The name i was tought to Hate
🖤 Between Hate and Heartbeats
Chapter 1 — The Name I Was Taught to Hate
BETWEEN HATE AND HEARTBEATS
Chapter 1 — The Name I Was Taught to Hate
Some families pass down jewellery.
Some pass down houses.
My family passed down a hatred.
I was eight years old when I first heard the name Khanna.
I didn't know what it meant then.
I only knew that whenever someone said it, the room became strangely quiet.
That evening, my grandfather was sitting in his study. An old photograph lay on his desk.
Two young men stood in front of an old publishing house, smiling at the camera.
My father entered the room and stopped when he saw the photograph.
“Why did you take that out?”
Grandfather didn't answer.
He simply stared at the photograph.
“Because some things shouldn't be forgotten.”
I walked into the room.
“Who are they?”
Grandfather looked at me.
For a moment, his expression softened.
Then he pointed to the man standing on the right.
“That's your great-grandfather.”
“And him?”
The room fell silent.
Grandfather turned the photograph face down.
“A Khanna.”
I frowned.
“What's a Khanna?”
My father immediately said, “A family we don't associate with.”
“But why?”
“Because they betrayed us.”
I looked at my grandfather.
“Did they?”
His eyes met mine.
“You're too young to understand.”
I hated that answer.
Even at eight, I knew that when adults said you're too young to understand, it usually meant there was a story they didn't want you to hear.
Years passed.
But the name stayed.
Khanna.
I heard it in whispered conversations.
In arguments.
In old newspaper articles.
In stories my grandmother told me before she passed away.
According to my family, the Khannas had stolen everything from us.
Our publishing house.
Our reputation.
And most importantly—
our trust.
Twenty years ago, the Mehra and Khanna families had owned a small publishing company together.
It had started with two friends.
Raghav Mehra and Dev Khanna.
They were supposed to build something together.
And they did.
For years, the company flourished.
Until one night.
A confidential manuscript disappeared.
Money vanished from the company accounts.
And evidence appeared to point toward Raghav Mehra.
The Khannas accused him.
The Mehras accused the Khannas.
Neither family believed the other.
The partnership ended.
The company was divided.
And the friendship became hatred.
But there was one thing nobody could explain.
The missing manuscript was never found.
And neither was the truth.
---
Present Day
“Stop staring at that photograph.”
I looked up from the old family album.
My father stood in the doorway.
“I wasn't staring.”
“You've been looking at the same page for ten minutes.”
I closed the album.
“I was just curious.”
“Curiosity is dangerous when it concerns the Khannas.”
There it was again.
That name.
“Dad?”
He paused.
“Hmm?”
“What actually happened twenty years ago?”
His expression changed.
“I've told you.”
“You've told me what everyone thinks happened.”
Silence.
I stood up.
“I want to know what really happened.”
My father looked at me for several seconds.
Then he said quietly,
“Sometimes the truth destroys more than a lie.”
Before I could respond, his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face immediately became serious.
“Hello?”
I watched him listen.
“Tonight?”
Another pause.
“That's impossible.”
He ended the call.
“Who was it?
He didn't answer.
“Dad?”
He finally looked at me.
“The Khannas.”
My stomach tightened.
“What do they want?”
He picked up his coat.
“We'll discuss it later.”
“Dad—”
“Not now, Aanya.”
He walked away.
I stood there, staring at the closed door.
For the first time in my life, I wondered whether my family had been telling me the whole truth.
---
That night, I couldn't sleep.
At 11:47 p.m., I went downstairs for water.
The lights in my father's study were on.
I stopped outside the door when I heard voices.
My father wasn't alone.
“You know we can't keep avoiding this,” an unfamiliar man said.
“We've avoided it for twenty years.”
“And look where that got us.”
I quietly stepped closer.
My father's voice was tense.
“They're going to come after the company.”
“They already have.”
Silence.
Then the stranger said something that made my heart stop.
“The original manuscript has been found.”
I froze.
The manuscript.
The one that had disappeared twenty years ago.
My father whispered,
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how do you know it's been found?”
“Because someone sent me a photograph.”
A chair moved.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
I heard a piece of paper being placed on the table.
Then the stranger said:
“But there's something else.”
“What?”
“The person who has it isn't interested in money.”
My father went silent.
“What do they want?”
The answer came softly.
“The truth.”
I stepped backward.
The floor creaked.
Both voices stopped.
My heart pounded.
I hurried upstairs before anyone could see me.
I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it.
For twenty years, my family had blamed the Khannas.
But now there was something neither family seemed to understand.
Someone else had been hiding the truth.
And somehow—
that person had brought the past back.
I looked out of my window.
Across the street, a black car was parked beneath the streetlight.
Someone was sitting inside.
Watching the house.
Then the car slowly drove away.
I didn't know who was inside.
I didn't know what they wanted.
And I certainly didn't know that the next morning, I would meet the person whose family name I had been taught to hate.
Aarav Khanna.
And that meeting would change everything.
Not because I liked him.
Not because I trusted him.
But because the moment I saw him, I realized one thing:
The war between our families wasn't over.
It had only just begun.
