I was born in the shadow of a lie. My father, a humble farmer, was accused of stealing from Thakur Ranjeet Singh’s granary. They beat him in the temple courtyard, in front of everyone. He collapsed, heart shattered by shame, and whispered one thing to me: ‘Clear my name.’

They tried to kill my mother too. But Balwan, the blacksmith from the next village, found her bleeding in the fields. He saved her. Raised me like his own, though he never claimed me.

Now, I’m a man. And I saved a life today—Reshma, Thakur’s daughter. A snake bit her near the well. I sucked the venom out, held her as she trembled. Her eyes opened, and something in me broke.

She doesn’t know who I am. Doesn’t know her father destroyed mine.

But Naginath knows. The cobra slithers to me every night, tongue flicking at the air, tasting the guilt that lingers in the wind.

Tonight, I found the ledger. The proof. And Reshma is coming to thank me.

She stands at the gate, her dupatta fluttering in the breeze. ‘Suraj,’ she says, ‘I want to repay you.’

The snake coils around my arm. I can feel its pulse. Her pulse.

What do I do?