As the lights dimmed and guests started to leave, Nitya's family approached her — hesitant, emotional, yet hopeful.
Her mother held her hand tightly. "Beta... we're sorry. We were blind. But not anymore. Come home. Let's start again."
Nitya looked at her, then her father, her cousin, everyone she once called family. Their faces were drenched in guilt, maybe even love… but broken things don't become whole just because someone says sorry.
She took a deep breath and gently pulled her hand away.
"I will come," she said softly, "but not yet. Let me fix what's still broken inside me. Let me end what never should've started."
The words were simple, but they hit Ayansh like a blade.
He stood just a few feet behind her — his heart still, his jaw tight.
She wasn't saying goodbye.
But it felt like she was walking away from the safety he built around her.
He didn't stop her. Didn't question her strength.
But fear gripped his chest — not because he didn't trust Nitya,
but because he didn't trust the world that once caged her.
What if they hurt her again?
What if she never came back?
She turned to glance at him.
He smiled — only slightly. Only for her.
Because love doesn't chain, it frees.
But that night, Ayansh couldn't sleep.
Because for the first time… he realized,
loving Nitya might also mean losing her.