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Author's POV
The drive to Nahargarh stretched into an hour of golden lights and soft music. By the time they reached Paris Point, the sky had turned dusky violet, brushing the hills with faint gold. The air smelled of petric Hor and roasted coffee - and somewhere, the faint tune of a guitar floated from the café terrace.
They all spilled out of their cars, the evening slipping into laughter almost immediately. Isha was the first to shout, "Finally! If someone had driven slower than Luka, we would've reached tomorrow!"
Luka raised his hands in mock surrender. "Excuse me, princess, I was trying not to kill you all on those turns."
Prisha laughed. "You drive like you're escorting a funeral, not friends."
"Because your voice is already loud enough for a celebration," Arav teased, dodging as she swatted him playfully with her scarf.
Isha laughed - a real laugh this time - the kind that made her eyes close and her head tilt back slightly.
Shivansh saw it from where he stood, just behind Ranveer and Aviyansh. The sound of her laugh was like sunlight breaking through the glass walls of his chest.
He couldn't look away.
Not when she smiled like that.
Not when the wind toyed with her hair and she didn't even notice.
A small group of musicians played near the edge of the terrace, their songs wrapping softly around the air. The lights shimmered like scattered stars.
Ishika and Prisha linked arms, pulling Isha toward the table they'd reserved. "Come on, come on! Before someone steals the best view!"
Arav followed them, grinning. "I swear, you three are worse than paparazzi."
Prisha rolled her eyes. "You're just jealous because we have taste."
And for a moment, everything felt light - like the world had forgotten how to ache.
Aviyansh sat quietly at the far end, eyes flickering to Ishika more than once. He laughed at her jokes, but his gaze softened every time she looked away. The longing there was quiet, but it lived at every glance - the kind of longing that a person hides behind easy smiles and unfinished sentences.
Isha noticed it, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. Ishika was too busy teasing Arav to notice, and Aviyansh pretended not to, though his fingers drummed restlessly on the table.
"Some people really need to confess before the year ends," Prisha whispered into Isha's ear, making her choke on her drink.
"Stop it!" Isha hissed, laughing quietly.
Prisha smirked. "I didn't say names."
"Yeah, but you meant them," Isha said, nudging her lightly.
The air is filled with their banter, soft music, and the low hum of conversations around them. It was the kind of evening that could almost trick anyone into believing everything was okay.
Almost.
Because for Shivansh - nothing was.
He stood a little apart, a glass of water in his hand, but his eyes had not left Isha even for a heartbeat.
Every time she laughed, something in him flinched - not in pain, but in longing. Every second she smiled at someone else, it felt like the universe reminding him what he had lost.
Ranveer's voice came low beside him. "You're burning holes in her back with your eyes."
Shivansh didn't look away. "I'm remembering what peace looks like."
Ranveer gave him a look. "Then go talk to her. Before peace turns into regret again."
And Shivansh moved.
Slowly at first, steps heavy with all the words he'd carried for years. Then faster, with that quiet desperation of a man who'd finally decided to stop running from what he ruined.
Isha didn't notice him until he was close enough that she could feel his presence - that shift in the air that only he ever brought.
She turned, startled. "Shivansh?"
Her name caught in his throat for a moment. The café lights flickered between them - soft, golden, unreal. He didn't say a word. He just looked at her, eyes searching hers, the way a drowning man looks for land.
"What are you-" she started, but he shook his head gently.
"Just... come with me," he said, voice low, urgent but not harsh.
There was something in his tone - not command, not anger - but a quiet, desperate plea. The kind that left no room for questions.
She hesitated for a second, glancing at her friends, but something in his eyes made her heart stumble. Without a word, she followed.
He led her away from the light, down the small stone path that curved behind the café. The music grew fainter. The laughter softened.
They stopped where the hill dipped into shadow, a quiet corner lit only by a single hanging lamp. The night air wrapped around them, cool and heavy with unspoken words.
He turned then - not too close, but close enough that she could see everything in his eyes.
He didn't grab her. He didn't pull her hard. He just reached out, lightly resting his hand against her wrist, like a man terrified that even air might take her away.
"Isha," he said, and her name sounded like an apology and a prayer all at once.
She looked up, eyes wide, uncertain. "What are you doing?"
"Talking to you," he whispered. "Finally."
There was fire behind his calm - not anger, but that desperate, aching kind of love that had been buried too long. His eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light, every emotion he had tried to bury clawing its way to the surface.
"I had to pull you away," he said quietly. "Not to scare you. Just to breathe near you again. Just to see your face without a hundred eyes watching."
The words trembled, honest and raw.
"You think I don't see it?" he continued, his voice breaking just slightly. "You think I don't feel it still - the fire between us? It's not one-sided, Isha. It never was. If it were, you wouldn't have looked at me like you did a while ago in room... you wouldn't have let me touch you, hold you, not with the same trembling that I still feel."
She flinched, her lips parting, but no words came out.
He took a breath, stepping back half an inch, giving her space, but his voice softened even more. "I know you hate me. You have every right to. But don't tell me the love we had is gone. Don't tell me that, because it would be the first lie between us."
The night around them stilled - even the wind seemed to pause.
He looked at her, that old, familiar ache back in his chest. "I'll tell you everything, Isha. Every reason, every truth I hid. I'll tell you why I broke you when I should've held you. But not tonight. Not here. Just... give me one chance to say it all. Not for forgiveness. For truth."
