《Road to revenge》 New neighbour, new job, good life Aashia loved her sister but more than that, she hated how talented and beautiful she was. As she looked on from the yard towards open window on the first floor where Basha sat, deeply analysing a stack of papers in her hands. She wondered if she would be able to do half of what her sister has done within next four years. For then, the blue rubber gloves in her hands were covered in dirt as they held a sapling ready to be placed into the pit. ¡°What¡¯s the worry?¡± Despite not caring what Basha was up to, Aashia wished to be included in her world. Or, more like to remind her sister that she too exists around her even though she barely sees her. ¡°What?¡± Basha leaned towards the window. ¡°You look worried.¡± ¡°Work stuff¡± is all Basha said before putting her nose back to where it was. Aashia doesn¡¯t remember being close to her sister or talking about thing that her friends from school said they shared with their sisters. It always bothered her, until it did not and then, she was happy they weren¡¯t close. Aashia preferred it that way. But sometimes, there was sinking feeling when she wished, Basha being four years older to her, did not pretend to be twenty years far. ¡°Take a bath, I¡¯ll cook something for you.¡± An hour later, when Aashia was ready to go inside after final satisfying look at the front yard, she scoffed to the words. Cooking doesn¡¯t come close to what she has just done. Basha must have analysed the look on her face, which wasn¡¯t very difficult considering there¡¯s been multiple occasions when she was told, her face tells the story going on in her head. ¡°I¡¯ll clean rest of that later.¡± She called as her voice faded out of earshot. Aashia did not feel any better. If there was something she learned after her parents¡¯ dead when she was just out of her teenage years, it was, Basha was the only one who would save her and also, make her want to die. But she was her only family and behind her coldness, she cared a lot. Aashia knew that so she never moved out of their family home, even after earning the job as piano teacher at a fancy class school. ¡°Excuse me!¡± A polite male voice shifted her gaze from the handiwork in the garden to the front gate where actually a young man, possibly in his late twenties, stood with a wide smile. ¡°Does this house belong to Harsh Raj?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a name plate outside. Does it read Raj?¡± He was confused at her snipy behaviour. Smile faded off his face and Aashia felt bad but the train had left the station. ¡°No, it says Parveen Vohra and Sara Vohra. Are you Parveen or Sara?¡± He beamed. ¡°Mr. Raj live two houses to right. This way.¡± ¡°Thanks. And in all good intention, I know which is right side. I just want to you know, that I know, you know?¡± ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t think you were dumb anyway. It just a habit to talk with my hands as well.¡± Despite the annoyance Aashia felt at the stranger¡¯s arrival, she mentally described him charming and genuinely nice or, a very good actor. ¡°I think I just met the new tenant of Harsh uncle. He had a big backpack.¡± Aashia informed as she made her way across the hall, towards the staircase to the floor above. ¡°Simi was saying he is annoying. Was he?¡± Aashia stopped midway. ¡°Annoying as what?¡± ¡°Talk too much, smile too much. Real happy person.¡± Aashia nodded her head knowingly, ¡°Oh yeah, that he is.¡± An hour or so later on the sun guarded Sunday afternoon, just as Aashia was putting away the dishwashing gloves away, their neighbour Simi abbreviated from Simran came by. Simran was the daughter and only family member of Mr. Harsh Raj. She was exactly the age of Basha and ran a stationary store just at the end of the street, along the main road. ¡°Can I stay here for next few decades?¡± ¡°Tenant troubles?¡± ¡°How do you know?¡± ¡°He asked me the address.¡± ¡°Abhinav. I showed him his room and he won¡¯t leave our kitchen and, papa seems to really like him lingering around while he cooks, for some reason. He talks a lot. We get it you came to Ludhiana from Mumbai. You have climbed mountains. And that ¡®any¡¯ is an exaggeration I¡¯m telling you.¡± ¡°Why is he here anyway?¡± ¡°He is writing a book about all his experiences. He said he is a nice person and that¡¯s exactly why I don¡¯t trust him.¡± Simi walked over to the couch in the middle of the hall and slumped down on it before reaching for remote to turn on the television. ¡°He¡¯s always happy, it¡¯s kind of suspicious.¡± ¡°Maybe he is a genuinely nice person. Who knows.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye on him.¡± ¡°Or just mind your own business.¡± Simran hopped off the couch and ran towards the door. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye on him.¡± She said one last time before exiting. At night, while sitting in her bedroom, she suddenly realised May Sunday evenings weren¡¯t as stressful anymore as they were when she was herself a student but she could feel the anxiety of going back to school for other students. She was excited to go back, as with the summer vacations approaching, there was a new opportunity for her. And with every passing day, it was coming close. She had begged a non-permanent job of pianist at an art theatre in the town and for the first time in a long while, she had her body warmed up with adrenaline. ¡°It¡¯s my first day. I need to be prepared.