For the first time in months, the elevator at Elysian stopped without her.
Iraaya sat on the floor of her apartment, back pressed against the cold wall, staring at the locked box of Prism notebooks across the room.
Her phone buzzed endlessly at first. Then slowly, mercifully, it went silent.
She hadn't opened the curtains in days.
A Room Full of Shadows
Outside, the city pulsed, a world she'd once fought so hard to enter.
Now it felt like a trap.
She scrolled through the headlines again, fingers trembling:
"PRISM scandal rocks Elysian House - rising star suspended amid legal storm."
"Jhirkala girl faces plagiarism probe."
"Global trust broken - will buyers abandon Elysian?"
She saw the comments under her own posts:
"Fake."
"Another fraudster from nowhere."
"Knew it was too good to be true."
Each word pierced deeper.
Vicky had tried, gods, she had tried. She'd brought food, movies, silly gifts. Had sat on the edge of the bed and told story after story to fill the silence.
But after four days of no response, even Vicky's bright voice dimmed.
"Call me when you can," her last message read.
The next morning, Iraaya stared at her reflection in the dark window, pale skin, sunken eyes, hands that had once stitched dreams now useless in her lap.
"I was stupid," she whispered.
"I thought I belonged."
Alone with the Past
By day five, the memories came.
Jhirkala's dust roads. Amma's sharp voice.
Manaly's laugh, echoing in her chest.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
She had no words left for the girl she used to be.
No words left for the woman she had become.
The Letter
On the seventh day, a thin envelope slid under her door. From Elysian Legal Affairs.
Her heart stopped.
She tore it open with numb fingers.
"Effective immediately, your position as Lead Designer, Prism Line, is terminated. Pending resolution of all legal disputes, you are requested not to represent yourself as affiliated with Elysian House or its brands."
A single signature: Aanya.
Her breath left her body.
Not even a meeting. Not even a call.
The woman who had trusted her voice in a sea of power, now reduced to a signature on paper.
She curled on the floor and wept.
The Spiral
The days blurred after that.
Sleep came only in bursts, broken by nightmares of courtroom flashes and jeering headlines.
She stopped eating. Coffee and old crackers became her meals.
Each time she reached for her phone to message Vicky, shame stopped her.
"I don't want her to see me like this."
The mirror grew dust. The apartment grew cold.
Kairos, once a city of promise, now looked monstrous through the half-closed blinds.
Vicky's Visit
It was day ten when Vicky came anyway.
She knocked. Softly first, then harder.
"Iraaya. Please."
No answer.
Finally she dug out the spare key, the one Iraaya had given her after her first paycheck.
The door creaked open.
The air smelled of stale coffee and grief.
She found Iraaya on the floor, hair tangled, eyes empty.
"Oh god."
She rushed forward, wrapping her arms tight around her.
"I'm sorry," Iraaya whispered hoarsely.
"I can't- I can't do this."
Vicky rocked her gently.
"You don't have to do it alone."
Words Unspoken
It took an hour to coax her up.
Another to make her sip broth.
Vicky cleaned the place quietly, not pushing.
"You should know," she said finally, voice low, "Amma heard. She's furious. She knows this wasn't you."
That cracked something.
"Amma?"
"She's ready to fight."
"But they, they think I stole everything."
"You didn't."
"Doesn't matter."
Her voice broke.
"The world already believes I did."
Leaving
That night, Vicky stayed over.
In the dim silence, Iraaya whispered:
"Maybe I should leave Kairos."
Vicky sat up.
"Go back to Jhirkala?"
She shook her head.
"They won't want me now. They never wanted me to come here."
Her voice cracked.
"I've lost everything. Who I am. Who I was trying to be. There's no thread left."
The Breaking Point
Two more days passed.
No new messages. No new headlines. Just an endless hollow thrum.
Then, the call came.
A polite, clipped voice.
"Ms. Iraaya, Casa di Fiore's lawyers have requested your presence for deposition. You are to respond within seventy-two hours."
The room spun.
They want to break me further.
When the call ended, Iraaya stood in the center of her living room.
Her gaze fell on her old sewing kit, the one amma had gifted her.
She lifted it slowly.
Traced the worn edges.
Then hurled it against the wall.
Thread spools scattered like broken stars.
She sank to her knees.
And finally, fully, screamed.
A Spark in the Dark
She might have stayed in that pit longer.
But that night, long after midnight, her phone buzzed with a new message.
From an unknown number.
"Check your email. Trust me."
Puzzled, she opened her inbox.
One message. No subject. No sender.
Inside, an anonymous tip:
"Proof of file theft attached. From an internal source. They betrayed you."
Below a single attachment: Trace_Report_Prism_Leak.pdf Heart racing, she clicked.
Her breath caught.
The report detailed the file transfer, time-stamped.
Not her terminal. Not her account.
Another account: K.R. - Kritika Rao.
A second page showed the traced link, straight to Casa di Fiore.
