Previously on Niraya: The Past...
Kabir gets home. His mother tells him to drop it. He doesn't.
"We could leave. Both of us. I can work, you can work—"
"You're fourteen. You don't understand how the world works."
She walks out of the kitchen before he can argue back.
He goes upstairs. Watches Walking Dead. Does homework. And then — the front door. Heavy footsteps. His father's voice, slurred and too loud.
"I work all day, all night, for what?"
The slap echoes up the stairs. Kabir gets up. Walks to his door. Hand on the knob. And freezes. He's fourteen. His father is twice his size. So he just... stands there. Listening to his mother cry. Hating himself for it.
Morning acts like nothing happened.
School brings a surprise — prize money. Five hundred rupees each for the singing competition. Kabir hands his entire envelope to his mother without blinking. "Buy something for yourself. Something you want." She cries a little. Gives him two hundred back. He doesn't fight her on it.
Then he looks out the window.
His father's car. A stranger in the passenger seat. A thick envelope changing hands. Stacks of cash shoved into a duffel bag. The stranger walks away without looking back.
His father looks up.
Their eyes meet through the glass.
Kabir steps back. Heart hammering. His father comes upstairs, bag over his shoulder, and stops in the hallway. The zipper gives. A stack of bills hits the floor.
Neither of them moves.
His father picks it up slowly. Looks at Kabir. And says, almost gently —
"I hope one day I'll tell you who I am. Or maybe you'll figure it out yourself. Either way... you'll understand the business."
He closes his bedroom door. Kabir stands frozen in the hallway until his mother calls him for class.
At the studio, Rohan's already waiting to twist the knife — "Not so perfect today, golden boy?" Kabir forgot his sheet music. The whole room laughs. He sits down next to Avni and says he's fine. He isn't.
He misses his cue. Then misses it again. Mrs. D'Souza stops the whole class.
Avni puts a hand on his arm. Vihaan leans in. But Kabir can't hear either of them.
All he can hear is his father's voice.
You'll understand the business.
Something inside him had shifted. Something had broken. And he didn't know how to put it back together.
NOW
The chaat stand was busy, the air thick with the smell of fried dough and tamarind.
Kabir sat on the bench outside, a plate of pani puri in front of him that he hadn't touched.
Avni and Vihaan were on either side of him, laughing about something—Vihaan had just told some story about his cousin's wedding disaster—but their voices felt far away.
Kabir's mind was stuck on the duffel bag. The stacks of money. His father's voice.
You'll understand the business.
What business gave someone the right to hit their wife? What kind of work came with that much cash in a bag and meetings in parked cars?
"Kabir."
He didn't hear it.
"Kabir."
Still nothing.
Vihaan and Avni exchanged a glance. Vihaan leaned closer to her and whispered, "What do you think he's thinking about?"
"I don't know," Avni whispered back. "But he's been like this since class."
"Kabir!" Vihaan said louder, snapping his fingers in front of his face.
Kabir blinked. Looked up. "What?"
"Dude, you were completely gone. Where were you?"
"Nowhere. Just... thinking."
"About what?" Avni asked, her voice softer now. Concerned.
Kabir shook his head. "Nothing important."
Vihaan leaned back, arms crossed. "Something happened to you at singing class today. And don't say it was nothing, because we both know that's bullshit. You forgot your notes. You panicked. You never panic."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine," Avni said. "We're your friends, Kabir. You know you can talk to us, right?"
Kabir looked at her. Then at Vihaan. He wanted to tell them. Wanted to say everything—about his father, about the money, about the bruises on his mother's wrists and the sound of her crying at night. But the words wouldn't come. They were stuck somewhere deep inside him, tangled up with shame and fear and exhaustion.
"Hmm," was all he managed, his voice barely audible.
He looked up at the sky. The sun was sinking, painting everything in shades of orange and pink, but the moon was already visible—pale and full against the fading daylight. It hung there like it reflecting kabir's heart full of emotions.
"Is this because of what I said earlier? About you paying for your own food?" Avni said.
Kabir blinked. Then laughed—short and unexpected. "What? No."
"Because I was joking, you know. I don't actually care if you borrow money from Vihaan."
"I know."
"Then what's wrong?"
He looked at her properly now. At the worry in her eyes, the way she was leaning toward him like she was trying to pull him back from wherever he'd gone. And for a moment, he almost told her.
But then he just shook his head. "I'm just tired. That's all."
She didn't believe him. He could tell. But she let it go.
They finished eating, the conversation drifting to safer topics—Vihaan's upcoming Math test, Avni's little brother breaking another window, the talent show next month. Kabir listened more than he talked, but he tried to laugh when he was supposed to, tried to seem normal.
When they finally left, Kabir climbed into a rickshaw alone.
The rickshaw rattled through the streets, weaving between cars and bikes, and Kabir watched the city blur past.
When he got home, he stood outside his building for a moment, looking up at the sky again. The moon was brighter now, fully visible, perfectly round.
Then he heard it—brakes squealing, an engine cutting off.
He turned.
His father's car. Pulling up to the curb.
His father climbed out, saw Kabir standing there, and raised a hand. "Hey."
