The door opens without permission. Neera’s younger sister—Riya. Permanent irritation on her face, contempt in her eyes. She looks at Yuvans as if he were some mistake this house had made.
“How many times have I told you to get up early? Dad doesn’t like the household’s son-in-law lying around like this.”
Son-in-law. A word stripped of respect.
Old resentment rises inside Yuvans—as if someone had blown on dying embers. Yogesh holds him back from within. Not now. Watch first. Understand.
Yuvans stays silent. Riya smiles mockingly. “What happened? Lost your voice? Or did you get into a fight with someone again, like yesterday?”
Last night.
The memory suddenly sharpens. The back of the mansion. Darkness. A heavy voice. A shove. Breath being cut off. Someone’s fingers around his throat. A struggle. Then nothingness.
But had it really happened?
He makes his way downstairs to the dining hall. A long table. Silverware. His mother-in-law’s hard eyes. His father-in-law’s permanently dissatisfied expression. And Neera—Dr. Neera—composed and beautiful, yet keeping what seemed like a safe distance from her emotions.
“You’re here?” His father-in-law’s voice is heavy. “If you live in this house, you should take care of it too.”
His mother-in-law adds, “Our daughter stands at the hospital day and night. And you? You never have time for anything but your dreams.”
Yuvans’s throat goes dry. He pulls out a chair and sits. From within, Yogesh weighs every word. This isn’t just taunting—it’s a structure. A structure designed to slowly prove someone inferior.
“I’m trying,” Yuvans says quietly.
Neera sets down her spoon. Her eyes settle directly on Yuvans. “Trying isn’t enough. We need results.”
There is no anger in her voice—only distance. As if she had already withdrawn from this relationship emotionally.
Yuvans seethes inside. “But I—”
“That’s enough,” his father-in-law cuts him off. “Stop arguing. Do exactly as you’re told.”
Silence settles over the room. Only the faint clink of plates can be heard.
Yogesh thinks from within: This house is made of marble on the outside, but cracks on the inside.
Small taunts continue throughout the day. About the shop’s accounts. About coming home late. About speaking too loudly to the servant. Yuvans’s identity is gradually reduced to one word: incompetent.
In the evening, he steps outside. There is a slight dampness in the air. Yellow light spreads across the road. That is when he sees him.
Across the street. The same face. The same eyes. That same man.
The memory jolts again—darkness, a struggle, suffocating breath.
Fear flashes through the man’s eyes for an instant—as if he had seen a ghost.
“You.” His lips tremble.
Yuvans slowly moves toward him. “Why? Why are you afraid when you see me?”
The man tries to compose himself. “What the hell are you talking about? Move out of the way.”
But his heartbeat is racing. His eyelids twitch uncontrollably. Yogesh reads everything from within—the body speaks faster than lies.
“What were you doing behind the mansion last night?” Yuvans asks.
The man’s face turns white for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know,” Yuvans whispers.
For a moment, silence hangs between them—thick and heavy.
The man suddenly backs away. “Have you gone crazy? Stay away from me.” He turns and walks off faster and faster.
Yuvans’s fists clench. Yogesh says from within, “That fear wasn’t for no reason.”
On the way home, the mansion seems even larger—like a stone fortress with secrets locked inside.
That night, Neera lies beside him, yet she is emotionally distant. She is reading a medical journal, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose.
“Were you out again today?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Who did you meet?”
“An old acquaintance.”
Neera looks at him—deeply. For a moment, a hint of concern flickers in her eyes. “What kind of acquaintance?”
“The one who may have wanted to kill me.”
The air in the room seems to stop.
Neera slowly closes the book. “What are you talking about?”
“Last night. I remember. Someone strangled me. I was shoved. I…I died.”
Neera’s face hardens. “You’re imagining things. You’re overthinking this.”
“Do you know something?” Yuvans’s voice does not tremble—but it is deep.
Neera sits up. “Listen, Yuvans. You’ve been very unstable lately. Stop looking for conspiracies in everything.”