon mein dekh kar. Strength, courage… pata nahi kya kuch keh diya. Aur ab? Jab sirf sorry bolna hai toh strength ka S bhi gaayab aur courage ka C bhi.”

Still pacing around, she finally inhaled deeply, clenched her fists, and whispered to herself,

“Yes, I can do this. Yes, Saaisha—you can.”

.

.

.

.

Shaurya sat in his office, eyes fixed on the files in front of him. After a while, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and let out a heavy breath.

A memory stirred

A boy sat quietly on a bench, a girl beside him. They weren’t speaking, just sitting together in silence.

Suddenly, the blaring of sirens broke through the air. Both of them turned to look. A politician passed by, surrounded by a convoy of police jeeps.

The boy’s lips curved with determination as he whispered, “One day, I’ll become the most powerful man.”

The girl tilted her head, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
“Toh kya tum apni khud ki sarkar banaoge?”

Shaurya’s eyes snapped open. He pulled open his drawer and took out a worn diary, flipping to a blank page. Pen pressed against paper, he began to write:

Do you remember? Aisha..
You once asked me if I would build my own sarkar. Today, I am both—the Chief Minister and the leader of Kaala Darbar. They call me Sarkar.
I have everything I once dreamed of… yet you are not beside me......

His pen stilled at the ache behind the words. Before he could write more, a soft knock broke the silence.

“Come in,” he said, quickly closing the diary.

The door creaked open and Saaisha stepped inside.

The door opened and saaisha stepped inside. Shaurya looked up and the moment his eyes fell on her, he immediately stood from his chair. He walked towards her, gently took the tray from her hands, placed it on the table, and asked with concern,

“What happened? Is everything okay? You could’ve called me, I would have come.”

Saaisha only blinked at him, not saying a word.

“Okay… first sit down,” Shaurya said softly.

She sat on the chair, and he followed, taking his seat across from her. His gaze shifted to the tray, brows furrowing for a second then a small smile tugged at his lips.

He raised one eyebrow at her.

Saaisha mirrored the gesture, pointing at the tray with her eyes.

Shaurya shook his head slightly, amused. “What's all this, Lotus?”

On the tray sat two cups of tea and a small cake. On top of the cake, in neat icing, was written: SORRY.

Looking at him, Saaisha spoke, her voice low but steady.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Rathore. I shouldn’t have slapped you like that… or said those words.”

Shaurya’s smile deepened. “It’s okay. I understand...”

But she quickly cut him off. “No, it’s not okay. I know you understand, but that doesn’t mean I can just talk to you like that… or raise my hand. It was wrong. And if I had the audacity to do it, then I should have the same audacity to say sorry too.”

For a moment, Shaurya simply looked at her, slightly surprised because she was first one to  interrupted him but then his lips curved into a warmer smile.

“Okay,” he nodded. “You’re right. And I accept your apology.”

A genuine smile bloomed on her face. “Now cut the cake!” she said with a spark of excitement.

Shaurya picked up the knife and began to cut. The moment the knife touched the cake, Saaisha started clapping and singing in a playful tune,

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rathore… I’m sorry, Mr. Rathore…”

Shaurya looked at her with wide eyes. “You really want to do this, Lotus?” he asked with a chuckle.

She just shrugged, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Of course! If we can sing Happy Birthday while cutting a birthday cake, why not a sorry song?”

Shaurya shook his head, laughing under his breath, and finished cutting the cake. They both shared it together, sipping their tea in a warmth that words couldn’t quite capture.

Looking at Saaisha, Shaurya said playfully, “Waise Lotus, you’re quite strong,” as he touched his cheek with a mock wince.

Saaisha glanced at him, then at her hand, and grinned.

“Hmm, I think so too. Meera aunty feeds me too much, that’s why I hit you so hard. And from tomorrow I’m also joining Ryan sir’s academy,” she said, flexing her invisible biceps dramatically.

Shaurya chuckled.

“Ohh… so that next time you can directly break someone’s jaw? And then, to make up for it, you’ll bring a giant cake and sing a sorry anthem… that’s your master plan, Lotus?”

Saaisha burst into laughter.

“Aap bas maar khane wali harkatein mat kijiye, Mr. Rathore. Phir mujhe marna hi nahi padega.”

Shaurya widened his eyes in mock shock, then smiled warmly at her laughter.
“Aisa jii?”

“Haan ji,” she replied playfully, her eyes sparkling.

Then she slipped two folded sheets of paper out of her pants pocket and handed them to Shaurya.