Kabir's stomach tightened. "Hi."
"What are you doing out here?"
"Just... coming home."
His father nodded, walking closer. "Were you at classes?"
Kabir nodded.
"Good. That's good." His father stopped in front of him, hands in his pockets. "How'd it go?"
"Fine."
They stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them. Then Kabir turned toward the building. "I should go inside."
"Wait."
Kabir stopped.
"What time do you finish school tomorrow?"
Kabir frowned. "Uh... three-thirty. Why?"
His father nodded slowly, like he was making a mental note. "Just... Wondering."
"Okay."
They walked inside together, side by side but not speaking. His mother was in the living room, folding clothes. She looked up when she saw them.
"Oh, both of you together? That's rare."
Kabir managed a small smile. "Hi, Maa."
"How were classes?"
"Good."
His father walked past them toward the kitchen without a word. Kabir headed upstairs, closing his door and leaning against it for a second before opening his laptop.
Season 6, Episode 3.
He watched in silence, his face expressionless, until the scene—that scene—hit.
Glenn. The dumpster. The walkers.
"Oh my God," Kabir whispered. Then louder: "Oh my God!"
He paused the episode, stood up, paced the room. "I need a minute. I need a whole minute."
He checked the time. It was later than he thought. He still had homework to finish.
Then his mother's voice from downstairs: "Kabir! Dinner! Come down, you boy!"
He sighed. "Perfect."
Downstairs, the table was already set. His father was sitting at the head, his mother across from him. Kabir walked slowly, taking his time, hoping maybe dinner would be over by the time he got there. But of course it wasn't.
He sat down. His mother served him rice and dal.
"So," his father said, breaking the silence. "You're going to be fifteen in five days. We can practically say it's here, right? The day's almost over."
Kabir glanced at the clock. March 30th. His birthday was April 5th.
"Yeah, I guess."
His father smiled—an actual smile, which felt wrong somehow. "Fifteen. That's a big one. You're growing up."
Kabir didn't respond. Just ate.
His mother tried to keep the conversation going, asking about school, about his classes, about the talent show. Kabir answered in short sentences, his father chimed in occasionally, and somehow they made it through the meal without yelling. Without breaking anything.
It felt strange. Almost normal.
When Kabir finally escaped back to his room, he pulled out his homework and worked through it mechanically. Math problems. History reading. An essay outline for English.
His phone buzzed.
Avni:you ok?
Kabir:yeah why
Avni:you were weird tonight
Kabir:just tired
Avni:liar
Kabir:im fine i promise
Avni:if you say so
Avni:hey can i ask you something
Kabir:yeah
Avni:you said you moved here in 6th grade right
Kabir:yeah
Avni:did you have friends at your old school
Kabir:yeah a few
Avni:anyone close
Kabir hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Then he typed.
Kabir:yeah actually. my best friend. her name was riya
Avni:oh
Avni:you guys still talk?
Kabir:not really. we lost touch after i moved
Avni:were you guys like... close close?
Kabir:yeah. really close. she was my first real friend
Avni:just friends?
Kabir smiled at his phone.
Kabir:ok fine. we dated for like 3 months. it was stupid. we were 12
Avni:oh
Avni:so she was your girlfriend AND your best friend?
Kabir:yeah basically. we were friends first though. like actual best friends. the dating part was just... idk. it felt like what we were supposed to do
Avni:what happened
Kabir:nothing bad. we just realized we were better as friends. and then i moved
Avni:do you miss her
Kabir:sometimes yeah. she was cool
Avni:what was she like
Kabir:funny. really smart. she always knew when something was wrong even if i didnt say anything
Avni:sounds like a good friend
Kabir:yeah she was
Avni:do you still think about her
Kabir:not really. i mean sometimes. but its been years
Avni:did she look like anyone
Kabir:what do you mean
Avni:idk like did she have long hair or short hair what did she look like
Kabir:why do you care so much lol
Avni:im just curious
Kabir:she had short hair. always wore these weird band t-shirts. she was really into music
Avni:was she pretty
Kabir:i mean yeah i guess
Avni:you guess?
Kabir:ok yeah she was pretty. but like i said it was years ago
Avni:ok
Kabir:why are you asking so many questions
Avni:no reason
Kabir:avni
Avni:what
Kabir:are you jealous
Avni:no
Kabir:you sound jealous
Avni:im not jealous of some girl you dated when you were 12 and why would i be jealous?
Kabir:then why all the questions
Avni:i told you im just curious
Kabir:sure
Avni:whatever. im going to bed
Kabir:goodnight
Avni:night
Kabir set his phone down, smiling to himself. She was definitely jealous. He didn't know why that made him feel good, but it did.
He finished his homework, changed into his pajamas, and climbed into bed. For once, the house was quiet. No yelling. No crying. Just silence.
He fell asleep thinking about the moon.
Morning came with the usual routine. Shower. Uniform. Breakfast. His mother made parathas and he ate quickly, barely tasting them.
At school, everything felt normal again. Teachers, classes, the familiar rhythm of bells and announcements. Kabir raised his hand in History. Aced a pop quiz in Math. During PT, his aim was perfect as always—every throw landed exactly where he wanted it.