Her eyes glistened faintly, the reflection of the single lamp trembling in them. She didn't answer - couldn't.
He let his hand fall away, slow and gentle, like releasing something sacred.
And then, with the faintest smile - half pain, half devotion - he said quietly, "I'll wait. I've already waited five years. What's one more night?"
The words hung between them, fragile as breath.
Somewhere above, the city lights flickered - and below, laughter echoed faintly from where their friends sat, unaware of the storm gathering in the dark corner of Paris Point.
He swallowed hard. "But for now just listen this, I never cheated on you."
Her jaw tensed. "Shivansh-"
"I didn't," he said again, voice breaking for the first time in years. "What you saw - what I made you see - it wasn't real. I had to do it with juhi. I had to make you believe it so they wouldn't-"
"juhi?" she snapped, the word like a blade. "You had to do it with juhi? That's your excuse?"
He froze.
Her voice rose - not loud, but cutting. "Five years, Shivansh. Five years I lived with that image burned into my head. Five years thinking I wasn't enough, that you'd moved on while I was still learning how to breathe again. And now, you stand here and tell me you did it for me with someone else? With her?"
"It wasn't like that-"
"Then what was it like?" she demanded, stepping closer, eyes bright with restrained fury. "You think betrayal comes with explanations? You think saying 'I did it to protect you' erases what you did to me?"
He stared at her - this woman who wasn't the same Isha he'd left behind. She was sharper now, colder, her pain refined into something almost regal.
"Isha-"
"No," she said, her voice trembling only once. "You don't get to call my name like that. Not after you made me hate the sound of it coming from your mouth."
For a second, no one breathed. Even the laughter from the other tables faded into distant hums.
Shivansh exhaled, slow. "You don't understand what was at stake-"
"I understand perfectly," she interrupted. "You didn't trust me enough to share the truth. You made yourself the hero of your own story, and me the fool in it."
He flinched.
Her tone softened - not kind, but weary. "You broke me, Shivansh. But don't think for a second I stayed broken."
Then she stepped back. "You want to talk? Fine. But not here. Not tonight. Because right now, I am finally laughing again. And I won't let you take that away."
Her words landed like the closing of a door.
And yet - behind that defiance, something flickered. A tremor. A tiny, traitorous flicker that said the fire still burned.
Shivansh saw it. Felt it.
And for the first time in years, he smiled - not cruelly, not arrogantly, but with something like faith.
Because he knew now: this war had just begun.
Isha walked back toward the group, brushing off the faint chill that the wind carried with it. Everyone stood scattered near the parking area of the fort café - laughter, half-serious arguments about who would sit where, and the faint golden glow of the lanterns around them. The air smelled faintly of spice and sand, and something in it felt alive.
She found Luka near the railing, speaking softly on his phone. The moment he saw her, his face brightened, though his eyes still held that calm, unreadable composure he always wore.
"Luka," she called, walking closer, "Alessandro Bhaiya just called. He said they'll reach by tomorrow afternoon. So..."
She hesitated for a second, lowering her voice as her fingers nervously toyed with her bracelet. "So tomorrow night, we can do the engagement."
For a moment, Luka just stared at her - the wind tugging gently at his hair, the golden light catching the quiet curve of his jaw. Then he nodded, slowly.
"If that's what you want," he said, voice steady, though there was a softness that flickered like something fragile. "I'm okay with whatever you decide, Alina."
She smiled faintly, that small, nervous smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're always okay with whatever I decide. You never say no to me."
Luka's lips curved slightly. "Maybe because saying no to you never really works," he said quietly, his tone half teasing, half wistful.
Isha chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Good, then it's decided. Tomorrow night."
Just a few feet away, Ishika and Prisha were whispering like children who couldn't hold a secret, their eyes sparkling with mischief.
"I swear if she says it out loud, I'm going to scream," Ishika hissed under her breath, biting back a grin.
Prisha nudged her. "Be quiet! Let her say it herself!"
Arav leaned against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, smirking. "I can already tell what's going on," he said, his voice lazy, teasing. "Our dear Isha looks like she's about to drop a bomb."
When Isha finally turned back toward them, her cheeks pink from the evening breeze, the group fell silent - the way friends do when they know something important is about to be said.
"Okay, everyone," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile trembling slightly but still determined. "So, um... Luka's brother and sister-in-law will arrive tomorrow afternoon, and..." She paused, glancing quickly at Luka before looking back at them. "Tomorrow night, we'll have our engagement."
For a few seconds, silence. Then chaos.
"What?!" Prisha shrieked first, clutching Ishika's arm. "Tomorrow night?!"
Arav's mouth dropped open. "You mean, as in... actual rings, official ceremony, tomorrow night?"
Isha laughed softly, nodding. "Yes. Tomorrow night. It's time. After that, there's a wedding we all have to attend, and... I'll also be leaving for Italy soon after."
The words fell like stones into the laughter.
"Leaving?" Ishika's voice softened, eyes wide. "So soon?"
Isha nodded again, quietly this time. "Yes. I can't stay here after the wedding. I have work waiting, and Luka's family is already preparing everything there."
Her tone was calm - too calm. But her fingers twisted together in that telltale way she always had when she was trying not to cry.
From a little distance, Shivansh stood watching. The faint smile that had lingered on his lips while she laughed earlier vanished the moment she said Italy.
Italy.
That word alone felt like an ocean opening between them.
