~ The hardest part about walking away from someone is the part where you realize that no matter how slowly you go, they will never run after you. ~
~~~
~Author's POV~
Aaradhya had once been the pride of the Rathore family. At just eleven years old, she was brilliant in studies, graceful in activities, and effortlessly kind-hearted. People admired her intelligence, teachers praised her dedication, and elders adored her soft-spoken nature. But most of all, she had been the apple of her grandparents' eyes and the little princess whom Aahan, her elder brother, adored and protected fiercely.
Her family had been her safe haven. Mornings started with her grandmother's warm embrace, her grandfather's laughter filling the house as he recounted old tales. Aahan always waited for her at the breakfast table, ruffling her hair and teasing her about her tiny appetite. Her mother would smile at her fondly, and even her father, who was often stern, would give her a proud nod when she recited her lessons perfectly, or for any little achievement of hers.
Evenings were spent in the garden, where her grandparents watched her and Aahan play, their proud smiles never fading. Siya, her younger sister, would sometimes join them, but she was always different-distant, watching rather than playing, her expressions unreadable. Despite that, Aaradhya loved her, always trying to include her in their little world.
During festivals, the house was filled with laughter, music, and the aroma of delicious food. Aaradhya would sit on her grandfather's lap, listening to his stories of bravery and wisdom, while Aahan would defend her against any playful scoldings from the elders. The family was whole, perfect in its own way.
One such evening, before the darkness crept into her life, the entire family gathered for a puja. Aaradhya, dressed in a beautiful peach pink frock, sat beside her grandmother, who kept feeding her despite her protests. Aahan made faces at her, nudging her playfully, while their parents watched with smiles. Her father even pulled her close for a rare side hug, which was because she had won a painting competition and had whispered that he was proud of her. Her heart swelled with joy, feeling cherished and loved.
But that happiness was not meant to last.
---
Siya had always been jealous of Aaradhya. Born just a year apart, the sisters should have been inseparable, yet Siya's heart only harbored resentment. No matter how hard she tried, she could never match Aaradhya's excellence. Teachers admired Aaradhya's brilliance, elders showered her with blessings, and worst of all-Aahan, their elder brother, always prioritized Aaradhya over her.
Siya hated it. Hated how their grandparents pampered Aaradhya, hated how Aahan became her shadow, always shielding her from every little scolding. And the worst part? Aaradhya never even asked for it. She simply existed, effortlessly gaining love, while Siya had to fight for scraps.
That night, Siya decided she would put an end to it. And She did. A night that Aaradhya could never forget, even if she tried to. A misunderstanding that was never cleared, even if she tried to clear it. They wouldn't believe her anymore because she had been turned as the worst mistake of their life, a mistake. The most pampered girl of the house has been turned into a sinner, a sinner that could never be forgiven.
~
Aaradhya sat on the cold marble floor of her room, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold together the broken pieces of her soul. The echoes of last night's accusations still rang in her ears-her mother's venomous words, her father's condemning glare, and Aahan's desperate, futile resistance trying to protect her. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to drown out the memories, but they refused to fade.
For the first time, the house that always felt like home now felt like a prison. Her every breath was heavy, suffocating under the weight of betrayal. She had spent years being the perfect daughter, striving to bring smiles to their faces, and in one moment, it had all crumbled. No one believed her. No one even looked at her with love anymore.
She flinched as she recalled the sharp sting of her mother's slap. The way her father's words sliced through her like knives. But the worst pain wasn't physical. It was the void in her chest, the emptiness left behind by their rejection. It was the first time her mother had slapped her, made her see the side of herself that no child deserves to see of their mother, for the first time the eyes of her father had shown disgust rather than the loving gaze that he had all the time for her.
---
Aahan paced in his room, fists clenched, frustration burning in his veins. The unfairness of it all made his blood boil. His little sister-his Aaru-was suffering, and he was powerless to stop it.
He had begged. He had fought. He had argued until his throat went raw. But nothing had changed their decision.
"You will do as we say, Aahan!" his father had roared the night before. "You are leaving. And this is the last time I want to hear you defend that girl."
That girl.
As if she weren't their daughter. As if she weren't his sister.
Aahan had wanted to scream. He had wanted to drag Aaradhya into his arms and shield her from their cruelty. But he was just a thirteen-year-old boy against the unyielding authority of his parents.
His grandmother had tried too. "Suraj, Aditi, you cannot do this," she had pleaded, tears streaming down her face. "They are just children!"
But her words had fallen on deaf ears. Even his grandfather, the strongest pillar of their family, had remained silent, his gaze heavy with helplessness.
As the morning sun crept over the horizon, Aahan stood by the doorway, his bags packed against his will. His eyes searched for his sister. When he finally found her, she stood in the shadows, her face expressionless, but her eyes... her eyes screamed pain.
"I'll come back, Aaru, everything will be ok." he whispered as he stepped toward her, but she took a step back.
Her small hands clutched the hem of her dress, her knuckles white.
Aahan's chest tightened. He wanted to promise her he would return and take her away from this place. But the way she looked at him-defeated, empty-made him realize she had already given up on hope.
Aahan left, vowing to fight for her, but knowing deep down that he had just abandoned the one person who needed him the most. He failed her.
