A/N: Sorry, last night I couldn't add the author's note. It was because my mother snatched the laptop from my hand and forced me to go to bed. Can't blame her though, it was 3 am in the morning. Do check out the author's note, please. 

Dedicating this chapter to each one of you who is reading it right now. And to myself.

Last few months I had been living in self-doubt, low esteem, and insecurities—most of the time there were days when I wanted to delete this book because I felt it was not worth a read. But today, I feel safe and proud to say I have restored my self-confidence and this chapter is testimony to it.

Very very grateful to you lovely readers and the people who patiently listened to my rants. You guys have no idea what each vote, comment, and review meant to me and helped me pull out of that dark place. I love you all for being here always.

I have poured my heart and soul into this chapter. I have been writing it for days in a good writing mood. It's a bittersweet chapter that will you laugh, cry and curse me in the end. But don't worry, I know you guys love me 😇

Don't forget to shower it with love. Writing conflicts and switching between characters' POVs is new to me, so I would appreciate your feedback and suggestions to help me improve.

Happy Reading!!

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"We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference." — Elie Wiesel

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Flashback Continued : 

The living room was shrouded with a veil of formidable, eerie silence—the one that didn't conk out to make the arrival of impending hurricanes unknown.

A sheen of sweat trailed a beady line on Samarth's forehead as several pairs of eyes razed over him and Avni, the weight of their stare deafening, making him hard to move an inch. Or even breathe. His throat clogged with a sudden lump and bouts of shudder slithered up his spine like a snake when a pale brown gaze rapt on him, unwavering, ruthless, and haunting as if primed on the command of the older woman—to annihilate his very existence from this face of the earth.

His face burned in her brutal scrutiny. He looked away and cited the sedated movements of the late afternoon breeze whooshing from the vicinity of the crème curtains, followed by some loud sighs of disappointment and a chuckle—that from the cousin, who looked amused, her bright eyes dancing, the apple of her cheeks protruding as she teased. "Just a little friend, huh?"

Shame, agony, and remorse seared up a path to his chest as he swallowed, his mouth iced with the frost-tipped venomous stare of the grandmother.

"You people misunderstood the entire situation." Came the reply from the heiress, her voice even and her chin tipped high, resilient against the indirect jab at her character. "It was not how it looked like."

"Stop defying your actions in the veil of misunderstanding." A steel, razor-sharp edge infused the grandmother's voice, who had a habit of exaggerating things when it came to her least favorite grandchild. In a beat, her thin lips sniped in a smile that was anything but kind, if paired with the dangerous glint in her pale irises. "Oh, I must say, such a perfect picturesque moment I got the privilege to witness." She blasted, not caring if a child was around hearing her spit venom.

"Maa. I think we are jumping to the wrong conclusion." An elegant woman chaffed in a mauve silk saree, cut in quickly, her polite interjection fruitless in smoothening the elderly woman's tousled feather.

"I guess not, mami." Sonam clicked her tongue, her mesh eyes wafting to the teenage boy, who occasionally snuck a glance at the miffed girl beside her, a flicker of guilt trailing his soft countenance each time.

Silence cocooned the lounge soon after. Even the servants swathed in chiffon white uniforms, cradling the golden serving tray decked with mystical teapots and cups, paused. Their gaze lowered as they awaited the command from the older most Desai, who heaved, her nostrils breathing fire. Wise enough to spare themselves from getting smoldered by the dragon flame, the mortals in the room tight-lipped. Despite her poise and saccharine lady demeanor, Shobha Desai was known for not hiding her wrath toward things she despised.

Outside the disquieting barricades, the sun unhorsed the blue yonder in its own time. The slightly opened mammoth windows divulged the soothing melody of birds chirping as they winged their way at the decree of the warm breeze. Contrary to that blissful melancholy, the silence rang a thousand times louder and weighed a thousand times heavier among the aristocratic walls of the grand mansion—the silence only to be splintered by a soft, angelic voice.

"Didi."

A short while after his mother's hold loosened around his shoulders, the little boy galloped toward his elder sister—anonymous to the interminable tension spiraling the room. He stayed put though, his doe eyes studying the new person near his favorite sister. Hearken, his small feet dragged him closer to his sister, creating a considerable space between the guy.

