Chapter 46: Chapter 44- The Final Walk

Author's pov-

The car ride had been quiet. Too quiet. Avi sat beside siara, staring out of the window, lost in thoughts he refused to voice. There was so much to say, so much to confront-but neither of them spoke a word.

At last, as the apartment complex loomed into view, Avi broke the silence with a wry smile that didn't quite reach his eyes."Looks like you invested all your money in this apartment," he teased.

Siara merely shook her head and replied in a lazy tone, "I earn for you only."

When they finally stepped through the door, each step they took inside seemed to resurrect memories long dormant. Avi's eyes widened as he absorbed the sight before him.

The walls-covered in framed memories. Every ridiculous face he had ever made, every laugh, every moment of unfiltered chaos he had shared with Siara was frozen in time, captured in still frames. And beside him, in every single one of them, was Siara-expression blank, composed, untouched by the madness that was him. Trophies gleamed under the soft light, certificates lined the walls, and in one corner sat his old football, his worn-out skateboard leaning against the shelf.

His fingers trembled as he picked up a photograph-one where he was grinning like a fool, tugging at Siara's cheeks while she simply stared ahead, unimpressed.

Siara, on the other hand, walked with her usual composed stride, but her fingers twitched slightly at her sides. She had never been good with words, never knew how to bridge gaps with conversations. So she had done what she always did-stayed silent.

Avi swallowed hard. He didn't look at Siara. He just sat down on the floor, his head lowered, shoulders tense. His fingers curled into the fabric of his jeans, as if grounding himself.

Silence stretched between them. Heavy, unbearable.

His fingers curled. His throat tightened. He didn't look at her when he spoke. He Couldn't. "Remember when I said I wanted to see at least a single emotion on your face?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Even if it was you crying?" He laughed weakly, shaking his head. "I take it back. I-I don't want to see you cry. I can't even imagine it dii--"

Siara didn't let him finish.

She pulled him into a hug, fierce and unyielding. He buried his face into her shoulder, his arms wrapping around her tightly, desperately.

Tears streamed down his face, silent but relentless. He had spent so long trying to be strong, trying to believe that things would get better, that she would get better. But now, sitting here, he realized-his sister was never waiting to be saved. She had never let herself hope for that. She doesn't even want to give another chance to life.

"What's going on in your mind?" Siara asked gently, her fingers running through his hair. "Come on, ask me."

Avi pulled away just enough to rest his head on her lap. His voice cracked as he whispered, "They don't deserve you, Di. Those people... I thought after your marriage, maybe you'd finally start living, but I was wrong. Neither you were happy nor they ever try to make you so. The man who should have stood by you just turned away. They never cared enough."

Siara exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. "I had a past," she murmured. "A horrific one. The past that changed the course of my life..the past that destroyed the girl who was once..Happy"

Avi clenched his jaw, the pain of unspoken truths etching deeper lines across his face. "You're right, they didn't care enough." She paused, her fingers gently parting his hair before she turned his face toward hers. "But tell me one thing, Avi. Do you think I did?"

Avi just looked at her wanting her to continue because he knows she was right. She don't care about anything except him and her profession.

Siara's eyes, tired and filled with the weight of long-accepted truths. "Life was never meant for me," she admitted softly. "I don't know how to live Avi... not after everything that happened so many years ago. And yes, those people-you're right-they ignored me. But do you know why?"

Avi remained silent.

"You think they didn't treat me right?" Her voice was soft but unwavering. "You're wrong. They tried. They tried a lot. Not once, not twice, not thrice-an uncountable number of times."

"You know what I did?" Her lips quirked, but there was no amusement in her gaze. "I never acknowledged them. Just like I always do."

"They gave me a space in their world-a space I never wanted. They tried to accept me even after knowing the lies of my past. But any person would eventually stop trying when every effort met the same cold rejection. And that's exactly what happened-they stopped their efforts." She paused for a moment, her fingers still combing through his hair, soothing the storm raging inside him.

He swallowed hard.

“You know what they did wrong?” Siara’s voice dropped to a low, bitter murmur. “They judged me on the basis of their own shallow judgments—accusations and whispers spun from lies, They chose to build walls from their assumptions instead of seeking the truth, and in doing so, they betrayed the very essence of what I am.”

