Mumbai

Haseena had locked herself in her room.

The silence in the apartment was heavy, broken only by the faint sound of splashing water coming from inside. In the attached washroom, she was aggressively throwing cold water on her face, desperately trying to wash away the tears and the stinging pain of what she had just seen online.

Outside, Kridha was entirely at a loss.

She wanted to be a good friend, but how do you comfort someone who has shut you out entirely?

Looking for a distraction, Kridha pulled out her phone and opened her private group chat, named "Ties That Bind." She figured she could share her stress with her Sisters.

Instead, she was greeted by a notification of 240+ unread messages.

Kridha in mind: Yeh dono sath hai phir bhi itni bakaiti online kar rahe hai. Kya hoga inka ufff...

She opened the private server-a highly advanced app equipped with chat, video calls, voice notes, and more.

Scrolling down, her annoyance peaked.

More than half the chat was flooded with mindless emojis.

🫠🫩🫪

"Dukhi aatmaye," Kridha muttered under her breath, letting out a heavy huff.

She scrolled straight to the bottom and clicked on a voice note.

Because of the app's advanced interface, clicking it once activated a live voice channel rather than just playing a recording.

Distracted, Kridha didn't realize she hadn't closed the channel.

Suddenly, a phone rang on the nearby sofa.

Kridha froze.

It was Haseena's phone.

Kridha stared at it, debating whether to knock on the room door, hand over the phone, or just let it ring.

What if it's important?

Before she could decide, the call disconnected.

A few seconds later, it rang again.

Still, no sign of Haseena.

When it rang for the third time, Kridha couldn't take it anymore.

She picked up the phone, tiptoed to the room door, and began waving the device in the air in a horizontal figure-eight motion-like someone desperately trying to catch a network signal.

She hoped the movement or the proximity of the ringing would prompt Haseena to open the door.

She didn't want to knock.

Haseena had stormed into her room in a cloud of emotional anger and devastation, and Kridha felt it wasn't right to intrude.

But despite her ridiculous infinity-loop waving, the door remained firmly shut.

The screen flashed:

10 Missed Calls.

Kridha was still busy waving the phone when suddenly, a deafening screech erupted from her own device sitting on the desk:

"Hiiiyaaaaaaaaaaa bhuuuuuuuuu!"

The voice channel had connected.

Kridha jumped out of her skin, letting out a yelp.

In her panic, Haseena's phone slipped from her grasp.

She lunged, juggling it mid-air, and managed to catch it-but in doing so, her thumb slammed against the green 'Accept' button, activating the speakerphone.

For a split second, Kridha's eyes locked onto the Caller ID.

It read a single, intimidating word:

Major.

Before her brain could process what that meant, a voice boomed from the speaker-sharp, authoritative, and utterly furious.

"Tum mai thodi bhi akal hai ya Mumbai jake bech di hai?" Monika's voice echoed through the room. "Maana mai busy hu, baar baar call nhi kar pa rahi, toh does that mean tum bhi call nhi karogi ya receive nhi karogi? 10, Haseena Malik, 10 missed calls! Where have you been until this time? Dekho, pehle hi warn kar du, mai akele chorda hai that doesn't mean tum log apne saare responsibilities dur karke aise wings leke panchi ki tarah udne lagoge. I am warning you, next time ek call mai mera phone receive hona chahiye!"

Kridha stood frozen, completely shell-shocked.

Kridha in mind: Yeh hai kon jwalamukhi ki tarah fatt rahi hai? Aur fatte toh fatte, mere pe kyu bin mausam badal ki tarah baras rahi hai? Maine kya kiya bhai? Tumhari jo koi bhi hai, wo andar hai, ismai mai kya karu? Sun bhi nahi rahi! Pure din bhar khamosh thi, na baat kar rahi, aur yeh hai ki chillaye ja rahi hai. Wings and all... pata nahi kya kya bole ja rahi hai. Itna chilla rahi hai kasam se Chief ki yaad dila di isne toh. 6 mahine baad Chief ki tarah meko aise suna rahi hai... hai kon ye?!