Avni snapped out of her frozen state, a small thread of laughter escaping the back of her throat as she watch her brother eye the tin box clasped between her slender, long fingers. The tenderness superseded annoyance and fright on her mien when she noted his gaze's focal point being the cake perched on the enclosed tin walls, only a quarter of it eaten.

The seven-year-old licked his lower lips. "Cake?" he said, almost whispering in her elfin ear, mindful to not let the stranger receive a gist of his word—still very shy and guarded around the unfamiliar person.

The stranger attempted to smile at him but failed miserably—all thanks to the glower of the grey-haired woman in the room. That's what Kabir assumed before he turned to his sister, staring expectedly, hoping his sister picked up his unsaid words. He had a sweet tooth, alright.

"My Kabir wants cake?" Avni chuckled, ignoring the heaviness of her family's attention.

He bobbed his head in affirmation, his mouth cutting in a wide grin, the front of his two teeth missing and his gold-toned cherubic profile glowing up, the light returning in the borderline brown orbs, the twinkles in them bright enough to rival the stars shimmering in the night heaven.

"Alright, my boy." Avni's chest swelled with warmth and affection as her brother beamed at her. Without further ado, she threaded her thin fingers on the spoon and scooped a considerable piece, raising it toward his now wide-opened mouth.

"Don't you dare feed him any of that cheap stuff!" The voice, doused with malice and disgust, yelled.

Samarth's shoulders slumped and his chest grew heavier, holding the gravity of mortification and dejection bred by Shobha's malign words. A bitter smile fluttered on his face. He looked down, glaring at the polished wood floor. Of course, it was cheap stuff made with whatever ingredients he could afford. How naïve he was to think a person who had been fed lavish delicacy all their life would even consider gobbling down a simple cake made by him?

"Don't use any malicious terms for the dessert made by my friend!" Avni bit back, the decibels of her voice picking up volume and her face flushing crimson red with fury as she glared at her grandmother.

Heaving a long, calming breath, Avni curbed her anger down and turned to her friend, offering him a quick apologetical smile before tightening her grasp on the spoon. "By the way, it's delicious. No offense to your highly professional chefs, but this is the best cake I've ever eaten." She hurled the spoonful of cake to Kabir, her lips twitching upward as she watched the little boy chew, a soft sigh of delight parting his mouth. "Right, kiddo?"

Kabir nodded. "Tasty!" The little fella exclaimed with a mouthful of cake.

Samarth's mouth curved in the tiniest of smiles, warmth spreading against his rib cage. At least someone found his gateau worth eating and defending.

"Ridhima."

The teeny curl on Avni's mother, who she watched her two kids, thinned at the vexed tone of her mother-in-law. She closed her not for a long, very well aware of what Shobha Desai implied. "Kabir." Her voice arrested her son's attention. She sighed as the boy tilted his head to look back at her, his gaze confused and questioning, "Go to your room."

"But Mumma, cake?" He asked in a lost childlike voice, his expression hopeful.

"Listen to your mother. And go to your room, boy!"

Kabir flinched, his lower lip wobbling at the furious roar of his grandmother.

Ridhima's eyes softened. So did her two daughters and niece. "Beta please." She said tenderly before turning to her middle child. "Ira. Can you take him?"

Ira, who had been quiet the whole time, nodded. She traipsed toward her brother and clamped his shoulder, tugging him away from Avni and the cake. The little boy sighed in disappointment before threading on his sister's heels and walking out of the room.

Avni scoffed, disheartened at the older woman's action. She was not surprised, though. How can she expect her grandmother to be hospitable to someone who neither benefited her nor apple-polished her? Rage lit a match in her stomach at the remembrance of the malicious words poured out of her magenta-colored mouth. It was beyond dispute—Shobha Desai hated everything Avni was fond of.

"You, young lady! How dare you pick a side of a random no-one and insult your grandmother in front of him?" Shobha Desai's shout thundered in the peerage of crème barricades.

Samarth lowered his face, umpteenth in the last few minutes since the older woman arrived, each syllable hot, slicing into his heart.

