A flickering light from the streetlamp painted shadows across the room, but Piya's thoughts were darker. She hugged her knees, staring blankly at the opposite wall, the bed untouched. Rest was out of reach—too risky, too tempting to invite more nightmares.

Her phone buzzed beside her, the screen illuminating her face. She glanced, heart hopeful. Tara's name flashed, but the late hour marked a missed opportunity. Instead, she pressed her fingers against the screen, typing a message and erasing it almost instantly. What could she say? 'Hey, just checking in'? A facade too thin to hold.

The silence loomed thick, wrapping around her. The distant hum of the city wound through the window, an indistinct reminder of life outside. Gripping the edges of the couch, her thoughts drifted.

"Rahul, we can't let this slip. Piya needs the best, somewhere she can thrive."

JR's voice from that day echoed in her mind, sharp and definitive.

"Do you think she's ready? She is still recovering - " Rahul's tone dipped with concern.

"Ready? We don't have time for that. We need to make this happen. She needs education, a job later and maybe a house. A deal is a deal and Jai Raj Saxena never backs from one "

Her heart pulsed faster. Piya closed her eyes, squeezing the memories until they blurred. JR's words potent with indignation and intent had been lightning strikes. They had carved themselves into her consciousness deeper than even her grief.

Tears threatened to spill as she recalled Meena's laughter, the warmth of her love. Meena never let Piya feel the absense of a father figure. He had died in an accident when she was a todler. Piya pressed her palms against her temples, trying to obliterate the images that stormed her mind.

"I am not sure" the image of the day's meeting room superimposed the memories of her mother." Rahul all this looks great on paper," Kapoor drawled, " but can your, Ahh 'team' excute this?

Rahul's reponse was silence and a long stare. Kapoor wiggled in his chair, "I am sure Ms Sharma and her team will deliver" he finally mumbled.

The patronizing emphasis on "Ms Sharma" pierced through Piya like a knife. She felt the weight of his gaze, the unspoken judgment that she was less than capable because she couldn't speak. Piya's breath caught as she thought of the way he had dismissed her contributions, the way his eyes averted, as if she were invisible. That dismissal echoed louder than all the words she had wanted to shout.

Trembling, she rose, pacing the length of the room, resisting the urge to drown in despair. Each step echoed the distance she needed to maintain, a chasm forged by her resentment.

"I'm not a charity case!" She whispered fiercely into the emptiness.

The phone buzzed again. Another chance to connect.

"Piya, your programming skills—unmatched," Zoltan's encouraging words bounced through her head from a different time, in a different place. " Just heard we signed on the dotted line, you rock buddy"

Piya smiled against the mobile. Zoltan continued his monologue, aware that he had a captive and an appreciative audinece. " You don't know how long we worked to get this contract. We should celebrate at the best bistro in town. I'll even let you choose the dessert. You could have your pick of Tiramisu or, perhaps, those delightful little pastries with the raspberry filling!"

Piya's smile got bigger, she did love the desserts Budapest had to offer. She nodded in agreement, imagining the raspberry pastries melting on her tongue, but reality pulled her back, chain-like. There was no celebration; she was alone in Vienna, uneasy with her past.

Zoltan said good night and disconnected the call. Piya turned away from her phone, a knot tightening in her stomach as the echo of laughter from the restaurant they had visited together rang in her ears. Zoltan's enthusiasm felt like a cruel reminder of her own isolation.

The thought of accepting help from Rahul gnawed at her insides. His compassion might as well have been shackles.

"I can't be who they need me to be." Her breath caught as tears slipped down her cheeks.

'What do they want from me? A smile? An acceptance? Gratitude?