I FALL INTO someone's arms. He quickly pulls me in, wrapping me up in his arms like a shield. But the world? is collapses into chaos as gunfire rings around us out of nowhere.

Bullets numb my senses, leaving me momentarily oblivious to the beginning of horror. The rains of violence begin; I cling to him fervently. I can feel his hands gripping my waist protectively, like solid rocks, and he quickly moves and hides the reality of the bullets in front of them. My ears are ringing with the loud sounds of gunfire and the crack of bullets. I forget what heart racing feels like.

I inch as much as I can close to protect myself; my hands grasp his blazer, pressing me into his torso, feeling his arms wrapping around me.

We hold each other tightly. "Sshh, you got me," I faintly hear.

His grip around my waist as I hold his shirt with both hands and press my head against his chest. "Sshh, relax."

The strong smell of gunpowder mixed with Tapish's scent hits me hard, and he wants me to relax?

My heart races with the sound of his breath close to my ear. The deadly sounds of gunshots produce a terrifying epic.

The hallway turns into a violent storm, and all I can do is cling to him. I can hardly take it all in; everything is so intense. And every nerve in my body screams for me to hold on for my dear life. Desperately finding safety, whoever can save me.

I'm talking about guns, and guns take lives.

All of my ideas are completely drowned out by the sounds, then a gunshot flies past us... Tapish pulls me even farther into his arms. When I gaze into it, I notice blood starting to pour from somewhere, as his white shirt is now totally drenched with blood. I feel his arms weaken around my waist, shedding their grip.

The bullet has wounded his hand. Everything goes black.

Everything is darkening because Tapish's men have entered the club, whereas Monty thought he could easily escape.

Sometimes men with guns are way too stupid. I have a brief look as more men in dark suits enter. I begin to fear as I am confronted with reality that everything just finally comes to a stop; the violence now stops

"Tapish," I whisper his name.

"Are you okay?" He asks while he shivers, his hand is in a pain, and his eyes are now completely red; he is covered in sweat. With the pain he tries to speak.

The surrounding chaos is too intense, but all I can focus on is the guy whom I met recently. I reach out to touch his trembling hand, wanting to offer some comfort.

I want to cry but feel too weak to cry, so I nod at him. "You are bleeding," I whisper, my voice choked with emotion. "It's nothing... and your friends are safe. Go home," he says.

His voice is weak too, but there is a determination in his words. I pause for a second. "But you have bullets in your arms. How can I leave you? You need to go to the hospital. Come we take you there."

Tapish has a chuckle, but the pain shoots back. "I'll be alright."

Reluctantly, I release his hand as he tries to take himself away from me. I can't help but then look back.

Where are my friends?

"Sai..." I cry for help, but I see them unhiding themselves from weird corners and racing towards me... and I haven't.

I'm still in his arms; more like he's still holding me than I thought he would.

"God, what just happened?" They all look around. I do the same and see Monty and his gang memeber are all either wounded and lying on the ground or being held up by a few men. It's probably Tapish security.

"They are... are they?" I stammer as I see Monty lying in blood, and his leg is injured. "They're alive." Tapish begins to stand on his legs, taking me with him.

"Wait, what about the hospital?" I gaze into his eyes and begin to caress his hands.

But he disregards me.

"My team will drop you home." He considers my friends, and I see them nodding.

"But your..."

"Ms. Sahej, go home," he adds as he moves back from me to his people.

"Sej, come..." Preet and Sai hold my hands. "You guys are okay?"I hold on to them while Nil and Pratik support each other's shoulders.

Nil gives Pratik a light hit on his shoulder. "Dude, we were just a few steps away from the graveyard, and you were asking, 'Are we okay?'" Nil says, maintaining his humor.

As we start walking, after a few steps, I turn around to look at Tapish, finding him talking to his men, who are taking care of the wounds and helping him tear the shirt from his bicep. Soon, a few men approach him with a medical kit.

Going to the hospital means a police case.

  ✦✦✦  

Ｎｅｘｔ Ｄａｙ

☕︎

All I can think about is the incident that happened at the club last night. It was different; I never thought Pratik would start taking drugs.

Today, I skip my studio like usual and love to spend time at home, painting and shopping for art kits online. I control, but the thing that is not in my control is the security team of my house, which is so tight.

