Vikrant flipped through the pages and stopped at the very first one. Bold, careful handwriting stared back at him.
“Meri Ankahi Kahani”
(My Untold Story)
He sank into the sofa, stretching back and letting himself settle into the soft embrace of the cushions, one carefully placed behind his back for support. The quiet of the room wrapped around him, a perfect cocoon to devour the diary in one sitting.
He began to read ✨
20 August, 2025
Dear Diary,
I had that terrible dream again, the one that has haunted me since my parents died 🥀. I can’t escape it, no matter how hard I try. I miss you, Mumma-Papa and Bhai. I wish I could see you all again… Everything feels so heavy, like I’m drowning in memories I can’t touch. I don’t know if I’m imagining it or if it’s real…
Sometimes I have to go through hallucinations.
“Horrific dreams…again and again... but of what?” he murmured under his breath, a frown tugging at his lips.
“Hallucinations… is her condition really this terrible?” he fumed inwardly.
Then he moved on to the next diary entry after finishing this one...
Dear Diary,
I still wonder why I’m alive. I don’t see any purpose in living anymore. It feels like no one would care whether I live or die. I wake up every day carrying this emptiness inside me, pretending to be strong when I’m already broken. Sometimes, dying feels easier than surviving like this. I just want to die!!.....
“I care, Ishu,” he whispered softly. “And God kept you alive so that I could cherish you.”
After half an hour ~
“Until now, there isn’t a single entry where you were happy, Ishu,” Vikrant murmured, his voice low and tight with emotion. “Now I understand why you’re always sad… and why you take those supplements.”
He read on, uncovering the cruel truth about Ishita’s life with her Chachi and Chachu.
Dear Diary,
Today I am feeling so sad. My Chachi pressed a hot iron on my arm, and it burned terribly. I didn’t do anything wrong. She burned her saree and blamed me. Mumma, I wish you were here… I don’t want to live anymore. I just want to die...
Vikrant’s teeth clenched as his fury mounted with every word.
“Oh,” he whispered, voice dark and cold, “so this is how you treated my beloved.”
Next entry ~
Dear Diary,
Today my Chachi called me a “cursed child.” She said my parents died because I came into their happy world…
Vikrant’s hand curled into a fist, trembling with rage, and he slammed it hard against his thigh. His eyes fell on the page, where the ink had begun to spread, blurred by silent tears that had soaked into the paper.
(He couldn’t slam his fist on the table as Ishita was asleep in the next room, and he didn’t want to wake her.)
After one and a half hours ~
The diary was nearing its end, only a few pages remaining. By now, Vikrant was fully aware of the cruel relationship between Ishita and her Chachi and Chacha ji, and the deep scars they had carved into her soul.
Another entry 🥀 ~
Dear Diary,
Today I am very sad because my husband scolded me for the first time.
Vikrant narrowed his eyes as he read the entry.
Maybe my Chachi was right. Whenever I enter someone’s life, it turns into hell. Now even I’ve started believing it… that I am cursed.
“They manipulated her so deeply that she started believing she is cursed,” Vikrant growled inwardly.
“Bullshit!”
His jaw clenched, rage burning behind his eyes. I swear in God’s name that whoever made her condition like this will pay. I will turn their lives to ashes.
Forcing himself to breathe, Vikrant swallowed his fury and continued reading…
I don’t want to resist him, but my body does. Whenever Vikrant ji comes near me, those horrible faces return to my mind. How do I tell Vikrant ji about my condition that I am… impure?
The words were smudged with dried tear marks, the ink bleeding and spreading across the paper, as if even the diary couldn’t bear the weight of her pain.
Vikrant froze.
He read the line again 'impure'.
And then his eyes caught another word 'those faces'.
His breath hitched. His eyes burned red with fury. Despite the cold winter air, sweat broke out on his skin, his blood boiling with rage.
Suddenly, the soft sound of payal 'anklets' reached his ears.
Someone was coming closer.
Ishita woke up and quietly passed by the room. She noticed Vikrant sitting on the sofa, still in his official clothes, completely absorbed in his work.
She hesitated at the doorway, standing there for a moment, waiting for him to look up at her. But he didn’t.
