The Silence She Learned to Live With
The Takur mansion always woke before the city did.
The soft clang of temple bells echoed through the corridors as Saraswati lit the morning diya, her lips moving in quiet prayer. Outside, the sky over Mumbai was still pale, the sun barely peeking through the haze.
Najma was already awake.
She sat on the edge of her bed, bare feet resting on the cold marble floor, hands folded neatly on her lap. Sleep had come late again. It always did.
She had learned, over the years, that the world was quieter when everyone else was asleep—and silence had become her safest place.
She stood and walked toward the window, pulling the curtains aside. The garden below looked peaceful, trimmed and perfect, much like the life she was expected to live.
"You're safe," she whispered to herself.
"That's all that matters."
She changed quickly, choosing a simple salwar kameez, tying her dupatta with care. She didn't like drawing attention. Attention had consequences.
Downstairs, Twinkle's voice shattered the calm.
"AMMI! Where's my pink kurti? Najma must've taken it!"
Najma paused at the staircase, lips twitching faintly.
She descended slowly.
"I didn't take it," Najma said gently.
Twinkle turned, hands on her hips. "Then how does it end up missing every time I want it?"
Saraswati chuckled. "Because you never put anything back."
Twinkle huffed, then smiled brightly at Najma. "Did you hear? Baba said the Sign family is coming tonight."
Najma's steps slowed.
"Yes," she replied quietly. "I heard."
Twinkle rushed closer, eyes sparkling. "They're rich, powerful, handsome—especially Ranveer Sign."
Najma studied her sister's face—so open, so full of dreams.
"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," Najma said softly.
Twinkle grinned. "You sound like an old lady."
Najma smiled, but her heart tightened.
Because some lessons are learned too early.
At the Sign residence, the air felt heavier.
Ranveer stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands in his pockets, watching the city move below him like a restless beast.
Marriage.
The word tasted bitter.
Behind him, his grandmother's voice was firm. "You will attend the dinner."
Ranveer turned slowly. "Attending doesn't mean agreeing."
Kapoor sighed. "You're not a boy anymore."
"I became a man long before you noticed," Ranveer replied coolly.
Sasha spoke then, her voice calm but sharp. "This isn't about control. It's about legacy."
Ranveer's eyes flicked to her. She didn't flinch.
"I don't need a wife to run a company," he said.
"But you need one to anchor you," she replied.
Silence followed.
Ranveer exhaled. "Fine. I'll attend."
He didn't know why—but something about this meeting felt… inevitable.
The dinner hall shimmered with lights and polite laughter.
Najma sat with perfect posture, hands folded, eyes lowered.
She felt him before she saw him.
That presence.
She looked up.
Ranveer Sign.
Tall. Imposing. Controlled.
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, the world narrowed.
He wasn't smiling. He wasn't warm.
But there was curiosity in his gaze.
She met it without fear.
Twinkle leaned in. "That's him."
Najma whispered back, "He looks… tired."
Ranveer looked away first.
And that unsettled him.
Later, near the balcony, they spoke for the first time.
"You don't talk much," Ranveer observed.
Najma glanced at the city lights. "I listen."
"And what do you hear?"
"Things people try to hide."
His lips curved slightly. "Dangerous skill."
She met his gaze. "So is underestimating someone."
He laughed—soft, surprised.
Something shifted.
Neither of them noticed it yet.
But fate had already started pulling its threads.