---
Aaradhya had expected her parents' anger to fade, that they would wake up the next morning and realize their mistake. But as the days turned into weeks, their treatment of her only grew colder.
She was no longer their daughter. She was an obligation.
Siya, on the other hand, had flourished. The guilt she should have felt was nowhere to be seen. She basked in the attention, in the extra affection their parents showered on her. She would send smug glances Aaradhya's way, knowing there was nothing left for her sister.
At meals, Aaradhya was ignored. Her father never looked at her, her mother never spoke to her, and Siya acted as if she didn't exist. The once lively home now felt like a haunted house where she was nothing but a ghost.
Her grandparents were the only ones who still cared. But they, too, were powerless. Her grandmother would silently slip sweets onto her plate when no one was looking, patting her hand gently. Her grandfather would rest a comforting hand on her head as he passed by. But they never spoke against the injustice, fearing the already broken ties would shatter further.
Aaradhya stopped trying to make them see the truth. She stopped trying to prove her innocence. She stopped speaking altogether.
---
~Aaradhya's POV~
I don't remember when I stopped crying.
Maybe it was after Aahan bhai left, and I realized no one would fight for me anymore. Maybe it was when my mother refused to look at me for days. Maybe it was when my father began addressing me as 'this girl' rather than my name.
I used to be the perfect daughter.
I used to be loved.
Now, I am nothing.
Siya won.
She took everything from me, and no one even questions it. She plays the role of the victim so well that they don't see the real villain.
And I?
I am the villain in their story.
why?
what did i do to deserve this?
---
~Author's POV~
At first, she thought it was temporary. That her parents would wake up one day and realize their mistake, that her mother would call her over and cup her face in her palms, that her father would ruffle her hair like he used to, telling her how proud he is of her.
But days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and slowly months turned into years.
The warmth that once surrounded her was gone.
Mornings became routine, mechanical. She would wake up before the sun had fully risen, brush her teeth in silence, and dress for school without so much as a word spoken to her. The house was awake, but it felt lifeless. The clatter of utensils, the murmur of conversations-none of it involved her anymore.
She would step into the dining room, her stomach curling as she saw her mother serving breakfast to Siya, her father reading the newspaper. They used to greet her. They used to ask how she slept. But now?
Now, she would sit down, take the plate that was already placed at the farthest end of the table, and eat quietly.
No one acknowledged her presence.
No one even looked at her.
She was a ghost in her own home.
The food tasted like nothing in her mouth, the same way everything else in her life felt-empty.
---
Aahan had tried in the beginning. She knew he did.
When he had first left for boarding school, he had called every night, asking for her. She had overheard their parents making excuses- She's studying, she's asleep, she doesn't need distractions.
She knew the real reason. They didn't want her to have a support system. They wanted her to be alone.
Aahan had fought them. She had heard him arguing over the phone once, his voice sharp, filled with desperation. "She's my sister! You can't keep me away from her!"
But the calls had slowed.
Then, one day, they stopped coming entirely.
Aaradhya never blamed him. She knew he was being kept away from her.
But it still hurt.
At night, she would stare at the ceiling, thinking about the way he used to ruffle her hair, the way he would chase her around the house, laughing. She wondered if he was starting to forget her.
If, one day, she would become just a memory to him.
---
Years had gone by with the silent treatment and snarky remarks. siya was fifteen now and Aaradhya sixteen. Siya flourished in the newfound attention.
She was always the one their parents praised now, the one they held close, the one they rewarded. She had stepped into the role of the perfect daughter as if she had been waiting for it all along.
And she made sure Aaradhya knew it.
One morning, as they sat in the backseat of the car on the way to school, Siya leaned in, her voice low and taunting.
"You should really stop looking so miserable all the time," she whispered, amusement laced in her tone. "It's pathetic."
Aaradhya didn't respond. She had long since learned that words wouldn't help her.
Siya smirked. "They'll never love you again, you know. No matter what you do."
Aaradhya gripped her schoolbag tightly, keeping her gaze locked on the window.
"Do you ever wonder," Siya continued, her voice almost sweet, "if they ever really loved you at all?"
---
She had spent years trying.
Trying to be the daughter they once loved. Trying to be silent, obedient, unnoticed. Trying to do everything right in the hope that one day, they would turn around and tell her they forgave her for whatever sin she had committed.
But nothing changed.
Then one evening, she heard the final blow.
She was walking past the living room when she heard her mother's exhausted sigh.
"She's such a burden now."
Aaradhya froze.
she slowly turned and walked away. She didn't cry. She didn't scream.
She just... stopped feeling.
That night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, something inside her cracked.
She had spent years hoping. pretending that if she was just good enough, just silent enough, just invisible enough, they would let her back into their hearts.
But now, she knew the truth.
They didn't want her.
They never would.
And no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried
She would never be enough for them. But now she was just an 16-year-old girl, a girl who lost the reason to be happy at such a young age. just a little girl....
---
She stopped waiting for their love.
She stopped hoping.
She stopped feeling.
If they didn't want her, she wouldn't need them either.
She would become invisible. A shadow.
She would go to school, come home, study, eat, sleep.
But she wouldn't live.
She wouldn't feel.
Maybe, just maybe, if she disappeared enough, if she faded into the background completely-
The pain would go away, too.
---
i wanna do someting for myself
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