Author's POV.
Night had fallen over the house, the silence only broken by the faint ticking of the grandfather clock. In the living room, Kaif sat stiffly on the couch, his jaw tight and his expression betraying that he was in no mood for idle conversation. Across from him, Sofia sat with an air of forced calmness, deliberately ignoring her husband's sour mood as she busied herself chatting with the young man sitting beside her — Zorain.
The quiet atmosphere was shattered the moment Isra stepped into the room. The click of her heels echoed against the marble floor as she entered, her expression sharp and unreadable. Sofia's eyes immediately flicked toward her, her voice carrying that familiar edge of authority.
"Where were you? Your college ends at 4 p.m. sharp. So after that, where exactly were you?" she asked, her tone stern, her gaze drilling into Isra.
Isra didn't even bother to answer the question. Instead, her eyes shifted past Sofia, landing squarely on her grandfather. Her voice was cool, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes.
"What's he doing here?" she demanded, her tone almost accusatory.
"Isra, listen, beta—" Kaif began, his voice gentler, attempting to pacify her.
"I asked something, Nanu. WHAT. IS. HE. DOING. HERE?" Her voice rose, each word sharper than the last.
"Your grandmother called him," Kaif finally admitted bluntly.
Isra let out a short, humorless laugh, one that didn't reach her eyes.
"Oh, finally. I guess I'm shifting to my parents' mansion tomorrow." She turned on her heel, ready to leave, but Sofia's voice rang out, firm and unyielding.
"You're not going anywhere. And Zorain will also live here."
Isra froze mid-step and turned back, her voice dripping with venom.
"And who the hell are you to order me?"
"Your grandmother," Sofia shot back, her glare unwavering.
That was it. THAT was the breaking point. Isra's blood boiled every single time Sofia had the audacity to call herself her grandmother, especially after her parents' death. She had swallowed this bitterness for too long — but tonight, she let it spill.
"ENOUGH WITH YOUR FUCKING DRAMA, MRS. RAZA. Mere liye sab mar gaye the jab maine apne mom-dad ko khoya tha, aur yeh mat bhooliye ki aap — aap ki wajah se marein hain wo dono." Her voice trembled with rage as she pointed an accusatory finger at her.
"Kya, kya chala jaata aapka? Agar us din aap isey—" she jabbed her finger toward Zorain, "—na mana karti unhe bachane ke liye."
Her tone became laced with bitter sarcasm.
"Oh, lekin main toh bhool gayi… paisa, yeh aish-o-araam ki zindagi jo aap aaj jee rahi hain, shayad wo na hoti."
"Apni hadein mat paar karo, Isra. Tum kuch nahi jaanti," Sofia warned, her tone sharp, but Isra only stepped closer, eyes blazing.
"Jab poocha tha toh bataya nahi. Aur ab? Ab mujhe jaan'ne mein koi dilchaspi bhi nahi hai."
"Tum wo sab bhool kar aage kyu nahi badh jaati?" Sofia's tone softened, as if attempting reason.
"Arey, nahi badhna mujhe aage. Kyu badhun? Kyu bhool jaun ki aapne mujhe yateem kar diya?"
"Maine kuch nahi kiya, Isra. Baat ko samjho — mai tumhe nahi bata sakti. Haan, mai janti hoon maine mana kiya tha, lekin wajah thi."
"I'm not interested in talking to you. Especially not about this topic," Isra spat, her voice cold. She began walking away but stopped abruptly, her gaze turning to Zorain.
"Bahut maza aata hoga na tumhe, jab bhi aate ho free mein tamasha dekhne ko milta hai." Her lips curled into a mocking smirk.
Zorain met her stare without flinching.
"Mujhe koi shauk nahi hai yahan aane ka aur tamasha dekhne ka. Main bas yahan apne grandparents ke liye aata hoon. Aur tamasha? Tamasha tum khada karti ho."
"Isra, jao aur rest karo," Kaif interjected, his tone laced with exhaustion.
"Tum kahin nahi jaogi," Sofia countered immediately.
Isra's lips curved into a challenge, her voice low and cutting.
"Dekhte hain."
And with that, she turned and strode away, her footsteps echoing in the tense silence she left behind.
Zorain's POV.
I walked into Raza Mansion after Grandma called me over. Honestly, I was still stunned that Isra had supposedly agreed to me staying here for a few days. That girl would rather set the whole place on fire than tolerate me under the same roof.
I sat with my grandparents, making small talk, before the curiosity got the better of me.
"Grandma, how the hell did she agree to this?" I asked, leaning back in my chair.
"She?" Grandma repeated, clearly buying time before answering. "Actually… she didn't. But she'll adjust once you're here for a bit. You'll be at your office most of the day anyway, and—"
Before she could finish, Grandpa cut her off sharply.
"Are you out of your damn mind, Sofia? Didn't you see her this morning? The moment I told her to let Zorain stay, she stormed out without even touching her breakfast. And now you're saying she'll adjust?" His voice was sharp enough to cut glass.
I immediately stepped in. "Grandpa, calm down. Don't get mad at Grandma. If this is going to be a problem, I'll just leave." The last thing I wanted was to stir up more drama right now. But deep down, I knew one thing — the moment Isra found out I was staying, all hell would break loose.
"No, you're not going anywhere," Grandma snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Isra needs to understand that this is your home too. It's already bad enough you live separately. Now, we'll live like a family. End of discussion."
Grandpa gave her a dry, sarcastic smile. "Really? Let's see how that goes."
Isra's POV.
What the hell is going on in this house? It's like the universe is conspiring against me. But one thing's for sure — there is no way in hell I'm going to share a roof with him. He's a coward. A traitor. He betrayed my parents.
I slammed the door behind me and fell onto the bed, my mind racing. I closed my eyes, but the rage bubbling inside kept me awake for a few moments. Then, finally, exhaustion took over, and I drifted into a sleep filled with tangled thoughts.
The next morning.
I woke up to the relentless buzz of the alarm — the sound grating on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. I slapped it off and dragged myself out of bed, my mind still clouded with last night's argument with Mrs. Raza.
I barely had the energy to care about anything this morning, but I dragged myself through a quick shower. The hot water did little to soothe the fire in my chest, but it was a small comfort.
Today was the day I was leaving. No more of this hellhole. No more pretending. So, I threw on my shorts and a crop top — comfortable, easy, and perfect for my getaway. No college today. I had more important things to do than pretend everything was fine.
I made my way downstairs, my stomach twisted in knots. Breakfast? Not happening. Not after everything that happened last night with that woman. I had no interest in sitting with them, pretending everything was normal.
I made my way toward the exit, determined to leave. But, of course, she had to stop me.
"Where are you going?"
Her voice was sharp, demanding, like she had some claim over me. Like she could tell me what to do.
I froze, glaring at her.
Words: 1257.