I feel like even if I have been living alone since I came back from London, I still don't have the freedom to breathe.

I told my dad that I didn't want to be conspicuous under the eyes, but he didn't listen to me.

So the only thing that is special for me is my atelier, my work space. It's a little hidden from security's eyes. Nobody's allowed here. It's a strict no-go zone for everyone who works here. So that I can walk around in whatever clothes I am in with the paint stains on my clothes and skin.

Well, I don't live in my father's house; instead, I live on my big private property with four big walls protecting it. With all driveways.

So, this property belongs to my mom.

Gitanjali Mansion is divided into two sections. The main house is in the center of the yards.

The front yard is cool. You can totally throw a party with, like, 300 people.

But the backyard is my love, as it has my small little atelier, where I do my artwork. It also has an exit door that leads out to one of the driveways that connect to the front, followed by tall trees on the edges. It's the perfect spot for me to take off for a long run, usually a few miles. I just love being out there with all those trees around.

I reach the atelier through the back entry of my house and start setting up the wooden easel stand and chilling on the opposite side of the door, then the canvas.

I've got to make sure it's all snug on the wooden frame with the help of the giant clips. Now, I'm deep into the brushstrokes, totally in the zone.

And guess what I am painting?

It's that artwork I posted online—the one that Tapish liked. Meanwhile, some laid-back lo-fi beats are playing in the background, setting my art vibes. I'm in my art groove, not even paying attention to anything.

My phone buzzes.

Dad: Meet me at my office. We need to talk.

Whoa, I didn't expect this.

I take a deep breath while gazing at the nameplate on the door: CEO Dhananjay Luthra.

What is it that he needs to talk about?

Now, rather than just barge in, I take a minute to think. The coming disagreement is waiting for us inside. I walk in to find him clinging to his desk with some paperwork. The sound of my heels finally breaks his focus. He closes the files, rounds the chair, and goes for the hug.

"Dad," I hug him back. "Please, don't get angry."

He unwraps his arms and gently says, "Sahej, God."

It's annoying how love soothes a few nerves of mine, and a hug always squeezes air out of me.

"Dad, please... I'm so sorry."

He seems a bit emotional as he looks into my eyes.

"Sahej, are you okay?" His voice cracks slightly.

"Dad, you are asking as if your men didn't inform you about anything."

His mood now looks better.

"Listen, Butterfly, I'm only allowing you to be friends with Pratik because he's the son of my business partner. But remember, if he ever pressures you to drink something, just don't drink it. Otherwise, I won't tolerate him. Do you understand?"

His words are sharp, clear, more authoritative, and heavy.

"Are you listening, Sahej?" Dad repeats.

"Yes, Dad, but I assure you, he isn't like that. He never pressures us to try anything. Dad, he's a nice guy."

"Fine, if you say so."

"Thank you, Dad."

I hug him.

"Please come home. Your mom is missing you."

Now this is the moment that makes me disheartened, and that's why I was avoiding facing him.
"She is not my mom, Dad; Mom died years ago," I say with ache in my eyes.

"But she loves you," he says concerningly.
"I know, Dad, but I just can't call her Mom. You need to understand. I like her too and have accepted her. But her family, I can't."

"Please don't force me." I walk to leave but don't know why I turn and find him looking down, upset and sad. "Dad, I am happy where I am right now. In fact, I am more than happy."

"Fine, Sahej, if you say so, but you know Luthra Mansion is your legacy, just like Gitanjali Mansion, and my legacy is your birthright. It pains me to see you turn your back on it."

My father's voice trembles. "I understand your hesitation, Sahej, but sometimes you have to look beyond the flaws of others and focus on the love and support they are offering."

I stop for a moment, feeling a mix of some weird emotions holding me.

I just know Dad won't get it. "No, Dad, the only thing that's really mine... is my studio. That's it. I don't want the property you own, because..." I just stop myself from saying that every that's his is made out of blood. The reason I'm living on my mom's property, gifted by her grandfather, is because I don't have any other options, and the story I don't want to relive is dangerous and complicated.

"Dad, take care... I will see you soon."

I start walking out of the door, but his voice stops me. "Sahej."

I turn around to face him.
"Yes, Dad."

