Ananya's world had shrunk.
Her mornings no longer began with the rush of campus air or the hum of voices in the corridor. They began with her mother's sharp knock, the rustle of the key turning in the lock, and the heavy silence that followed her every step.
Every movement was watched.Every word measured.Every glance chained.
Even at college, her cousin Aarav stayed close, his presence like a shadow at her side, his eyes sharper than any lock. He sat beside her in class, walked her to the canteen, and intercepted anyone who strayed too near.
It wasn't protection. It was a prison.
And she was drowning.
Ananya
The books on her desk mocked her.She used to read to escape, to slip into worlds where love burned free and the heroines chose their own fate. Now, her parents made her read scripture and "acceptable" texts, as though words could be a leash.
Her friends had grown quieter too. Some whispered pity when Aarav wasn't close enough to hear. Others avoided her altogether, afraid the whispers would stick to them.
But the worst silence of all was Riyan's.
She told herself he wouldn't give up. He couldn't. He wasn't built that way. And yet… days passed. Weeks. And all she had was the memory of his last touch, the promise in his eyes.
Her heart screamed to break free, but her lips stayed shut. For now.
The Routine
Wake. Watch. Walk to class. Return. Repeat.
It was a rhythm designed to crush. No late-night calls. No library breaks alone. No stolen minutes in quiet corners. Even her phone was monitored, her bag checked casually at random, as if they were waiting to catch her hand mid-crime.
But Ananya learned something in those days of suffocation—something her parents hadn't expected.
She learned how to mask her fire.How to bow her head while her mind stayed sharp.How to smile faintly while plotting in silence.
Because no cage could kill what burned inside.
The Spark
It happened in the library.
Aarav had trailed her as usual, sitting across the table with his laptop open, pretending to study while his gaze never strayed. Ananya buried herself in a pile of assigned texts, her fingers aching to touch the shelves where stories of freedom waited.
Then Kabir appeared. Casual. Easy. Just another boy on campus.
"Hey, Ananya," he said lightly, holding out a book. "Saw this and thought of you. You've read it before, right?"
The title hit her like a jolt.The Secret Garden.
Her heart stuttered. That book. That book.
She forced her hand not to tremble as she accepted it, keeping her expression flat, indifferent. "Thanks."
Kabir smiled, nodded, and drifted away as though nothing had happened.
Aarav didn't blink. He was too busy pretending not to watch.
But Ananya's pulse raced.
The book was heavy in her lap, heavier than any chain. Because she knew. She knew.
Somewhere in its pages, hope waited.
She didn't dare open it there. Not with Aarav's eyes on her. Not with the world's breath at her neck.
But her heart whispered one thing over and over:
Riyan hasn't left me. He's still here.
And for the first time in weeks, Ananya smiled—small, hidden, but real.