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One Raised Finger

Auteur: Sakshi26
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2025-08-04 16:16:22

The Mishra household was still asleep.

The clock read 5:58 AM.

Birds hadn’t started chirping. Chai wasn’t brewing. Even the milkman hadn’t arrived.

But one creature stirred in the shadows — her anklets muted with socks, her eyes wild with purpose, her breath steady.

Timtim Mishra, certified drama queen, full-time prankster, and now part-time vigilante of lost balcony dreams, stood near the base of the stairs… holding a Bluetooth speaker and wearing the smirk of a girl with absolutely no regrets.

Today was Phase 2 of Operation: Evict Mr. Broody.

“Let’s see how long he lasts now,” she whispered to herself as she tiptoed upstairs, avoiding the one floorboard that always creaked. She reached the door — slightly ajar, probably from his late-night walk on the balcony.

With the stealth of a burglar and the heart of a Bollywood heroine, she slipped the speaker inside the shoe rack just beside the door, aimed the sound upward, and turned it on.

She opened her phone, went to her “MORNING CHAOS” playlist, and tapped play.

Suddenly, at 6:00 AM sharp, the entire upstairs room erupted with a full-volume:

🎶 “Jai Jai Shiv Shankar! Kaanta Lage Na Kankar!” 🎶

The bass shook the windows.

She ran.

Barefoot. Laughing. Anklets jingling like rebellious bells as she disappeared downstairs into the kitchen, where her sleepy mother sipped chai and muttered, “This house is cursed.”

—

Upstairs, the calm, orderly world of Aariz Sheikh Pataudi exploded.

He bolted upright in bed, his silk blanket tangled around his legs, eyes half-wild.

What in the name of silence was this unholy noise?

His fists clenched. He stormed to the door, following the blaring sound to the shoe rack — where he found the tiny black speaker blinking innocently.

He picked it up like it was a bomb.

And then, like a man possessed, he stormed downstairs.

Timtim, of course, was waiting — dressed in her yellow kurti with daisy prints, silver anklets back in action, and her hair freshly oiled and braided, complete with a sunflower clip at the end. She sat on the swing in the verandah, sipping lassi and humming loudly.

He stopped in front of her.

Held up the speaker.

“Was this yours?” he asked, voice deadly calm.

She didn’t even blink. “I don’t know. It’s just… playing good vibes.”

He stared.

She stared back — and then stood up slowly, wiping the foam of the lassi from her upper lip with her thumb like she was about to sign a declaration of war.

“Listen here, Tenant Saab,” she began, pointing a bold, tiny index finger straight at his chest. “That balcony, that room, was supposed to be mine. I waited for it for years. And now you — you with your angry jaw and stormy eyes — have stolen it.”

He tilted his head slightly, more intrigued than offended. She was mad. Certifiably.

She stepped closer.

“You have two choices,” she said firmly, her dupatta flapping behind her in the wind like a cape. “Either vacate that room peacefully — or I will make your life so miserable, you’ll be begging to live next to railway tracks instead.”

Aariz blinked. He hadn’t expected… this.

She wasn’t just dramatic. She was delightful in the most infuriating way.

The finger was still in his face. She was 5’3. He was 6’1. The finger barely reached his collarbone.

But still, there she stood — like a warrior in pastel salwar-kameez, silver anklets chiming, baby hairs flying, nose twitching in righteous anger.

And for the first time, Aariz Sheikh Pataudi…

Smiled.

Not much. Just the ghost of one. But it was real.

“Are you always this unhinged in the mornings?” he asked quietly.

“Only with people who steal my future,” she snapped back.

He stepped slightly closer. “You think this is a game?”

She didn’t back down. “No. It’s a warning.”

And then, she did something unexpected.

She reached past him and grabbed a small plant pot sitting near the bottom of the stairs.

“My spider plant,” she declared. “It accidentally climbed the stairs last night. Probably trying to escape the oppression of this house.”

He raised a brow. “Your plant?”

She nodded solemnly. “We’re bonded. Her name’s Reshma.”

He exhaled slowly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I get that a lot,” she smiled sweetly, hugging the pot like a trophy.

And with that, she turned and flounced away — anklets singing, hips swaying, sunflower clip bouncing like a battle flag.

Aariz stood there, still holding the speaker.

Who the hell was this girl?

And more importantly…

Why wasn’t he angry anymore?

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  • Insanely insane    wife or mistress ?

