C2 2.
**[NOOR'S POV]**
Her feet ached with every step, like walking on broken glass.
The night air felt colder now. Dust clung to her soaked white kameez as she limped into the familiar, haunted alley—right up to the rusted gates of Siddique Haveli.
She didn’t knock.
She never had to.
Because behind that door… someone always waited.
**Creak.**
The gate opened, and there she was.
**Fariha Bua.**
Arms folded. Saree pleats perfect. Eyes—sharp enough to cut bone.
“*Baarir meye hoye raat e baire theko? Shorom bolte kichu nei tomar?*”
(A girl from a respected family… wandering the streets at night? Have you no shame?)
Noor didn’t look up. Her head lowered, voice absent, soul heavy.
She didn’t explain.
She couldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
“*Bollam toh onek agei—ei meyetar kono ghotbe na. Na akal ache, na lajja. Borj ekta ”
(I’ve said it before—this girl will never become anything. No sense, no shame. Just a burden .)
**Smack.**
The slap cracked the night like thunder.
Noor staggered backward, slamming into the corner table. Her breath caught—but no sound left her lips.
Not a scream.
Not even a gasp.
**Only silence.**
Fariha’s fingers dug into her wrist like iron hooks.
“*Eto chupi thakle boro hoye jabi? Natok baaji chhara kichui janish na tui”
(Silence won’t make you wise. You don’t know anything expect drama.)
She was dragged in. Like a sack. Like weight. Like shame.
And when the door finally slammed shut behind her… silence returned.
But it wasn’t peaceful. It was **shattering**.
---
Later, in her little corner of the world—a dusty mattress by the window, worn-out curtains, and a shelf with more broken dreams than books—Noor curled up.
The pain didn’t scream anymore. It lived inside her now.
Her forehead rested on her knees.
The moon hung like a ghost in the sky.
And her eyes spoke the only language she had left.
“*Ma… sobai ghrina kore amake… keno tumi amake choose korle? *”
(Ma… everyone hates me… why did You choose me? )
Her fingers slowly drew invisible circles on the window glass. Like whispers nobody could hear.
*“Ya Allah… amake bachaao… ekta rasta dekhao…”*
(Oh Allah… save me. Show me a way out…)
And above her, the moon disappeared behind a soft grey cloud.
As if even the sky couldn’t bear to watch.
---
**[RAYAAN'S POV]**
The night stretched long, thick, and restless.
Rayaan tossed on the silk sheets, his jaw locked tight.
His world had been chaos today—calls, shipments, men reporting, orders flying.
But now?
Now there was only that **face.**
Wide eyes. Mute lips. Dusty feet.
**A silence that screamed louder than any gunshot.**
He sighed, frustrated, rubbing his temples.
“*Ki je hocche amar… shei mookhta ekbar dekhlam, ar chharo na.*”
(What’s happening to me… I saw that face once, and it won’t leave me.)
He wasn’t weak.
He wasn’t the kind to *care.*
But that trembling figure… that helpless silence—it haunted him.
He sat up, blanket falling to the floor, and ran a hand through his hair.
Something inside his chest felt off. Tight.
“Why do I care?”
He tried to reason. Convince himself it was nothing. Just a random village girl with no voice and too much sadness in her eyes.
But he couldn’t shake the way her silence made him feel.
**Guilty.**
**Powerless.**
**Responsible.**
He walked to the balcony, staring at the night sky.
The moon stared back.
And for the first time in years, Rayaan Khan—heir to the Khan Empire, shadow ruler of the city—felt something unfamiliar.
**Uneasy.**
As if somewhere out there, someone’s unspoken pain had cracked open a locked door in his heart.
---
**[RAYAAN'S POV]**
The silence was driving him mad.
Rayaan slammed his fist down on the desk, scattering papers everywhere. His patience was running thin. He had given his men orders to find the girl. He'd sent them to every corner of the city. He had used every possible resource. *And still*, no one could tell him anything about her.
Her face. The ghostly image of her… that silence, it was all he could think about.