"And there is one more thing. No one can hurt me better than you. You are my weakness, but if you hide anything from me, know that I've got something in my mind. One lie and you'll do what I ask. You can't say no." I hear a warning under his words as he looks me in the eyes. I have understood how my father's warning works, and right now his words are really serious.

I feel a pit form in my stomach as I meet my father's intense gaze.

"No, Dad, I am not hiding anything." I say, and once again, the one who hates lies and follows her principles has to lie. Because if Dad gets to know this, my friendship with Pratik will be over. I can't lose my friends. No...no...no.

It's not that I'm confident that Pratik's dad won't talk about what his son has recently been consuming with my dad. Like every father, he also wants to protect his son.

As for Tapish Adyanthaya, why would he tell? He gives off the impression of a man who gives a fuck.

✦✦✦

⏾

I usually hang out in a rooftop cafe of the Talwars Grand Hotel, which flows beneath the sky with 12,000 blud into Jashnpur Street.

By the way, Tapish's father is the owner.

I have dinner there after visiting Dad and the studio. Last night, my friends, they'd bombarded me with calls and texts about what happened last night and my reason for leaving the party in the middle. But while talking, I noticed Pratik wasn't replying to anything, just leaving emojis on Preet's replies.

"Are you okay? You said your dad wanted to meet you." Sai asks, looking more worried than curious. "Sai, I'm fine," I gently assure her, and Preet hugs me from behind, uncharacteristically silent.

Concerned, I ask, "Preet, what's wrong?"

"I was scared for you," she admits. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what Pratik was into."

Preet is the closest to Pratik, and even she had no idea.

"It's okay, no one knew," I whisper, recalling the blurred images of Monty entering and saying shittily, and then something clicks with me. I scan the Food Hall of E, looking past the marble counters to see if they're still in line.

"Where are Nil and Pratik?"

"They're not coming," Sai reveals.

"What? But why?"

"Pratik's dad detained him," Preet shares.

So he did talk to her off the group chat but didn't respond to us.

"Detained? Like, literally?" I ask in a daze.

Shit, I always knew it was going to happen. His dad always does that instead of talking to him with love and care. He is always harsh. But I guess. His dad might not be totally wrong. Pratik is someone who is very hard to handle.

"Yes, he found out about what Pratik bought from Monty, and about Nil, I don't know," Preet clarifies.

"Did you guys call him this morning?" I ask.

"Yes, we did. He said he's going on a trip," Preet replies.

"A trip? Without us? With whom?"

"With some girl," Sai says, rolling her eyes.

"Well, someone's jealous," Preet teases.

"Shut up, silly. And look who's talking!" Sai retorts, playfully poking Preet's arm.

"Girl, you know what? How about we go to a movie?" I suggest.

"Yeah, that's too great an idea." Preet feels excited.

✦✦✦

⏾

By the time my car has crossed the security, it's about past ten. I'm letting my car move and not stopping by to know why the private security agents of Dad are here and standing by mine, conversing casually. Sure, Dad has arrived, waiting for me inside, but at this hour? I don't know.

The driveway takes me up to the mansion, and I see Dad's car parked near the entrance. Once I step out, it's not surprising that Dad's driver stops me to inform me that my dad's waiting for me.

I enter and find my dad is already seated on the sofa with a newspaper in his hand when I come to a stop by the great hall.

Such a dad thing.

I find the kitchen lights on, and there stands Mridula Aunty, my cook and my support system, who manages my home. She passes me a glass of water, not before giving me a knowing look. "I was waiting for you. Do you want me to stay?"

"Oh no, Aunty, it's too late; you should sleep. We'll meet in the morning. Good night."

"Good night."

After she leaves, I turn around and see my dad carefully folding the newspaper; he glances up and places it on the side table.

"You here? At this hour? Everything alright?"

"Come, sit. We need to talk." He waves me over, looking serious. Placing one leg over the other, he deliberately puts his phone aside, signaling that this conversation needs his full attention. Yes... I am in trouble. Sweat starts to form on my palms, showing just how uncertain everything feels right now.

My dad is a man of various moods—sometimes exuberant, occasionally enraged, and at times deeply sentimental. These little details come up, especially when he's upset with me. When he can't express it openly, he gives this deadpan look.