She was going away. For good.
He could feel it - the way the ground seemed to tilt beneath his feet, the faint ringing in his ears. Luka's soft voice, Isha's nervous laugh, the distant sound of Ishika's gasp - everything blurred around the edges, like someone had muffled the world.
Prisha clapped her hands, trying to lift the mood. "Okay, fine! We're not going to cry right now. We're going to celebrate tomorrow properly. You're getting engaged, Ishu! I'm so happy!"
Ishika squealed, grabbing Isha's hand. "Finally! Luka, you're officially trapped!"
Everyone laughed. Even Isha managed a small giggle, though her heart thudded heavy against her ribs.
And then Arav, with his usual mischievous grin, leaned forward. "So, after Italy, do we still get to steal your time for random late-night calls or should we book international appointments now?"
Isha playfully rolled her eyes. "You can always call. Just it should be important."
Prisha groaned. "Oh come on, that's when we get the best gossip!"
They laughed again, light and easy.
But not everyone was laughing.
Aviyansh stood a little away from the group, his eyes fixed on Ishika. She was laughing so freely, so bright, that it almost hurt to look at her. Every time she smiled, he smiled too - unconsciously, helplessly. And when she turned to him and caught him staring, he looked away, pretending to adjust his watch.
Prisha noticed, of course. She leaned toward Arav, whispering with a grin, "Look at Avi. That man's heart is long gone."
Arav chuckled quietly. "He's doomed. I can already tell."
Isha caught the look too, and for a moment, her heart warmed. Love - in all its silent, messy ways - was still alive around her.
But behind her, Shivansh stood rooted, his jaw clenched, his hands fisted in his pockets. The night sky above Jaipur shimmered like spilled ink, and all he could think was how can she just go?
Every word she had said echoed inside him.
Tomorrow night. Engagement. Leaving for Italy.
She was talking about her future, and he wasn't in it.
He wanted to move, to go to her, to say something - anything. But Ranveer's voice earlier kept replaying in his head. Be honest. Don't be dramatic. Let truth fight for you.
So he stayed still. But inside him, something wild began to move - something old, untamed, that had slept for too long.
He couldn't let her go. Not this time. Not when the fire was still burning on both sides.
He didn't care how. Even if he had to lock her in a room and make her listen. Even if he had to drag the truth out of his own scars.
Tomorrow.
He would tell her everything tomorrow.
And he would not leave that room until she knew the truth - all of it.
The laughter faded slowly into the night air, soft music rising from the café, lights twinkling over the terrace. Isha smiled and leaned into her friends' chatter, but somewhere deep down, her heart felt heavier than it should.
And across the crowd, hidden in the shadows of the fort, Shivansh watched her - silently, fiercely - with a resolve that burned through every ounce of fear he'd ever known.
The revelation of Isha's engagement had left the air thick with emotions no one could quite name. For a moment, the world seemed to still - as though even the faint evening wind hesitated before touching her. The whispers around them had died down, replaced by an unsettling silence.
Soon, one by one, everyone began drifting toward their cars, the weight of the evening still pressing on their shoulders. Isha, however, remained where she was for a heartbeat longer, her fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of her dupatta. Her chest felt heavy - not because of the engagement announcement itself, but because of the thousand thoughts colliding inside her.
What if the riyan really woke up?
What if he was looking for her right now?
What if her mother was calling again - probably worried, possibly angry - because she wasn't picking up?
Her phone buzzed twice in her hand. She glanced at the screen - "Mummy calling" - and pressed the power button, turning it face-down on her palm. She couldn't handle another round of questions right now.
Everyone else seemed to sense her unease. Ranveer looked back from the car door, his hand on the frame. "We should get going," he said softly, more to the group than anyone specific. "It's getting late."
Dhruv nodded in agreement. "Yeah, let's just head back before someone starts panicking."
Arjun opened the front door of the first car, tossing a look over his shoulder. "Isha, come on. You can talk to mummy once we reach home."
Isha forced a nod, but as she took a step forward, the sharp click of her heels on the uneven stone path made her wince. The heels had been pretty when she first wore them - elegant, glossy, the kind that matched her dress perfectly - but now they were pure torture.
Her ankle twisted slightly, and she stumbled, catching herself just in time.
Shivansh, who had been walking a few paces behind her, noticed immediately. His eyes softened, the faintest trace of concern flashing across his face. He slowed his pace, turning back toward his car.
"I'll get her something more comfortable," he muttered quietly, half to himself, half to Ranveer, who was just about to sit inside.
Ranveer gave him a knowing nod. "Go on. I'll wait."
Shivansh unlocked his car and pulled open the backseat door. Inside, on one side, was a small, neatly packed overnight bag - Isha's bag. he had kept it in his car always front the day one when he and she were officially couple.
He smiled faintly as he unzipped it. The contents were almost a reflection of her - a blend of practicality and personality. Two or three pairs of clothes - soft pastel cottons for comfort, one fancy outfit folded with delicate care, a few office formals, and her little essentials pouch. Tucked neatly at the bottom were a pair of flat sandals, running shoes, and her worn-out but beloved white slippers.
It's like a mini Isha wardrobe, he thought silently, his fingers brushing against the slippers.
He hesitated, then picked up the comfortable flats - the ones he knew she wore most often when she didn't have to pretend to be someone polished and perfect.
He stepped out, closing the door quietly. His eyes found her again, a few meters away - and that's when he froze.
