Morning light spilled pale through the curtains, but Ananya barely noticed. She had barely slept, her body alive with restless energy, her fingers tracing the outline of the book beneath her pillow again and again, as though it were a heartbeat she needed to keep in rhythm.
Today, she told herself.Today, I will read it.
The Moment Alone
Breakfast passed in a blur—her cousin gossiping idly, her mother reminding her about errands, her father's silence heavy at the table. She nodded at the right places, her lips moving on autopilot, but her mind was already upstairs.
The second she was allowed to return to her room, she locked the door with hands that shook too much to be steady.
The book sat waiting, innocent on the desk. The Secret Garden. How fitting, she thought with a wry little twist of her lips.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she flipped the cover, turned the first pages, careful but desperate.
And there it was.
A neatly folded slip of paper, thin as a secret whispered in the dark.
Riyan's Words
She unfolded it slowly, as though reverence could still the shaking in her hands. His handwriting—slanted, urgent, unmistakably his—rushed up to meet her.
"Ananya.If you're reading this, it means the world hasn't swallowed us whole yet. It means you're still fighting—and I am too.
They can lock you away, but they can't take you from me. Not here. Not in this ink. Not in the way your name burns through me every time I breathe.
I don't care about the walls. I don't care about the rules. You are mine. And I will find a way back to you.
Wait for me. Just a little longer.— R"*
Her throat closed around the words. Her chest squeezed so tightly she thought she might break.
It wasn't just the message—it was his presence. It felt like he was right there, his voice rough, his eyes burning into hers across the page.
The Flood
Her fingers pressed against the paper like she could soak him into her skin. Tears slipped hot and silent down her cheeks, but her lips curved into the smallest, fiercest smile.
She wasn't alone.She wasn't forgotten.
Every cruel silence, every watchful gaze in this house—it all cracked beneath this one truth: Riyan was still reaching for her.
She whispered his name once, softly, as though the walls might hear. Then she tucked the note close to her heart, hidden under her clothes, a secret shield no one could tear away.
A Spark in the Dark
When she returned to her desk, she slid the book back into place, careful as glass. But her eyes had changed. Her posture had changed.
For the first time in weeks, she wasn't only enduring. She was defying.
Because Riyan's words weren't just comfort. They were a promise. A spark.
And sparks, once lit, could burn even the strongest cages to ash.