Blood stained love

The room was silent, save for the sound of Kaya’s shallow breathing. She stood there, trembling, her grip tightening around his black shirt collar. Her fingers ached with the intensity of her hold, yet it was nothing compared to the pain she felt inside. Her heart thudded in her chest, pounding with anger, with frustration, with desperation. "Your hatred will keep me away from you!" she screamed, her voice raw, as her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. Dev stood motionless, his gaze cold, his face betraying no emotion. He looked down at her, his eyes devoid of the tenderness she had once mistaken for love. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. He spoke slowly, each word deliberate, as if to pierce the fragile veil of her insanity. “And your love, Kaya,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an edge of finality, “will ruin both of us.” Kaya's breath hitched as she met his gaze. There was no softness in his eyes. No warmth, no promise. Only indifference. She refused to believe it. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. "You think I care?" she whispered fiercely, her voice trembling. "You think I’ll walk away? You’re wrong, Dev. I’ll never let you go." Dev took a step back, his jaw clenched. "You don’t understand," he said, his voice harder now, though there was a flicker of something—maybe pity—beneath it. "I don’t need you. I never did.” Her eyes widened, disbelief crashing over her like a wave. She took a step forward, refusing to let him retreat any further. “I’m not leaving, Dev. You can’t make me. I’ll love you till it destroys me, till it destroys both of us,” she said with a maddening certainty. Dev met her gaze again, his expression a mix of exhaustion and frustration. He was trapped—by her, by this insane game they were playing. But he couldn’t give in. Not now. Not ever. “Then let it destroy you,” he replied, his voice a low growl, as if the very words themselves were a challenge. "Because you’re already destroying yourself.” 5 Years later, It was one of those days when Mumbai felt like it was trying to drown its own chaos in the rain. The streets were slick with water, the honks of impatient drivers blending with the rhythm of raindrops hitting tin roofs. Kaya sat by the window of a quiet café in Bandra, stirring a cup of cold coffee she had no intention of drinking. Her phone buzzed on the table. Another message from Arjun. Sweet, predictable Arjun. “Call me back, Kaya. I’m worried about you.” She ignored it. She always ignored it. Her eyes flicked back to the rain-soaked streets, searching for something—or maybe someone. It had been five years since she last saw Dev. Five years since he walked out of her life without a word, leaving behind only questions and a hollow ache in her chest. But no matter how much time passed, the city seemed to conspire against her, throwing fragments of him in her path. It was always the smallest things. A faint whiff of his cologne lingering in the air of an elevator. The way a stranger’s laugh would echo, strikingly similar to his. Even the choice of a song playing on the radio could send her spiraling back into memories she had fought so hard to bury. She had learned to live with it—this strange half-life. Days where she felt like she was moving forward, building something new, only for the nights to come and unravel her progress. Dev Singhaniya was like a scar she could never quite erase. The café door jingled, snapping her out of her thoughts. A man walked in, shaking off the rain from his coat, his umbrella dripping water on the tiles. Her heart lurched involuntarily. For one wild moment, she thought it was him. The sharp profile, the way he moved with that unbothered air of authority. But as the man turned, the illusion shattered. She looked away quickly, embarrassed by her own desperation. Kaya hated how much control he still had over her, even after all these years. She had told herself she was over him. That she had moved on. There were even moments when she believed it—moments when she smiled with Arjun or focused on her work. But Dev lingered in her like an unfinished story, his absence louder than his presence ever was. She reached for her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen. She could call Arjun back, let him pull her out of this spiral, like he always did. But instead, she opened her gallery It was reckless, stupid, but she couldn’t stop herself. She scrolled back through the years, her chest tightening as she passed photo after photo until she found the one. A blurry, candid picture of Dev, sitting on her couch, smirking at her in that way that had once driven her crazy. Kaya stared at it for a long time. She hated him. She loved him. She hated that she still loved him. The rain outside grew heavier, the city’s chaos muffled by the café’s thick glass windows. Somewhere, she knew, Dev was out there. Living his life. Maybe even happy. And here she was, stuck in the ruins he had left behind. Kaya closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. She wouldn’t cry. She couldn’t cry—not anymore. The tears wouldn’t bring him back, wouldn’t give her the answers she craved. And yet, as she looked out into the rain-soaked streets, a small, foolish part of her hoped that one day, she might see him again. Not to get closure. Not to mend what was broken. But just to remind him of the mess he had left behind. Kaya was still staring at the rain, lost in thoughts that refused to leave her alone, when Arjun slid into the seat across from her. He didn’t ask before sitting down—he never did. That was just how Arjun was, a quiet presence that somehow felt like both a comfort and a lecture waiting to happen. “You’re ignoring my calls again,” he said, his tone light but the concern in his eyes impossible to miss. He pushed his damp hair back, droplets of rain falling onto the table. Kaya glanced at him, her expression blank. “I’ve been busy.” “With what? Staring out windows?