“*Who the hell is she?!*” Rayaan muttered, pacing back and forth in his study, his voice rising with every step. The walls of the room seemed to close in on him as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
“*How can I not find one damn thing about her?*”
He threw the glass of whiskey on the table, the sound echoing in the quiet of the room.
His mind raced. *Why did she get under his skin like this?* He’d seen thousands of faces—some begging for mercy, some desperate for power—but none like hers. This was different. This… girl had something that *bothered* him.
“*You saw her, you know she’s real, Rayaan. Then why can’t you find her?*”
He stormed over to the phone, dialing the number of his most trusted man.
“*Do you have anything?!*” he demanded as soon as the phone connected.
“Sir, we’ve checked every street, every alley, the shelters... We’ve found nothing. We believe she doesn’t exist in any official record.”
Rayaan's grip tightened on the phone. “*That’s impossible!*”
A cold laugh escaped his lips, but it was laced with disbelief. *She had to exist. She had to.*
He looked out the window. The city, the lights—everything felt... distant. His chest tightened, and for the first time in a long time, he felt powerless.
---
**[NOOR'S POV]**
Noor’s hands trembled as she wiped the counters in the kitchen, the cloth scrubbing over the surface until it was ragged and torn. The house was eerily quiet. The sound of the clock ticking in the background seemed louder than ever.
Her thoughts swirled, her mind trying to keep the images of the previous night out. The slap. The hurt. Fariha Bua’s harsh words echoing in her mind. But it didn’t matter. She couldn’t *stop* working. She couldn’t stop moving.
Because if she stopped, she would fall apart.
She wiped away the tears before they even had a chance to fall.
"Why does this have to be my life?!" she thought, the frustration rising in her chest.
It felt like the walls were closing in on her. Her feet ached, her body felt like it had been broken a thousand times. She didn’t even have the energy to feel anymore. But still, she couldn’t stop.
*Why couldn't anyone see? Why couldn't anyone hear me?*
She had no one left.
---
**[RAYAAN'S POV]**
Rayaan stood in front of his full-length mirror, staring at his own reflection as if it might hold the answers he was searching for. He hated this feeling. This helplessness.
He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes dark with frustration. *What the hell is wrong with me?*
He wanted to forget. He needed to. There were bigger things—bigger deals, bigger problems. But no matter how many times he tried to shake it off, her face kept returning. Her silence. That look of pain. It was *unforgivable*.
“*She is nothing to me. Nothing.*” Rayaan muttered under his breath.
But it didn’t sound convincing. The words didn’t stick. They fell flat.
Rayaan cursed under his breath, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. *Maybe getting some air will help. Or maybe breaking something.*
---
**[NOOR'S POV]**
She sat on the floor in the darkened corner of her room, hands tightly clutching the edges of her kameez, her mind racing.
The world outside was so loud—noises she couldn’t escape from, but inside? Inside, everything was a painful silence. A silence that had been her only companion for so long that it felt almost suffocating.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to run.
But no matter where she went, the chains of her life would follow.
*“If only someone could hear me...”* she thought, clenching her fists.
But no one would. Not her father, not Fariha Bua. And certainly not him—the man whose face haunted her, whose presence made her insides twist with both anger and longing.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She couldn’t even cry anymore. The tears had all dried up.
“*Why me?*” Her silent whisper floated into the room, unheard by anyone.
---
**[RAYAAN'S POV]**
The night air hit him like a cold slap to the face. Rayaan walked down the streets of Kolkata aimlessly, his anger driving him forward. He wasn’t thinking anymore. He just needed to *do* something. Anything.
His phone buzzed again, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t want to hear from Zayan or anyone else. Not now.
The city was alive, chaotic, just like him. People moved in and out of the shadows. But for once, Rayaan felt like he didn’t belong. *Was this what it felt like to be human?* To be haunted by a face, by a silence?
He looked up to the sky, the full moon mocking him. It was as if the universe was laughing at his inability to fix anything for once.
---
