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The almirah was cold and cramped, her knees pulled tight to her chest, the wooden walls pressing in like a coffin. The girl's around ten years breath came in shallow puffs as Her mami sa (mother's brother wife) had shoved her in without warning, eyes wide and wild.
"Sant rahiga shanaya aur jab tak ham na aaye tab tak darwaza mat kholiyega," the woman whispered, voice trembling. The girl nodded, confused and scared lips quivering, trying to be brave.
The door clicked shut
Darkness.
Seconds passed. Then a minute.
Then—
A scream. Sharp. Agonizing. Her mami sa voice, splintered by pain.
The girl froze, nails digging into her arms. Tears welled in her eyes, but she held her breath, her lips sealed. Her heart thumped louder than her thoughts.
Another scream—cut short.
She couldn't hold it anymore. A strangled cry escaped her lips. "bestie!"
Then—
again her mami sa voice Broken, Whimpering. "No, don't go there, please—"
Footsteps.
Heavy. Slow. Each one cracking the silence like a hammer on glass.
Closer.
To the almirah.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
She covered her mouth, heart pounding. The wooden door trembled with each approaching step.
And then… silence.
Then the handle turned. The door creaked open
But silence never meant safety.
Shanaya shot up in bed, gasping, her throat raw like she'd been screaming in her sleep. Her chest rose and fell too fast, Drenched in sweat.
The darkness of the room was no longer a cramped almirah, but it still felt like it was closing in.
Tears spilled before she could stop them. She curled into herself, sobbing quietly, the dream clinging to her like wet fabric.
Why that dream again? Why her aunty?
"mami sa…" she whispered, voice cracking.
She reached for her phone on the nightstand, her hand trembling. The screen lit up, and her finger brushing against the scene. there's it was—family photo.
Her wallpaper glowed softly.
That photo.
A perfect moment, frozen in time.
She stood at the center, her arms slung around her eleven years old brothers, smiling brightly. Her parents on one side, close and warm. On the other—her uncle, with that familiar calm smile, and her aunty…eyes bright, mid-laugh, arms wrapped around a little girl seated on her lap.
She who used to braid her aunty's hair with crooked fingers!
She who called her mami sa "bestie" before she didn't even knew what friendship was!
She who never got to say goodbye!
She missed her!
She missed her so much it ached.
The nightmare was just a dream—twisted by grief, shaped by time—but the love, the memories... those were real.
And sometimes, even the scariest dreams grow from the deepest love, tangled in pain that never fully healed
She touched the screen, fingers hovering over little girl face.
The little girl?
who used to cling to her mami sa sari.
The one who laughed the loudest when her aunty made silly faces.
The one who always got tucked in with a story and a kiss on the forehead.
she traced her finger all over the image, her hand trembling
A sob cracked out of her, sudden and sharp. "I miss you… I miss you so much…"
Her sobs grew louder.
her sobs echoed through the room, her grief uncontrollable.
The phone screen dimmed slightly—but just before it did, something flickered.
In the reflection of the black screen.
Behind her.
A blur.
A shape.
Gone too fast to be sure.
She turned around, breath caught—but the room was empty.
Except… the almirah in the corner, half-open.
She was sure—absolutely sure—she had closed it before going to bed
"I'm imagining things" she wishpered, her voice barely above audible
---------------------------
Morning light crept through the curtains, pale and tired, as if it too had woken from the same haunting dream.
She moved slowly, her feet dragging across the cold floor, her body still heavy with the night's weight. Her eyes were puffy, her throat sore, but she didn't bother hiding it.
The hallway was too quiet.
She reached the dining room. Her parents were already there—her father on his tablet, sipping coffee, her mother scrolling through her phone like she just forget all the life moving around her.
"Good morning," Shanaya said, her voice a ghost of itself.
Her father looked up with a stiff smile. "Morning."
Her mother nodded but didn't meet her eyes. "how's your studies, any problem?"
She wanted to Scream.
Ask if either of them remembered what family even looked like anymore!
"Yeah," she lied. "Fine."
They ate in a silence that wasn't peaceful. Not hostile, either.
Just… hollow.
Halfway through the meal, her father cleared his throat. "We'll be making an announcement soon. We wanted to tell you before anyone else."
Shanaya didn't look up.
She already knew.
"We're separating," her mother said. "It's been a long time coming."
Her father added quickly, "It's for the best! We both… we've grown apart."
