Flashback Continued...

The rain poured harder. Siddharth’s footsteps echoed as he followed her, each step heavy, reluctant, like he was dragging the weight of a thousand battles. He spotted her under a trembling street lamp, barefoot, drenched, heels dangling loosely in her hand, spinning like she was trying to dance away her demons.

“Avneet!” His voice cut through the storm.

She looked up, blinking at him through the haze of alcohol and rain. And then, instead of fear or shame, she let out a laugh, loud, reckless, wild.

“Well, well,” she slurred, throwing her arms out dramatically. “The knight in a black suit… chasing me in the rain. Tell me, Siddharth… is this fate, or are you just obsessed with me?”

She stumbled forward, nearly falling, but caught herself against his chest. Her wet hair stuck to his face for a second before he pushed her back firmly.

But she blocked him, swaying slightly, eyes glittering with mischief. “Cold, cold Siddharth. You think I can’t see through you? That you don’t care? Please. If you really didn’t care, you’d let me drown out here. But you…” she poked his cheek with her finger, giggling drunkenly, “you’re so stiff. So angry. Like a volcano just waiting to explode.”

He caught her wrist midair, his grip firm, his eyes burning into hers. “Stop it, Avneet. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

For a heartbeat, she grinned wider, leaning close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath despite the rain. But then something shifted. Her smile faltered. Her eyes grew watery, glossy with unshed tears.

“You’re drunk,” he snapped, his voice like steel. “Go home before you do something stupid.”

“Stupid?” she repeated, tilting her head with exaggerated curiosity. Her mascara had bled into shadows under her eyes, but her smirk was still there. “Oh, Siddharth, everything I do is stupid, isn’t it? That’s what you think. That’s what they all think.” She jabbed a finger against his chest. “But you still came running after me, didn’t you? Couldn’t just walk away?”

“Enough,” he growled, trying to step around her.

Siddharth’s jaw tightened, but he remained calm. “Avneet. This is not the place. You are drunk.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” she shot back, stumbling forward and nearly knocking over nothing. “Because ever since you showed up in my life, Siddharth… everything’s gone to shit!”

Siddharth said with deliberate calm. “You’ve had enough to drink. Stop talking already or you will regret it tomorrow.”

But Avneet wasn’t finished. She jabbed a finger at him, her voice cracking between laughter and anger. “No, no, don’t do that! don’t do your holier-than-thou act with me. You walk around with this,  like you’re better than all of us. Like you’re some… saint surrounded by sinners. But you’re not, Siddharth. You’re not better. You just…” Her lip trembled. “You just make me feel like I’m worse.”

Siddharth didn’t flinch. He simply looked at her, his voice calm but firm. “You’re drunk. Go back to your hostel.”

“Ohhh,” she giggled, sliding into the booth beside him, nearly knocking over nothing... "The cold, saintly Siddharth. Always telling me what to do. Always… judging me.”

Avneet tilted her face. Her words came out softer now, shakier. “Do you know… ever since you walked into my life… everything has gone wrong?” She gave a bitter laugh. “I was the queen, Siddharth. Untouchable. Everyone wanted me, everyone envied me. And now… look.” She gestured around vaguely. “I’m standing here, drunk out of my mind, alone. Faisu’s gone. Jannat’s gone. Everyone’s gone.”

Siddharth’s eyes darkened. He stepped closer, voice low, controlled. “Are you done humiliating yourself?”

But she laughed, bitter and hollow. “Don’t you get it? They all left me. Faisu. Jannat. My friends. My people. One by one. And maybe... maybe it’s because of me. Maybe I am the selfish bitch they say I am. But it started when you walked into my world. Ever since then… everything I touch breaks.”

“I don’t have anyone anymore.” Her voice cracked, raw, almost childlike. “Faisu’s gone. Jannat too. My best friend. My boyfriend. Both… gone. They left me. Everyone leaves me.” Her lips trembled as tears mingled with the rain. “And now… now I’m just—” she hiccupped, clutching his shirt with trembling fingers, “just alone.”

Her knees buckled, and before she could hit the ground, Siddharth caught her. She collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest, fists clutching his shirt like a lifeline.

Siddharth stood frozen, rain soaking him through, her voice cutting into him sharper than any blade. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched, but he didn’t push her away. Not this time. For the first time, he let her lean on him, her sobs muffled against his chest.

“I act like I don’t care,” she mumbled against him, broken, drunk, helpless. “Like I’m untouchable. But it hurts, Siddharth. It hurts so much… every night it eats me alive. And I’m so tired of pretending.”

She turned her face to him suddenly, her eyes glassy but burning. “It’s because of you. You make me question myself. You make me… feel small. Like all of this—” she waved at herself, the dress, the attitude “—is just fake. And I hate you for that.”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She quickly laughed to cover it, but it was hollow. “See? You even ruined my laugh. Congratulations, Siddharth. You win.”

For a long moment, Siddharth said nothing. He studied her, the drunken mask slipping to reveal something raw, fragile.

“You think I ruined you? No, Avneet. You were already breaking. Don’t blame me for the ruin you built with your own hands. Stop looking for saints and devils when the only person you need to confront is yourself. I just held up the mirror.”

Avneet blinked at him, her smirk faltering. The words pierced deeper than she wanted them to. She opened her mouth to snap back, to laugh it off, but nothing came.

Her lips parted, and for a second the playful smirk faltered. She looked at him, really looked at him, like she didn’t know whether to slap him or cling to him.

Instead, she stumbled back a step, hiding the crack in her façade with a lazy shrug. “Whatever,” she muttered, tossing her hair like it didn’t matter. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.

And with that, she pushed herself up, wobbling as she tried to regain her usual confidence. But Siddharth could see it, the crack she tried to hide, the storm inside her that even alcohol couldn’t drown.

"Fuck it..." Siddharth muttered to himself and carried her in his arms in bridal style as she succumbed into him like a baby hiding her face in his chest as rain poured hard.

The world blurred around them, the storm, the passing headlights, the distant sound of laughter from the bar. All he could hear was her broken voice, all he could feel was her shaking body in his arms.

Finally, when her sobs softened into hiccups, he sighed heavily, the sound almost lost in the rain. With a roughness meant to hide the care in his actions, he scooped her into his arms.

She stirred, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “See?” she slurred with a crooked smile, eyes half-lidded. “You do care. Even if you pretend you don’t.”

His lips pressed into a hard line. He said nothing. Just tightened his hold and kept walking.

People stared as he carried her through the streets, some whispering, some smirking. But Siddharth’s cold, dangerous glare was enough to silence them all.

By the time they reached her hostel, she was half-asleep, murmuring nonsense. He set her down gently at the gate, steadying her when she swayed.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him with that same drunken innocence. “Don’t leave me too…” she whispered, barely audible.

For the first time that night, Siddharth froze. The words stabbed through his armor, left a crack in the wall he’d built so carefully around himself. His heart stuttered, but his face remained unreadable.

Without a word, he tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear rough then turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the rain.

Behind him, Avneet leaned against the gate, eyes closing, a faint smile tugging at her lips even as fresh tears fell. She didn’t remember all she had said, but her heart knew she had bared too much.

And Siddharth, as he disappeared into the storm, carried her words with him like a scar he couldn’t erase.