Ayaan finds himself standing in front of the clear glass walls of his office yet again, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat that feels a little too heavy on his body today.

Everything feels a little too heavy today. His head and the thoughts inside it. His eyes. His position in the office.

His identity.

More often than he'd like to admit, his mind drifts onto the thoughts about how his life could have been. If only he was the son of a different family. A simpler one. A loving one. A real one.

If only.

He doesn't have to turn around to feel the shine of the excellence awards hanging on the walls of his office burn into his back. Academics. Sports. Arts. He knows people find their eyes drifting to those, often unintentionally, and see how his parents raised him to win. Everything. Everywhere.

He wonders if any of them ever attempted or even wondered if they could look beyond those frames and see the actual him. The scared, anxious, and lost boy who was forced to grow up a little too soon.

Ayaan is twenty-five, and one of the biggest, and most influential businessmen in the entire city. But sometimes, even when he stands higher than all the other buildings around him, literally, he still feels like the smallest person in the world.

The glass in front of him so clean it's almost invisible, he wonders if this is how he's encased himself too. He sees the world beneath him through it, but the world only sees how high he stands. Not the despondency that comes with the pedestal he never asked for.

He doesn't have the strength to turn around and see all the shine that surrounds him. The brightness blinds him. Not a single speck of dust; the place so clean it looks artificial. From the perfectly styled strands of his hair and all the way to the soles of his shoes, he feels like he isn't real.

Aware that if the glass in front of him turned into a mirror right this second, his eyes would be ringed red, he turns away and without leaving space for another thought to seep into his mind, he dials Tanvi's number.

His brave, rebellious sister. The 'black sheep' of the Sharma family. He thinks back on everything and then a shaky little smile makes its way to his face at the thought that in the end, she's the happiest out of all four of them.

The only person who looked after him. He knows she had to grow up even sooner than he did, only because there was no one else to take care of him. When Tanvi had decided to move out of the house, Ayaan was devastated. But he supported her nonetheless. He still does, and he always will. Because in the midst of their parents' neverending wishes and expectations from their children, they wanted their daughter to look after the business with Ayaan.

He'll never forget the look on her face the day she had left the house and taken nothing with her. The smirk on her face and the tears in her eyes, and with her voice stronger than ever despite the tremble of her lips, she had told them they were monsters. And they could call her 'outrageous' as much as they wanted to for choosing to model over their already established brand on the city.

She never once looked back.

And Ayaan is glad she didn't.

"What?"

The way she picks up calls has grown on Ayaan. So needless to say, it doesn't faze him anymore. He does the usual and doesn't greet back either.

"Do you have time to meet this weekend?"

Ayaan doesn't doubt that she probably reads his entire mood in his voice. He could try to make himself sound as impassive as he could, but Tanvi always knows.

She's quiet for a few seconds. Then, "Of course. Everything okay, bud?"

"Just a little stressed about all of the meetings I have this week," he says in a half-lie. He's lonely. And every once in a while, he craves genuine company. Times like this, he mourns his friendless life. "It would be nice to meet you. And Connor too, of course. If he isn't busy."

Tanvi's voice is soft when she replies. "You know Con and I are never busy for you. Come over whenever and we can all have dinner together, yeah?"

Warmth fills his chest and the words, 'I miss you' get stuck in his throat. He misses her. God, he misses his sister so much. Because after she had left, the little warmth that he had known of what a family is supposed to be like, had evaporated with her presence. No more gentleness. No more tenderness of Tanvi's fingers brushing hair off his forehead and tending to his wounds when he came back bruised and battered from school. No more crying in her room for hours while she held him to her. All of the things that she did for him that his mother never even tried to.

Ayaan was seventeen when Tanvi left.

The devastation had hit deep, but he had let his parents let them have their way. He was never mad at Tanvi for leaving. Although the abandonment had left him torn from the inside out, he never complained. Helpless and alone, he had turned into the person they wanted.

And moments like this, he wonders if he's going to end up like them too. Cold and empty. Married to someone he doesn't even love. Someone he can't ever love. Because the only time his heart had beat that way for someone, the feeling of dread had settled into his chest so deep, he's sure it's turned into worthless fossils now. He never once spoke of it. Never once mentioned to his parents that he's not picky with women. Never had the resolve to reveal that the only time he felt human in his life ever since Tanvi left was when he had kissed a boy in the first year of uni.

And now he's let his parents break him into so many pieces that he can't even find the words to tell his sister that he loves her.

Even when she promises to meet soon and tells him a hesitant goodbye as if expecting him to say more, he stays silent until all that's left for his ears is the distant beep of the phone that sounds like a dying heartbeat.