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The night was heavy with silence as Sanaya sat alone in her room, her back to the door. The faint glow of her desk lamp illuminated her face, casting shadows that seemed to dance and twist with her thoughts. A journal lay open before her, its pages filled with a mix of neatly written notes and erratic scribbles.

Her pen hovered over the paper, but she didn't write. Her mind wasn’t on the present—it was on the past, a place she rarely allowed herself to visit. But tonight, she couldn’t avoid it. The events unfolding around her had begun to awaken memories she had tried to bury deep within her.

She closed her eyes, and the past came rushing back.

---

Four Years Ago

Sanaya was only 12 when the patterns in her life began to shift, but in reality, the darkness had always been there. Her family, from the outside, appeared like any other—well-off, respectable, living in a large, neatly kept house in a quiet neighborhood. But within the walls of that house, things were different.

Her father was a man of authority, a figure whose temper was unpredictable, but when it was bad, it was suffocating. He would come home from work with his usual air of superiority, expecting everyone to fall in line. His moods shifted like the weather, and just as easily as he could be kind, he could also become cruel. Sanaya had learned early on that there were no safe moments in the house, only brief respites between storms. She quickly realized that love was conditional—given only when she followed the rules, stayed silent, and stayed out of his way.

Her mother, on the other hand, was a shell of the woman she could have been. Once vibrant and full of life, she had become withdrawn, quiet, a mere spectator in the family's drama. She did not speak, did not intervene. Her silence spoke volumes, but no one dared to question it. Not even Sanaya. Her mother’s avoidance was its own form of cruelty—a constant reminder that she was alone.

At 12, Sanaya was just beginning to understand the weight of her family’s dysfunction. The beatings, the harsh words, and the endless cycle of emotional manipulation were part of the fabric of her life. Each day felt like walking on a tightrope, trying not to fall into the abyss.

She could never recall a time when her father’s anger hadn't been part of the picture. It was like the air they breathed. He would snap over trivial things—slamming doors, throwing objects, and yelling until his face turned red. But those moments were only the surface. The real damage was deeper. The emotional neglect, the suffocating silence after an outburst, the feeling that nothing she did could ever be good enough. Her father’s sharp words always lingered in her ears: “You’re worthless. You’ll never amount to anything.”

But it wasn’t just the words that hurt. It was the weight of the constant expectation that she would never be allowed to show weakness. She had to be perfect, or else she would pay. Sanaya quickly became skilled at hiding her emotions, burying her feelings deep inside. She learned that crying didn’t help. Being kind didn’t help. Nothing worked. The anger and tension in the house were like a thunderstorm waiting to break, and she was always bracing for the next strike.

By the time she was 14, things had escalated. Her father's fits of rage grew more frequent, and her mother’s distance became even more pronounced. It was no longer just physical punishment. There were days when her father would lash out emotionally, cutting her down with cruel remarks about her intelligence, her appearance, and her future. His eyes, filled with rage, always burned into her as though she was the sole reason his life had fallen apart. On those nights, she would retreat into her room, trying to numb herself with books or silence, wishing she could disappear altogether.

---

Present Day

Sanaya’s eyes snapped open, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She gripped the pen tightly, her knuckles white.

She had promised herself she would never let anyone have power over her the way her parents had. They had taught her early on that love was an illusion. Trust was a weapon. The belief that anyone would care for her unconditionally was foolish. The way they had torn her down, day after day, had shaped her into the person she was now—a person who would never let herself be weak again.

That was why she couldn’t let Maya interfere. And why Tushar was just another piece in her game.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was a message from an unknown number.

"You’ve been sloppy. Fix it. Or someone else will."

Sanaya’s blood ran cold. She stared at the screen, her mind racing. She had always been careful, meticulous. Who could possibly know what she was doing?

She quickly deleted the message, her hands shaking slightly. For the first time in years, she felt a sliver of fear.

---

The next morning, Sanaya was quieter than usual. At school, she went through the motions, her mask firmly in place. But inside, her mind was a storm.

In the library, she met Tushar for another study session. He greeted her with his usual enthusiasm, completely unaware of the storm brewing within her.

“You okay?” he asked, noticing her distracted demeanor.

Sanaya forced a smile. “Yeah, just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

As he began explaining another concept, she nodded along, her mind elsewhere. Who had sent that message? Was it Maya? Or someone else entirely?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Maya’s voice behind her. “Sanaya, can I talk to you for a second?”

Tushar glanced between them, sensing the tension. “I’ll grab a book from the shelves,” he said, excusing himself.

Sanaya turned to Maya, her smile now sharp and cold. “What is it?”

Maya crossed her arms, her expression resolute. “I know something’s going on with you. You’re not the same person you used to be, and I can’t just ignore it anymore.”

Sanaya’s smile faltered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Maya.”

“Don’t play dumb,” Maya snapped. “I saw the way you were talking to Tushar. And the rumors about him? They started right after you began hanging out with him. That’s not a coincidence.”

Sanaya stood, her posture tense. “You’ve always been paranoid, Maya. Maybe you should focus on your own life instead of meddling in mine.”

Maya’s eyes narrowed. “You can lie to everyone else, Sanaya, but not to me. I’m going to find out what you’re hiding. And when I do, you’ll regret it.”

Sanaya’s gaze hardened, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Careful, Maya. You don’t want to make me your enemy.”

Maya stared at her for a long moment before turning and walking away, leaving Sanaya seething with anger.

As Tushar returned to the table, oblivious to the tension that had just unfolded, Sanaya forced herself to smile. The web was becoming more tangled, but she wasn’t about to lose control.

If Maya wanted to play this game, Sanaya would make sure she didn’t survive it.

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