"I really don't care, Avi, I just... don't. I don't want to build any relation because relationships come with—"

Avi's voice, heavy with understanding and sorrow, completed the thought in a low, resigned tone, "expectations."

Siara’s eyes flickered, a storm of memories and unspoken grief swirling within them as she whispered, "And expectations lead to disappointments." In that quiet moment, her mind wandered back to her brothers—once her entire world, the ones who should have been her refuge. Yet when she needed them most, when her voice trembled with raw vulnerability, they didn't listened. They had left her stranded in a sea of unvoiced pain, where every silent plea was drowned by their own indifference.

In that instant, Siara knew that the wounds of the past—inflicted by those who had been meant to protect her—would always echo in the corridors of her already dead heart, a constant reminder that love, when bound by expectations, was destined to breed only disappointments.

Avi closed his eyes, fresh tears slipping down his cheeks. He wanted to fight her words, to tell her she deserved more, That she deserved a love far greater than this bitter resignation—but deep down he knew that she had lost faith in everything, even in herself.

After a heavy silence that stretched into eternity, Avi’s voice broke through, tentative yet laced with raw honesty. “Your husband—whom I don’t like at all,” his face suddenly twisting into an absurd, almost cartoonish grimace, exaggerating his discomfort, “didn’t defend himself, didn’t even hit me back when I punched him,” he murmured, the admission hanging in the air like a fragile confession.

Siara’s gaze hardened for an instant before softening into a resolve that bordered on defiance. “I would have broken his hand if he’d dared to touch you,” she replied, her tone protective.

A wry chuckle escaped Avi’s lips—a sound that carried both sorrow and irony. “He loves you,” he said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

“And I don’t,” Siara snapped, her voice brittle yet unwavering.

"He might make you…” His voice faltered, caught between the desire to believe and the fear of the inevitable.

Siara’s reply was a soft, almost resigned whisper, heavy with the weight of past betrayals. “He’ll realize soon that his efforts are waste—and he… he will leave too, just like everyone. He will give up soon.” she said, her words punctuating the painful truth that had become her reality.

Avi looked deep into her tired eyes. “I don't think he would,” he declared while thinking of his conversation with mahir.

_______________________________________

After settling Avi in the apartment, Siara made her way to Sehgal Empire. Her steps were confident, unhurried. The moment she entered, the entire office froze. A hush fell over the employees as they remembered the last time she was here—when she had broken a man’s wrist without batting an eye. And then, their boss, Mahir Sehgal, had delivered a chilling warning that had them still reeling.

But Siara? She was unfazed. She walked past them like they were invisible, heading straight for the elevator. Even as whispers erupted behind her, no one dared to block her path.

By the time she reached Mahir’s floor, the employees standing there scrambled to greet her. She gave them a brief nod before pushing open the door to Mahir’s cabin. The unwritten command—never stop my wife—hung in the air, so no one dared to interfere.

Inside, Mahir stood near the glass window, looking effortlessly powerful. Beside him was a woman—tall, gorgeous, and clearly trying too hard. Her dress had been strategically unbuttoned, revealing just enough to make her intentions obvious.

But Mahir’s gaze wasn’t even on her. He was staring outside, looking dangerously angry as if he was barely controlling his anger.

The woman, emboldened by his silence, took a step closer. Before she could speak, Mahir’s voice, sharp and laced with immense anger, cut through the air.

“Fix your dress before I call my wife to fix your brain.”

The woman paled.

Siara, ever unflappable, swept forward, stepping inside as if she owned the place—which, technically, she did. She settled gracefully into Mahir's chair and crossed her legs, her presence commanding as she intoned. “Good evening, Mr. Sehgal.”

Mahir turned at her voice, his sharp eyes softening in surprise. And then, as if taking in the sight of her on his chair, he smirked.

His queen.

But just as he was about to speak, something else caught his attention. His expression darkened, his jaw clenched, and in three swift strides, he was kneeling before her, his hands wrapping around her ankle.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, his fingers removing her heel as his gaze zeroed in on the faint scratch on her foot. “At this rate, I might as well get a medical degree.”

