Entangled Fates
Episode 6: Beneath the Masks We Wear
"The most dangerous disguises aren't made of fabric or paint—
they're woven from our own denial."
— Riya Agrawal's private notebook, Page 12
---
The city still stood tall. The skyline still blinked with its promise of ambition, lies, and slow-brewing ruin.
But Riya Agrawal wasn't the same.
Something inside her had shifted. Not shattered—shifted. Like a fault line preparing to snap. It wasn't loud. It was slow. Creeping. Quietly venomous. She stood at the window of her apartment, forehead pressed against the cold glass, watching her own reflection distort in the pale morning light.
She barely recognized the girl staring back.
Not because of the dim lighting or the sleepless eyes.
But because she no longer knew where the mask ended and she began.
---
Harish Mehra was dead.
Her first assignment.
Her first ghost.
And she hadn't even touched him.
Riya turned away from the glass. The silence in her apartment felt heavier now—less like peace, more like a waiting room before an autopsy.
She moved to her closet and pulled out the new file Ryansh had handed her the night before. It was pristine. Untouched. Like a time bomb wearing lipstick.
She hesitated only once.
Then ripped the seal.
> Subject: Avantika Rao
Position: Executive Manager, CSR Division
Status: Red Alert – Insider Breach Suspected
Mission: Intercept. Monitor. Eliminate threat.
There was no soft language this time. No ambiguity. No "Surveillance Only" comfort zone.
Just an open blade with a familiar name engraved on the handle.
Avantika.
A woman who once guided Riya through the storm of corporate cruelty. Who whispered warnings others were too proud to give. Who smiled like she'd seen it all and survived anyway.
Was she a traitor?
Or just another ghost waiting to be framed?
---
By noon, Riya was seated in the company cafeteria.
Two tables away.
Eyes forward. Smile neutral.
Watching.
Avantika Rao was stirring sugar into her tea with precision. Not rushed. Not robotic. Just... elegant. Every movement was composed, like her hands had memorized decades of survival choreography.
If this were a test, Avantika looked innocent.
But then again—so had Harish.
"You know," a voice said behind her, "if you keep staring like that, people might think you're in love."
Riya blinked. Then turned.
Avantika stood beside her, tray in hand, eyebrows raised.
Riya laughed—forced, careful. "Neither. Just starving."
Avantika smiled, slid into the seat beside her without invitation.
"Funny. I remember you saying the same thing the day we met."
Riya's throat tightened.
"How's your new department?" Avantika asked, eyes glinting with something unreadable.
"Challenging."
"Challenging isn't always bad. It means people are watching. And being watched means you're a threat."
Riya stiffened. That word again.
Threat.
She tried to keep her voice light. "Excuse me?"
Avantika leaned in, voice calm and quiet. "This place eats soft hearts, Riya. Harden up, or get swallowed whole."
Then she stood, adjusted her ivory pallu, and walked away—leaving behind the scent of roses and a kingdom set on fire.
---
That night, Riya didn't sleep.
She hunted.
She combed through internal files, financial records, private memos—anything with Avantika's signature. Her screen became a graveyard of tabs.
Unusual authorizations.
CSR budgets routed through shell NGOs.
Events funded but never hosted.
Charity drives that existed only in report format.
It wasn't just negligence.
It was intent.
She compiled everything into a single drive. Finger hovering over the Send button to Ryansh.
Then she paused.
Two encrypted files sat in the directory. Locked.
Unopened.
Her instincts screamed.
She pressed her thumb to the scanner.
---
File 1: Operation White Petal – Surveillance Targets
> Target Name: Riya Agrawal
Status: Active Surveillance
Handler: Avantika Rao
Her body froze.
Breath. Gone.
She was being watched?
Monitored?
Why?
Her finger trembled as she opened the second file.
File 2: Audio Clip
She clicked Play.
> "Ryansh thinks she's just another broken girl he can use. I say let him. Once he falls, we bury them both."
Avantika's voice.
Unfiltered. Cold. Familiar.
