12:00 Midnight…
Ruhi stepped out of the police station. Rudra, who was leaning against the car, stood up straight the moment he saw her and gave her a smile. Ruhi ignored him completely and walked straight to the car, slipping inside without a word.
Watching that, Rudra muttered to himself, “Am I her driver or what…?! Maybe I am!”
With a sigh, he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
Ruhi’s gaze was fixed outside the window, lost somewhere in the darkness. Through the rear-view mirror, Rudra kept stealing glances at her before finally breaking the silence:
“Come on… show me those messages at least!”
Ruhi turned her eyes toward him sharply. “Why? What will you do after reading them?”
Rudra pulled a face, half-pouting, half-dramatic. “Oh, nothing! Just for fun! I’ve never read messages filled with insults before!”
At that, Ruhi gave a sarcastic smile. “Then why not skip the texts and listen to those insults face to face instead?”
Rudra flinched like a theatrical hero caught off guard. “Huuhhh… fine! I take my words back. I don’t want to see those messages anyway. But… you know, I’m the only one who knows about all this. Doesn’t that make you feel like… maybe you should share more of what’s in your heart with me?”
Ruhi rolled her eyes and replied coldly, “No! I never wanted you—or anyone else—to know about this in the first place. But now that you do, I can’t change that. Still… I don’t want you knowing anything more. My pain… should stay with me alone!”
Her voice triggered something in Rudra.
Those harsh eyes, that distant, lonely tone—he had heard them before. Six years ago.
“Leave me alone with my pain! My pain belongs only to me!”
The memory stung. Rudra smirked bitterly to himself.
“They say time repeats itself… and so do stories. The characters may change, but the tale remains the same. Hmm… but I hate this loop. Because in the end, I’m always left alone.”
Lost in thought, Rudra suddenly pulled the car over to the side. Surprised, Ruhi turned toward him, her eyes filled with questions.
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Rudra looked straight at her and spoke with a restrained intensity: “What do you all think I am?! Some toy? You take my help whenever you need it… but hide your secrets whenever you want. What do you think… why do I even help people? Do you think I do it just like that?! No. I help people because—”
And in that moment, another memory struck him.
A flashback to his childhood—
10-year-old Rudra sat alone in the garden late at night, holding something in his small hands. When his father approached and saw it, the ground beneath him shook.
In Rudra’s hand was a bird. Dead.
“Why… why did you do this?!” his father’s voice trembled in disbelief. “Why did you do something so monstrous?!”
The boy’s innocent face looked up, explaining calmly, “Dad… its wings were broken. If I set it free, other birds would have hunted it down. That death would’ve been crueler, more painful. But if it had to die anyway, then why not a quick, painless death? That’s why I did it!”
His father’s eyes widened. Because the words his son had just spoken… were the exact same words once uttered by a convict—a convict sentenced to life imprisonment for killing a disabled woman.
That night broke something inside his father. For months, he couldn’t meet Rudra’s eyes. And whenever Rudra looked into them, all he saw reflected back was a monster.
From then on, Rudra realized what his father hated most—people who caused harm, people who hurt others.
So Rudra tried to change himself. He began observing, learning what kind of people his father admired. He wandered the hospital his father had built, studying his every move. He watched his favorite movies, his favorite heroes, mimicking their gestures, their smiles, their words.
And he discovered one truth—his father loved those who smiled through pain, who helped others without expecting anything in return. Heroes who bore others’ wounds as their own.
So Rudra became that man. He wore that mask. Always smiling, always helping. But inside… the wound remained.
Because even after all that, his father still avoided his eyes. Still kept his words hidden.
At the end of his life, too, Rudra’s father carried secrets in his gaze—secrets Rudra now saw mirrored in Ruhi’s eyes.
Suppressing his anger, Rudra forced a fake smile back onto his face. “Forget it. Maybe… maybe I just think of myself as some hero. That’s why I help people.”
He turned his head away, reaching to restart the car—when suddenly he felt arms wrap around him from behind.
Ruhi had hugged him.
Her touch carried hesitation, but it was genuine. Her voice trembled softly: “Are you… are you tired too? Of acting all the time?”
Rudra froze. Then he turned around—but by then Ruhi had already withdrawn, settling back into her seat, her gaze fixed firmly outside the window.
And with quiet conviction, she said, “From the very first time I saw you… I felt it. That you’re just like me. A liar… hiding weaknesses behind a perfect mask. Every time you smiled, I could see the falsehood in it. But I said nothing… because I used to do the same. I wanted acceptance, so I buried my real self. But later, with some friends, I realized—I don’t need to pretend. I am who I am. And that’s enough.”
Rudra gave a pained smile. “So you knew all along I wasn’t who I pretended to be. Then why… why would you choose to take help from someone like me? Oh wait—of course. You had no choice.”
“No!” Ruhi cut him off immediately. “It wasn’t compulsion! If I wanted, I could have kept you out of this even after knowing the truth. But I didn’t. Because I don’t think you’re bad. Yes, you hide behind a false mask. But behind that mask… I believe there’s a child—just like me. Afraid. Starved for love.”
Her words pierced through him. And then, in his ears, the echo of his own childhood voice returned:
“I’m not a monster, Dad! Look at me… I’m not a monster! Please… please love me!”
A tear slipped from Rudra’s eye before he could stop it. He turned his face away with a bittersweet smile.
All his life, he thought his father had only seen him as a monster. He had changed himself entirely just to earn a place in his father’s heart. He thought he had succeeded.
But tonight, Ruhi’s words struck him deeper than years of masks and efforts. Because what he wanted wasn’t admiration. It was acceptance. The kind that sees through your mask and still stays.
Sometimes, only a broken heart can truly recognize another broken heart.
Sometimes, the words you wait a lifetime to hear… come from someone unexpected.
Tonight, Rudra heard those words—not from his father, but from Ruhi.
And strangely, he felt… happy.
When Ruhi caught sight of his reflection in the car’s rear-view mirror, she noticed something remarkable—an unguarded smile. A real one.
For the first time, she believed in him.
For her, Rudra was no longer a mysterious stranger. He was a neglected child finally seen.