Gently, she knocked on the door.
Vikrant finally lifted his gaze, and his eyes burning red with fury met hers.
Ishita froze, terror gripping her chest.
“Bap re… ek dum khufnak shaitaan lag rahe hai!” đź’
(“Oh God… he looks like a complete terrifying demon!”)
“Ye teekhi mirchi to din-prati-din aur gussal hote jaa rahe hai. Lagta hai aaj meri shamat aa gayi. Please bhagwan ji, is danav se meri raksha karna!!” đź’
(“Oh no… his anger seems to be getting sharper every day. Looks like today is my doom. Please, God, protect me from this demon!” she thought, 💠her heart pounding.)
Then she signaled him to freshen up, gesturing that she had a surprise for him.
Her face was still etched with terror.
Vikrant stood, his body radiating barely contained anger. He stepped toward Ishita.
She instinctively took a step back looking straight towards his face đź‘€.
Before she could react, Vikrant pulled her close, and her face pressed against his chest. His hand found her waist, holding her firmly, but not roughly.
He slammed the door behind him.
Ishita instinctively pressed her fingers to her nose, wincing.
“Aakhir ye kya tarika hai?” she thought, frustrated.
(“What kind of way is this?”)
Tears welled up in her eyes from the pain.
Vikrant pulled her closer, guiding her hands to rest on his shoulders.
He was too angry to think clearly. His mind was a storm of fury and questions whose he just wanted answers.
“Ishu…, is baar kuch mat chupana. Main sab kuch jaanna chahta hoon tumse. Sach to pata chal hi chuka hai, aur un haramiyo ko to main nahi chhodne wala. Bas tumko sach chupate hue aur nahi dekhna chahta.” he 💠fumed, every thought burning with obsession.
(“Ishu… please, don’t hide anything this time. I want to know everything from you. The truth is already out, and I will never forgive those bastards. But I can’t bear to see you hiding the truth from me.”)
“Ishita… aisa kya hua hai tumhare sath jo mujhe pata hona chahiye, lekin phir bhi mujhse chupaya ja raha hai, huh?” he asked, his voice low, raw, and scorching with intensity.
(“Ishita… what happened that I need to know, yet it’s still being kept secret from me, huh?”)
His chest felt like it was on fire, every muscle coiled tight. His mind was a storm of rage, obsession, and an unshakable need to protect her. Every fiber of him screamed that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her and he wouldn’t let her suffer, not for even a single second. The only thing he wanted was Ishita to tell things by herself.
Then after a pause he continued...
“Main maanta hoon ki maine ye sawaal tumse kai baar poocha hai, par mujhe kabhi sawalon ke jawab nahi mile. Maine tumse har tareeke se poocha, phir bhi main tumhare ateet se anjaan hoon. Bas ab aur nahi… sach bata do, Ishu.”
(“I know I’ve asked you this question so many times, yet I’ve never gotten an answer. I’ve tried asking in every possible way, and still, I remain in the dark about your past. Enough… just tell me the truth, Ishu.”)
At the same time, the thought of her losing consciousness again frightened him.
Without letting her notice, he quietly tossed the diary onto the bed, his fingers brushing its edge as it fell. The soft thud echoed through the room like a demand, filling the tense silence between them.
Ishita forced a small, hesitant smile and pushed him lightly, just enough to try and free herself.
She typed and showed her phone to him,
“Kuch nahi hai, Vikrant ji. Main theek hoon… aur mera past simple hai, kuch khaas nahi hai share karne layak.”
(“There’s nothing, Vikrant ji. I’m fine… and my past is very simple. Nothing interesting to share.”)
Vikrant’s voice dropped, deep and dangerous.
“Sach bol rahi ho, Ishita?”
(“Are you telling the truth, Ishita?”)
Ishita nodded, forcing the smile even tighter.
“To fir medicines ke bare mein aap kya jhoot bolna chayengi, Ms. Ishita Malhotra?”
(“Then what lies are you planning to tell me about the medicines, Ms. Ishita Malhotra?”)
Ishita shook her head, hands gesturing.
“Main jhoot nahi bol rahi hoon… Medicines to main bas depression ki wajah se le rahi hoon.”