Her chest heaved.
She wasn't insane. She wasn't a thief.
The tears came anew, but this time, they weren't of grief. They were of fury.
Rising
Vicky found her at dawn, wide-eyed, clutching the report.
"I have proof," Iraaya whispered.
"They stole it."
"Then fight," Vicky said fiercely.
"I will," Iraaya said, voice steady now.
"For Manaly. For Amma. For me."
An Urgent Call
"I need to show Amma," Iraaya said suddenly.
Vicky grabbed her arm gently.
"It's 4 in the morning, she's not online."
"I can't wait," Iraaya whispered.
"She stood up for me when I couldn't stand for myself. She deserves to know."
Vicky exhaled.
"Okay. One step at a time."
Iraaya drafted a short message and attached the report.
"Amma - please see this. I wasn't lying. I wasn't a thief. I will fight this. I wanted you to know first."
She hit send with trembling fingers.
A Flicker of Strength
For the first time in weeks, Iraaya showered and dressed properly.
She chose a simple kurta Manaly had once loved on her. Clean. No frills. No armor, just truth.
At sunrise, a message pinged:
"Proud of you. Now fight. - Amma."
Iraaya wiped her eyes.
No more tears.
Seeking Allies
Vicky called in favors, fast.
By noon, they had:
•Two legal friends willing to consult pro bono.
• A trusted journalist who promised to hold the story until Iraaya chose to speak.
• A former IT consultant from Elysian who confirmed:
"That transfer log? It's real. It's bulletproof."
"How did you get this?" the man asked.
"It came to me," Iraaya said softly.
"Maybe the universe decided to give me one thread back."
Facing Aanya
By late afternoon, Iraaya drafted her next step.
She emailed Aanya again:
"I have hard evidence of unauthorized design theft implicating an internal party. I am requesting a formal review and board investigation. If denied, I will pursue external legal action and public disclosure."
Vicky read it twice.
"Send it."
"I'm scared," Iraaya whispered.
"Good," Vicky smiled sadly. "It means you care. Send it anyway."
She clicked Send.
The Response
The reply came one hour later.
"Boardroom B. 9 AM tomorrow. Myself, legal counsel, CTO present."
No warmth. No denial.
No comfort.
But-a meeting.
A chance.
The Night Before
Kairos glittered beneath her window.
Vicky stayed over again.
They ate rice and daal, Iraaya's first full meal in days.
"I still can't believe it was Kritika," she murmured.
"You trusted her," Vicky said.
"That's not your failure. That's her rot."
Silence.
Then, Vicky grinned.
"You're going to burn that room down tomorrow."
"I just want the truth to live," Iraaya whispered.
The Walk
Morning. The city smelled of rain and exhaust.
Dressed in clean, sharp lines, no makeup, no jewelry, Iraaya walked to Elysian's towering glass facade.
She did not shake. She did not cry.
She walked.
For herself.
The Boardroom
Aanya sat at the head of the table. Her face was drawn, tired. Guilt hovered there, but no apology yet.
Next to her, a stern legal rep.
Next, the CTO, face unreadable.
No Kritika.
They rose slightly as Iraaya entered.
"You requested this," Aanya said.
"Present your evidence."
The Unveiling
Iraaya's voice, though soft, carried:
"I did not steal designs."
"I did not plagiarize Prism."
"I did not betray Elysian."
She placed her laptop down.
"However, someone else did."
Click.
The Trace Report appeared on the screen.
She spoke calmly, page by page:
• Terminal logs.
• File access trails.
• Internal transfer timestamps.
• User account ID. K.R.
"I ask you now," she said, voice shaking only once:
"Do you wish for this to go public? Or will Elysian do the right thing?"
Silence. Then Impact.
The room was utterly still.
The legal rep looked ashen.
CTO leaned forward. "We will need to verify this. But, it looks... undeniable."
Aanya closed her eyes.
When she opened them, her voice cracked:
"Iraaya... I didn't know."
"I-I thought-" She stopped.
"I believed the wrong person," she said finally.
"I failed you."
Not Yet Victory
"Your apology is not enough," Iraaya replied, voice raw.
"You destroyed my name. You broke me. You let the world think I was a liar."
Aanya nodded slowly.
"I understand."
"And...if you'll allow...we will act."
The legal rep sighed.
"A formal investigation will begin today. We request your patience, and... your trust."
Outside
Vicky waited in the lobby.
When Iraaya emerged, her shoulders sagged.
Tears finally fell, but not of defeat. Not this time.
Vicky wrapped her in a fierce hug.
"You did it," she whispered.
"You faced them."
"Not done yet," Iraaya said hoarsely.
"But... I can breathe again."
One More Message
That night, alone in her apartment, Iraaya opened her laptop once more.
An unread message blinked, anonymous again.
"For what it's worth - many of us believed you. The truth deserved light. More soon."
No signature.
No clue.
But, a thread.
And this time, Iraaya smiled.