¡± Aashia hissed at Basha as they made their way to Simran¡¯s stationary store at six in the morning. ¡°You are just nervous.¡± Basha hissed back as the joggers passed by. The shop routinely opened at nine so it was sealed shut. They waited outside for a few minutes before Simran walked up the steps and unlocked the shutter. ¡°I don¡¯t appreciate being woken up earlier than I¡¯m used to.¡± She said as they all made their way inside the store. ¡°You have a perfect job? You even get summer vacations just li8ke when we were children and you want to start a second job.¡± ¡°Music teachers doesn¡¯t get paid as much to enjoy summer vacations however huge the school is. Who pays attention in compulsory music classes in school anyway? I never did.¡± ¡°You are a weirdo. Grab anything you want and don¡¯t bother to pay me now, I can¡¯t count half asleep.¡± Aashia was aware how grotesque she looked in a dress suit on her first day of theatre but it was the only way she felt confident enough to step out after rummaging through her wardrobe for twenty-five minutes. At twenty-five, she wasn¡¯t as obsessed with her physical presentations as women her age were mal-portrayed for. She did not care her long wavy her went all direction as she put on her brown leather hat on and walked out the door at sharp fifteen minutes to nine. In accordance with the season, Sun was at its blazing height already and she immediately started to sweat through her blazer pits, but she denied to slow down her scooter before it reached the theatre arena parking lot. ¡®Marva Sage theatre¡¯ in big bold letter on a giant board welcomed her to a group of more than twenty-thirty people artistically portraying a form of renaissance painting. For Aashia, it did. She was Fascinated as well as intimidated. On the stage in front a man, spoke with all the air in his lungs, ¡°Why must I wake, if only to lay back on bed and snuggle with the pillows? This can¡¯t be why I was birthed.¡± Aashia walked towards the bench with a middle-aged woman with her greying hair tied into a bun. She was scribbling something on a sheet in front of her, accompanied by another guy with big framed spectacles and microphone. ¡°Excuse me?¡± The lady turned and her face immediately turned to a pleasant smile. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Aashia Vohra? Welcome to your first day.¡± ¡°Thank you, Shreya.¡± She fumbled nervously before saying, ¡°I don¡¯t exactly know where to start from.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Come, let me introduce you to everyone. You already know Jag.¡± Aashia nodded a quick hello to the guy in spectacles. Then Shreya took the microphone out of his hand and loudly introduced her to all twenty-thirty people present there and Aashia had never been more uncomfortable in her own skin but she appreciated the gesture. When everyone was back to their work and Jag guided her to the space to set up her piano, she finally texted Basha. ¡®Have fun¡¯ was what came back. She planned on having fun for the past few weeks but as soon as the environment hit, she realised she was not among people like her still. These people were nice, chill and knew when to talk and when to not. And she was again, out of place. Thankfully, the rush of rehearsals occupied her brain for next five hours and amidst of all the doubts and insecurities, she enjoyed the time among them, even became friends with the drummer and go-to singer of the group. Back home, she found Basha¡¯s partner for five years, Milan in the kitchen, stirring something in the pan. ¡°I could smell it from our yard. What is it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a surprise. be ready for early dinner.¡± Milan said excitedly and turned his focus back to the pan and everything in front of him. Aashia went up to her room and quickly changed to the panda pyjamas. She looked out of the window and noticed Simi¡¯s new tenant walking by with several grocery bags that almost shielded his face and just then, he tripped over thin air and all the bags, along with him, went flying a few feet ahead. Aashia almost felt bad for him as he hurriedly accumulated the stuff. His head straightened up and eyes caught hers. She thought of shifting behind the curtains but it was too late. He held his hand up in a wave and she waved back with a pressed smile before ducking out of the view. Aashia Vohra wasn¡¯t what most people would call a sociable human. She won¡¯t call herself one but once a while she¡¯d get this occasional burst of energy where she¡¯d dream of being and enjoying the close proximity of others more than usual but that energy goes away as fast as it arrives like a primary job worker bank balance. Living with this similar process of feelings for so long, she had accepted there was a life out there she so much wished to live but could not touch it however hard she tried. There were faces that could have been her friends, or something different but they were just faces in the crowd that will forever stay that way. Maybe in other life, she had learned to love more than fear it. She wondered. ¡°Of course, if I knew he had an escape plan before we could get him arrested, I¡¯d have been more careful. Why do these politicians love assholery so much?