Chapter 4 Craving the unspoken

Roshni stepped off the bus and slowly made her way through the familiar lanes to her house — a modest but charming two-story row house home tucked between similar lane of row houses, and some older buildings. The yellow porch light flickered faintly, welcoming her back.

As she pushed open the gate and stepped inside, she felt the usual stillness that had become the background music of her life.

Papa was away again — busy with his never-ending company tours.

And Maa — her real mother — was now just a photograph on the living room wall.
Her stepmother, Renu aunty, was in the kitchen.

Their relationship wasn’t bad, exactly... but it wasn't close either.

 It was polite, distant — like two people sharing the same roof but not quite the same life.

In the initial years of Renu’s marriage with her father, she tried to get closer to both Roshni and  her brother.

They both respected her, but the bond never flourished as Renu had hoped.

She gave her all, but then she didn’t want them to feel burdened with her efforts ,so eventually it what it is now.

"Roshni, aa gayi?"
("Roshni, you're back?")

Renu called out without turning from the stove.

"Haan,"
("Yes,")
Roshni replied, kicking off her sandals at the door.

She looked around — the house was quiet.

"Bhai kaha hai?"
("Where is brother?")
she asked, setting her bag on the table.

"Office se late aayega aaj. Kuch kaam tha,"
("He’ll be late from the office today. Had some work,")
Renu said, wiping her hands on a cloth.

Her heart sank a little.
Her elder brother was the only person she ever truly felt connected to here. He was 26 now, busy with his own life, his job. He loved her — she knew that — but he wasn’t the expressive type.

His way of caring was silent, tucked between small gestures and rare smiles.

Their mother’s death , and constant unavailability of their dad, made him more like a father figure to her little sister.

"Aapne dinner liya?"
("Have you had dinner?")
Roshni asked.

"Nahi beta, tera wait kar rahi thi, Sath me khate he”

(" No, my child, I was waiting for you, let’s eat together.")
Renu said, managing a small smile.

Roshni nodded, feeling a strange kind of ache inside her chest.
It wasn't loneliness exactly... but it wasn't belonging either.

“Thik he ,main abhi fresh ho ke aati hoon, fir saath mein khate hain."
("Okay, I'll freshen up and then we'll eat together.")

She climbed the staircase slowly, trailing her hand along the wooden railing.
The walls were lined with old photographs — birthdays, vacations, school events — frozen smiles of a family that once was whole.

In her room, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, breathing out the heaviness.

On the bedside table, her mother’s photo sat — framed in silver, forever smiling.
Roshni walked over, tracing the frame softly with her fingers.

"Maa... aaj kuch ajeeb hua..."
("Maa... something strange happened today...")
she whispered, her voice almost breaking.

She tried to find words — to explain the way Rudra's gaze had wrapped around her like a chain, the way his voice had filled the empty spaces inside her.

But no words came.

Only a feeling — wild, reckless, terrifying.

She brushed a kiss over the photo and set it back carefully.

Sighing, she reached into her wardrobe and pulled out her favourite nightgown — a soft white one, dotted with tiny red hearts and edged with delicate lace along the sleeves and hem.
It was beautiful — simple, elegant, feminine — the kind of thing that made her feel like herself, not some made-up version the world demanded.

She went to take a quick shower and changed into it, the soft fabric sliding over her skin like a whisper.
Tying her hair loosely into a messy braid, she padded barefoot to the balcony.

The night air was crisp, fragrant.
She opened the French-style glass doors wide and stepped outside.

The balcony was her secret haven — a small, beautiful world of its own.
Terracotta pots lined the sides, overflowing with vibrant marigolds, tulsi, and roses.
A thick creeper of jasmine snaked along the railing, its tiny white blossoms glowing under the soft light of the moon.

Roshni walked toward the jasmine, leaning down gently, breathing in the sweet, heady scent.

The fragrance wrapped around her like a memory — soothing and stirring all at once.

She smiled faintly, closing her eyes for a moment.

Up above, the moon hung low and heavy, casting a silver glow across everything.
The city’s noise faded into a distant hum, replaced by the sound of rustling leaves and the faint music of crickets.

She leaned against the railing, hands clasped, looking out into the night — thinking.

His voice ringing in her ears ,,roaming in her thoughts …

"Am I making you scared... or uncomfortable?"

No, he did not…I think

"You stumbled into something today, Roshni,"
"and you don't even realize it yet."

Aaahhh…this cryptic sentence…

"Because some things," "aren’t meant to be left behind once found."

What he found?..me!…oh common! I know where I stood….that insanely handsome BMW boy must have girls drooling over him, far better than me;

Am I his passing thing…

But the way he was looking at her, had made her feel — not like a girl, not even like a woman — but like something far more precious.
Like something wanted..

Was it wrong... to feel this pull toward someone she barely knew?
Was it foolish to think there was more to this story already written between them — in stolen glances and unspoken words?