(“I’m not lying… I only take the medicines because of depression.”)
"Jhoot… baar-baar jhoot."
He paused and stepped back and then continued,
"Mujhe nahi pata tha ki tum itna aacha jhoot bolna janti hai. Aur hume un logon se sakt nafrat hai jo jhoot bolte hain.” His voice cracked with coldness and frustration.
He wanted to learn about her past directly from her and understand everything she had endured. He needed her to trust him enough to be honest.
(“Lies… lies, over and over. I never knew you could lie this smoothly. And I despise those who lie.”)
“Aap dukh ke samundar mein itna dubi hui hai Ishita, jisne aapko jhoot ka rasta apnane par majboor kar diya hai… par us samundar se main aapko bahar nikalunga.” he thought with determination.
{Someone rightly Said that when you truly love someon, your mind keeps trying to prove them right.}
(“You’re drowning in an ocean of sorrow, Ishita which forced you into the path of lies… but I will pull you out of that ocean.”)
“Ishita, mujhe jhoote logon se baat karna pasand nahi hai. To jab aapko lage ki aap mujhe sach bata sakti hai, tab baat karenge.”
(“Ishita, I don’t like talking to people who lie. So, when you feel that you can tell me the truth, then we’ll talk.”)
He turned sharply and walked out of the room, leaving the air heavy with tension, anger, and unspoken obsession.
Ishita sat on the floor, broken, tears streaming down her face without pause.
“Ye main kya kar rahi hu… aapne rishto ka aapne haathon se gala ghot rahi hu. Mujhe maaf kar dijiye, Vikrant ji… mujhe nahi pata… main kaise bataun.”
(“What am I doing? I’m choking the relationship with my own hands. Please forgive me, Vikrant ji… I don’t know how to tell you.”)
She was weak, trembling with guilt and despair. She pressed her hands against her face, trying to stop the sobs that kept wracking her body. Each tear felt like a tiny betrayal, a reminder of all the secrets she had hidden.
After a few days ~
Vikrant continued with his routine, arriving late at night, his presence cold and distant. He barely acknowledged her, leaving Ishita alone in the quiet emptiness of their home, which only made her pain sharper. Every ignored glance, every silent footstep of his, felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating her in guilt and fear.
Yet he quietly monitored her condition, caring for her without her knowing.
But behind that stern exterior, Vikrant’s mind was a storm. He was consumed with uncovering Ishita’s secrets, desperately tracing every shadow, every clue, every connection to the men who had hurt her. His days were filled with planning, his nights restless with obsession. Nothing else existed for him but the need to expose the truth and protect her from those who had caused her so much pain.
He hated the way she suffered, hated the helplessness he felt when he saw her cry. And yet, he knew he had to stay distant for now, to make her tell the truth, to make her open up without fear. Every choice, every harsh word, every cold silence was calculated born from obsession, from a burning need to shield her from harm and to punish those who had wronged her.
Once at 1 a.m.,
Ishita was waiting for him at the dining table, eyes heavy with exhaustion. She had eventually succumbed to sleep, her head resting on folded arms.
Vikrant stepped inside quietly, moving straight to the table, knowing this had become her nightly spot nowadays. Gently, he lifted her into his arms. As he carried her upstairs, she clutched his shirt tightly, burying her face in his shoulder, letting the tears flow freely.
He watched her silently, every sob, every shiver, burning into his mind. When he finally laid her down on the bed, she refused to let go, her grip tightening around him.
Seeing her stubbornness, he lay down beside her. She leaned close and pressed a soft kiss to his lips but he didn’t react, turning his face nonchalantly.
"I never imagined my first kiss would be like this, under these circumstances."
Both thought đź’ at the same time.
Her eyes, full of tears, stayed locked on him. Finally, he glanced at her and, without a word, wrapped her in a tight embrace. She cried uncontrollably into his chest. His hands patted her back gently, soothing her until exhaustion claimed her.
When her grip finally loosened, he slipped quietly to the bathroom.
After a while, he returned and slid into the bed beside her.
Ishita, still weary and clinging to him, rested her head on his chest and scribbled softly, “I am starving!!”
Naina.writz ~
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