Riya stumbled from her desk, barely reaching the bathroom before vomiting into the sink.
The betrayal wasn't sharp.
It was slow. Poisonous.
A second heartbreak layered over the first.
---
At dawn, Riya barged into Ryansh Suryavanshi's office.
Uninvited. Unapologetic.
He looked up, surprised—but only mildly.
"You're shaking," he said.
She dropped the flash drive on his desk. "Play it."
He did. Didn't flinch.
Riya stared at him. "How long have you known?"
He closed the laptop. "Three weeks."
She recoiled. "And you said nothing?"
"Because I needed to know what you'd do with power."
"You used me."
"No," he said, calmly. "I showed you the truth. You used yourself."
She slapped him.
The sound cracked through the silence.
He didn't retaliate. Just turned his face slowly.
"Feel better?"
"Screw you."
"You already did," he said, eyes sharp. "The moment you opened that file, you stepped out of safety. Welcome to the real game, Riya."
Her breath was shallow.
Her hands trembled—not from rage anymore, but from clarity.
She picked up the flash drive.
"What's our next move?"
Ryansh smiled.
This time, there was no mystery behind it.
Only war.
---
Operation Medusa began that night.
Riya designed a digital leak—faked enough inconsistencies in Avantika's records to trigger an internal audit. Not enough to implicate herself. Just enough to spark fire.
By the third day, Avantika Rao was suspended.
By the fifth day, she was gone.
Not transferred. Not resigned.
Vanished.
No final calls. No activity. No trace.
Even her apartment sat eerily untouched.
Like she had never existed.
---
Riya sat beside Ryansh on the rooftop. Their favorite battleground.
She stared at the stars she no longer believed in.
"Do you think she was silenced?"
He nodded. "Or she ran before someone else did."
"She was one of us."
"She was what we could've been—if we stopped asking questions."
"I should feel victorious," Riya whispered. "But all I feel is… empty."
"Because you lost something."
"What?"
"The illusion of safety."
She turned to him. "And you? What did you lose?"
Ryansh's reply was immediate.
> "The last piece of my soul."
They didn't speak again for a long time.
The city blinked beneath them.
And something inside both of them cracked—quietly.
---
Later that night, Riya lay in bed with the file open in front of her.
She zoomed into a grainy screenshot. A name she hadn't noticed before.
Meera R. Suryavanshi
Board of Directors – Strategic Liaison Division
Her eyes widened.
Bloodline.
Ryansh's.
She clicked deeper. Hidden files. Invisible branches.
And then—another name.
Riya Agrawal – Clearance Upgrade Pending. Status: Unpredictable Asset.
Her heart thudded.
Even now. Even after everything.
She wasn't on the inside.
She was still being watched.
---
The next morning, she walked into Ryansh's office with calm rage.
"You knew," she said.
His eyes narrowed. "About what?"
"Meera. Your aunt. The clearance levels. Me."
"I know a lot of things," he replied coolly.
"And yet you told me nothing."
"Because I needed you to keep asking."
Her jaw clenched. "Why me?"
He walked toward her.
"You're smart enough to burn this place down. And reckless enough to try."
She stepped back.
"I'm not your weapon."
"No," he said, almost admiringly. "You're a wildfire."
---
They stood in silence.
Then she reached out. Not with affection.
With intention.
Their fingers touched.
Not lovers.
Co-conspirators.
Warriors in the same inferno.
Together.
Until the very end.
---
💬 Author's Note – Beneath the Masks
This was never just a story about two people in a corporate spiral.
This is about identity.
Power.
And the moment you realize the monsters you feared were just masks worn by people in your meetings.
Riya didn't just lose Avantika. She lost her illusion of control.
And Ryansh? He's burning from the inside—brilliantly, beautifully, tragically.
What would you do if your survival meant betraying your only truth?
Let me know.
Next up: The woman in the shadows—Meera Suryavanshi—steps into the light.
And nothing will ever be the same.
🔥 Your ink-drunk author,
Aarya Patil