Avni touched her earlobes and nearly gasped, not finding her ear bleeding at the ancient fool's thunderous voice. Reminding herself to stuff cotton balls into her ears whenever she would have the misfortune to cross her grandmother, she leered at her favorite person. "I don't know what's your definition of insulting is . But let me apprise you. It wasn't an insult. I was merely complimenting my friend's artistic cooking skills."

Shobha Desai gasped and narrowed her eyes into a menacing glare. "Have you seen her, Ridhima? The way she's talking to me?"

Ridhima clipped her mouth, hiding the painful smile of being caught in the flames of their verbal war, despising the plight her mother-in-law had tossed her into. She hated picking sides among her family members. She mustered a remorseful cast. "Avni. Let me handle—"

"Mom." Avni cut her in, deep lines of disbelief and disappointment coasting her profile. "You must believe me. I am not at fault here. Dadi can't just insult my friend, who traveled hours to check upon me. And let me make it clear, we didn't do anything."

"Don't lie, Av, it's unbecoming." Before Ridhima could retort, Sonam chided, coming to her Nani's rescue, but only wanting to get bailed out of etiquette classes this weekend.

"I am not lying." Avni gritted out, not liking the interjection of her dear cousin. "And lying is not and never will be my trait. Oh, but I heard it was yours. Want me to tell everyone the secret trips you make—"

"Stop it, Avni." Sonam blanched, color draining from her face before all the blood pumped up back at once. Her hands curled into fists as she noticed her aunt and grandmother's bewildered profiles.

The corner of Avni's mouth curled at her cousin's molten red cheeks. She wanted to remark it wasn't Sonam's best color, but doubted she would appreciate it amid the nasty brawl. "Gladly. But for that, you need to stop butting into my matters. Or else I wouldn't mind spilling out everything."

"Girls*,*" Ridhima said softly and calmly, glancing at both young women glowering at each other.

"Hush it, Ridhima." Shobha humphed, pointing her translucent fingers at the prodigal daughter. "Seems like the only manner this girl calculated is back answering elders and picking up fights with cousins."

"So everyone can badmouth me and I can't even retaliate?" Avni bit back, steeling her spine, her smile pitying.

Avni Desai was not nice. She rarely was. Being nice was not the reputation or position she held. But times like this always unleashed the worst of her.

Her grandmother was a shrewd woman, notorious for wounding people she despised with her sharp, malign words—when not busy attending glitzy fundraisers and cozy tea parties. Avni's relationship with her grandmother was twisted and marred with mind games, verbal abuse, and insults. Avni, even after putting up a brave face, couldn't deny all the scars the grandmother's sharper than a blade tongue wielded on her soul. But there was no escaping. Avni knew it. So did Shobha.

Just like the fate of the rose was forever wreathed with thorns, Avni was forever shackled with the scars wreaked by the people who forged to love her. And by those who claimed to only want the best of her.

But Avni could only vow—to never again hand the vile woman any chunk of her soul.

"Look at the result of your leniency," Shobha clenched her jaw, fury radiating off her in powerful waves, infusing coldness in everyone's veins. She turned to Ridhima, coldly inquiring about her parenting. "Didn't I tell you to cage her down? This attention-seeking flightless bird is now feathering around, desperate for a crumble of attention from anyone who will give it. Rendezvous with this boy is the proof!"

Shobha's eyes pinned Samarth like a bug to the ground. Agony, unlike any he had ever known, scalded a thick trail to his ribcage. His limbs felt unbearably heavy, his body on the verge of collapsing anytime underneath the gravity of her crude gaze.

Shobha's words hurt Avni. Hurt would be too small and too vague to describe the pain crashing her insides. They splintered a new crack in her soul. But she tipped her head high, and expression nonchalant, refusing to reveal the facture that dispensed her heart and let fresh scars ooze into it.

Ridhima shook her head. "She is just a kid."

"Kid? She was a kid ten years ago. How long will you and Jay use that as an excuse to hide her brazen-faced and defamatory acts?" Shobha began, a hint of challenge disguising in her tone. "It's not solely about actions. This foolish girl needs to learn perception is everything. What makes her believe that this boy—" Her pupils dilated, gaze narrowing at Samarth, a stream of disgust bleeding through her eyes. "That this boy isn't here to snag himself a rich heiress? Look at your naïve daughter falling right into his trap!"