Because someone else had reached her first.
Luka.
He was crouched down in front of Isha, one knee resting lightly on the ground. His expression was calm, tender - the kind of quiet affection that made the entire world seem to blur around him.
"Hold still," Luka murmured, glancing up briefly at her.
"Luka, what are you-" she began, but before she could finish, he slipped off her heels one by one, setting them aside gently. Then, from his own feet, he removed his shoes, pressing them toward her.
"Wear these," he said simply.
Her eyes widened. "Luka, no-these are yours. You'll-"
"I'll manage," he interrupted softly, not even looking up as he slid his socks-covered feet back onto the ground. "You're already struggling. And you're tired and little teansed also. So, Please."
There was something in the way he said please - a kind of gentle authority that left no room for argument.
Isha sighed, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You're impossible."
"And you're stubborn," he replied with a quiet chuckle, looking up at her now. "We're even."
She finally slipped her feet into his shoes - they were a little big, but infinitely more comfortable than her heels. Luka picked up the discarded pair and stood, holding them casually in one hand.
The small gesture - simple, almost mundane - carried a weight that didn't go unnoticed.
Shivansh, standing a few steps away, felt something twist deep in his chest. It wasn't jealousy in its rawest form - it was the hollow ache of distance, of the realization that what once might have been his place was now firmly someone else's.
He could only watch as Luka guided her toward the car, his hand hovering protectively near her back.
Ranveer's voice broke his trance. "You okay?"
Shivansh didn't answer right away. He turned, walked back to the car, and quietly placed the flats back into her bag - almost reverently, like he was putting away something sacred. Then he zipped it shut and set it where it had been before.
"I'm fine," he said finally, though the lie came out heavier than he meant it to.
Ranveer studied him for a moment, then motioned toward the driver's seat. "Come on. Everyone's already in."
The engines roared to life one by one. The first car, carrying Dhruv, Aarav, Arjun, Ishika, and Prisha, pulled out first, headlights slicing through the dusky evening.
The second car followed - Isha and Luka seated inside, Luka driving, his hand occasionally adjusting the mirror to glance at her. She looked out the window, her face unreadable, lost somewhere between exhaustion and thought.
Finally, the third car moved. Ranveer drove, shivansh sat silently in the passenger seat, and Aviyansh occupied the backseat, half-dozing but listening.
The silence stretched for several long minutes, broken only by the hum of the tires on the road.
Then, Ranveer spoke - softly at first. "You know," he began, "sometimes it's not about losing someone. It's about learning how to live without the version of them you had in your head."
Shivansh didn't respond. He just kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, the glow of Isha and Luka's car visible a few meters in front of them.
Ranveer continued, his tone calm but firm. "You can't keep replaying what happened in the past, shivansh. Whatever you did... whatever went wrong - it's done. And maybe she forgave you. Maybe she didn't. But either way, you've got to forgive yourself."
"I don't think I can," shivansh murmured, almost inaudibly.
"Then you'll never move on," Ranveer said simply. "You'll keep standing in the same place, watching someone else walk away with what could have been yours. And that's not living - that's punishing yourself."
Shivansh's hands clenched on his lap. "You make it sound so easy."
"It's not," Ranveer admitted. "But it's necessary." He glanced at him briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. "You think Luka got here by luck? No. He's there because he showed up when she needed someone to hold her steady. You had your time, and maybe you loved her in your own way, but love doesn't survive on memory alone."
Aviyansh stirred in the backseat, his voice still groggy but firm. "He's right, bhai sa. You can't rewrite what's already written."
Shivansh let out a soft, humorless laugh. "You all sound like philosophers tonight."
Ranveer smirked. "Maybe heartbreak brings that out in people."
For a few minutes, they fell silent again. The night breeze drifted through the slightly open window, carrying the faint scent of rain and earth. The city lights shimmered in the distance, growing closer with every passing mile.
Finally, Ranveer spoke again, his voice gentler this time. "You know what the hardest part is? It's realizing that maybe she was never meant to stay. Maybe she just came into your life to teach you what love could feel like - before it found its right place."
Shivansh turned his head slightly, watching as the car in front of them - Isha and Luka's - took a left turn toward her lane.
"She deserves to be happy," he said quietly.
Ranveer smiled faintly. "She does. And so do you."
They followed the car ahead, the glow of its taillights flickering in the night like a distant heartbeat.
Inside Luka's car, laughter broke out faintly - a soft, tired, genuine sound. It made something inside Jeevan tighten again, but this time, there was no bitterness. Just acceptance.
He looked out the window, the lights blurring slightly as the car sped on. Somewhere between regret and relief, he exhaled, finally letting go - even if only a little.
Ranveer noticed and gave a small nod, saying nothing more. The road stretched ahead - quiet, endless, forgiving.
And for the first time that night, the silence between them didn't hurt. It simply was.
The gates creaked open as their cars rolled into the driveway. The night had deepened, and the soft amber lights lining the path cast a calm glow over the mansion.
Isha stepped out first. The faint scent of mogra drifted from the garden, and for a moment, she stood there-half lost in the quiet hum of home. The laughter from the drive still lingered in her ears, but here, everything was slower, softer.
She walked inside, her heels barely making a sound on the marble floor. The house felt unusually still. She turned to the staff standing near the staircase.
"Where's Riyan?" she asked softly.
