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Chapter 20 - Rage

The storm outside had died down, but inside, it still raged.

Sanya sat on the floor beside the window, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her fever had subsided, but the coldness in Aarush's voice hadn't. It echoed in her mind over and over, each word sharper than the last.

"Why do you always show up where you're not needed?"

"Don't pretend to be innocent. People like you wear masks better than makeup."

"You think tears will fix what you did?"

She didn't even realize when her nails began digging into her arms, trying to suppress the ache rising inside. Her throat hurt—from the fever, or from holding back everything for too long, she didn't know.

The blanket around her shoulders slipped off, but she didn't care. The walls were closing in. Even the sky looked heavy. She had spent every ounce of herself trying to not fall apart in front of him. But tonight… she was exhausted.

Sanya stood up shakily and moved to the mirror. Her reflection startled her. Pale cheeks. Eyes dull. Hair clinging to her skin. She looked… like a ghost.

"I hate this," she whispered, voice barely audible.

She hated how much his words mattered. How they clung to her like thorns, scratching old wounds. He didn't know. He didn't know how much she wanted to be seen… not judged. How much she needed someone—just one person—to believe in her.

A sob slipped out. Then another. And another. Until she collapsed against the bed frame, clutching the sheets, muffling her cries into them.

"I'm not what you think," she whispered into the fabric. "I never was…"

But he wasn't here to listen.

And even if he was, would it change anything?

The morning was oddly quiet.

Sanya sat by the window of her modest studio, sipping bitter tea that had long gone cold. Her eyes lingered on the paper envelope lying on the table—its weight far heavier than the few pages inside. When she finally gathered the courage to open it, her hands trembled.

"In regard to Mr. Raghav Malhotra's demise during judicial custody, his legal properties, as per will registered 6 years ago, are hereby transferred to his biological daughter and only legal heir, Ms. Sanya Malhotra..."

She dropped the paper. Her vision blurred. The man who had once locked her away, called her a burden, ignored her tears—he had left everything to her?

Why?

She didn't ask for it. She didn't want it.

All she wanted was peace.

But peace was a foreign concept in her world.

---

When the news reached Aarush, it shattered whatever thread of tolerance he had left.

"She played us all along..." he muttered, slamming the documents on the table as Madam Kareena watched, silently satisfied.

"She didn't even flinch when he died," Aarush seethed. "Now it makes sense. The timing. The fake innocence. All of it."

"She has always been manipulative," Kareena added, feigning sorrow. "Who knows how long she was in contact with him—maybe even helped him avoid jail until it was too late."

That was all it took.

---

Sanya was standing near the entrance when he barged in like a storm.

"You must be proud of yourself, huh?" Aarush snapped, his voice thunderous.

She looked up, startled. "What…?"

"You really fooled me this time," he growled. "He died, and suddenly you're the heiress of millions? Was that the plan all along? Play the victim and snatch what you couldn't have otherwise?"

Sanya's lips parted, but no words came out.

Her hands fumbled behind her, gripping the wooden edge of the table as if for support. "I didn't know he—"

"Oh, spare me the performance," he cut her off. "You knew exactly what you were doing. Your crocodile tears, your silence, the way you tried to paint yourself as broken—it was all a trap, wasn't it?"

Her eyes welled up. "Aarush, I—"

"Don't call my name with that voice," he snapped. "You disgust me."

That broke her.

Tears slid down her cheeks, but he didn't stop. Not yet.

"I took pity on you. Protected you. Let you stay under my roof, thinking there was something more behind those eyes. But you? You're just another Malhotra."

Sanya couldn't breathe. It was like he'd taken the little oxygen she had and replaced it with knives.

"I never wanted this," she whispered, broken. "I didn't ask for anything."

He scoffed. "Then reject it. Go burn the papers. But you won't, will you? Because deep down, you wanted this power. You just waited for the right time."

"Enough!" Aarush's voice cut like glass. "You fooled me. My mother. Everyone. You lived here, breathing under this roof, while we thought you were—" He stopped, his jaw clenched so tightly his cheek twitched. "You're just like him."

Her eyes widened, lips parting to speak, but he was already grabbing her arm, hard enough to bruise.

"If you want this empire so badly, then take it," he hissed. "But don't expect to stay here and play innocent anymore."

Before she could even find her voice, he dragged her to the door and flung it open. The storm outside howled in fury as if echoing the chaos inside the house.

"Aarush, please..." she whispered, tears mixing with the cold drops already falling.

But he didn't even look at her.

The door slammed shut behind her.

She stood there, drenched and shaking, rain seeping into her bones, eyes locked on the door that no longer opened for her.

The thunder cracked in the distance, but it was nothing compared to the silence from the man she still loved.

Rain poured relentlessly from the sky, as if trying to drown the ache that had settled in Sanya's chest. Her bare feet splashed in puddles as she walked aimlessly along the road, soaked to the bone, every drop slicing through her skin like quiet judgment.

The city lights blurred behind a veil of rain, and yet everything around her felt sharper — too loud, too cruel, too alive when all she wanted was stillness.

Her arms wrapped around herself, not to protect from the cold, but as if holding in the pieces threatening to fall apart. Her clothes clung to her fragile frame, water mingling with the tears that hadn't stopped since the door slammed behind her.

She didn't even realize she had started muttering. Words. Apologies. Pleas no one could hear.

"I didn't know… I didn't… I never wanted this…"

A car honked, its lights flashing past her, but she didn't flinch.

Her father's voice echoed in her mind—cruel, commanding, cold—and then Aarush's… venom laced in every word. You're just like him.

No, she wasn't.

But the man she loved had already judged her. Punished her. Thrown her away like filth.

The rain fell harder. The street blurred. Her legs gave way.

Sanya dropped to her knees on the side of the road, in the mud and gravel, clutching the letter that had cursed her. The will was now crumpled and soaked, the ink bleeding away, just like her name… just like the last remnants of her hope.

She stayed there, letting the storm rage above her.

Maybe the rain could wash it all away.

Maybe she wouldn't get up at all.

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