¡± ¡°That¡¯s also the reason you have a job. You thrive on angering them, don¡¯t you?¡± Milan and Basha were deep indulged into a conversation while Aashia just sat alongside them on the dining table and munched on some of the best garlic bread and homemade sauce she had ever had. So, she didn¡¯t mind the tense to and fro at all. ¡°And I love you for it by the way. If you ever doubt my support.¡± ¡°I know and also, I would very much like to write about beauty of mountains and two ugly birds on branch. I don¡¯t love this job, I enjoy what it stands for.¡± Basha¡¯s head suddenly snapped to Aashia and lips turned up in a wide smile, ¡°I almost forgot. How was your first day at new job? Was it any better than old one?¡± ¡°A lot better actually. I love children and teaching them but this one was entirely different. I enjoyed it. People were nice.¡± ¡°Great.¡± And that was all there of the conversation for the day between them. ¡°I might be out of town for a few days next week. I¡¯m not sure yet but no commitment.¡± ¡°Oh. I planned a three days cinema for us. A surprise television show from 90s. Anyway, I¡¯ll push it for another week.¡± Milan shrugged nonchalantly and went back to his food and so did Basha but Aashia felt something was left unfinished. She had nothing to add to the conversation but something must be said, if only to decrease the density of air inside her chest. ¡°It¡¯s not going to pay me much so I will keep the school job.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good idea. I didn¡¯t want to say anything in case you had different plan but that¡¯s smart.¡± After a few days of working at theatre, Aashia started to feel alive again. The will to live that had almost faded off her eyes were somehow smiling again. Maybe, she realised, joy does have a way of returning. ¡°You look happy.¡± Basha complimented her one day when they were sitting outside, sun shining brightly on the lush garden grass. ¡°Yes. I like my new job. People like me, I guess.¡± ¡°You know if you don¡¯t like being a teacher, you can quit. I just said that the other day so you can feel comfortable being financial independent. But we have a home and we have our parents¡¯ saving.¡± ¡°I like being a teacher, I just don¡¯t like a little of that environment.¡± ¡°What I mean is, you don¡¯t have to do that job being miserable.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll deal with it. It¡¯s all good. How¡¯s you research going?¡± ¡°Almost done with it. Once this article comes out, I can finally start working on his sister¡¯s deeds along with every relative I can find. They are not getting away with all this. People have suffered enough because of their greed and bigotry.¡± ¡°Good.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you? Are you upset?¡± Aashia was surprised Basha asked her this. This was her normal tone of conversation for past three or five years but she never noticed. ¡°This is how I have been for a while. Why are you asking me this?¡± ¡°You never tell me what going on with you. Your brain is a mystery to me.¡± This snapped something inside Aashia. She is enraged how easily Basha blamed her for the distance between the two. ¡°You don¡¯t get to say that after you basically cut me off after our parents¡¯ death. You¡¯ve done a lot for me Basha, even in despair and that¡¯s why I feel guilty saying it but I lost my sister when I lost my parents. I don¡¯t want to blame you for grieving but maybe I am grieving too and I can¡¯t help but be enraged at you for abandoning me and not even trying. I thought we¡¯d be there for each other. I started to make all these script in my head, thinking of what I¡¯d say to make you feel better, to get you out of your shell but you shut me away.¡± As soon as the words left her mouth, Aashia regretted saying more than she had intended to. There was visible pain on Basha¡¯s face and it reflect on her own. ¡°I did my best.¡± ¡°I know you did. I just wish we were as close as before, that¡¯s all.¡± ¡°I was so afraid of feeling unimportant, not being loved and it exhausted me so, in the end I decided there¡¯s one way to make this fear go away and that was, to push everyone away, who wanted to love me. I can¡¯t explain to you but all my relationships were affected adversely.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not all on you. I am acting unreasonable, you have been through the same hell. I have been upset for a long time. I don¡¯t know how to get out of this trench.¡± ¡°Maybe I noticed if you were upset because I have reasons to be happy now. I am proud of myself today than ever before but it¡¯s not good enough if I let you down. I am going to try and fix this for us.¡± Basha¡¯s voice cracked and Aashia felt guilty for ever starting this conversation. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Everything is fine.