---
The walls of Rano aunty's house felt narrower than they actually were. Maybe it was because grief made everything heavy, or maybe because every corner carried whispers of pity that my sisters and I couldn't run away from.
Shalu sat on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees, her eyes swollen from crying through the night. Bani was different. She tried to sit upright, lips pressed together, like she wanted to be strong for us, but I could see the tremble in her fingers as she folded the bedsheets over and over again.
I wanted to say something comforting. Something Mama would've said if she were here. But when I opened my mouth, my voice cracked, and all that came out was a whisper:
"We'll be okay."
Shalu glared at me through her tears. "How? Tell me how, didi? Mama is gone. Papa is gone. And Rano aunty doesn't even want us here. You think I don't see the way she looks at us?"
Her words pierced me, but I didn't argue. She was right. Rano aunty's face twisted into pity only when people were around. Behind closed doors, her eyes were sharper than knives.
As if summoned by Shalu's words, Rano's shrill voice echoed from the doorway.
"Lakshmi! Come out. I need to speak with you."
I wiped my eyes quickly and followed her into the parlor. She sat on the sofa like a queen, her daughter Neha sprawled beside her, chewing gum and scrolling through her phone.
Rano tapped the table. "So, I heard your father left some documents. Property papers?"
My chest tightened. "Yes… Papa gave them to me before… before the accident."
"Good," she said, her eyes glinting with something that was definitely not motherly love. "Keep them safe. For your future. Who knows, they may bring you good luck."
Her smile was thin, practiced. I knew she wasn't thinking about my future. She was thinking about hers and Neha's. Still, I nodded, because arguing would only give her more reasons to make life difficult for my sisters.
---
Meanwhile, in another world—one filled with glass buildings, expensive perfumes, and fast cars—Rishi Oberoi slammed his phone onto his office desk.
"What do you mean the deal fell through?!" he shouted into the speakerphone, his voice echoing through the sleek conference room.
On the other side, his business associate stammered excuses about sudden financial issues. Rishi didn't even let him finish. He cut the call, raking a hand through his hair. His jaw clenched. This wasn't the first time something had slipped out of his control at the last moment.
"Rishi, calm down." A soft, honeyed voice slipped into the room before the glass door opened. Malishka.
She walked in, every step measured, her red heels clicking against the floor. She carried a bouquet of white lilies. "I thought these would cheer you up."
Rishi exhaled slowly, softening a little. "Malishka, this was supposed to be my breakthrough project. Now it's gone."
She set the flowers down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, resting her chin lightly. "You still have me, don't you? Maybe this is a sign that you need to stop working so hard and pay attention to the people who actually care."
Her words were sweet, but her eyes darted quickly to his reaction, hungry for reassurance.
Before Rishi could respond, the door burst open again. Ayush strolled in, grinning like he owned the place.
"Wow, wow, wow. If this is what heartbreak looks like, I need to get into more business deals," he teased, pulling a chair dramatically and plopping into it. "Brother, you look like you're about to fight a bull."
Rishi shot him a glare. "Ayush, this is not the time."
"It's always the time," Ayush replied, smirking at Malishka, who was clearly irritated. "Relax, dude. Stress will give you wrinkles, and then—poof—half the girls of Mumbai will cry."
Rishi couldn't help but let out a short laugh, the tension breaking for just a second. Malishka, however, folded her arms and looked away, her jaw tight.
---
Back in Rano's house, I found Shalu trying to sneak out to the backyard, tears threatening to fall again.
"Shalu, stop," I said, catching her wrist.
She pulled away sharply. "Why should I stop? Mama's gone, and you just keep pretending we'll survive this. Do you even believe the words you say, didi?"
Her voice cracked at the end, and suddenly she collapsed against me, sobbing into my chest. I held her tightly, blinking back my own tears.
Bani appeared in the doorway, holding Mama's dupatta in her small hands. She didn't cry. She just looked at me with wide, scared eyes and asked quietly, "Didi, where will we go if aunty throws us out?"
The question struck me like lightning. Because I didn't have an answer.
---
At the Oberoi mansion, Neelam Oberoi, Rishi's mother, was pacing the grand living room. Her saree shimmered under the chandelier as she clutched her hands together.
"This cannot go on, Virendra," she told her husband. "First the fire at the factory, then the accident at the site, and now this failed deal. It's not just bad business—it's misfortune. Something is wrong with my son's destiny."
Virendra sighed heavily, adjusting his glasses. "Neelam, don't overthink. These things happen in business. Rishi will bounce back."
Neelam shook her head. "You don't understand. A mother knows. I see the shadow following him. If we don't do something, it will swallow him whole."
Her words hung in the air like a prophecy.
---
That evening, Rano sent me out to buy some groceries. Shalu begged to come along, saying she needed fresh air. I agreed, mostly because I didn't want her to sit locked up, drowning in grief.
The market was crowded, the smell of spices and sweat mixing in the warm air. Shalu clutched my hand, her eyes darting nervously. I tried to stay calm for her sake.
But just as we turned the corner near Papa's old shop, my steps froze.
A group of men stood at the entrance, pulling down the shutters violently. One of them kicked the signboard until it splintered.
"No!" I gasped, running forward. "This is my father's shop! You can't—"
The leader of the group turned to me with a cruel smile. "Your father's debts are ours now. The shop belongs to us."
Shalu clung to my arm, trembling, as the men shoved me aside like I was nothing.
I fell hard onto the ground, my knees scraping against the dirt. My vision blurred with tears as I watched them claim the last piece of my father's legacy.
And in that exact moment—on the other side of the city—Rishi's car screeched to a halt in the middle of traffic as another streak of misfortune unfolded.
Two lives. Two storms. Hurtling toward each other.