The Oculesics- Ek Kahaani Junoon Ki

30.

Vote Target- 140+

Trayambak’s POV-

This girl—Maya. I have to find out the truth about her.

I already took care of Randheer—the filthy rat who leaked that MMS and shattered my sister’s reputation. I still remember the feel of the blade slicing across his face. The calmness, the silence in my ears when I used that same blade to sever what made him a man. The very same night my sister made that drastic choice… I made mine.

And Dhanay? No—I didn’t spare him. I just postponed his punishment. He doesn’t get to walk away easily. I’ll avenge my sister. But not in haste. Slowly. Thoughtfully. With precision.

Now the question that haunts me is—who is lying? Dhanay or Maya?

I’ve deployed every resource I have. It wasn’t hard for someone like me to track her. The investigator confirmed it—Maya is in the US. Just like Dhanay claimed.

I decide I’ll take Dhimahi with me. I don’t even know if it’s for answers, revenge, or simply because I need her.

“Dhimahi, hum US jaa rahe hai. Maya wahi hai.” ["Dhimahi, we're going to the US. Maya is there."]
“Okay.” she replies. Short. Crisp. Hollow.

She's wounded. I see it in her silence. She believes every venomous word I threw at her... why wouldn’t she? I gave her every reason. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. What have I become?

She does the packing, but after a while I notice—she's only packed her own bag.

“Dhimahi, mera bag kaha hai?” ["Dhimahi, where is my bag?"] I ask, trying to keep my voice gentle.
“Maine nahi kiya pack.” ["I didn’t pack it."] she replies quietly.
“Kyu?” ["Why?"] I ask, softer now. Almost afraid of the answer.

She looks at me—no, past me.

“Kyuki mujhe nahi pata aapko kya lagega.” ["Because I don’t know what you would prefer."]

I step closer and take her palm in mine. Her fingers are cold.

“Kyu? Tumhe to mere zaruraton ke baare mein sab pata hota hai.” ["Why? You always knew what I needed."]

She lets out a hollow chuckle. The kind that hurts more than a scream.

“Nahi pata mujhe kuch. Na aapke zaruraton ke baare mein, na aapke baare mein.” ["I don’t know anything. Not about your needs, not about you."]

That sentence stabs me. I cup her face. I need her to see me.

“Yeh kya bol rahi ho Dhimahi? Tum hi mujhe sabse ache se jaante ho.” ["What are you saying, Dhimahi? You're the one who knows me best."]

But she doesn’t look into my eyes. That connection… it’s gone. She slowly removes my hands from her face.

“Mujhe bhi pehle yahi lagta tha.” ["I used to believe that too."]

She says it so softly, like she doesn’t want me to hear it. But I do. Every word. Every ounce of pain in it. And it breaks me.

My hands curl into fists at my side. My throat tightens. I can't even bring myself to breathe properly.

“Aap bataiye aapko kya chahiye. Mai pack kar deti hu. Waise bhi aap mujhe use karne laaye hai, to ache se use kijiye.”
["Tell me what you want. I’ll pack it. After all, you brought me along to use me, so use me well."]

She turns and walks away, her voice calm but quivering. I can hear her sniffle. She's crying.

I follow her. Quietly. I don’t say anything. I know she doesn’t want words.