¡± It was the worst ending a conversation could possibly be left at but she wanted to get away from there. She loved her sister beyond she could ever express to herself even but there were unsaid emotions stuck in either of them that won¡¯t let them be the same sisters as they were once. Without intending to, many things changed overtime and they kept building around the missed conversations, that neither of them knew how to fill anymore. Aashia woke up next day, earlier than usual but moon was still groggy and shied partially beneath the clouds. She turned to the nightstand and noted the time that was a little above 04:30 A.M. she remembered expressions on Basha¡¯s face last and wished to see her immediately, just as a minor comfort that everything was good. She looked at her mobile and found a message from basha. ¡®Shopping and lunch on me today?¡¯ She immediately answered yes to it with an additional thumbs up. There was a huge smile on her face after that, she knew it was just an excuse for Basha to fill the gaping holes of conversations but it was what she wanted as well. It was a Sunday morning and as per the routine, she changed to her jogger pants and went for quick few laps around the corner but something about the colony was weird. Too quiet to be precise or maybe it was just her heart pounding extra fast that day. Simi¡¯s stationary shop should have been closed at that time but there was a little glow of light coming out through the shaded glass window to the left, when she was returning back from the run and it looked spooky quiet inside. It was a hard fought urge to not check out what was going on that finally won and Aashia slowly climbed up the front stairs and pushed open the glass door. ¡°Did I not tell you to lock the door?¡± A hoarse male voice talked barely trying to hide the anger and frustration. New life, old memories There was only one light on at the far end of the space where, on a plastic chair, sat, Simi, curled into a ball with her feet close to her chest and eyes wide open at whatever horrifying thing was in front of her. The complete view was still hidden from Aashia by the giant showcase and the owner of angry voice was standing on the other side of it with a something small and black in his hand. It almost looked like a gun. He was accompanied by one other man, slightly shorter and wearing a black suit unlike the one with gun who was probably in his night dress. ¡°It¡¯s the sister. Joshi.¡± Man with gun said. The man in suit approached her and locked the glass door before painfully grabbing her by the arm and dragging her to where Simran sat. ¡°Simran, what¡¯s going on?¡± All life left her lungs as she noticed the body in front for her, lifeless and covered in blood. ¡°Basha!¡± Aashia kneeled down on the ground, numb to every inch of her senses. She couldn¡¯t establish the legitimacy of the situation. How was Basha even there? At that time? She hurriedly checked for her heartbeat, putting her ear to her sister¡¯s ribs, and to none of the others¡¯ surprise but very much of her own, there was no sound of blood pumping. The blood had appeared to have flowed out of her head and now that Aashia was slowly grabbing hold of her senses, she checked for her head and found the bullet of to the side of her brain. It was most horrified she had ever felt and that was just an understatement. Was it a dream? She was still hopeful for a sign that it was. Maybe if she closed her eyes tight enough and believed it was a dream, it might disappear from reality. But a few seconds of silence and continuous sobs of Simran through it made it clear, it was as real as anything can ever be. ¡°Did you- did you kill her?¡± Aashia knew the answer, yet she asked. ¡°Sorry lady, I had to do it. your sister was poking too much around my business.¡± ¡°You are the politician she was writing about. That¡¯s why you killed her. You murdered her.¡± ¡°I guess I can¡¯t deny that now.¡± ¡°Why did you do this? You killed. There was no need. Why?¡± Aashia couldn¡¯t tell if she was making any sense to anyone else, but she knew what she felt. Her only family was dead and there was this strongest buzz still going off in her head. Suddenly that buzz was replaced with an absolute silence as a fist strike her jaw and she fell to ground with a piercing pain. A blurry face zoomed closer, ¡°I will bury you both where your parents¡¯ ghosts couldn¡¯t find you. This is punishment for what your sister did.¡± There was another strike to her abdomen and more of her hearing sense abandoned her body. ¡°Don¡¯t kill her. No one will know anything. She won¡¯t say anything to anyone.¡± There was a little sobbing conversation Aashia heard before, with another jab to the head, everything went black. There was a side of her that was scared to wake up. Those slight murmurs, that she so curiously wanted to hear but couldn¡¯t. That faint glow of white light that would appear and disappear every few seconds or it might be the time line of her senses that was utterly confusing. One time, without actually trying, her eyes opened and a nurse standing by the bed smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t try to talk if it hurts.