    The hush that settled over the party was deafening. Every glittering chandelier, every polished flute of champagne, every hushed whisper seemed to bend toward the small circle of chaos where Timtim stood, drenched in red. She clutched at the fabric of blazer, which Ishtiyaq had thrust into her hands, her chest rising and falling too quickly. The eyes on her burned—curious, hungry, judgmental. She wanted to disappear. And then she felt it. Aariz’s silence. He hadn’t said a word since the wine had spilled, hadn’t reached to cover her, hadn’t spared Ishtiyaq a single nod of acknowledgment. But his silence was a roar. His hand flexed at his side, knuckles pale against the strain, his body wound tight like a predator on the edge of pouncing. Ishtiyaq, chest heaving, leaned a little too close, his voice gentler this time, meant only for her. “Timtim, don’t cry. Please. Just keep this on. Don’t let them see you like this.” Her lashes fluttered, tears pricking. The kindness i

  • Insanely insane    business party

    Timtim took her time getting ready, her fingers trembling slightly as she draped the ivory saree around her frame. The silk hugged her delicately, the soft shimmer of the fabric almost making her glow under the bedroom lights. She paired it with a sleeveless blouse, the neckline modest yet graceful, leaving the natural curve of her collarbone exposed. The ivory shade, almost like moonlight, made her complexion appear even softer, ethereal. She wore no heavy jewelry, only pearl drops in her ears and a thin bracelet. Her almond eyes, lined subtly, seemed both innocent and powerful. When she stepped out, Aariz froze mid-buttoning his cuff. He was dressed in a black tuxedo that looked stitched for his body alone, every line emphasizing his tall, commanding presence. His hair was neatly styled back, a slight shadow of stubble adding a rough edge. His eyes devoured her, lingering at her waist where the pleats of her saree curved around. “You’re trying to kill me, jaan,” Aariz muttered, vo

  • Insanely insane    blooming flower

    while Aariz finally slept soundly with his arms wrapped tightly around her, Timtim’s eyes remained open, staring at the ceiling. His warmth pressed against her like a chain and yet like a shelter. She could hear his steady heartbeat, feel the way his hand refused to let go of her waist, as if even in dreams he feared she might vanish.But inside her, a storm brewed.Love is not this, she thought. Love is not about caging someone, holding them so tight they can’t breathe. Love is about giving space, about letting someone bloom the way a flower does under the sun.Her lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. She imagined a delicate flower rooted in its soil, opening its petals freely, soaking in life, and still—despite attracting countless butterflies—it never fled from the plant it belonged to.That was what she wanted him to understand.Aariz may think of me as his drug, his obsession, his possession… but I will teach him what love truly is. I will teach him that love does not bin

  • Insanely insane    cure

    Timtim stepped out of Zoya’s house with a heaviness in her chest that even the gentle morning breeze couldn’t carry away. Her dupatta clung to her shoulders, damp from the sweat of nerves rather than heat, and her heart echoed with every word Zoya had spoken. Follow your heart… he loves you…Her mind kept wrestling with those words. Could it really be so simple? Could she just give in, surrender to the storm named Aariz, and find peace in that chaos? Or was Zoya just seeing what she wanted to see — a man who seemed to care, when in reality, he was her captor, her tormentor, the reason she cried into her pillow night after night?The car was waiting, just as Aariz had ordered. The driver gave her a polite nod, opening the door for her. She slid inside silently, her fingers nervously knotting together in her lap. She knew he’d be waiting. Aariz always waited, in his own way — sometimes with burning eyes, sometimes with a silence that crushed her spirit.The city blurred past the tinted

  • Insanely insane    Morning Silence

    The first rays of dawn filtered through the tall curtains, spilling golden light across the room. The air carried a heavy stillness, as if even the walls had soaked in the weight of the previous night.Timtim sat on the edge of the bed for a long while, her fingers nervously clutching the hem of her simple cotton kurta. Her eyes were swollen, lashes clumped together, evidence of hours spent in tears. Her lips trembled faintly, though she pressed them together in silence, refusing to let another sob escape. Her heart still felt raw, like it had been scraped open.But she moved.Without a word, she slipped into the bathroom, washed her face, let the cool water run over her skin as though it might take away the heaviness inside her. It didn’t. Her hair, damp and slightly wavy, clung to the sides of her face and down her back. She dressed in modest, normal clothes—nothing fancy, just soft fabric draping over her form. Yet there was something about her, even in her simplicity, that radiate

  • Insanely insane    surveillance

    The car rolled to a stop in the mansion driveway. The moment the driver stepped out to open the door, Timtim pushed it open herself, eager to flee from the suffocating silence. She walked quickly up the marble steps, her eyes stinging, her throat tight. She didn’t glance back at Aariz, didn’t wait for him.Inside, the grand mansion greeted her with its usual silence, but tonight it felt different — it felt mocking. The chandeliers sparkled with their cold light, the polished floors reflected her blurred image back at her, and the stillness pressed against her ears until she wanted to scream.She made her way to their bedroom, each step heavier than the last. Her fingers trembled as she closed the door behind her, and the moment the lock clicked, she collapsed onto the bed.The sheets smelled faintly of Aariz — expensive cologne, leather, and that sharp scent of smoke that lingered in his clothes no matter how many times they were cleaned. She grabbed the fabric and clutched it to her

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