Swara was finally punished, his agonized writhing a sight that should have pleased Swara. However, lost in her own anguish, she walked away from the scene, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. As she drifted through the grounds, her eyes fell upon Ragini, who was sitting on a garden bench, staring blankly ahead, her posture tense, as if the weight of her own thoughts was too much to bear.

Swara felt a pang of sorrow for Ragini and couldn't resist moving closer. She softly rested her hand on Ragini's shoulder.

"Ahh..." Ragini gasped, startled out of her reverie. She recoiled at the sight of Swara and bowed her head, guilt evident for reasons unknown, deepening the pain in Swara's heart.

"I'm sorry, Ragini..." Swara's voice was rough and strained.

Ragini looked at her in surprise. "Why are you apologizing? You haven't done anything wrong," she said bluntly.

"I just can't seem to lift this heavy feeling," Swara admitted, her eyes downcast. "I should be happy now that my parents have finally received justice, but there's something inside me that won't let me feel any joy."

"How about we chat over some drinks?"

Swara admired Ragini's kind offer, but since she couldn't partake in drinks, she felt a pang of reluctance. Still, unable to turn down Ragini's attempt at comfort, she agreed softly, "Okay..."

"Thank you, Swara, for coming out with me even though you can't drink."

Ragini mumbled this line for the third time; her voice slightly slurred as she finished another glass, blinking rapidly at Swara. Ever since Swara mentioned she couldn't drink, Ragini had been expressing her gratitude repeatedly. Swara understood that Ragini was trying to ease her loneliness with the help of alcohol and was expressing her appreciation as a way to deal with her own sorrow.

"Swara, thank you..."

Ragini began to repeat herself when Swara gently interrupted. "It's alright, Ragini. It's the least I can do for you," she said, sipping her fruit punch.

"No, you don't owe me anything," Ragini replied, raising her voice and slamming her hand on the table. "I'm not some saint; I'm the daughter of the person who killed your parents." She sniffed, her eyes clouded with tears. "You should despise me, but here you are, sticking by me."

"That wasn't your fault. You need to let it go," Swara said, placing her hand on Ragini's and giving it a comforting pat.

"I thought it would be a weight off my shoulders knowing his true heinous face, but I was dead wrong. Seeing him like that in pain was gut-wrenching. My heart is aching, Swara. Now I get your pain."

Tears streamed down Ragini's cheeks, her shoulders shaking with each sob. Swara's heart went out to her, but she was at a loss for any more words to console her.

"I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't stop myself..." Ragini mumbled, downing her drink in one go. "You all should hate me, despise me, but here you are, keeping me company even though you can't drink."

Swara sighed, weary from Ragini's incessant rambling. She instinctively reached for her phone to call Laksh, only to realize she had left it at home. Switching to a mind-link, she quickly sent a message. "Laksh, you need to haul it over to The Sevens pub ASAP. Ragini's falling apart."

Laksh was taken aback by the abrupt mind-link and hurried over, finding Ragini teetering on the edge of passing out, still clinging to her drink and complaining.

"Swara, what’s the deal with that urgent message? What’s happening with her?" Laksh asked, his worry clearly showing.

"Seems she’s really struggling with loneliness and insecurity due to Amit’s deeds, and she's been running her mouth endlessly. It got so intense and chaotic that I had to call you in a hurry," Swara explained.

"What exactly did she say?" Laksh asked, looking intrigued and concerned.

"Ahh, I feel like it’s all crashing down. I knew it was coming, so why does it hurt so much? The betrayal of those you trust is unbearable. Why did he do this? I wish I could just disappear with this pain. I wish I could..."

Swara was mimicking Ragini’s drunken lament to give Laksh context when Sanskar burst in, exclaiming, "Swara, you can't drink in this condition; it’s dangerous."

Sanskar was momentarily stunned, his expression shifting to surprise as he took in the scene: Ragini passed out with Laksh holding her steady, while Swara sat across from them, raising eyebrows and a frown, clearly unsettled by his interruption.

"Shona, you really shouldn’t be drinking, you know that," Sanskar repeated, clearly flustered.

"I know," Swara cut him off sharply.

"Thanks for being here with me, Swara, even though you can't have a drink," Ragini slurred, her head resting heavily on Laksh's shoulder as she clung to her drunken haze.

Swara turned to Laksh. "With both of you here to take care of Ragini, I think I should head out. Otherwise, she'll keep feeling guilty," she said, standing up and striding out of the pub.

Sanskar sighed, sensing something was off with Swara but not quite understanding. He quickly followed her.

"Shona, what’s up with you? Why are you giving me the cold shoulder?" he asked, catching up to her and gently grabbing her shoulder. "You didn't even tell me you were coming to the pub with Ragini. What's going on?" He raised his eyebrows, clearly concerned.

"Do we always tell each other everything?"

Swara's retort was as cutting as a knife, and her red-rimmed eyes made Sanskar realize she was upset about him keeping the truth about her parents' deaths from her. Still, it didn’t add up to him.

"Haven't you kept things from me in the past?" he argued. "You said it was for my own good, so why is it any different when I do the same?"

"It's not the same at all, and if you understood, you'd get it," Swara countered icily, her eyes brimming with hurt. She shrugged his hand off her shoulder, turned away, and continued walking towards the parking lot.

Sanskar hurried after her, caught her arm, and spun her around to face him. "Mind explaining how it's different?" he demanded, his tone edged with both frustration and concern.

"I was trying to shield you from life-threatening enemies who were close to you. Even if I had told you, you wouldn’t have believed me without solid proof. But when it comes to my parents' murder, I had every right to know the truth. The same goes for Grandma Janki—you should have told me who she really is."

Swara's voice cracked as tears welled up in her eyes. "Sanskar, you're not the only one with the right to be upset when kept in the dark. I deserve that right too."

Sanskar rested his hand gently on her shoulder. "I knew this would be difficult, and that's why..." He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "With Janki, my hope was that she would confront the truth head-on." His tone was sincere.

Swara's lips curled into a bitter smile. "You have a real talent for phrasing, but I’m afraid I’m not swayed by your justifications."

She yanked his hand off her shoulder and began to walk off, but Sanskar grabbed her arm once more. "Okay, stay mad if you want, but just head home. It’s getting late, and it's freezing out there. You don’t want to run yourself into the ground."

He tried to guide her, but Swara shook off his grip and replied, "I’m heading home, no ifs, ands, or buts."

Sanskar gripped his fist tightly, trying to rein in his anger. Swara's obstinacy was wearing him thin. "Fine, do what you want, but I’m driving you back to your dorm," he said with forced restraint.

“I can manage on my own,” Swara shot back.

Sanskar’s frustration boiled over. 'Swara can be infuriatingly headstrong, but I can’t let her arbitrary take over her common sense,' he fumed internally. With a swift motion, he pulled her close, lifted her into his arms, and carried her toward his car.

“Sanskar, what on earth are you doing? Let me go!” Swara snapped, wriggling to escape his grasp.

“Just stay put,” he replied, almost depositing her into the passenger seat. “If you’re set on going home, let me give you a lift.” He clicked her seat belt into place with a firm tug. “Don’t try to pull any stunts, or you’ll find out just how serious I can be.” With that, he slid into the driver’s seat, eyes locked on the road ahead.