Myra heard his voice.
On the other side of the door.
Her breath hitched.
She hadn't moved since locking herself inside. The room was dark, curtains drawn, air heavy with her own breathing. Her back slid down the door until she was sitting on the cold floor, knees pulled to her chest, fingers digging into her arms as if to hold herself together.
Then
His voice.
Low. Weak. Broken.
Not angry.
Not commanding.
Not the king.
Just Ranvijay.
Myra pressed her forehead against the wood.
On the other side of the door, Ranvijay sank down slowly, his back resting against it. Pain tore through his chest, but he welcomed it. At least it proved he was still alive.
They were separated by inches.
And worlds.
"I won't come in," he said quietly.
"I promise."
Silence followed.
Then, softer almost unsure:
"I just wanted you to hear me."
Myra's eyes filled. She bit her lip hard, tasting salt.
"I never planned to fall in love with you," Ranvijay continued.
"I didn't even know what love was… not back then."
He swallowed.
"When I was a child, the world taught me only one thing run. Hide. Survive."
Myra's fingers curled into her palms.
"There was a day," he went on, voice trembling now,
"when I ran out of the orphanage with smoke in my lungs and blood in my mouth."
Her chest tightened.
"I thought I was going to die."
The door felt thinner suddenly.
"I was crying," he said.
"Not loud. Just… quietly. Like broken things do."
A sob escaped Myra's throat. She covered her mouth instantly.
"I sat behind an old banyan tree," he whispered,
"thinking that if I disappeared, no one would notice."
His hand lifted on the other side of the door, resting against the wood right where her shoulder was.
"Then you came."
Myra squeezed her eyes shut.
"You didn't know me," he said.
"You didn't ask my name."
A faint, shattered smile touched his voice.
"You took out a torn tissue dabbing it on my wound then held out that stupid little butterfly toy."
Her breath broke.
"The wing was already cracked," Ranvijay continued.
"Pink plastic. One eye scratched. Completely useless."
Tears streamed down Myra's face.
"You said," his voice shook,
'It's okay if it's broken. Butterflies still fly.
It's not flying for you but maybe it will for me.'
He laughed softly. It hurt.
"I didn't stop crying that day," he said.
"But for the first time… I wanted to live."
Myra slid her hand up the door, pressing her palm against the place where his was.
"I kept that butterfly," Ranvijay whispered.
"I still have it."
A pause.
"I kept it when I became someone people feared."
"I kept it when blood stained my hands."
"I kept it when I built walls so high no one could touch me."
His breath shuddered.
"Because that broken toy reminded me of the only person who ever saved me… without even knowing it."
Myra's shoulders shook violently.
"You weren't my curse," he said, voice barely holding together.
"You were my reason."
Silence flooded the space between them.
Rain tapped against the windows somewhere far away.
"Myra," Ranvijay whispered, pressing his forehead to the door,
"I loved you long before I knew what love meant."
On the other side, Myra cried soundlessly heart breaking, healing, and shattering all at once.
Two souls.
One door.
And a broken butterfly that had survived them both.
Myra finally spoke.
Her voice came muffled through the door, uneven, like it had to climb out of her chest by force.
"I am not the one you should love, Ranvijay."
His breath stilled.
"I neither deserve that love," she continued, swallowing hard,
"nor do you deserve someone like me."
Silence pressed against the door, heavy and suffocating.
Then her tone changed.
Sharper.
Colder.
A defense she was building with trembling hands.
"I told you before," she said, forcing the words out,
"we are not meant to be love was never written for us."
Ranvijay closed his eyes.
"I don't love you," she said next.
Each word cut like glass.
"You shouldn't either. Leave me. Go away."
The sentence ended but something inside her didn't.
The moment the words left her mouth, her body betrayed her.
Myra slapped her hand over her lips, choking back a sound. Her shoulders shook violently as she sank lower against the door. She pressed her fist to her chest right over her heart and struck herself once, hard.
A silent cry ripped through her.
Another punch.
Then another desperate, angry, helpless.
Her forehead dropped to her knees.
"Why does this hurt so much…?" she whispered, voice breaking into nothing.
"Why…?"
Tears soaked into the fabric of her clothes, her breathing coming in sharp, uneven gasps. She clawed at her chest as if she could tear the pain out with her bare hands.
On the other side of the door
Ranvijay felt every blow.
His jaw clenched as if the pain had landed on him instead. His fingers curled into the floor, knuckles whitening.
He didn't stop her.
He didn't interrupt.
Because he understood.
She wasn't rejecting him.
She was punishing herself.
And that realization hurt more than any bullet ever could.
The door stood between them
not as a barrier
but as the only thing keeping them both from falling completely apart.
"Go away, Ranvijay," Myra screamed, her voice shredded by tears.
"Leave me alone!"
The words didn't push him back.
They dragged something feral out of him.
He staggered closer to the door, blood still warm beneath his bandages, his palm slamming against the wood like a claim.
"If I go," he said, voice low, fractured, dangerous,
"there will be nothing left alive inside me."
His breath hitched. His forehead rested against the door, as if the barrier was the only thing keeping him from breaking completely or crossing a line he could never return from.
"You don't get to erase me," he whispered, darkness curling around every syllable.
"You don't get to take my reason for breathing and call it mercy."
His fingers curled, knuckles whitening.
"You can hate me. You can curse me. You can destroy me piece by piece," he said, almost savage now.
"But don't tell me to leave because you are not something I walk away from."
Silence swallowed the corridor.
On the other side, Myra slid down the door, shaking
not because she doubted his words…
…but because some terrifying part of her knew
he meant every single one.
"I don't know where loving you ends and losing myself begins but I know I'd choose that ruin again, every single time."
"Love, hatred, punishment every consequence of you belongs to me alone."
And then… nothing.
Ranvijay didn't move away.
Didn't demand an answer.
Didn't ask her to look at him.
He simply sat there, on the cold floor outside the locked door, his back resting against the wood that separated them. One hand curled loosely near his knee, the other pressed flat to the stone as if he could feel her breathing through it.
Inside, Myra slid down as well, her spine meeting the door at the exact same place. Only inches apart. Two souls fractured by the same truth unable to touch, unable to escape.
Rain whispered against the windows.
Her silent sobs broke against her ribs.
His breath remained steady, forced into stillness by sheer will.
He stayed.
Not as a king.
Not as a lover.
Not as a man asking to be forgiven.
But as someone who had already accepted the sentence
and chose to serve it beside her.
All night.
Without another word.