Riya Desai

Chapter 2 – Riya Desai

The clock ticked past seven, and the Desai household stirred awake in its own rhythm. The one-bedroom flat carried the familiar sounds of every morning — the clatter of steel vessels in the kitchen, the hiss of boiling tea, and Ramesh Desai’s voice rising with irritation at some headline in the newspaper.

Riya sat at the small dining table, her notebook open but her pen unmoving. At twenty-two, she was in her third year of college, yet her thoughts often wandered far beyond lectures and exams. She wasn’t the kind of girl who dreamed of palaces or grand riches — her heart beat for something simple yet entirely her own. A little business… a small shop maybe… something she could nurture and point to with pride: This is mine.

But dreams were delicate things in a house like hers.

Her mother, Sumita, bustled between the stove and the table, slipping an extra paratha onto Riya’s plate. “Eat properly, beti. Studying on an empty stomach isn’t good.” Her voice was soft, loving — the quiet glue that held the family together.

Her brother, Arjun, tall and broad-shouldered at twenty-six, tapped at his phone, already dressed for work. He glanced up at Riya and teased, “Careful, Riya. If you keep daydreaming like that, Baba will think you’re imagining some prince.”

Before Riya could respond, her father folded the newspaper with a sharp snap. His voice, stern but edged with worry, filled the small room.

“Daydreaming is exactly what she does too much of. Third year or not, soon her studies will finish. Then what? She’ll run a shop? Waste time roaming the city? No. A girl’s place is in her husband’s home. I’ll not have her filling her head with nonsense about ‘business.’”

The words landed heavy, as if they were stones thrown at her fragile hopes. Riya lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around the pen until her knuckles whitened.

Inside her chest, two feelings collided — the sting of helplessness and the flicker of rebellion. She loved her father, respected him even, but why did he believe her only destiny was to serve someone else’s family? Wasn’t she his daughter too? Didn’t she deserve the chance to prove herself before being handed off to another life?

Arjun’s eyes softened as he caught the look on her face. He said nothing — not out of agreement, but out of habit. In their home, silence often kept the peace.

Riya forced a smile and picked at her food, but her heart ached with unspoken words. One day, Baba. One day I’ll show you I’m more than this chair at the table. More than someone’s wife. I’ll build something of my own, even if I have to fight for it.

And as she looked out the window at the restless city, her soul stirred with a quiet determination. She didn’t know that her path — full of hope and small dreams — would soon collide with a man whose world was drenched in shadows. A man named Rudra.

✨

Arjun Desai was the kind of son fathers were proud of. At twenty-six, he had shouldered responsibilities early, stepping into the world of work before he was ready. He wasn’t brilliant, not the kind to climb corporate ladders or make headlines — but he was steady, kind, and determined to keep his family safe.

Yet life in a middle-class family was a constant balancing act. The monthly salary he earned was stretched thin — rent, electricity, Riya’s college fees, medicines for his mother’s weak joints, small expenses his father never acknowledged but always demanded. Arjun carried them all, quietly, without complaint.

But quiet sacrifices have a way of piling up.

It had started small. A friend from work had introduced him to a man who offered short-term loans, “No banks, no papers, no fuss. Just quick cash.” Arjun resisted at first. But then Riya’s semester fees came, followed by an unexpected hospital bill for his mother. The numbers didn’t add up.

One evening, desperate, he accepted.

At first, it felt harmless — just a loan he would repay within months. The man’s voice had been reassuring: “We work for Rudra Yadav. You’ve heard of him? Big man. But don’t worry, he respects honest people who pay on time. Settle quickly, and you’ll never hear from us again.”

Arjun had nodded, convincing himself this was temporary.

But temporary became a cycle. Each month, a little more borrowed to cover what was owed before. The interest climbed faster than he could breathe. The repayment dates came like storms, and Arjun was caught in their fury. He told no one — not his father, not his mother, not even Riya, whose eyes would search his face too closely.

He started avoiding home sometimes, wandering the streets instead of going straight back. His once-lighthearted teasing at the dinner table grew quieter. Ramesh mistook it for laziness; Riya sensed something deeper.

And somewhere in the shadows of the city, Rudra’s men kept a watch. They weren’t cruel, not yet — but their presence was a constant reminder. A call at odd hours, a man leaning too close when speaking, a hand resting a little too heavily on his shoulder. Pay soon, bhai. Rudra doesn’t like waiting.

Arjun’s chest tightened each time. He wasn’t a coward, but he wasn’t made for this kind of world either. He wanted nothing more than to be free of it.