The Weight of Truth*  

Riya stepped into the hall, her eyes searching for someone. And then, they found Ayan. He was about to say something—his lips parted, breath caught—but before a single word could escape, Riya turned away. Without a glance, without a question. Just silence. A deafening silence.

Ayat watched the exchange, her heart tightening with unease. She turned to Ayan, her voice steady but gentle. "I'll talk to Riya myself. I'll explain everything. You don't have to worry."

Ayan didn't respond. His jaw clenched, his fists tightening as if holding back a storm. But he stayed silent.

Downstairs, in the lounge, the air grew heavy. "Take Ayat back. Right now." Ayan's voice cut through the murmurs. His demand was sharp, urgent. Eyes turned towards him—some shocked, some curious.

Ayan's uncle, however, barely spared him a glance. Without a word, he walked past, disappearing into his room.

Ayan's patience shattered. His frustration burned like wildfire. He turned to Ayat, his voice colder than she had ever heard. " go."

Confusion twisted inside her. Should she go back home? Stay in the lounge? Or walk up to her room? Her feet refused to move, her mind spiraling.

But Ayan didn't wait. He walked out. And she knew—whether she wanted to or not—she had to follow.

The garden air was cold against her skin, but nothing felt as icy as the silence between them.

The night was still, but Ayan's heart wasn't. He stood by his window, his restless eyes scanning the garden below. And there she was—Ayat—sitting alone on the cold bench, her arms wrapped around herself as if shielding from an invisible storm. 

Something inside him softened. The anger, the frustration—it all melted away. 

Without a second thought, he stepped out. 

Ayat didn't notice him at first, lost in her own thoughts. But when he sat beside her, his presence was impossible to ignore. 

*"I shouldn't have acted that way,"* Ayan's voice was quiet, almost hesitant. *"I'm sorry, Ayat."* 

She glanced at him, surprised. Ayan and an apology—two things she never expected together. 

*"It's okay..."* she whispered. But they both knew it wasn't. 

Ayan sighed, running a hand through his hair. *"Come inside. It's cold."* 

For the first time that night, Ayat didn't hesitate. She followed him. 

--- 

Inside the room, a silence stretched between them, heavy yet comforting. 

Then, Ayat spoke, her voice fragile. *"Do you know why I was forced into this?"* 

Ayan turned to her, waiting. 

*"Because my father works for your uncle. He's just an accountant, Ayan. I have no brothers. And when I wanted to study, my father took loans—from your uncle. A lot of it."* Her voice wavered, but she continued. *"He can't repay it. I am his only hope. That's why… I had no choice."* 

Ayan stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. He had always thought she was just another pawn in his uncle's games. But now, he saw the truth—she wasn't just trapped. She was carrying the burden of her entire family. 

A bitter smile played on his lips. *"I should've known. My uncle controls everything. Even people."* 

Ayat wiped the corner of her eye, swallowing her emotions. *"And what about you? Riya… What was she to you?"* 

Ayan exhaled deeply. *"She was my university friend. A top-class model. Famous, successful. But more than that, she made me happy. We were happy."* His voice grew colder. *"Until my uncle interfered. He didn't want her to have any control over me or my life. Everything had to be under his hand—including me."* 

Ayat looked at him, sensing the turmoil in his eyes. 

*"Maybe I should've just given him everything,"* Ayan muttered. *"The property, the business. I should've left it all behind and gone back to Riya."* 

A lump formed in Ayat's throat. *"And now? What do you want now?"* 

Ayan met her gaze, searching for an answer within himself. But he wasn't sure anymore. 

The night stretched on, filled with unspoken emotions. For the first time, they weren't just two people forced together. They were two souls, carrying wounds neither had chosen.