The maid, Meena, smiled and bowed slightly. "Ma'am, Riyan baby fell asleep early. He's with your parents in their room. Your mother said not to wake him-he was tired. Everyone was playing with him after he woke up. "
Isha's lips curved, half in relief, half in tenderness. "With Mummy and Papa?"
"Yes, ma'am," Meena nodded. "Your mother said he refused to sleep without her tonight."
Isha exhaled, her smile deepening. "Of course he did."
She handed her shawl to another staff member. "Alright, make sure the lights are dimmed in that room. He doesn't like too much brightness when he sleeps."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And tell the kitchen to prepare something light for everyone, just in case they get hungry later. But for now, let clean everything-we already ate outside."
"Yes, ma'am."
She paused near the door once more. "If anyone wakes up or needs something, call me immediately. And... make sure no one is in need of something."
Meena nodded again, and Isha smiled faintly before heading upstairs.
Outside, the others were still talking near the cars, their voices carrying through the open air.
"Are we seriously just going to call it a night?" Arav complained, leaning against the car bonnet. "I was promised more fun and bad jokes."
"You've already been giving us bad jokes since morning," Ishika shot back, grinning. "We don't need any more."
"Excuse me?" Arav placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "That hurts. I'm the funniest one here."
"Funniest?" Prisha laughed, her arms folded. "You? You literally said Jaipur traffic is more loyal than your ex. How is that funny?"
"It's true though," Ishika said, and they all burst out laughing.
Aviyansh, standing slightly apart, leaned against the car door with his hands in his pockets. His gaze kept drifting to Ishika-quietly, almost unconsciously. She was laughing with Prisha, her hair falling over her face, the wind tangling the ends, and he couldn't look away.
It wasn't loud or dramatic-the way he felt. It was silent, steady, the kind that crept up slowly and stayed even when he tried to shake it off.
Isha returned then, walking toward them with her calm, collected grace. "Okay, everything's settled inside," she said. "Riyan's sleeping with Mummy and Papa, so no one needs to worry. And yes, I told the staff not to make dinner-since none of us can eat another bite after that fort café."
Arav groaned. "Speak for yourself. I could totally have one more kulfi."
"You already had two," Prisha teased.
"Exactly. The third one would have been the charm," he said solemnly, earning another round of laughter.
Isha smiled faintly, shaking her head. "You'll never change."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Arav grinned.
The drive earlier that evening had been painted in gold and laughter. Three cars trailing down the road like a convoy of memories waiting to happen.
In the first car - Arjun, Dhruv, Arav, Ishika, and prisha. Loud music. Endless teasing. Ishika leaning half out the window just to feel the wind.
"Sit properly!" Arjun scolded, but his tone was more fond than strict.
"Relax," Ishika said, laughing. "Let me live a little!"
"You'll live shorter if you fall out," Dhruv muttered from the passenger seat, but a smile betrayed him.
The second car - Luka and Isha. Quieter. More peaceful. Luka scrolled through his phone, while Isha watched the horizon melt into orange.
"You're quiet," Luka said finally.
"I'm thinking," she replied softly.
"About him?"
Her silence was answer enough. Luka didn't push. He just nodded, looking out the window too. "You'll have to talk to him someday, you know."
"I will," she said. "When I'm ready."
In the third car sat Shivansh, Ranveer, and Aviyansh.
Ranveer was talking about business or maybe something about the trip-Shivansh wasn't listening. His gaze stayed on the road ahead, but his thoughts were miles away, circling back to the car in front.
Every time he caught a glimpse of her-her silhouette against the glass, the way her hair moved when she turned to speak-something inside him softened and burned at once.
She was laughing. Not forced. Not bitter. Just... free.
He had almost forgotten what that looked like.
For a few seconds, it felt like peace. Like watching sunlight after years of rain.
And yet, beneath the calm, his pulse throbbed with something else-possession, regret, longing so sharp it could tear through bone.
When she looked at him later and her smile fell, it broke him in a way he didn't expect. She wasn't just hurting herself. She was trying to mend something she didn't even break.
He wanted to go to her. To take her hand, to tell her she didn't have to apologize to the world for being herself. But he couldn't. Not yet.
So he sat there, fists tight, voice low, eyes burning with silent vows.
Very soon, he thought. Very soon, Isha. You won't have to carry this weight alone. I'll tell you everything. You'll hate me first. But then... maybe, just maybe, you'll understand.
Back in the present, the laughter outside the house began to fade as the night deepened.
Isha leaned against the car, her shawl slipping from her shoulders. Ishika came up beside her.
"You look tired," she said softly.
"I'm fine," Isha smiled. "Just... peaceful, I think."
"Hmm." Ishika smirked. "Or maybe someone's name is still echoing inside your head?"
Isha glared playfully. "Don't start."
Prisha joined in, grinning. "We should start. You've been too calm lately-it's suspicious."
Arav raised an eyebrow. "Should I take notes? This sounds like the gossip session I was born for."
"Arav, you don't even know what we're talking about," Ishika teased.
"Doesn't matter. I'm here for the drama."
They laughed again-soft, echoing through the driveway like a reminder of old times.
Aviyansh looked at Ishika again, that quiet ache still in his eyes. She didn't notice. She was too busy laughing at Arav's ridiculous dance moves.
But Shivansh saw it. He noticed everything. The small threads between them all - friendship, longing, hurt, hope. And in the middle of it all stood Isha, holding everyone together without realizing she was the one falling apart inside.