I am speaking to you, Haseena Malik!" Monika demanded, her voice cutting through Kridha's internal panic. "Sunayi de raha hai ya Kanpur mai hartaal hai? Kuch khaya? Kya kar rahi ho? Dimag kharab hai, mai video call kar rahi hu, receive it right now!"

Beep.

The call cut.

Kridha's eyes widened in sheer horror.

"Oh hello! Oh bhai, video call nahi! Video call nahi please! Mai aisi sherni types insaan ke darshan abhi nahi chahti yaar. Yeh kya faltu giri hai? Bhagwan kaha ho yaar, prakat ho jao aur iss Mahakaali ko dur bhejo! Oh godd!"

Panic fully taking over, Kridha spun around and started frantically banging on the room door.

The video call started ringing.

"Haseena!" Kridha cried out, banging harder.

What if she did something stupid?

She went in there so upset, she isn't opening the door, and now there's a bomb detonating on my head out here!

"Meko toh Diwali ke patakho se bhi problem hai, yeh kya hai!" she wailed.

Deciding she had to intercept, Kridha took a deep breath and accepted the video call.

She didn't look at the screen.

She slammed the phone down against the table, propping it up, and immediately stepped back, folding her hands together like a guilty criminal in front of a judge.

Her face was scrunched up as if she were about to cry.

On the other end, Monika had already started shouting, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a terrified, unfamiliar girl on the screen instead of Haseena.

"Madam, maine kuch nahi kiya!" Kridha blurted out, her eyes squeezed shut. "Major, please meko chhod do! Aapki Haseena jo kuch bhi lagti hai, phone mai kuch dekhi aur ekdum mayus hoke andar chali gayi. Mai toh seedhi saadi roommate hu, mujhe nahi pata. Room knock kar rahi hu phir bhi aa nahi rahi. Mai nahi janti, mai bekasur hu pehle hi bata du! Mai toh makkhi bhi nahi maar paati, jeete jaagte insaan ko thodi marungi! Dekho maine kuch nahi kiya, pleaseee!"

Right at that chaotic moment, the room door clicked and swung open.

Haseena stepped out, her eyes red and puffy.

She stopped in her tracks, staring at her roommate who was currently begging for her life to a phone leaning against a table.

"Tum pagal ho gayi ho?" Haseena asked, her voice raspy. "Yeh kya kar rahi ho?"

Kridha's eyes snapped open.

She gasped in relief, rushing over to grab the phone.

"Thank god tum safe ho yaar!" Kridha panted, shoving the phone into Haseena's hands like it was a live grenade. "Tumne toh attack hi la diya tha, door nahi khol rahi thi! Iss bomb ko sambhalo tum hi, yeh kya hai!"

Without waiting for a reply, Kridha sprinted back to the safety of her own desk, peeking over her monitor.

Haseena, completely confused, looked down at the screen.

Her breath hitched.

Monika was glaring at her through the camera, possessing the silent, terrifying stillness of a warden who had finally caught a runaway prisoner.

Haseena gulped loudly.

All her previous anger and sorrow evaporated into pure fear.

"Ma... Ma... Major, aap..." she fumbled, barely able to form the words.

"Ji farmayiye," Monika said, her voice dangerously calm. "Ab room mai itne shor ke baad bhi tum bahar kyu nahi aayi? And what the hell, Why were you not receiving my calls? 10 baar call kiya hai."

"Wo... wo... room..." Haseena stammered, looking at the floor. "Room mai thi..."

"Ro rahi thi," Monika finished for her, leaving no room for argument. "Kyu? Aisa kya dekha online? Viral fake post, am I right?"

Haseena's head snapped up.

She immediately shot a sharp side-eye at Kridha.

From behind her desk, Kridha frantically waved her hands in denial, mouthing,

"Bhai iske samne aatankwadi bhi sab bol de, mujhe mat kuch bolo!"

"Usko mat ghooro, wo roommate hai," Monika reprimanded, drawing Haseena's attention back to the screen. "Galti tumhari hai. Kitni baar kaha hai? Papa-Mummy jab the, tab unhone bhi samjhaya tha ki yeh politics and all chalta rehta hai. Kuch nahi mila toh bas yeh dikha do, ya kisi important cheez ko cover karne ke liye kuch aur bata do. Baaki users toh hote hi hai na, na iska point samjhenge na uska, bas apna samjha hua sach manenge."