¡± As the realisation hit, tears immediately pooled her eyes. Every inch of her face hurt as she cried and screamed. Soon the pain of Basha¡¯s death turned to pain she felt in her body, a horrifying pain surging through her entire body. Soon she was surrounded by a bunch of doctors and nurses and, some were holding her hands and legs down to bed. ¡°Relax. Don¡¯t move.¡± She heard through the loud noises in her head. There was no next moment of clarity, where she could reconsider her future or even past but a whole lot of dark silence and inability to move or speak. Morning happened once again and this time there was a familiar face sitting by her bed. ¡°Hey.¡± Maybe she was still grieving to answer back or just her worn out body but, she just looked at Simran. ¡°No need to talk. You are hurt but, everything will be fine.¡± Simi¡¯s voice cracked as she spoke further. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Aashi, I couldn¡¯t save your sister. Trust me I will not let you be harmed.¡± ¡°What did you do?¡± Simi was quiet for a long time and Aashia could get the hint of what she meant. There has to be a deal for both of their safety and as fair as that seemed, she was angry. ¡°Did you let them go?¡± ¡°Aashia, I had to make a choice. It was either to go behind their back and get Basha justice, or your life. I knew if I betrayed them, they would get us back.¡± ¡°I hate you.¡± Aashia¡¯s entire face was scrunched as she tried to hold back tears. ¡°Basha was dead but you were alive so, I chose you. They set up everything. Now everyone believes Basha died of blood clot in her brain. Everything is done, we can¡¯t do anything. I will feel the guilt of it my entire life so please be angry at me for as long as you want, just don¡¯t hate me.¡± ¡°How did they explain me?¡± ¡°Car accident.¡± ¡°Nonsense.¡± ¡°They have every resource to make any lie a truth. Trust me, I saw them do it. I was looking for every chance for a break and they knew what they were doing. It isn¡¯t the first time, I am sure.¡± Simran took and long breath while Aashia stared at the hospital room wall, not knowing where to proceed from where her sister had unwillingly left her. ¡°So, it¡¯s all a tale now? Truth of Basha¡¯s death? No one will ever know what happened to her?¡± ¡°He is a politician, a very dirty one and have an entire rail of powerful people around him. I wish I could help you. I saw my best friend die and I have been dying every second as I watched them cover it. But I know what I had to do and that was to protect you.¡± Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°How will I live like this? My sister is dead and he who killed her, is out there living his life as if he didn¡¯t end ours. He has to go.¡± ¡°You need to rest now. I will be right outside or I can stay here if you want.¡± ¡°No, go,¡± is all she said and Simi left the depressing hospital room for Aashia to ponder over what she wanted next. She couldn¡¯t see the future at all or at least the one she wanted to live in. If there was no future, there existed no reality where she wanted to build a life and, by the end of next visit of the doctor, she was left with only way she wanted to spend remaining of her breaths to. ¡®Watch those men suffer and cry and kill them as they wished she would forgive them.¡¯ She had no plan to execute it but she knew what she wanted as the picture of Basha, lifeless on ground won¡¯t leave her head. When she went home, Simran did not leave her side for a minute. Her tenant, Abhinav came by quite often with her with food and fruits, keeping his usual hyper self to minimal around her. ¡°I have to tell Milan about this.¡± Aashia said on her second week after being back from hospital. ¡°I tried reaching him but he is in Siberia and fucking unreachable at the moment. We have to wait for two more months until he returns and keep trying his phone just in case.¡± Simi said and opened her mouth to say more but closed it again. ¡°How¡¯s your father?¡± ¡°He is well, he is in shock. He wanted to check on all the investigation himself. I tried to keep him distant from all this.¡± ¡°Good. I don¡¯t want to drag him into this. It will all be figured out.¡± ¡°It¡¯s about all of our safety. Abhi is taking care of him.¡± ¡°Does he know? Abhinav.¡± ¡°He was suspicious and I was so low, I had to tell someone. I was allowing my best friend¡¯s murderers get away with it.¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t ask many questions.¡± ¡°I told him not to bother you. he is nice you know. When I¡¯m not here, you can talk to him, ask for help. He listens well.¡± ¡°You have grown quite fond of him. No longer the annoying tenant, huh?¡± Aashia smiled slightly and felt stranger to herself with that curve on her lips. Simi smiled back, but said nothing. It wasn¡¯t the life she wanted to life, she couldn¡¯t forget her sister¡¯s lifeless body, or the look of pride on that man¡¯s face. All these thoughts and multiple sleepless nights led her to Basha¡¯s room one day. For the first time after her death, she was entering her room and it made her nauseous. Her breathe caught up in her throat and heartbeat thumped loud through her chest. There was just one phrase in her head and despite all the efforts to hold back, she yelled out loud. ¡°I am going to kill them. I¡¯ll kill them Basha. I will kill all of them. You watch wherever you are. You watch them bleed and beg and I won¡¯t forgive them. I¡¯ll laugh in their face.