He leaned against the car, half in shadow, watching her as if he could memorize every version of her before the truth shattered the distance between them.
The night was quiet. The kind that waited for something to happen.
And in the stillness, Shivansh knew - tomorrow, everything would change.
The house had gone quiet.
Outside, the wind had softened into a slow, lazy hum brushing against the windows. The laughter that had filled the corridors a few hours ago was gone; the last echo of it had been swallowed by the ticking of the antique clock in the hallway. Everyone had decided to call it a night.
Isha lingered for a moment in the living area, her eyes tracing the dim chandelier light reflected on the marble floor. There was something about the silence that felt heavier than usual tonight - like even the walls remembered the tension between what had been said and what had been left unsaid.
When she turned to go toward her room, she noticed that Riyan's room light was off. A small smile tugged on her lips as she peeked through her parents' door.
Her mother was sleeping on the edge of the bed, one arm draped protectively around the small figure of Riyan, who had curled himself into a warm ball beside her father.
Her heart softened.
"Madam," one of the staff members whispered when he saw her standing there, "Riyan wanted to sleep with them today. He said he missed his Dadi."
Isha nodded gently, whispering back, "It's fine. Don't wake him. Just make sure the nightlight stays on. He doesn't like the dark."
"Yes, madam."
She lingered there another heartbeat before turning away.
The corridor was long and still, faintly lit by the golden sconces on either side. She could hear the low hum of voices from the study - Luka's voice, deep and even, threading through the half-closed door. A meeting, of course. Probably with the Italian firm. He'd told her earlier, "You rest, Isha. You've been running around the whole day."
And she had smiled, said, "Are you sure?"
He'd nodded, fingers tapping over his laptop. "Positive. I'll be late. Go sleep."
So she had. Or at least, she tried to.
Inside her room, the familiar smell greeted her - a faint trace of vanilla and old pages.
She walked toward her dresser, her reflection half-shadowed in the mirror, and for a moment, she barely recognized herself - the soft satin of her night suit, the tired eyes, the faint loneliness hiding under the practiced calm.
The wardrobe door creaked softly as she opened it.
And then, it all fell out - like time itself had been waiting for her to touch it again.
A stack of letters tied in a faded ribbon. A few old photographs, their edges worn and yellowing. Small trinkets - a bracelet, a keychain, a little wooden carving he had once made just to tease her saying, "This is your angry face."
Shivansh.
Her breath hitched.
She stared at the pile for a long moment, unable to move. Each piece of memory seemed to whisper her name in his voice - that low, unhurried drawl that could turn even silence into a confession.
Her fingers trembled as she picked up one of the letters. His handwriting - still the same, bold and slightly tilted, with that careless loop in the "S" that she had once teased him for.
"To the woman who made me forget what calm meant."
She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together before the tears could fall.
"Why do you still affect me?" she whispered to the empty room. "After everything. After all the lies."
She sat down on the bed, the letters spread before her like a wound she had once healed but never truly closed.
The photos followed. One of them - the two of them, smiling under the monsoon sky, drenched to their bones, laughing like they had the whole world between them. Another - her leaning against his shoulder in some café, eyes half-closed, peaceful.
She remembered that day vividly.
"I'll never hurt you, Isha."
That was what he had said. And then he did.
Or so it had seemed.
She drew in a sharp breath, pressing her palm over her chest. "You cheated," she murmured, voice shaking. "You... you made me believe I was the fool for trusting you. And I was. I still am."
But even as she said it, her voice faltered. The image of that hug - that one reckless, shattering hug earlier - burned through her like an ember that refused to die.
If the love had truly died, why did her body still remember his warmth? Why did her heart race like it was still his name echoing inside her?
She shook her head quickly, forcing the thoughts away, trying to fold the letters back, but her hands wouldn't obey.
"No, not tonight," she whispered. "Not again."
She pushed the letters back into the cupboard, but her eyes lingered - on the photo, on the handwriting, on the foolish girl she had once been.
In front of her door, another storm was brewing.
Shivansh stood near her room gate, the city lights casting sharp shadows across his face. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on her hand and her face - but in his mind, he was already seeing her.
That cupboard. Those letters. The same things he had once written with trembling honesty.
He knew her too well - knew she wouldn't have thrown them away.
And tonight, he was right.
And he went back to his room.
"She still has them," he whispered to himself, voice rough, almost a growl. "She still remembers."
Ranveer leaned against the doorframe, watching him. "You sure about this? Tomorrow is her engagement."
Shivansh didn't look at him. His eyes were still on the night, his hand clenched around the balcony rail.
"I know," he said quietly. "And I'm done waiting. She can hate me all she wants - but she'll hate me in front of my face. I'll tell her the truth, every damn piece of it."
Ranveer's expression softened slightly. "You're walking into fire, Shiva."
A slow, dangerous smile tugged at his lips. "Then I'll burn with her. At least it will be real this time."
Back in her room, Isha finally lay down, staring at the ceiling, her heartbeat uneven. The lamp beside her cast a warm pool of light over the pile she hadn't been able to hide properly.
Her eyes drifted to one photograph that had escaped her hand - face-down, edges curling.
She turned it over slowly.
It was the one where he had kissed her forehead, sunlight falling across both of them. Her throat tightened.
"Tomorrow," she whispered to the stillness. "Tomorrow it ends."
But even as she said it, a part of her - that small, stubborn corner of her heart - whispered something else.
