“Sometimes the people you’d take a bullet for are the ones behind the trigger.” — Unknown

The sound of crying filled the dim hallway of a modest home tucked in a small town of Uttar Pradesh, echoing like a desperate prayer unheard by the gods. Avni clutched the pale, wrinkled cotton saree of her aunt—her Chachi—her voice trembling with emotion, her knees pressing against the cold marble floor.

“Chachi… mujhe aur padhna hai, please,” Avni sobbed, clutching Mahima Singh’s legs tightly. “Ek baar doctor ban jaane do, I’ll repay every single rupee you’ve ever spent on me. I’ll clear all your debts. Please, Chachi…”

Mahima Singh’s face hardened as she yanked her leg away. Her expression was carved from stone, eyes devoid of sympathy. “Nahin! Tum ab aur nahi padhogi. Bohot ho gaya. Humne already bahut paisa barbaad kar diya tumhari padhayi par.”

Her voice was sharp, cold, and cruel. “Medical padhne mein paisa ped pe nahi ugta. Itna kharcha karne ke liye koi pagal hai kya?”

Avni’s tear-streaked face looked up at her with disbelief, but before she could plead again, Mahima pushed her aside. Avni stumbled, falling hard on the floor with a painful thud.

“Ab chup-chaap jao aur sab ke liye khana banao,” Mahima ordered, her voice filled with disgust. “Maa-baap toh chorh gaye tumhe, khud abroad ghoom rahe hain. Sirf yeh bojh chhod diya hamare sir pe. Chand paise bhej dete hain aur wahan maze mein rehte hain… huh.”

Grumbling bitterly, Mahima walked upstairs to her room, the wooden stairs creaking beneath her weight as she murmured curses under her breath.

Left behind, Avni sat on the cold floor, broken and shaking. Her sobs came in waves, the pain choking her more than the tears. Her mother had died when she was just ten. Her father hadn’t just left—he had abandoned her. Blamed her. Forgotten her. Now he lived abroad, remarried, and lived a life where she didn’t exist.

No birthday calls. No letters. No love.

After her mother’s death, life hadn’t taught Avni how to survive—it had taught her how to endure. And she endured it all in silence. Mockery, taunts, abuse—served every day with the meals she cooked and the chores she finished.

Only one soul in the house cared—her Chachu, Rajesh Singh. But even he was silenced by his dominating wife. He would often leave a glass of warm milk at her door late at night or quietly slip her a hundred-rupee note—but never dared to defend her openly.

With trembling hands, Anvi wiped her tears and stood up. Her legs felt heavy, but she walked into the kitchen, mechanically starting the preparations for dinner. Her movements were slow but precise—years of habit had made her efficient. She didn’t even need to think. She just cooked, cleaned, served.

Later that night, when the house had finally fallen silent, Avni retreated to her little sanctuary—a tiny room on the terrace. It was modest, barely enough for a single bed and a small study table. But she had made it her heaven.

A small window brought in soft moonlight. The balcony, though narrow, was lined with potted plants—her green friends as she called them. In one corner stood her proudest possession: a mini library filled with used medical books, borrowed novels, and a few old exam notes.

Her phone buzzed, cutting through the silence.

Shreya calling…

She picked it up with a tired smile.

“Hello, Aru!” came the chirpy voice of her best friend, Shreya Rajput.

“Yes…” Avni replied, her voice soft but stable now.

“Why didn’t you come to college today? I waited so long for you!”

“I… I woke up late,” Avni lied smoothly.

Shreya didn’t question it. She knew her friend’s reality.

“It’s okay. I’ll send you all the notes from today’s class. And guess what? Vicky was missing you more than I was—” she teased.

“Shut up, Shreya!” Avni said, finally chuckling.

“Okay, fine! But miss me more than you miss him, okay?”

“Shut up!” Avni laughed again, a rare sound in her life.

“Bye! And take care, Aru.”

“Bye.”

The call ended. Avni leaned against the wall, eyes closed. For a moment, her burdens felt lighter.

On the other side of the city…

A sleek black Aston Martin glided to a stop in front of a towering glass building—Rajvansh Corporation. The driver stepped out and opened the door, and out stepped a man who carried power like a second skin.

Adrith Rajvansh.

Dressed in an immaculately tailored black suit, his sharp jawline and piercing eyes turned heads everywhere he walked. But no one dared to stare for too long. His aura was cold, commanding, almost dangerous. Employees greeted him nervously.

“Good morning, sir.”

He replied with only a curt nod, not slowing his pace. Fear followed him like a shadow. He entered the private elevator reserved only for him, and within seconds, was in his cabin—one of the most powerful offices in the country.

He placed his phone and wallet on the polished mahogany desk and looked out the massive glass window that overlooked the city.

“Varun,” he called, his voice low but firm.

His PA entered almost instantly. “Yes, boss?”

“One black coffee. Then my schedule.”

“Yes, sir.”

Minutes later, Varun placed the coffee on the table and opened the digital planner.

“Sir, today you have the international Zoom conference with Mr. Williams. It’s a major deal for our London expansion. And post-lunch, a physical meeting with the Oberoi Group regarding the renewable project.”

Adrith took a sip of his coffee. “Is the Oberoi meeting important to finalize the deal?”

“Yes, sir. Critical.”

“Book the conference room.”

“Already done, sir. Also, do you want me to reschedule the dinner invite for tonight?”

“No. I need to reach home early today.”

Varun raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Something special, sir?”

Adrith’s eyes softened just slightly. “It’s my mumma’s birthday.”

Varun smiled. “Please wish her on my behalf, sir.”

“You can do that in person. She invited you.”

“Really, sir?” Varun’s eyes widened. “I’ll definitely come.”

“Good. Now get back to work. No more talking.”

“Yes, sir,” Varun said, nearly running out of the room.

Adrith leaned back in his chair, looking at the city once more. He was India’s most powerful young tycoon. A billionaire. A man with everything—money, fame, respect.

And yet… a part of him still lived in the past he never spoke about.

Byeee guyzz love you