Silence That Screamed

The morning had never been this quiet.

The birds chirped like every other day, the sunlight kissed the bougainvillaea just the same, and the wind danced through the balcony grills — yet for Aariz Sheikh Pataudi, the world had shifted on its axis.

For the first time since he had moved in as a tenant at the Mishras', there was no sound of clinking bangles, no loud Bhojpuri songs echoing at 6:00 a.m., no sneaky giggles followed by "Oops! Did I wake you again, Mr. Tenant?"

Timtim Mishra had gone to college.

She’d been buzzing like a cracked wire the entire night before — choosing her outfit, re-choosing, changing her dupatta again, and then painting her nails a glittery blue that matched her anklets. Aariz had mocked her for being “more focused on matching bangles than books,” but she had only stuck her tongue out in response.

Now, she was gone.

And it was peaceful.

Painfully peaceful.

He sat at his work desk, fingers tapping on his MacBook but eyes fixed on the staircase outside his room. The stillness in the air was unnatural. There was no clattering of her anklet as she skipped past his door, no arguments with her mother about lunch, no laughter or noise — just the tick of his luxury watch and the suffocating silence.

He checked the clock again. Ten minutes late.

He got up. Then sat down again.

He never did this. He wasn’t the kind of man who waited for anyone — not in boardrooms, not in ballrooms. But his feet moved before logic did. He paced. He opened the main door twice pretending he was checking for courier deliveries.

Where is she?

Why didn’t she message?

What if someone bothered her?

She didn’t even know how to speak up properly in public places — he’d seen her go mute when the milkman asked for money one day. She was too innocent for the outside world. Too raw.

And then — the sound of the gate creaking open. That familiar clinking sound of her anklet.

He turned around with a clenched jaw and pounding heart, but composed his voice.

“Where were you?” he snapped.

Timtim blinked, visibly surprised by his intensity. She beamed, brushing her hair off her face, dupatta swinging in the wind like a flag of mischief.

“I made friends!” she said, glowing. “They took me to the paani-puri stall near college. You have to try the meetha one, Mr. Tenant—”

She walked past him casually, not noticing how his eyes narrowed, jaw tightened, or how his fists clenched inside his tracksuit pockets.

She didn’t even notice that he was burning.

That her excitement over new friends, other men, her college life, had ignited something dangerous in him.

Aariz stood frozen for a moment, watching her disappear inside like a little butterfly.

She had let him keep the room upstairs, yes — but now, she was flying a little too far.

And Aariz… didn’t like things flying away from his sight.

Not when they belonged to him.

Whether she knew it or not.