Monika paused, her tone softening just a fraction, shifting from anger to a deep, protective older-sister earnestness.

"How can you be so irresponsible? Karishma ko tum samjhati thi jab usse gussa aata tha, Papa ke baare mai koi kuch bolta tha toh. And now tum hi yeh sab mann pe le rahi ho? Humare parents desh bhakt the, Haseena. Papa ladte ladte shaheed hue. And let me tell you one more thing for which you should be proud of..."

Monika leaned closer to the camera, her eyes fiercely proud.

"Papa ne Code M ki file kisi ke hath mai nahi aane di. Wo log file ke peeche pade the, and just now... I got the file. Papa ne safe rakhi, Rathore uncle ke pass."

The phone speaker crackled slightly, but Monika's voice remained steady.

Absolute.

Commanding.

Yet carrying a quiet reassurance.

Monika: "Hasu, rukna nahi hai. Now your goal should be to become an IPS officer. Ye bohot badi cheez hai, department ke kayi log isme jude hue hain. I will need you. You and Karu both. Samajh aayi baat?"

Haseena's tight grip on the phone relaxed just a fraction.

The heavy emptiness in her chest didn't vanish, but for a brief second, there was a tiny anchor.

A direction.

She gave a microscopic nod.

From the corner of the room, near the wardrobe, Kridha was quietly peeking, listening to every word.

Then-

Haseena nodded.

Haseena: "Ji Major."

Monika: "Kridha ka number dena."

Haseena froze.

She had absolutely no energy to drag her new roommate into her complicated life.

Haseena: "Main... text kar dungi."

Monika didn't even pause.

Monika: "Kridha. Yahan aao."

Kridha stiffened.

Her eyes went wide.

Kridha (in mind): "Aaj tak college mein ladka toh chhoro, kisi normal classmate ne number nahi manga."

A pause.

Kridha (in mind): "Ye jeeta-jaagta assault rifle mera number kyun maang raha hai?"

Moving like a terrified, perfectly disciplined school kid, Kridha shuffled over to the phone.

She leaned in.

Blurted out her ten-digit number in one single breath without pausing for air.

And immediately sprinted back to her corner.

Meanwhile-

Monika had already made a mental note.

The call cut.

Total silence returned to the room.

Haseena put her phone away.

She sat down on her bed, pulled out a stack of folders, and began arranging her college documents.

Her movements were slow.

Mechanical.

Just passing the time.

A moment later-

a steel glass of water appeared in her peripheral vision.

Kridha stood there, holding it out.

Haseena took it.

Haseena: "Thank you."

She brought it to her lips and gulped the entire glass down in one go, as if she hadn't realized how completely dry her throat was.

Kridha watched her for a second before speaking softly.

Kridha: "Tumhari badi behen thi na wo?"

Haseena didn't look up from her papers.

Haseena: "Hmm."

Kridha sat down on the edge of her own bed, picking up a shirt to fold.

She wasn't going to force a conversation.

But she wasn't going to let the silence win either.

Kridha: "Meri bhi badi behen Major hai. Chhe mahine se mission pe hai. Awaaz hi nahi suni maine unki tab se."

She paused, smoothing out the shirt.

Kridha: "Aur do choti behene bhi hain. Ek do saal choti, aur dusri teen saal. Dono pure shaitan hain."

Haseena's hands stopped arranging the papers.

Her lips twitched.

It wasn't a full smile.

Just a faint, almost invisible curve.

But it was there.

Seeing the slight shift in the atmosphere, Kridha's practical brain kicked in.

If they were going to live together, they needed a system.

Kridha: "Vaise, mujhe khana banane ka shauk hai. Main khana bana diya karungi, tum baaki ke kaam kar diya karna. Aise hi ghar chalaya karenge."

Haseena blinked.

She had never done a single household chore in her entire life.

But looking at Kridha's earnest expression, she simply nodded.