The jasmine petals brushed her skin as she leaned closer, lost in thought.

She took a deep breath, touched the delicate jasmine flower once more, and turned back toward her room.

In the dining room, Renu, was arranging plates on the table.
The aroma of fresh rotis and sabzi filled the air.

They ate mostly in silence, the only sounds the clink of cutlery and the occasional honk of distant traffic.

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Meanwhile

Once the bus had long disappeared from view, Rudra crushed the cigarette under his expensive shoe and slid into his car.

The engine purred to life, but he didn’t drive away immediately.
Instead, he pulled out his phone again.

He leaned back against the leather seat, his hand tapping the steering wheel lightly, a rare impatience flickering across his usually unreadable face.

He knew …she left just now…it will take time for her to appear on her balcony.

This wasn’t how he usually operated.
Rudra Jain didn’t chase.
Women threw themselves at him — drawn to his wealth, his power, his dangerous air.

But Roshni…
She was different. She has not done anything still stir the strings of his heart.
She didn’t even know the world she had accidentally stepped into.
And now… she was tangled in it — in him — without even realizing.

He pulled the car into gear and drove — not towards her — not yet.
He needed to be careful.
Precise.
A single wrong step, and she would run.

And he couldn’t allow that.
Not now.
Not ever.

He made his way to a popular underground bar in a secluded part of the city. It was the kind of place where the air was thick with smoke, the music a low hum in the background, and the people—well, they were just as shady as the business deals that happened behind closed doors.

The lights flickered as he stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Aryan, sitting at a corner booth.

Somewhere, deep in a web of business, power, and silent enemies —
Aryan had unknowingly crossed Rudra’s world long ago.

Not as an enemy.
No.
More like... an unintended bridge.

Months ago, during a high-stakes negotiation over some important thing in Pune, Aryan had once saved Rudra from walking into a trap — a betrayal planned by Rudra’s own associates.

A quiet warning.

A simple hint, enough to capture by a hawk like Rudra.

No expectations, no thanks required.

But Rudra never forgot debts.
Especially not ones like that.

They shared a similar world—one of power, shadows, and deals.

But while Rudra thrived in the game, Aryan was quieter, more elusive.

Still, there was mutual respect between them, even if unspoken.

Their eyes met briefly from across the room, a silent exchange of acknowledgment

Rudra’s eyes caught the familiar, almost imperceptible shift in Aryan’s posture when a woman approached. One Rudra knew all too well.

She made her way towards Aryan, a subtle, yet obvious move.

He watched them for a moment, noticing how Aryan stiffened, but didn’t brush her off.

Rudra Leaned back, something going on in his ever so sharp & calculative mind,,,

suddenly he smirked….

“tch tch thc…kya sach me ye sirf bistar tak he ?,,,

[“Tch tch tch... Is it really just about the bed?”]

“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath. "Maja ayega.”

“Wel-come to the family….”

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Later that night

He sat alone in his penthouse apartment, leaning against the glass wall of his living room.
The city lights glittered far below, like tiny fireflies trapped in concrete.

A glass of untouched whiskey stood near him, but he wasn’t drinking.
Instead, he was staring into the night, lost in thought —

His phone buzzed.

A photo appeared.

Roshni.

Standing on her small, flower-decked balcony, her nighty fluttering in the breeze, her hair loosely braid, lay around her one shoulder, her hands hugging herself like she was protecting her heart from the night itself.

Rudra's grip tightened around the phone.
He zoomed in-Her every detail sink into his eyes then his mind …

He traced the curve of her nose, the softness of her parted lips, and the mystery in her eyes—each detail pulling him deeper.

His eyes moved down her neck, to the faint shadow of her collarbone, exposed slightly by the neckline of her dress.

His gaze lingered on her collarbone for a moment longer, and then, like a reflex, it moved lower.

His attention focused on the delicate swell of her breasts, the subtle rise and fall beneath the fabric, and how it just hinted at the shape underneath, made his breath hitch.

Definitely not so delicate.

He didn’t linger too long, but it was impossible to ignore.

The way her thin waist curved naturally, her body effortlessly graceful—it made his stomach tighten with an unsettling mix of desire and something darker, something possessive.

He could feel the heat in his chest, his body reacting to the image in ways he couldn’t ignore.

He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and take a long drag from his cigarette and slowly puff out a smoke.

He swore under his breath, a sharp, low sound, and kept the phone onto his chest exactly where his heart is.

After few moment

“Fuck it….”

He picked up his phone again, stared at her photo one more time —
then sent a single message to someone.

"Background. Family. Friends. Everything. I want it all. By Tomorrow."

"One day," he whispered to himself, his voice low and filled with intent.

"You’ll know what it means to be mine."

“and jo mere sath kar rahi hon a tum…iski saja milegi”

(and what you are doing with me…you will have to face the consequences for it)

He looked down at himself and cursed…

“F*cking harmonal teenager”