Masked Love

A Race against Time

The summer sun burned above, but Mahira didn't feel it. All she could feel was her heart pounding and the sweat trickling down her temple as she ran, limping slightly, clutching the envelope to her chest like her life depended on it.

Because it did.

This envelope wasn't just money.

It was Kabir's dream.

It was her promise.

It was everything.

She had already crossed two streets and was halfway down the narrow lane that led to the main road. From there, she could catch a rickshaw to the college.

Today was the last day left.

Suddenly—

A bike screeched to a stop in front of her, cutting her off. Two men, in helmets, got down. She stepped back instinctively, clutching the envelope tighter.

Man 1 (casually threatening):

"You're Mahira, right? Come with us. Boss wants to have a little chat."

Mahira's breath hitched. She looked around—no police, no crowd, just a few distant shopkeepers who weren't paying attention.

Mahira (shaky but firm):

"Tell your boss I'm not interested."

She turned to walk past them.

Man 2 (grabbing her arm):

"Didn't you hear him? We weren't asking."

She winced—his grip landed right where she was already injured. The pain shot up her arm, but she gritted her teeth and didn't cry out.

Mahira (angrily):

"Let go of me!"

She struggled to free herself, kicking the man's leg with all the strength she had. He loosened his grip just enough for her to pull away and run.

But the first man blocked her again and tried to snatch the envelope.

Man 1 (mocking):

"What's this, huh? Admission money? Poor people should stay poor."

Mahira (angrily):

"Leave it! I said leave it!"

She was already injured and weak. One of them pulled her arm, making her lose balance, and she stumbled, falling to her knees.

The envelope slipped from her hand.

It fluttered... and landed on the road, a few feet away.

Time stood still.

She gasped and reached her hand towards it—but one of them stepped on it before she could reach.

Man 1 grinning picked up the envelope and tucked it into his jacket.

Mahira (tears in her eyes):

"Please... don't do this. It's for my brother. His future depends on it. Please."

Man 2 :

"Boss said if you want it back... you should come to meet him in his office."

She looked up at them, her face a mix of pain and desperation.

Mahira:

"I won't go anywhere. Give it back. This is theft."

Man 1 (coldly):

"Call it what you want. But you'll get it back only if you follow boss order."

They got back on the bike.

Man 2 (before riding off):

"He said you have an hour to decide. After that... the money disappears."

And saying her his company's name—they were gone.

Mahira sat on the roadside, bruised, dusty, trembling. The world around her blurred—her body in pain, her mind screaming.

The envelope was gone.

And with it—Kabir's chance.

Unless...

Unless she did the one thing.

Go to Mihir.

She slowly stood up, wiping the tears from her face, her jaw tight with silent fury.

Mahira (to herself):

"For Kabir... I'll do it."

She took a deep breath and stopped a auto—for going to mihir's office.

For her brother— She was walking into a big trap which she didn't even imagined.

Mihir's Office.

Mahira stood at the reception, her clothes dusty, her arm wounded and trembling, her forehead bruised, but her eyes... blazing.

The receptionist hesitated when she asked to see Mihir, but one call inside was all it took. Wordlessly, she was let in.

Mahira stepped into the sleek, air-conditioned office. Glass walls. Polished floors. And Mihir, seated at his desk with a smug smile, like he had been expecting her since morning.

Mihir (leaning back, arms folded):

"That was quick. I thought you'd resist a bit more."

Mahira stood in front of him, not breaking eye contact.

Mahira (tight voice):

"Where is it?"

Mihir (feigning innocence):

"What?"

Mahira (stepping forward):

"You know what. The envelope. My brother's admission money."

Mihir (smirking):

"Oh that? Well... it's somewhere safe. But I don't feel very generous today."

Mahira's voice rose, breaking with fury.

Mahira:

"How low will you stoop? You sent men to manhandle me! That money wasn't yours, it was my hardwork—my sacrifices—how dare you take it!"

Mihir (calmly):

"You dared to slap me in public, remember? Consider this repayment, with interest."

Mahira's chest heaved. Her throat burned with unsaid words. Then, her tone shifted. She tried reason. Softened her voice.

Mahira:

"Look... please. Kabir's admission closes today. He's a bright kid. He deserves a future. Don't punish him for what happened between us."

Mihir (smiling coldly):

"Then maybe you shouldn't have raised your hand."

Mahira (desperately):

"I'm sorry. I lost control, okay? I was injured, tensed, and you spoke about my father. That wasn't right, but please—I'm sorry."

Mihir (enjoying this):

"Hmm... say it again. Louder."

She blinked.

Mahira:

"What?"

Mihir:

"I said, say it again. Apologise. Properly. In front of everyone."

He gestured toward the office door. The glass walls made everything visible — a few staff members were already glancing in, whispering.

Mahira (stiffly):

"I'm sorry."

Mihir (leaning forward):

"Not enough.

If you want the envelope back... kneel.

Here. In front of everyone.

Hold your ears, beg and apologise like the arrogant girl you are. Then maybe—maybe—I'll give it back."

Time froze.

Mahira's face drained of colour. Her hands balled into fists. Her eyes welled up, not just with tears—but humiliation.

She looked toward the glass walls. employees were pretending to work, but clearly watching.

Her pride screamed NO.

Her wounds screamed ENOUGH.

But Kabir's face—his hopes, his innocence—flashed before her eyes.

And Mahira—

Slowly

Silently

Sank to her knees.

She didn't say anything at first. The entire office watched in stunned silence.

Then, she raised her trembling hands... and held her ears.

Mahira (soft, choking):

"I'm sorry... for everything.

Please... give me back the envelope. I beg you."

Mihir leaned back, smirking with victorious satisfaction.

Mihir:

"That's more like it."

One of his assistants came in, placed the envelope on the table. Mihir tapped it lightly.

Mihir:

"You can take it."

Mahira stood up—not looking at anyone—and snatched the envelope from the desk, her hands still shaking.

She turned to leave, head held low, but just as she reached the door—

Mihir (mocking):

"Next time, remember your place before raising your hand."

She paused... but didn't look back.

Without another word, Mahira walked out of the office.

Broken.

Humiliated.

But not defeated.

Because she was going home with the one thing that mattered.

Hope for her brother.