Kridha sighed, leaning back slightly.

Kridha: "Main bhi apni badi behen se aise hi daant khati hoon. Mostly un dono choton ki wajah se mujhe hi padh jaati hai daant."

Haseena looked at the floor.

A familiar ache tugged at her heart as her mind drifted to Karishma.

All those times Karishma had started a chaotic fight or broken a rule, and Haseena had been the one caught in the crossfire, getting scolded alongside her.

As Haseena shifted her files, a piece of paper slid out.

Her academic marksheet.

Kridha's sharp eyes caught it instantly.

She leaned in.

Kridha: "Maths mein itne ache marks? Par Literature aur English mein thode kam hain."

Haseena instinctively moved to cover the paper, but Kridha offered a bright, practical proposition.

Kridha: "Ek deal karte hain. Main tumhe Literature sikha dungi, tum mujhe Maths sikha dena."

Haseena stared at Kridha's genuinely helpful face.

Haseena: "Hmm."

Still just a "hmm."

Kridha realized that practical deals and logical arrangements weren't going to be enough to break through the walls Haseena had built around herself.

She needed to give a little more of herself first.

Kridha: "Pata hai, ye sab dekh ke mujhe ek purani baat yaad aa gayi..."

She leaned her back against the wall, crossing her arms.

Kridha: "Baat tab ki hai jab main 11 saal ki thi. Ek 9 saal ki thi aur sabse choti 8 saal ki."

A pause.

Kridha: "Aur ussi din mujhe clear ho gaya tha ki meri aadhi zindagi in dono ke paap dhone mein hi nikal jayegi."

Haseena actually lifted her head from her folders.

That alone was progress.

Kridha: "Ek din dopahar ko ghar mein bohot shanti thi. Normal shanti nahi. Suspicious wali."

.

.

.

Flashback

Fourteen years ago.

Whenever the 9-year-old and the 8-year-old became quiet together-

kuch na kuch toot chuka hota tha.

Usually expensive.

Usually important.

Usually Badi Didi (Chief) ka.

Eleven-year-old Kridha reached the door of their bedroom and froze.

The 8-year-old sat cross-legged on the floor, holding her head like her entire business empire had just crashed.

The 9-year-old was sitting on the bed.

Notebook open.

Holding a pen with absolute confidence.

Kridha already knew.

Kridha: "Ab kya kaand kiya?"

The 8-year-old looked up, pure panic in her eyes.

8-year-old: "The window is broken!"

The 9-year-old immediately raised a finger.

9-year-old: "Correction! The window has committed suicide by my ball!"

Kridha stared.

Kridha: "Khidki ne... aatmahatya ki?"

9-year-old nodded seriously.

9-year-old: "Yes! I throw the ball very straight. But the window came in the middle. Very bad manners of window."

The 8-year-old nodded from the floor.

8-year-old: "Very bad manners."

Kridha closed her eyes. She was 11, but she felt 45.

Kridha: "Aur ye diary mein kya likha jaa raha hai?"

8-year-old: "Principal ma'am ne apology letter manga hai."

The 9-year-old proudly tapped her pen on the paper.

9-year-old: "And I am writing in pure, high-class British English. Ma'am will be very shocking."

Kridha: "Shocked hota hai."

9-year-old: "Same feeling, different spelling."

Kridha slowly walked over. She picked up the notebook.

She read the first line.

And immediately regretted going to school.

Kridha: "...ye kya likha hai tune?"

9-year-old pushed her glasses up.

9-year-old: "Professional opening line."

Kridha read it out loud.

Kridha: "'Respected Principal Ma'am, I am falling into your foot...'"

The 9-year-old smiled proudly.

9-year-old: "Direct English translation! Wireless charan sparsh! Full respect is falling."

The 8-year-old nodded.

8-year-old: "Very much respect."

Kridha took a deep breath. She moved to the next line.

Kridha: "'Yesterday my brain was temporarily out of station.'"

The 9-year-old explained with hand gestures.

9-year-old: "Because my mind was empty! Like Sunday ka railway station! So brain went on holiday!"