¡± And that was all it took her for a long peaceful sleep on Basha¡¯s well made bed that Simi made sure to keep clean. Next morning, she brushed her hair and dressed herself us, more to Simran¡¯s delight than her own. ¡°You look good. Going to work?¡± ¡°Yes. I thought I have to start living and work it perfect distraction.¡± ¡°I am proud of you Aashi. I will drop you there.¡± ¡°Sure, thanks.¡± She felt normal for the first time and it wasn¡¯t because of cleaning up well or going to work. It also wasn¡¯t Simi¡¯s constant chitchat, where she let it slide out that she was indeed dating Abhinav. Aashia wasn¡¯t surprised, she knew for a while but decided to ignore under all the rubble of grief. ¡°It was a decent day at work. No one knew anything more than that her sister had died of some medical issues and looked at her with both pity and confusion. She almost felt like she was an alien among human and they were about to report her to I.S.R.O. Thankfully it went by fast with support from most of her colleagues. As the day came to an end her nerves started to kick in and she was more nervous that the start of the day. That entire night went by her researching the name of Harshit Arya. Every research that her sister did on him was gone and when she tried to reach her work, there was just one answer, that she had not submitted anything there. So, it was pretty clear, her sister¡¯s hard work was now a property of the man who killed her. Address was not difficult to get but there was fat security on door. It was something Aashia had expected too. His right-hand man and personal bodyguard went by the name Shakti Joshi. A 6¡¯5 man in his mid-forties with light brown eyes and short black hair. ¡°Hey, what are you doing here woman.¡± She was startled by a rough voice right by her head and immediately felt embarrassed with the look her hiding behind someone¡¯s car while spying on a politician¡¯s house might have given. He had medium length brown hair with quite visible greys and sharp nose. He had a box of fries in his hands that were begging to spill out. ¡°I was waiting for a friend.¡± The man shook his head as if he couldn¡¯t care less about what she was doing there. ¡°Whatever, wait somewhere else, this is my car and I have to leave.¡± He says stuffing his mouth with a bunch of fries. ¡°Sure.¡± Aashia took the vacant side of the footpath and he unlocked the door and sat on the driver¡¯s side, eating. After a few minutes of none of them moving on, Aashia decided to leave. ¡°I know why you are here.¡± The stranger¡¯s voice interrupted the evening traffic and Aashia turned to him more curious than scared. ¡°Fifty people come and leave disappointed from this road every day. You are not the first one.¡± She moved closer without saying anything, urged for him to continue. ¡°I was there once, didn¡¯t even have money to take rikshaw and two years later I have a car.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the trick to get job in the house of a politician of this calibre. Don¡¯t just cross their path and join your hands like you¡¯re begging. Cross their path in a way that they see your importance.¡± ¡°How did you do it?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t tell you everything.¡± By the last of his words. The box in his hand was mostly empty and he readying to pull the door close. Aashia couldn¡¯t contain it any longer and asked, ¡°You don¡¯t work here anymore, right?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Why are you here?¡± ¡°That fast food stall was my favourite when I lived and worked here. It still is. But remember, leaving can be a bit hard when they trust you too much.¡± That won¡¯t be a problem for Aashia, she thought. She went home that night, satisfied that she finally had a plan. A plan that might not work, but then there¡¯s always option to go back to the first one. It might take a little time but she was excited to see the same fear in Harshit Arya and Shakti Joshi¡¯s eyes that she imagined in Basha¡¯s before they killed her. She wanted them to feel that fear and beg to live. Basha must have. She never asked Simi all the little scenarios that to her sister being shot but she had the entire film on loop, in her head and she couldn¡¯t wait for the day justice would be served. The process Next, when she stood before the Arya residence, she had the entire Arya family, including the ones who didn¡¯t live there, memorised. Reema Arya was an attractive lady with good number of grey hairs and smile wrinkles around her lips. She almost always wore a saree, at least outside the house and was too careful to look at strangers. The homemaker wife who left every day at 11:00 a.m. for grocery shopping from farmer¡¯s market at the other end of the city. It seems she doesn¡¯t trust any of the twenty-five hired help for fresh food that could only be identified with her sharp dark eyes. Only a driver accompanied her but Aashia didn¡¯t want to eliminate the possibility of a fire arm just the way she