No one said the words, but she already knew them too well.No one said the words, but she already knew them too well.
Her father was sleeping with his secretary
Her mother had been seeing someone since last year—someone who always texted at night when they thought she was asleep.
She took a bite of toast, chewed it slowly, forced it down.
No tears this time.
She just nodded.
"Okay."
Because what else was there to say?
The family in that photo on her phone didn't exist anymore, Maybe it never had.
And suddenly, she missed her mami sa even more—not just for her warmth, but because she had been the last real piece of love in that house.
The only one who cared about her.
Mrs. Vyomika Kapoor is a renowned actress, celebrated across the country for her iconic roles and glamorous persona.
However, behind the curtain of fame, she is cold, self-centered, and deeply consumed by greed.
Her love is reserved for the spotlight, not her daughter Shanaya Kapoor, whom she views as a burden—a liability that taints her perfect public image.
Her heart and attention lie elsewhere, wrapped in a scandalous extramarital affair, while her maternal affection is nothing more than an empty performance.
Her cousin brother ABHISHEK AGNIHOTRI stands at the pinnacle of the business world, a powerful tycoon known for his ruthless success and unapologetic ambition.
The two siblings share no bond, raised in a house where love was conditional and status was currency.
SAMRAT KAPOOR, a cunning politician, built his career on his wife's fame, using her influence like a ladder to climb public favor.
Charismatic in public but tyrannical at home, he holds his daughter to impossible standards.
For him, Shanaya Kapoor worth is measured solely in achievement. Failure is not an option—only disgrace.
If Shanaya doesn't excel, if she dares to fall short, he threatens to sever all ties without hesitation. All the while, he carries on an affair with his assistant, hiding his hypocrisy behind a polished smile.
In this family of lies, the Shanaya Kapoor is expected to shine under pressure, all while suffocating in silence.
Shanaya shut the door to her room a little harder than intended, the dull thud echoing the chill that lingered from the cold talk with her parents. It wasn't a fight exactly, but the kind of conversation where everything spoken felt like it came wrapped in ice.
Detached.
Careful.
Empty.
Slumping onto her bed, she stared at the ceiling, trying to shake off the feeling that she didn't quite belong—like she was always just orbiting around someone else's life.
A knock. A muffled voice outside.
"By the way, tomorrow is anniversary party of Your mama and... her," her mother said flatly, not bothering to step in.
The news caught her off guard, tinged with a strange mix of curiosity and detachment.
Her
That's how her mother always referred to the her uncle second wife.
No name.
No warmth.
She didn't answer.
Later, as the house grew quiet, Feeling the weight of the day and craving a distraction, she picked up her phone and open her friend group, texted her closest friends!
GOLMAL GANG
"Hey, there's an anniversary party this weekend. My mama sa and mami Wanna come with me?"
She didn't explain much—she didn't need to. Her friends understood the silence between the lines.
A pause
prakriti:
"You okay?"
She stared at the screen, thumbs hovering. Then she typed slowly:
"Honestly? Not really, Just… need someone there who feels like home."
The reply came fast.
"I'll be there, Always!"
She smiled faintly—just enough to shake off the numbness. Maybe the party wouldn't feel like another cold room, not with someone real beside her
The chat had gone quiet for a few minutes, until Ishika's name lit up the screen again.
Wait, Hold on! If it's your mama party means Abhishek Agnihotri does that mean Ruhaan an will be there?
shanaya knew exactly what that name meant to Ishika.
Maybe, Why?
Ishika:
Fir mai nahi aa rhi wo pakka, kuch kutta pakka kuch faltu bolega mujhega!
prakriti jumped in:
Ishi, Chup reh, bhaut ameero type wala khana milega also This is about our girl maybe getting haunted by her parents not your academic rival.
Ishika:
Didi yrr I'm serious, If he's there, I'll leave papa kasam
Shanaya stared at the message, then typed carefully.
He won't be. He's not even close to that family anymore
A pause.
Ishika:
You sure?
Shanaya exhaled softly.
I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important, Please I need you both there!
Ishika didn't reply immediately.
But when she did, it was short and solid:
okayy! I'm coming for you
prakriti:
Wah kya Dosti hai nakli Aasu nikal rahe hai! Ab to party me itne fatake phorungi ki Ftake bhi dar jayenge muahaahaa!
Shanaya smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Because no matter how many friends stood beside her, there was something cold waiting at that party.
TO BE CONTINUED....