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. He reached for the menu, pretending to study it, though Kaya knew he’d order his usual—a black coffee, no sugar. “I had court this morning,” she said defensively, crossing her arms. “Court ended at noon. It’s 6 PM, Kaya.” He sighed, closing the menu and leaning forward. “What is it this time? Work stress? Or is it—” “Don’t,” she cut him off sharply, her voice colder than she intended. “Don’t bring him up.” Arjun didn’t flinch. He never did. “You’re not over him,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. It wasn’t a question. It never was. Kaya clenched her fists under the table. “This isn’t about him.” “Isn’t it?” He leaned back, his gaze steady. “You’ve built your entire career around fighting for people who can’t fight for themselves. But let’s be honest, Kaya—this isn’t just about justice. It’s about control. You’re trying to fix the chaos in your life by fixing everyone else’s. But no matter how many cases you win, it won’t change the fact that Dev left.” His words hit harder than they should have. Maybe because they were true. Kaya looked away, her jaw tightening. “I don’t need a therapy session, Arjun. And I definitely don’t need your pity.” “It’s not pity,” he said softly. “It’s... concern.” She hated the way his voice softened when he talked to her, like he was afraid she might shatter if he wasn’t careful. She didn’t want softness. She wanted anger, a fight, something she could push against. But Arjun never gave her that. “Why are you even here?” she asked, changing the subject. He shrugged, a small smile playing at his lips. “Because someone has to make sure you eat. And because I don’t want to see you disappear into this... whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely at her and the café. “I’m fine,” she muttered, though the words felt hollow. Arjun didn’t argue. Instead, he signaled the waiter and ordered his usual coffee, adding a sandwich for Kaya. She glared at him but didn’t protest. As the rain continued to pour outside, the silence between them grew heavier. “You know,” he said after a while, his voice quieter now, “you deserve better than this. Better than him.” Kaya’s lips curved into a bitter smile. “Better doesn’t matter, Arjun. Not when the worst is all you can think about.” Arjun didn’t respond immediately. He just looked at her, his expression unreadable. “Maybe one day, you’ll let yourself believe that’s not true.” The waiter brought their orders, and Kaya busied herself with unwrapping the sandwich, avoiding Arjun’s gaze. But his words lingered, cutting through the noise in her mind like a whisper she couldn’t ignore. She hated how much sense he made. But she hated it even more that she wasn’t ready to listen. Kaya finished half of the sandwich Arjun had ordered, though she didn’t taste a bite of it. Arjun was watching her, probably thinking of another lecture, when her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t Arjun’s number. It was an unknown number. Kaya hesitated before answering. The voice on the other end was low, urgent. "Advocate Kaya Sharma?" "Speaking," she replied cautiously. “You need to come to Dharavi police station immediately. Your client—Rajesh Chauhan—has been arrested. It’s a serious charge. Attempted murder.” Her heart sank. She had been defending Rajesh, a low-level drug mule who claimed he wanted to leave the trade and start fresh. She had believed him. She always believed her clients. “I’ll be there,” she said and hung up. Arjun watched her, his brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?” “Work,” she said simply, grabbing her bag. “Work at this hour?” Arjun asked, already standing up. “I’m coming with you.” “Arjun, no—” “I’m coming,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. They reached the police station within an hour. The rain had turned the streets into rivers, the chaos of Mumbai amplified by the storm. Inside, the station was no less chaotic. Officers moved around, shouting orders, while handcuffed men sat slumped on benches. Kaya spotted Rajesh almost immediately. He was in a holding cell, his face bruised, his lip split. She strode toward the inspector’s desk, Arjun close behind. “Inspector, I’m Advocate Kaya Sharma. I’m here for Rajesh Chauhan,” she said, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. The inspector barely looked up. “You’re wasting your time, madam. Your client’s not getting bail tonight.” “On what grounds?” she demanded. “He’s been accused of attempted murder, but the evidence—” “The evidence is a blood-soaked knife found in his possession and a witness statement placing him at the scene,” the inspector interrupted, leaning back in his chair. Kaya clenched her jaw. “A witness statement isn’t proof. I need to see the case file and speak to my client.” The inspector smirked. “Be my guest.” She moved toward the cell, where Rajesh was sitting, his head in his hands. “Rajesh,” she said softly. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot and filled with panic. “They’re framing me,” he whispered hoarsely. “I swear, madam, I didn’t do it.” Before Kaya could respond, the station’s front doors burst open. Four men walked in, dripping wet and exuding a dangerous energy. They weren’t police, that much was clear. They wore plain clothes, their faces hard, their eyes colder than the storm outside. Kaya felt her stomach tighten. Something about them set off alarms in her mind. The tallest of the men walked straight to the inspector’s desk and said something in a low voice. The inspector nodded, almost nervously, and gestured toward the holding cell. “What’s going on?” Kaya demanded, stepping between the men and Rajesh’s cell. “Step aside, madam,” the tall man said, his voice calm but menacing. “I’m his lawyer,” she replied firmly. “You have no right to—” Before she could finish, one of the men pulled out a knife, flashing it in the dim light. Arjun stepped forward instantly, pulling her back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Arjun snapped. “This doesn’t concern you,” the tall man said, his eyes locked on Kaya. “Move.” “Like hell it doesn’t,” Arjun shot back, positioning himself in front of her. The tall man’s patience seemed to snap. He nodded to one of his men, who lunged toward Arjun. In the chaos that followed, chairs toppled, shouts echoed, and Kaya was shoved aside. She watched in horror as one of the men grabbed Rajesh through the cell bars, slashing his throat in a swift, brutal motion. Blood sprayed across the room, painting the walls and floor in a grotesque red. “No!” Kaya screamed, rushing forward, but Arjun caught her, holding her back. “It’s over,” the tall man said calmly, wiping his knife on a handkerchief. “He got what he deserved.” The men walked out as quickly as they had come, leaving behind chaos and a corpse. Kaya was shaking, her mind reeling from the violence. Arjun tightened his grip on her arm, his own face pale but determined. “You’re not safe here,” he said quietly. “Let’s go.” But Kaya couldn’t move. Her eyes were fixed on the lifeless body of her client, her mind racing with questions. Who were those men? Why had they killed Rajesh? And why did something about the tall man’s voice feel hauntingly familiar? The next morning, the first thing Kaya noticed was the faint hum of an air conditioner and the soft glow of sunlight slipping through the curtains. Her head throbbed, and her body felt unusually heavy. As she blinked her eyes open, the unfamiliar surroundings came into focus. This wasn’t her room. The walls were painted a pale blue, adorned with a few framed posters of abstract art. There was a wooden bookshelf in one corner, stacked neatly, and the faint scent of coffee lingered in the air. She sat up slowly, realizing she was on a soft bed covered in a plain grey duvet. And then she saw him. Arjun was slumped in a chair by the window, his head tilted back, eyes closed, and his arms crossed. His glasses were slightly askew, and his shirt was wrinkled from a night of uncomfortable sleep. Kaya blinked again, trying to piece together how she’d ended up here. The events of the previous night came flooding back—the police station, the blood, the tall man, and Rajesh’s lifeless body. She felt a lump rise in her throat. As if sensing her movement, Arjun stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he looked disoriented. Then his gaze landed on her, and he sat up straight. “You’re awake,” he said, his voice hoarse from sleep. Kaya opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “You fainted last night,” Arjun continued, standing up and stretching. “At the police station. I didn’t know where else to take you, so I brought you here.” Her brows furrowed. “Your… place?” “Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair. “Don’t worry, I called a doctor. He said you were just in shock and needed rest. I didn’t want to leave you alone.” Kaya looked away, her fingers gripping the edge of the duvet. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “For what?” Arjun asked, his tone soft but laced with concern. “For causing trouble,” she said, her voice barely audible. Arjun sighed, pulling the chair closer to the bed and sitting down again. “Kaya, you’re not trouble. Last night… what happened… it was insane. I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but you can’t keep carrying all this alone.” She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t even know what’s happening anymore, Arjun. Rajesh… he trusted me. And I couldn’t—” “Hey,” Arjun interrupted, reaching out to place a comforting hand on hers. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. Those men… they weren’t there for justice. They came to send a message.” Her eyes met his, and for the first time, she saw the fear he was trying to mask. “Message for who?” she whispered. Arjun hesitated, as if debating whether to say what he was thinking. “Maybe you,” he said finally. “Or maybe Rajesh knew something he wasn’t supposed to. Either way, you need to be careful.” Kaya swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. She had always believed in the law, in the power of justice. But last night had shaken her faith to its core. “I can’t let this go, Arjun,” she said quietly but firmly. “Whoever did this, they can’t get away with it.” Arjun leaned back, exhaling sharply. “I knew you were going to say that,” he said, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. “But if you’re going to fight this, you’re not doing it alone.” Kaya looked at him, her eyes searching his face. “Why do you care so much?” Arjun’s smile faded, replaced by something deeper, something unspoken. “Because you’re important to me,” he said simply. “And because someone has to look out for you, especially when you forget to look out for yourself.” She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she didn’t. Instead, she looked out the window, her mind already racing with possibilities, questions, and a growing resolve. She didn’t know it yet, but the storm she was about to step into was bigger than she had imagined.