didn¡¯t want to eliminate the idea of her being involved in everything her husband had his dirty hands in. Not that it mattered. She wasn¡¯t there to hurt his wife. Khatri market, the beloved market place of Reema Arya was most crowded between 11:00 a.m. to 04:00 p.m. and that¡¯s when Reema preferred to make her arrival at two holding a blue umbrella over her head and a man in driver¡¯s uniform holding empty basket in another hand. A woman of her order among common folks walking with her shoulder stern and eyes dulled as if joy of life has been depleted off her a long time ago. Her eyes not looking at anyone straight but wandering cautiously at the pile of vegetables and fruits as if no one was worthy of her attention or she wasn¡¯t brave enough to look them in the eyes. Her steps were slow and limp implying age related knees issues. He also had two sons and a daughter. The youngest was the son who was also an outcast. He left the house as soon as he finished his degree and now has a job in some Australian bank. He only visits once every year a few days after Diwali, meets his mother solo in some restaurant away from the house and leaves. This major plot was luckily broken by the couple who run food stall nearby the house. Apparently, most of the house help ate there quite often and people love a little gossip. Aashia wanted to know what shit went down in their family to have this tier of division but it was none of her concern and not something she wanted to distract herself with. Unless her primary plan fails, this information was useless. Oldest son was on the path of his father, the young politician. His identity was nothing but a puppy reflection of his Harshit Arya. It was pathetic to watch him even from the distance that Aashia did. On the higher note, he was getting married. Other than that, he went to farmer¡¯s market every few weeks inconsistently to talk to one particular vendor. Always the same one with watermelons. She was so far unable to get in on the secrets they exchanged as the conversations were often under the breaths with head far down into their neck. The vendor was smart too or just smarter than her. He didn¡¯t not budge when she tried to get his to say just one new statement about Mahiraj other than how good of a politician and human he was. Apparently, his parents were ill and he was helping with the financial needs which Aashia couldn¡¯t believe. A man so who was no more but a puppet of his murderer and what not father can¡¯t sympathise with a common man. She tried following the vendor but just like most, he lived in a small ghetto and she didn¡¯t find anything more than that he lived with a wife and two sons. Daughter, Anaya was the most confusing character of the entire household. She did not live with them but she visited often, she wasn¡¯t into politics but she was close to her father and mother but she was distant from both her brothers. She loved travelling though. Last foreign trip was to Italy just a month ago and Aashia learned this by not so secretly following her from the flat she shared with two of her friends to their college. She sat five meters away from them in the caf¨¦ and walked behind them in malls. If anything, her own life has taught her, adults are no smarter than kids, in fact they are worse. No one looked at her twice as she followed their group of often seven or eight every day for a week wearing different wig and makeup to hide majority of her real look every time. She wasn¡¯t surprised. It was always like that for her, always the invisible one even if she was the part of the group. She guessed it was her average height and size twelve benefit to always be the nonthreatening live statue of the room, something she loathed about herself for so long, now it was time to thank it. There was still a lot to learn about their family but a little more than a month of practical research gave her enough about where to start and solidify the mask of gone grief in front of Simi, Abhi and entire neighbourhood. Mr. Raj was unconvinced. He insisted she go for grief counselling but that¡¯s not what she needed. She did not want to make peace with her sister¡¯s death, she needed to avenge it. But despite her determination to do so, it was almost impossible to get inside their home. She didn¡¯t expect it to be easy but it annoyed her. ¡°I got hold of Milan today.¡± Simi placed the dirty dishes in the sink and wiped off her hands before approaching the table again. Abhinav¡¯s eyes were unflinchingly focused of her meanwhile Aashia continued scraping her plate. ¡°I told him about Basha. Not everything. He can¡¯t be back before next week even if he tries the hardest so that may give him time to calm down a bit. I don¡¯t know what to do to help him but I guess I owed it to him to not delay anymore.¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°You did right thing. He deserved to know as soon as possible.¡± Abhinav assured. ¡°Did he not insist to know how it happened?¡± ¡°I told him I couldn¡¯t say anything on phone. Poor guy. He was so excited to talk to her. He¡¯s been trying her phone for days. He said he tried you too Aashia.