Avni's eyes saw red, her vision fogging with bouts of fury until she blinked. This time, it wasn't just her standing on the dock while her grandmother spewed the allegation. The emptiness in the room allowed Samarth to hear the words. Loud and clear. If anything, the downward tilt of his face and phased glint in his obsidian were indications that he had.

"Not a word against him, Mrs. Desai." The words burst forth from Avni's throat before she could stop them.

Every corner of the room resonated with two women's gasp.

Avni's gaze dawdled, locking with the pair of irises she had inherited. They stared back at her, softening at the deforested mien of her daughter. Remorse, helplessness, and ache gleamed underneath the marginal earthen eyes. But her supple lips remained sealed, like always.

She was taught words could be painful, cruel, and destructive even. Capable of wounding, stinging, and breaking one's soul. But no one warned her silence always had the upper hand—that it stabbed the victim to death if not broken by a bystander when the occasion demanded. And sadly, onlookers are more brutal than sinners.

Avni looked away, trying to elude the disappointment that clawed her heart in a tight grip. "I won't tolerate you demeaning, my friend. He isn't like that. And you can't belittle him. You can't."

Samarth's expression eased a beat, but something turbulent lurked beneath his pitch-black eyes.

Shobha pressed her lips so tightly together they were nothing but a slash of white against her golden-toned skin. "Oh, sweetheart." The quiet rumble of her anger seeped into her skin, searing her insides. "I'm trying to keep you from getting hurt by boys. For once, stay pristine. So one day, you might actually be useful to your family. You should thank me. Boys like him—"

Avni held out her hand. "I don't need your boys' will be boy's speech. Growing up, I've heard plenty of it. So save it."

A bitter laugh echoed through the enclosed walls, only drowned by the soft thud of her footsteps as Shobha Desai walked over to her granddaughter. "You've always been an ungrateful and spoiled child." Shobha bent slightly, lowering herself to their eye level. The contact was tiny, but the brininess in the pale brown irises burned their skin as if he was thrown in a vat of acid. "So my precious—" She turned to Avni, her lips twitching. "—I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

With that being said, Shobha Desai maneuvered out of the room, on her way ordering the servants to line up the evening tea alfresco in her bedroom. Sonam followed her grandmother right after. Lowering their head, the staff chaffed in starchy whites followed the suit, exiting the room, and leaving behind the two shocked teenagers who seemed to have frozen in their seats.

"Avni." A whisper immersed the silence, jerking the attention of two hushed teens. "Is he 'The Sammy' you tell me about?"

Avni nodded.

Next to her, Sammy's grip on the wooden hand-carved Diwan's armrest loosened, blood rushing back to his white knuckles, and steady air bypassing the throat, filling the walls of his lungs. His mouth cut into an awkward smile when Ridhima stared at him. Her pretty brown eyes didn't hold fury or disgust for him. Instead, they softened, staring back at him with tenderness and remorse.

"Avni talks about you. Nice to meet you, beta. " Ridhima gave a small smile when Samarth startled in surprise.

"She talks about me?" His cheeks warmed.

Avni closed her eyes, the skin between her eyebrows pinching as she heard her mother again. "Yeah, she does. Thanks for being her good friend."

"I'm sorry for whatever today." Ridhima sounded pained. "Maa normally doesn't behave like that with guests. Today wasn't one of her good moods. You're always welcome here."

"Can you please stop defending her?" Avni snapped, regretting the right instant when she saw her mother flinch at her sharp tone. "She maimed me with those phrases again*."* She craned her swan-like neck, her lower lip trembling. "And you couldn't stop her. Again. "

Silence stretched for a moment. Her mother paled until she resembled a paper cutout of herself. "I am sorry."

"No, you don't get to do that. Don't make me pretend the stabbing never happened." Tiny drops of tears clung to her thick lashes desperately, frightened to slide on her coppery cheeks without her consent.

Avni's stomach tightened, penance clawing her insides at the sight of her mother's red-rimmed eyes, an ache visible on the quadragenarian's winsome profile. But she was stubborn and too angry to forget and forgive everything. Her slender fingers flipped silk raven locks behind one ear before skillfully placing the silver spoon inside and cramming the lid on the six-inch lofty tiffin.

Uncrossing her stiff legs, she