"Or maybe tomorrow... it begins again."
The morning light in isha's place was soft and golden, pouring through the tall French windows of the dining area. The air smelled faintly of brewed coffee, fresh toast, and the faint fragrance of tupis that someone-probably Luka - had placed in a vase on the center table.
By the time Isha entered the dining hall, everyone was already there. Her parents sat together at the other corner, speaking in low tones, while Riyan was busy talking animatedly with ishika and prisha. Shivansh was there too, seated quietly near the window, dressed in a crisp white shirt, his expression calm but unreadable.
Isha paused for a moment at the doorway, taking it all in. There was something grounding about this sight - familiar faces gathered together after such a long, chaotic night. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Riyan noticed her first.
"Mama!" he said cheerfully, waving at her.
A smile broke through her tiredness. "Good morning, my little prince," she said softly, walking toward him and ruffling his hair.
Everyone looked up as she took her seat. Dhruv gave a polite nod, Luka reached out and poured her a glass of juice without being asked, and Arjun pushed a plate toward her.
"You didn't eat anything last night much," Ritvik said, concern lining his tone. "You must be starving."
"I am," she admitted with a small laugh, taking a sip of the juice.
Her mother looked at her with a mix of relief and curiosity. "You came back so late last night, everyone. Where did you go and do the dinner?"
Before Isha could answer, Arav appeared with another tray and said softly, " We all went to watch the sunset then had dinner then desserts on the Paris point."
Isha frowned lightly. " Where are others? " And looked at ishika and prisha who shook their head like they don't know.
Her father said " Yesterday, after dinner they went back to their palace. "
Riyan nodded. "Yes! When dadi and I, we're they went back, old dadu said they will came back to play with me where ever I want."
Isha smiled softly. "Okiieee, so, old dau promise you that." Riyan nodded, then she said glancing at everyone. "Actually... there's something important I need to tell you."
Her tone changed just enough to make everyone go silent. Luka looked at her, knowing what she was about to say, while Shivansh's gaze flickered briefly before he looked away.
Isha took a deep breath. "Today... is my engagement."
The room froze.
Her mother's fork clinked against the plate. "What?" she said in a low voice, her eyes widening.
"Engagement?" her father repeated, confusion and shock blending in his tone. "Today? But Isha-how? When? We didn't even-"
"I know," Isha interrupted softly. "It's sudden. But I've already decided. Luka and I talked about it last night. We both want to keep it very simple, very private."
Her mother blinked in disbelief. "Private? You mean without-without any guests?"
"Exactly," Isha said, her tone steady. "No extra people, no announcements, no press, no outsiders. Just family." She turned slightly, glancing around the table. "You, Papa, my friends, Luka's family and of course raghuvanshi ones, That's all."
Ranveer raised his brows slightly, surprised but understanding the depth of her tone. Shivansh didn't say anything, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
Her mother looked torn. "But, Isha... this is your engagement. You can't just-"
Luka placed his hand gently over hers on the table, grounding her. "Aunty, please don't worry," he said calmly. "We've talked about this in detail. Isha doesn't want a big event right now. And honestly... neither do I."
Her father folded his hands on the table, thinking for a long moment. "You both seem to have decided already."
Isha nodded firmly. "We have."
She looked toward her parents, her eyes softening. "Mummy, Papa, I know it's unexpected. But I came here only for this-to take this step quietly, peacefully. I don't want attention or rumors. I just want your blessings."
Her mother exhaled slowly, eyes moistening. "You always take decisions like you are your own mother," she said with a small, emotional smile. "Quickly, fearlessly, without thinking about the chaos around you."
Isha smiled faintly. "Maybe I inherited that from you."
Luka chuckled lightly, breaking the tension. "Please don't worry about arrangements, Aunty. I'll handle everything. The engagement will be in the back garden-it's peaceful there, and the view is beautiful. Alina and I already spoke about the decorations and all that will be handle by my sister in law. We'll keep it simple, just the way alina likes."
Isha nodded eagerly. "Yes, mummy! I already told the bhabhi to follow the 'mine' theme-soft lights, blush flowers, white drapes, and candles. Nothing flashy."
Her mother smiled at iaha, the worry in her eyes finally softening. "That actually sounds beautiful."
"It will be," Luka said confidently. "And please, Aunty, Uncle-don't stress about anything. You just need to be there."
Her father sighed but smiled. "Fine then. If this is what you want, we'll do it your way."
Riyan clapped his hands excitedly. "Mama's getting engaged!"
Everyone laughed softly, the heaviness in the room finally lifting. Even Shivansh couldn't help a small, by looking at isha, faint smile-though his heart felt strangely heavy.
The palace basked in a soft, golden glow that came with the late morning sun. The marble floors gleamed, and the faint sound of laughter from the living area drifted down the long hallway. It was the kind of quiet day that felt almost peaceful - the kind that followed a night full of celebration.
Shivansh, ran veer and aviyansh had already left after breakfast. Only Isha, her parents, and her friends remained, sitting comfortably in the large living area that overlooked the garden. The atmosphere was relaxed - light conversations, the clinking of teacups, and the occasional giggle from Riyan, who sat cross-legged on the carpet, playing with his little friend who is like him, golden retrievers.
The large double doors opened suddenly, and the familiar echo of footsteps filled the corridor.
Riyan looked up instantly. His eyes lit up. "They're here!" he shouted, jumping to his feet.
