Once the Victim, Now the Villain

As the party continued downstairs, Khushi quietly slipped out and made her way to the terrace.

The noise of the celebration followed her halfway up the staircase laughter, clinking glasses, music pulsing beneath chandeliers but it began to fade the moment she stepped outside. Her phone buzzed endlessly in her hand media tags, interview requests, fan messages, and congratulations from strangers who had never known her struggle but she ignored every single one.

Tonight wasn't about applause.

It was about the silence between the cheers.

The storm she had kept buried.

She walked to the edge of the terrace, her pastel lehenga catching the moonlight, the embroidered hem swaying gently in the night breeze. She stood there silently, staring at the glittering skyline of the very city that once watched her life burn down. Her fingers gripped the railing, but her heart clung to something far older something deeper.

She had clawed her way back from ashes.

Survived a stolen childhood.

Outlived a name they tried to erase.

But somehow, she knew the real war hadn't even started.

A voice shattered the silence behind her.

"Tai?"

Her breath caught.

Her body turned to stone.

Her heart, for a moment, forgot how to beat.

That voice.

Her world spun as she turned around, barely daring to believe what her ears had heard. And then her eyes met his.

Ron.

He wasn't a ghost. Not a dream. Not a trick of memory.

He was there!!!!!real, alive, standing only a few feet away, with tears glimmering in his wide eyes.

She didn't pause. Not for a second.

She ran to him and flung her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, holding him as if her soul had finally found gravity.

She felt his arms wrap around her, trembling, warm, real. The scent of his skin soap, sweat, and something vaguely familiar wrapped around her like the comfort of an old blanket. Her chest rose and fell in ragged sobs, but her tears were quiet, holy, and heavy.

"I thought I lost you," she whispered, her voice cracking like broken glass.

"I'm here," he said, voice trembling. "And I'm not leaving again. Ever."

They stayed like that for what felt like a lifetime. Two halves of the same soul, stitched back together.

When they finally pulled apart, Khushi reached up to touch his face. He was taller now. Thinner. His cheeks were hollowed slightly, his eyes more grown than they should be. But the core of him the way he looked at her like she was his universe that hadn't changed.

"I still remember your old face, Tai," Ron murmured, sitting down on the blanket that lay curled in the corner of the terrace. "But you still smell the same."

She laughed, choking on tears. "You always said the weirdest things. What do I smell like now?"

He didn't hesitate. "Home."

Khushi's smile faltered at that word.

She slowly sat beside him, brushing her fingers across the cold floor, letting the stars soak into her skin.

"Do you think Aai can see us?" he asked softly.

Khushi didn't answer right away. She closed her eyes, imagining her mother's hands, her voice humming lullabies, the way she used to light a diya every morning before sunrise.

"She can," she said quietly. "She never really left us. And now… she knows we didn't give up. She knows we found each other again."

For a moment, they just sat in that silence,peaceful, fragile, sacred.

Then, footsteps approached.

They turned, startled, to see Karan Roy standing in the doorway, his silhouette sharp under the terrace light. Hands in his pockets. Expression unreadable.

He walked over and lowered himself beside them.

"Start talking," he said simply.

Khushi raised a brow. "About?"

"You two were whispering about dying like it was no big deal," Karan said flatly. "I'm curious."

Ron looked uncertain, but Khushi gave him a small nod. No more lies. Not tonight.

She took a long breath. "I'm not the real Khushi Joshi. Or… not the one this world thinks I am. I died. Years ago. I was khushi Patil. This body once belonged to another girl. Her soul… it's gone. I replaced her. And I remember everything..who I was, how I died, and who took everything from us."

Ron added, "Same here Brother. I'm not Ron Roy. I'm Ron Patil. I died too. Came back. New face, new name… same soul."

Karan blinked slowly. "You're serious."

"Dead serious," Khushi replied.

"Ask me anything about Khushi Joshi's childhood, and I'll have no clue. But ask me about Khushi Patil the girl they murdered and I'll tell you everything.

The fire.

The screams.

The betrayal."

Karan stared at her. Then Ron. Then at the stars.

A long silence passed. He finally said, "I don't know what to believe. But I believe you. And for now… that's enough."

The three of them sat quietly after that. The air around them felt thicker now, heavier with truth, with memory, with a pain only few in this world could understand.

Down below, the city kept glowing innocent, unaware.

But above, something had shifted.

Later that night, with the party over and the lights dimmed, Khushi sat at her desk, her fingers trembling but her gaze steel sharp. A fresh notebook lay in front of her. The paper smooth, untouched.

She opened to the first page.

At the top, she wrote in bold, precise strokes:

Operation Patil Destruction

And underneath it, the words poured out like a promise written in fire:

They took everything from us.

Now I will take everything from them.

Their respect.

Their peace.

Their name.

One move at a time.

She let the ink dry. Then gently closed the book.

She looked at Ron sleeping peacefully on the rug, a soft snore escaping his lips, the same way he used to as a child.

And Karan, in the corner chair, his eyes barely open but alert. Guarding her. Watching.

Her gaze sharpened. Her mouth curled.

"They thought I was gone," she whispered into the dark. "But I was just reborn. And this time… I don't come with mercy."

The name didn't matter anymore.

Khushi Joshi. Khushi Patil.

She was both.

She was neither.

She was fire.

She was vengeance.

And she was back.