Siara, with her trademark dry detachment, remarked, “Seriously, Mahir? It’s just a scratch. I don’t even know when I got it.”

Mahir was already assessing the wound like it was a life-threatening injury.

Meanwhile, the woman in the room stood frozen, her mouth hanging open in sheer disbelief.

Siara turned to her with mock sympathy. “You see, Miss… uh, whatever your name is, I have this huge injury on my foot.” She gestured at Mahir, who was now inspecting her like a surgeon. “And this man here? He’s about to perform an emergency operation.” She then pointed towards the door. “So, that’s the exit. You might wanna use it before Dr. Sehgal decides to operate on your brain instead.”

The woman’s face turned red, her fists clenched. She looked like she wanted to argue, but one glance at Mahir—who was now glaring at her with all the menace of a man seconds away from ruining her career—made her rethink her life choices.

With a huff, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Siara turned back to Mahir, when she said “She looked way too crazy for your not-so-calm world. You owe me for this one, Mr. Sehgal.”

Mahir retrieved a bandage from the side table, peeling it open. “I do, Mrs. Sehgal,” he murmured, applying it to her foot with a touch so gentle it almost contradicted the dangerous man he was.

Then, without warning, he lifted her foot and pressed a kiss just above the bandage.

Siara raised a brow. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Mahir smirked. “Call it my interest on what I owe you.”

They both stood up. Mahir instinctively took a step back, careful not to touch her more than necessary, respecting the invisible line she always drew. His gaze flickered to the door, his expression hardening.

Without missing a beat, he pressed the intercom and called his secretary inside. The moment he entered, Mahir’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument."Cancel all contracts with that woman. Effective immediately. And make sure she never steps foot in this office again."

His tone was final, unquestionable. The secretary swallowed, nodding quickly before hurrying out to execute his orders.

Then he turned to Siara, his expression shifting, the sharp edges softening just for her. His voice dropped to something lower, something teasing."Missed me too much?" He stepped closer, eyes locked onto hers. "That you just had to come here?"

Saira sarcastically replied,"Missed you as much as I miss that flower shower"

Suddenly her expression shifted, the lightness from before evaporating. Her eyes darkened with something unreadable, something heavy. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady, but he could hear the weight it carried.

“Take me to… them.”

Mahir froze.

The air between them turned thick, charged with a silent storm. He didn’t need to ask who them was. He knew.

His sharp gaze searched hers, looking for hesitation, for uncertainty—for any crack that might make him stop her. But she stood tall, unwavering, her resolve like steel.

His voice, when it came, was softer than usual. “You’re sure?” He paused, jaw tightening. “Your family is also there right now including your...mother”

She didn’t waver. She just nodded once.

Mahir exhaled slowly, his fingers curling at his sides. He wanted to shield her, to make this easier—but Siara wasn’t someone to be shielded. She was someone who walked into fire knowing it wouldn’t burn her the same way twice. She wouldn't let it.

Without another word, he turned and led the way.

------------

Soon, they reached the place where death loomed, silent and patient, waiting for its call. The air was thick—heavy with something unspoken, something inevitable. Every step Siara took reverberated through the cold, lifeless walls, a steady, haunting rhythm that announced her arrival.

The people inside had no idea what was coming. Not yet.  .

But they were about to.

They were about to witness the aftermath of their own sins. To come face-to-face with the final consequences of the pain they had inflicted. To see, with their own eyes, what they themselves had turned the woman they once destroyed into.

Now, they would understand what true trauma looked like. Not through words, not through accusations, but through the hollow, merciless gaze of the woman they had tried to destroy.

They hadn’t just broken her.

They had created her.

Mahir and Siara walked with unwavering strides, their presence a force of reckoning. Side by side, they moved like a storm—silent yet devastating, ready to finish what had begun years ago.

There was no hesitation. No second-guessing.

This was the final act of justice—merciless, inevitable, and long overdue.

The past had been cruel, but tonight, the past would answer for its sins. And by the time siara would be done, the people waiting inside would finally understand—what real fear looks like.