¡± This finally caught her attention. "Yeah? Right. I have been around my mobile for a while. I don¡¯t carry it to work.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I am just being in the moment, you know. Thanks for dinner by the way. It was delicious.¡± ¡°Abhi did all of it.¡± Simi smiled adoringly at Abhinav who reciprocated with a slight nudge to her side. Aashia remembered all these gestures of love between Basha and Milan and how she never understood what sort of pleasantries it provided to the companies involved but, she liked the ideas that Basha loved it. She loved when Milan rubbed her scalp when they all had a movie night. She loved it when he would put extra fries in her plate despite the protest. She loved burger and fries and, Milan loved her and they loved each other. Now none of it existed anymore because Basha was dead and her murderer was still alive, preparing for his son¡¯s marriage ceremony. How can he have the pleasure to fulfil his desires of lavish wedding for his son when he killed Basha and all her dreams. To none of their surprise, Milan landed in India and at Aashia¡¯s home a week later, grief ridden, enraged and demanding answers. Tears didn¡¯t stop rolling down his face as long as the story continued. Only then, they were replaced by confusion, as if he was asking, ¡®Seriously! You let that happen to you sister?¡¯ ¡°That¡¯s it? It¡¯s over just like that?¡± ¡°There is nothing any of us can do now.¡± Aashia tried to assure, to which he disgustingly scoffed. ¡°He is too powerful and we better stay away from them.¡± ¡°This has to be a joke. You can¡¯t be real here. You sister was killed, Aashia and you don¡¯t care.¡± It took every beat of her heart to not tell him she has not given up on her sister. That, she will get Basha what she deserved and that justice will be covered in the blood of all who took her away from them. But it was time to be calm. She couldn¡¯t drag Milan into it. He was a travel journalist who preferred to stay out of any political sides. Unlucky for him, he fell in love with a woman who couldn¡¯t stay away from it. ¡°I wish I could do something but Simi did what was best for rest of us and I think we should leave it at that. Try and get back to our lives.¡± Milan was rendered speechless by this response. He stayed for no longer than a few seconds which was only for the reason he was too stubbed to walk out. Aashia felt bad for him but there were more important tasks she needed to be concerned for. She considered telling him the truth once it was all over. Is that not what he would want too? Within next week, she started to get restless about how slow it was going. She has prepared herself for everything that might come and only looking for a way inside the house. Mahiraj¡¯s marriage was approaching and there was crowd of guests and performers going in and out of the house but everything was monitored closely by the security. She has taken the glimpse of it from outside but it wasn¡¯t enough. She was desperate for just one opening that would let her be the part of inside crowd. Outside of it, all was set. Her friends were convinced she was past the grief and was peaceful in her life. Luckily, they saw what she showed them. She did not hear from Milan after he stormed off a week ago but she did run into him once at the gate of society. She assumed he was there to meet Simran or Mr. Raj. They had good deal of commonality of interests they shared and Simi was the nicest person ever. Of course, she couldn¡¯t have anyone be angry at her and Milan must have seen her desperation to protect the people in her life after her best friend was murdered in front of her. Aashia couldn¡¯t get around the idea how she took care of her after such a traumatic incident but she had seen Basha deal with their parents¡¯ death the same way. Cooking meals for her, drowning into studies and work. Always moving and not a second of rest until end of the day body and brain gives up. Simi was not happy, it was obvious, but it seemed she felt lucky. She was alive, she somehow stopped them from killing Aashia, her father was oblivious and she had a boyfriend now. Other than a dead friend and lifetime of guilt, it was a perfect life. A new sim card and an old class keypad mobile phone was ready with only and only five numbers saved, Simran, Milan, Harsh, Abhinav which was highly unlikely to be used and for some reason, Basha. Summers are widely hated especially in north-western region and fairly enough. Extreme heat that you can basically fry omelette on car bonnet, water scarcity and looming fear of where the next natural disaster will hit. Basha always argued with whoever was willing to, that most natural disasters were human induced and Aaisha, although agreed to every level of it, never really put herself in the middle of these conversations. She liked to stay away from energy draining human who believed in their politicians way too much. Now ignorance was no longer an option. Each day passing made her feel like she was failing Basha. She was tired of waiting for a way other than just following them from a far. A way into their home, office, wherever, just into their life. She wondered if it was time to go ahead and introduce herself to him.