At lunch, Avni cornered him.
"So," she said, sitting down across from him. "Riya."
Kabir groaned. "Not this again."
"I'm just saying, you didn't mention she was your girlfriend."
"It was three months when I was twelve. It doesn't count."
"It counts."
Vihaan sat down next to Kabir, unwrapping his sandwich. "What counts?"
"Nothing," Kabir said quickly.
"Kabir had a girlfriend at his old school," Avni said.
Vihaan's eyes widened. "Wait, what? Bro, you never told me that!"
"Because it's not a big deal."
"It's kind of a big deal," Avni muttered.
"Why do you care so much?" Kabir asked, genuinely curious now.
"I don't."
"You clearly do."
"I just think it's weird you never mentioned her."
"Why would I mention her? It was years ago."
Avni crossed her arms. "What else haven't you mentioned?"
"Nothing!"
"Was she tall? Short? Did she play any instruments?"
"Avni—"
"Did you guys hold hands?"
"Oh my God."
Vihaan was grinning now, watching the two of them go back and forth like it was a tennis match. He caught Kabir's eye and gave him a look—dude, she's totally jealous—and Kabir had to bite back a smile.
The bell rang, saving him from further interrogation.
"Bye," Avni said, standing up abruptly. But there was something in her voice—something tight and uncertain.
"Bye," Kabir said.
She walked away, and Vihaan leaned over. "She's so into you, man."
"Shut up."
"I'm serious. She's literally jealous of a girl you dated when you were twelve."
"She's not jealous."
"Keep telling yourself that."
The rest of the day passed in a blur. By the time the final bell rang, Kabir was already thinking about homework, about dinner, about whether he'd have time to watch another episode tonight.
He walked out of the school gates, backpack slung over one shoulder—and stopped.
His father's car. Parked right outside.
His father was leaning against it, arms crossed, waiting.
Kabir's stomach dropped.
His father saw him and waved. "Hey!"
Kabir walked over slowly, his hand already starting to shake. "What are you doing here?"
"Thought I'd pick you up."
"Why?"
"Can't a father pick up his son?"
"You've never done it before."
His father smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "There's a first time for everything. Come on, get in."
"I have homework—"
"It can wait. Don't worry about your mom—I already told her you'd be late."
Kabir hesitated. Every instinct was telling him to run. To say no. To walk away.
But he didn't.
He opened the door and got in.
His father climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine, and pulled out into traffic without another word.
"Where are we going?" Kabir asked.
"You'll see."
Kabir's hands were still shaking. He pressed them against his knees, trying to steady them. "Why are you doing this?"
His father glanced at him. "Doing what?"
"This. Picking me up. Taking me somewhere."
"Can't I spend time with my son?"
"You never have before."
His father's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. They drove in silence, the city blurring past outside the window.
After about fifteen minutes, his father pulled up in front of a building—tall, grey, nondescript. He turned off the engine.
"Wait here," he said.
"What—"
"Just wait."
His father got out and disappeared inside.
Kabir sat there, alone in the car, his heart pounding. He pulled out a notebook from his bag—pulled out a compass box and flipped to the back page where there were no notes yet—and started writing.
March 31st. 4:15 PM. Father picked me up from school. Drove to unknown building. Went inside.
He paused, staring at the building entrance.
Twelve minutes later, his father came back out. He wasn't alone. There was another man with him—tall, thin, wearing a leather jacket. Kabir couldn't see his face clearly from this distance.
The man handed his father something small. Kabir squinted, trying to see what it was, but his father's hand closed around it too quickly.
They shook hands. The man walked away. His father stood there for a moment, looking down at whatever he'd been given, then shoved it into his pocket and headed back to the car.
Kabir quickly scribbled in the notebook: Unknown man. Gave father unknown object. Shook hands.
Then he shoved the notebook back into his bag just as his father opened the door.
His father climbed in and sat there for a moment, staring at Kabir. Not saying anything. Just... staring.
Kabir stared back. "What?"
His father's eyes searched his face like he was looking for something. Waiting for something.
"Nothing," he said finally. He started the car.
They drove for a few more minutes, then pulled up at a chai stand on the side of the road. His father turned off the engine again.
"You want chai?" he asked.
Kabir nodded. "Yeah."
They got out. Ordered two cups. The chai wallah poured steaming tea into small glasses, the liquid dark and sweet-smelling.
They stood there, side by side, drinking in silence.
Kabir glanced at his father. He was still staring at him. That same searching look.
"What?" Kabir asked again.
"Nothing."
"You keep staring at me."
"I'm just... looking."
"At what?"
His father didn't answer. He finished his chai, set the glass down, and walked back to the car.
Kabir followed.
They got in. His father started the engine. And they drove home without saying another word.
When they pulled up outside the building, his father turned off the car but didn't move to get out.
"Kabir," he said quietly.
"Yeah?"
His father opened his mouth. Closed it. Then shook his head. "Nothing. Go inside. Your mother's waiting."
Kabir got out of the car, his legs unsteady, and walked toward the building.
Behind him, he heard his father's door open. Heard his footsteps.
But he didn't turn around.
He just kept walking.