"What's wrong, Dad?" I ask him, taking it slow as I walk closer. I chose to sit on the adjacent sofa, eyeing him directly. The air thickens. If Dad is here, it must be for something important.

"Do you remember what I told you? Not to hide anything from me."

"What are you talking about?"

He rises abruptly from the seat. "I had said this, right?" he continues, the edge of irritation creeping into his voice.

"Who told you about this?" I ask with curiosity. My mind races through possibilities, overlooking my friends because I'm so sure they cannot do that; they can never say, "Tapish?"

Of course, yes.

"Really? Sahej? Whoever told me that is not important. But I am finding out about it last. This is important; how many times have I asked you, but you hide it from me?"

As the realization dawns that he's aware of more than I thought, I inch closer to understanding the depth of the situation.

"You do remember what I said—that you have to listen to me. Listen very carefully, Sahej. Either come with me to your house or..."

"Dad," I jump in right away because I feel like what's happening needs me to pay attention now.

"I'm not done; let me finish. Yes, whoever I say, you will have to date."

My heart skips a beat as my father's words once again make me just want to run.

I must find a way to assert my own autonomy and break free from the suffocating grip of his expectations.

"Dad, that's not going to happen. You are challenging me, knowing that I won't accept either."

"You will have to accept, butterfly."

"First, all your friends, especially male friends, are addicts. And they had the audacity to invite you to that party and give you a party drug?" Dad lets out a frustrated sigh and turns around, his anger showing. But he maintains a lower voice as I adjust myself on the couch.

"Dad, it wasn't a party drug or anything like that."

"Don't smart-mouth me, Sahej; I very well know what he takes."

"Dad, please don't do this," I implore, my anxiety escalating with every word.

"I need to make sure you are safe if I am not around, and I know who that can work for me."

"Dad, I don't need anyone's protection. You cannot force me," I declare, my frustration seeping through.

"I am not forcing you. Tapish likes you, so why not?" He says so casually.

Wait, what? Who?

"Who?"

"Tapish Adyanthaya, my business partner. He likes you, and I don't trust a single man near you more than him. He's young and fit, and you both look perfect together."

My father's words have left me even more bewildered. Tapish?

The revelation sinks in. "Dad, just because he has guns doesn't mean I'm weak and he's strong. It feels like you're doing this not only because you want me back, but also maybe because you feel guilty about Mom's death. It's like you didn't show her the love she deserved. But don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I'm actually really happy in my life, just like you are with your new family," I express, making my voice strong enough to make him understand.

I am so sorry, Dad, but I had no choice but to utter the truth.

"Sahej." He raises his voice more defensively.

"Yes, Dad," I respond, acknowledging my words were too harsh. But I can't have it back.

"You always think wrong about your dad and hurt him. Okay, you're my daughter, so I won't say anything. But every time I've listened to you, I did what you said, but not this time. That bastard—how dare he try to drug you? Sahej, just say yes to the date, and I'll handle the rest."

"Do you seriously think that if I have to say yes or no to the date, I'll be telling you and not him? No, I will tell him by myself."

I take a pause. "We've only met twice, and he said he likes me. What's the logic behind this? Don't you think something is fishy?" I say that my gut is telling me that there's more.

"No, I don't think so. You're Sahej Luthra—beautiful, smart, high-standard, talented, well-mannered, classy, and, more importantly, my butterfly. Anyone can easily fall in love with you, but I'm the one who will approve, and I've approved him for you."

Dad's so proud of his choice; his face tells it.

As I absorb my dad's words, I find myself questioning the dynamics at play. "Dad, please, I know you can do anything, but you'll never force me. Don't do this."

I am feeling helpless.

"Sahej, I'm not saying you should go and get married. I can never tell you that. That's your decision. But I'm just saying that Tapish said he's interested in dating my daughter, which no guy had ever had the guts to straightforwardly say before, so I just gave it some thought. I'm interested. You can just go on a date with him and spend some time together. And if you don't like him then, just say a simple NO." He says so casually, as if it were just a harmless task.

"Okay, fine, fine. I will think about it, but just one date, okay?"

"Great, I will let him know."

"No, Dad. I will talk to him."

"Okay, that's fine too."

. . . . ╰──╮𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪╭──╯ . . . .

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

XOXO💚

streetlight389 ❤️‍🩹