Within seconds, Mehak and Alessandro appeared at the entrance - a striking pair, contrasting and yet somehow perfectly in sync.
Mehak entered first - tall, graceful, her wavy brown-black hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She wore a light pastel kurta, simple yet elegant, and her smile immediately brightened the entire room.
Behind her walked Alessandro - composed, tall, with sharp Italian features and an aura that seemed to command quiet attention. His dark eyes took in the surroundings carefully, though he said nothing.
"Mama! Daddy! " Rian cried, running toward them.
Mehak crouched instantly, arms wide open. "Baby!" she exclaimed with laughter as he collided into her, hugging her tightly. "Oh, my little monster! You've not trouble Alina right?!"
"I missed you!" he said quickly.
"I missed you more baby," she teased, squeezing him once before releasing him.
Then Riyan turned toward Alessandro, who was already bending slightly to his level. Without hesitation, Riyan hugged him too. Alessandro's serious expression softened instantly - just a small smile, barely there, but genuine. He placed a hand on Riyan's back gently.
"I missed you too, piccolo," Alessandro said in his warm Italian accent, his deep voice calm.
Luka stood up from the sofa, a smile spreading across his face. "Finally!" he said, walking toward them. "You both took your sweet time getting here."
Mehak rolled her eyes playfully. "Blame Aless, not me. He was too busy making sure the gift boxes were symmetrical."
Alessandro gave her a look - amused but pretending to be stern. "Details matter, cara mia."
"Of course they do," she said, bumping his shoulder lightly before turning to Luka and pulling him into a hug. "You look happier than I've seen you in years."
"I am," Luka admitted, smiling softly. "It's been... a good few days."
Everyone laughed softly at that. The warmth in the room was contagious.
Alessandro, meanwhile, stood a little apart, hands in his pockets, observing quietly. His eyes swept over the group - the soft laughter, the easy flow of conversation - and though his face remained serious, there was a trace of fondness in his gaze, especially when Mehak's laughter filled the room.
Isha rose from her seat then, her expression lighting up. "Bhabhi!" she said, walking forward.
Isha walked up next, wrapping her arms around Mehak with affection. "You look stunning as always."
"So do you," Mehak replied warmly. "You glow differently these days."
Isha laughed, brushing her hair back. "Must be the palace air."
"Isha!" Mehak's eyes widened with pure delight. "Look at you!"
They hugged tightly, the kind of embrace that erased the months of distance between them.
"Well, you came early then I except," Isha said, smiling. "
Mehak nodded, her eyes softening. "I wasn't going to miss your engagement for anything in the world."
Alessandro inclined his head slightly. "Bhaiya! I miss you" She said softly, He allowed himself the faintest smile. " I also, "
Isha laughed softly, gesturing toward her parents. "Come, meet everyone."
Mehak immediately brightened, walking over to greet them. "Namaste, Uncle, Aunty!" she said with a cheerful smile, joining her palms in the traditional greeting.
Her accent - a soft blend of Indian rhythm and Italian smoothness - made her words sound almost melodic.
Isha's mother smiled warmly. "Oh, such a lovely girl. Please, call me mummy like isha. You speak Hindi so beautifully."
Mehak laughed. "Thank you, mummy My moral made sure I didn't forget it, even in Italy."
Her father chuckled. "That's a rare thing. You must visit us often."
"I plan to, now, " she said sincerely.
While Mehak chatted easily, Alessandro offered a polite nod to Isha's father and a respectful handshake.
"It's an honor to meet you, sir," he said in fluent English, though his Italian accent gave every word a soft lilt.
"The honor's ours," Isha's father replied. "Please, make yourselves at home."
Alessandro gave a faint smile and quietly moved to one of the corner chairs - his preferred position, away from the center but still observant. His demeanor was calm, unreadable, his fingers resting lightly on his knee as he listened to the others talk.
Luka noticed and smiled knowingly. He leaned toward Isha and whispered, "Don't mind him. That's just his way. Big brother is more of a listener than a talker."
Isha smiled, glancing at him. "He and you seem quite similar in that way."
Luka chuckled softly. "Perhaps. But he's worse. At least I pretend to socialize."
That made Isha laugh under her breath.
Meanwhile, Mehak had already become the heart of the room. She was speaking animatedly with Isha's friends - Ishika and Prisha - laughing, exchanging stories about Italy, and teasing Luka every now and then. Her easy warmth made everyone comfortable almost instantly.
"You've completely stolen the room," Isha whispered to her teasingly.
Mehak grinned. "What can I say? It's a gift."
Even Alessandro's lips twitched slightly at that.
Soon, staffs entered with refreshments - coffee, sandwiches, and pastries. The chatter filled the air once again. Riyan was now sitting beside Alessandro, trying to teach him a Hindi word, which led to small bursts of laughter every few minutes.
"It's namaste, not num-a-stay!" Riyan corrected him, giggling.
Alessandro sighed dramatically. "That's what I said."
"Nooo," Rian laughed harder. "You sound funny!"
Alexancho raised an eyebrow. "Funny? I sound elegant, piccolo maestro."
Everyone laughed at their banter, even Luka shaking his head in amusement.
The atmosphere felt full again - of life, friendship, and warmth that had been missing for a while.
For Isha, watching them all together - her family, Her brothers, ishika, prisha, Luka, Mehak, and even the quiet Alessandro who now smiled faintly at Riyan's giggles - felt like something had finally come full circle.
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