Chaaya POV
"HOW LONG DO I STILL NEED TO WAIT? YOU HAVEN'T PAID ME FOR TWO MONTHS. I'LL GIVE YOU TWO DAYS - PAY UP, OR YOU AND THESE BLOODY BASTARDS WILL BE ON THE STREET."
The landlord's voice thundered through the tiny house before he stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows.
From the back room, the children crept out, trembling.
"Didi... will the bad guy really throw us out of our home? "one of them whispered.
Their voices shook, soft and small.
I crouched down, brushing their hair gently.
"No, my darlings. Why would he, when I'm here?"
I forced a smile. "Main hoon na. I'll take care of everything. Now come on, or you'll miss your bus again."
I packed their lunch boxes, tied the ribbons in their hair, straightened their collars, and sent them off with hurried kisses and a wave from the gate.
Only when the school bus finally disappeared down the lane did, I let my smile fade.
The house fell silent again. I locked the door behind me, the weight of the morning pressing against my chest. My bag hung heavy on my shoulder, my eyes raw from another sleepless night.
I hadn't even taken ten steps before a voice sliced through the morning air.
"why work so hard, sweetheart?" a slurred voice called out. "just sleep with me every night. I'll take care of everything you need".
his words hung in the air like rot. I didn't flinch. but inside, my stomach turned.
His words stuck to the air like filth, but I didn't bother to respond. What was the point? Men like him fed on reactions.
I gripped my bag tighter, my nails digging into the strap, and walked on, my pace steady. Each step away from his voice felt like shedding a layer of grime, but the disgust clung inside, crawling beneath my skin.
By the time I reached my little flower shop at the corner of the street, the morning light had softened. The scent of fresh marigolds and jasmine greeted me as I unlocked the shutters. The familiar aroma washed over me, dulling the stench of his words.
Here, surrounded by blooms, I could finally breathe.
I busied myself with the flowers, trimming stems and arranging the morning deliveries. The rhythm of work calmed my thoughts, each snip and rustle of petals steadying me.
I was still arranging a bunch of roses when the bell above the shop door jingled.
"Caught you red-handed!" a familiar voice sang out.
I looked up to see Meera standing there, holding a bunch of marigolds she'd plucked straight from a basket by the door. A mischievous grin curved on her lips.
"You know," she said, twirling a stem between her fingers, "if you keep ignoring these poor marigolds, I might just adopt them myself."
I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. "And if you keep stealing them, I'll start charging you by the petal."
She laughed and stepped closer, the sound bright against the stillness of the shop. "Then you'll be rich by noon, Chaaya."
I handed her a cup of tea from the counter. "You and your drama."
We leaned against the counter, sipping quietly for a moment — the easy rhythm of our friendship washing over the morning's tension.
Then Meera's tone softened. "By the way… have you heard? Junaid Khan's son is finally getting engaged. The city can't stop talking about it. People are already betting on how extravagant it'll be."
I raised an eyebrow. "Aftaab Ali Khan, huh? That explains all the whispers lately."
Meera grinned. "Whispers, money, and flowers, darling. Which brings me here." She tapped the counter. "They've hired me to handle the engagement. It's going to be huge, and I need your hands. Will you join me? It'll pay well."
I looked at the roses in my hand, their thorns catching the light. For a moment, I felt something tighten in my chest at that name, though I quickly buried it.
"When do we start?" I asked, my voice calm, but my fingers held the stem just a little too tight.