Chapter 3: The Villain’s Apology

What on earth is all this?

I was so distracted, I banged my head right into the glass door—dhap! My vision went black for a second.

You know that feeling when your head spins, your eyes water, but you act all cool? I rubbed my forehead, muttering, "Uff, kaun rakhta hai yeh itna saaf?" Then, a flood of jumbled memories hit me, blood pounding in my ears.

So... I’m the cannon-fodder sister in some sappy romance novel. Barely any scenes, and my brother? The villain. Tragic childhood, leans on his Didi, but one day he’ll fight the hero over the heroine—bankrupt, dead, full-on tragedy.

Wait a sec.

One detail stuck out: My brother will be as rich as Ambani junior one day? Like, same league as the hero?

Is this for real, or just poverty-induced hallucination?

I pressed my lips together, turned to Kabir, sizing him up head to toe.

He looked back, face tight, no extra expression, but if you looked close, you’d see the worry.

Malnutrition made him skinny—like a papad stick—but his face was really handsome.

He’ll be a total heartbreaker when he grows up.

His hair stood up in odd places, and his mouth set in a stubborn line, like he was swallowing all his words. I could almost hear some aunty saying, "Beta, kya hua? Smile toh karo!" and Kabir just staring blankly.

Lost in thought, I suddenly felt a tug on my kurti.

Snapping back, I saw Kabir, silent the whole way, now looking up at me.

Maybe because he’d always depended on others, he was different—cold, withdrawn.

Plus, I was mostly in hostel, rarely came home, just asked him a few questions now and then. He’d always keep quiet.

We were siblings in name only—not really close.

"Kya hua?"

I hesitated, asking softly.

Suddenly, I remembered those subtitles.

Was he blaming me for dragging him away from his "sukoon ka ghar," where food and clothes were never a problem?

Before I could finish the thought, Kabir lowered his lashes, struggling with something. Those long lashes trembled like butterfly wings. After a long pause, he finally spoke, voice barely a whisper: "I’m sorry."

He hesitated, then added, "I shouldn’t have wanted to go to Essel World with Mausi..."

His voice was so soft, full of embarrassment and broken expectations.

I was stunned.

A dull ache settled in my chest. He looked so small in that moment, as if the world had already taught him that asking for simple things means you’ll lose everything else.