He looked at Saaisha once, searching her face, before carefully unfolding the sheets.

At first, confusion flickered in his eyes then shock and finally, a soft, blooming smile curved his lips.

It was her paintings. The same ones he had once seen, but now… they were different.

The first painting—

Once, it was a haunting image. A girl, limp and broken.

Multiple hands restraining her

One covering her mouth.

Another yanking her hair.

One tightening on her throat.

Another clawing at her chest.

But her eyes…

Her eyes had pleaded not for mercy, not for love only for it to end.

And now?

Now, the same girl was there, but the hands had changed.

The one that yanked her hair was now stroking it softly.

The one that had silenced her mouth was now feeding her gently.

Others no longer hurt her, but instead draped her in delicate fabrics, shielding her, protecting her.

At the bottom, a line was written in her handwriting ~

“Once they were hands that destroyed me… but now, I have hands that feed, care, love, and protect me.”

Shaurya’s face lit up, his lips curving into a smile so pure it almost bloomed across his entire being.

And then, the second sheet

The painting that once tore him apart.

A girl lying on the cold ground.

Naked. Bruised.

Her arms curled around her chest, desperate to cover what little she could.

Half-conscious. Half-broken.

Exactly as Shaurya had found her that night.

But now… it was different.

She wasn’t bare anymore.

A coat—his coat—covered her fragile body, just as it had that night.

And beside her, a man was kneeling. His face left undefined, but Shaurya knew. He knew it was him.

And this time, the girl wasn’t shattered.

She was smiling. Looking at him.

Beneath it, the words bled softly into his heart ~

“Thank you for saving me that night. Because of you, I learned that life can still be beautiful… that people can love without asking for anything in return.”

Shaurya’s eyes glistened. The tears didn’t fall, but they shimmered, carrying both the ache of memory and the weight of happiness. He was overwhelmed. He couldn’t explain it.

All he ever wanted… was for her to feel happy again. To embrace this second chance life had given her.

And finally… she was.

“Thank you, Mr. Rathore.”

Shaurya froze at the sound of her voice. It was Saaisha.

He turned, wanting to reply, but the emotions choking his chest didn’t allow words to form. So he only nodded lightly and looked back at the paintings in front of them.

Taking a deep breath, Saaisha’s voice trembled at first, but then steadied.

“You once told me, ‘Main pehla qadam le chuka hoon, Lotus… ab agla qadam aapko lena hoga.’ So today… I’m ready, Mr. Rathore. I don’t want to curse my life anymore—I want to start living it.”

Her fingers brushed over the edge of a canvas as if gathering courage.

“You also said, ‘Jab tak aap taiyaar nahi hote, koi bhi aapko us andhere se bahar nahi nikaal sakta.’ And you were right. I… I want to step out of this darkness and walk into the light. I want to draw stars around my scars and stitch back my broken wings… just the way you once drew them for me.”

Shaurya finally turned to look at her, his eyes softening with pride. Clearing his throat, he managed to speak.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that from you, Lotus. Remember—no matter what, we’re always here for you. Hmm?”

Now there was complete silence between them. Saaisha sat quietly, fiddling with her fingers, her gaze fixed on the floor. Noticing her, Shaurya leaned forward and asked softly,

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

She nodded hesitantly but whispered, “No.”

Shaurya raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Haan ya na? Say it, Lotus. What do you really want?”

Gathering courage, Saaisha looked up at him. “First promise me you won’t scold me.”

Shaurya frowned slightly, confused. “When did I ever scold you?”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “Promise me, Mr. Rathore.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Okay, okay… I won’t scold you.”

Still doubtful, she narrowed her eyes. “Pinky promise?”

He chuckled and nodded. “Yes… pinky promise.”

A smile bloomed on her face as she blurted out in one breath, “I want to go to Kaala Darbar with you.”

Shaurya’s expression instantly hardened. “No.”

“But..” she started, only for him to cut her off.

“I said no, Saaisha.” His voice carried a stern edge.

She flinched slightly, her lips trembling, then pouted at him with puppy eyes.

“You’re very bad… you promised not to scold me. How will I ever move on if I don’t take my revenge? I want to see how you punish that man… You’re very bad!”

Before he could respond, she shoved her chair back and stormed out of his office, leaving him frozen in place, staring after her.

He instantly rose from his chair and hurried after her. “Suno toh…!”

But in his haste, he didn’t notice—his diary still lay open on the desk, his words unfinished. For the first time in twelve years, he had left it that way…

___________________________________________