8-year-old: "Haan, dimaag chhutti pe tha."

Kridha: "English aati nahi toh likhti kyun ho?!"

The 9-year-old ignored her. She was in artist mode now.

9-year-old: "Read next! Next is very emotional line. Grammar is crying with happiness!"

Kridha looked down.

Kridha: "'By mistake, a mistake happened.'"

The 8-year-old wiped an imaginary tear.

8-year-old: "Double mistake. Very sad feeling."

9-year-old: "Yes! This is called repetition of emotion. My English is fully out of control."

Kridha: "Tum dono sach mein out of control ho. Principal fail kar degi ye padh ke!"

The 9-year-old aggressively pointed at the next paragraph.

9-year-old: "No! Climax dekho! This is Hollywood level climax!"

Kridha read the next line. Her soul left her body.

Kridha: "'The window is no more... expired.'"

Complete silence in the room.

Kridha lowered the notebook.

Kridha: "Tumne khidki ka death certificate bana diya?"

9-year-old: "Yes. Glass is totally dead. Doctor cannot save it. RIP."

8-year-old joined her hands in prayer.

8-year-old: "Rest in pieces. Poor window."

Kridha genuinely wondered if she was adopted.

Kridha: "Ye apology letter hai ya shok sabha?"

9-year-old: "Last line padho! This is the warning line!"

Kridha looked at the final sentence.

Kridha: "'Please forgive me. Otherwise, Chief my biggest sister will completely rearrange my skeleton... and make me history.'"

Silence.

Kridha stared at the 9-year-old.

The 9-year-old stared back, extremely confident.

9-year-old: "true true."

8-year-old nodded rapidly.

8-year-old: "Yes. Chief will make us both history."

Kridha: "Tum dono ki history toh banegi, par is ghatiya English ki wajah se!"

And then-

the heavy latch of the front door clicked open.

The sound echoed through the entire house.

All three sisters froze instantly.

The overconfidence vanished in one second.

A familiar, perfectly calm, yet terrifying voice drifted down the hallway.

Chief: "Main aa gayi."

Survival mode activated.

The 9-year-old slammed the notebook shut and threw it under the pillow.

The 8-year-old jumped up and stood in perfect attention.

Both faced the door, completely straight. Like a military inspection.

Kridha quietly took three giant steps backward.

She was detaching herself from the crime scene.

Because one thing was certain.

Jab Chief ko us broken window ka sach pata chalta-

History sirf khidki nahi banti.

(Flashback ends)

.

.

.

Present Day

Kridha shook her head, an exhausted smile on her face.

Kridha: "Uss din mujhe clear ho gaya tha ki in dono ka dimaag alag-alag nahi hai."

A pause.

Kridha: "Ek hi dimaag hai."

Another pause.

Kridha: "Aur dono aadhi-aadhi shift mein use karti hain."

For a moment, the room was silent.

Then-

A very small, sudden sound escaped Haseena.

A laugh.

A real, breathy laugh.

Haseena immediately clamped both hands over her mouth. Her eyes squeezed shut, but her shoulders were shaking. It was no use.

Another quiet chuckle slipped through her fingers.

Haseena: "Window... committed suicide...I am falling into your foot?"

Her voice broke on the last word, thick with genuine amusement. Her eyes, for the first time all evening, crinkled with actual warmth.

Kridha smiled softly. A quiet victory.

She didn't make a big deal out of it. She didn't stare.

Instead, she simply pushed the Literature textbook across the desk, right in front of Haseena.

Kridha: "Isiliye keh rahi hoon."

Kridha pointed at the book.

Kridha: "Literature tum mujh par chhor do."

Then, completely deadpan-

Kridha: "Warna kal ko tum bhi official paper pe likh ke aaogi ki tumhara brain out of station tha."

And for the first time that night-

Haseena dropped her hands from her mouth, and laughed properly.
.
.
.
.
.
.

✍️ - 3404 Words

That's it for today's chapter! ✨
If you enjoyed reading, don't forget to vote, share, and leave your thoughts in the comments - your support means the world and keeps the story alive.

Thank you for being part of this journey. 💙