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VIHAAN SURYAWANSHI

“What’s wrong?” It’s the first thing that slips from my mouth as I rush up the stairs, two steps at a time, my phone still clutched in my hand. Just a minute ago, everything had been normal. I was finishing a business call from the balcony when I saw Aavya and Anaaya talking in the hallway downstairs. Nothing looked out of the ordinary—if anything, I almost smiled at the sight of them together.

But the next second, a loud slap echoed through the house. Now, I’m standing at the edge of a storm I don’t fully understand. Anaaya is the first one I see clearly. Her head is turned slightly to the side, a visible red imprint blooming across her cheek like a cruel mark of war. Her eyes glisten—not with tears, but shock. Maybe anger.

“Nothing,” she says flatly, as if that answers anything. “I just asked her for something she owns.” Her voice drips with something—resentment? Bitterness? I barely hear her because my attention has already shifted. Slowly, cautiously, I turn to Aavya.