Twisted Ties of Life: 24 Hours that Flipped the Script of Forbidden Love

Twisted Ties of Life (24 Hours that Flipped the Script of Forbidden Love) – When memories flood the home she left behind, Gargi must return to where it all began—and face the one thing she’s tried to forget.

Hello everyone. This was supposed to be a short Holi story, but it will now be a full-fledged novel. I hope you like the final part. This book is FREE and available to read on my website.

Don’t forget to read the previous parts. Check the Table of Contents.

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Table of Contents

• A Short Holi Love Story: Twisted Ties of Life
• Twisted Ties of Life: Nowhere to Hide from his Unhinged Love
• Twisted Ties of Life: Second Chance at Love (Borrowed Time, Borrowed Life with my Love)
• Twisted Ties of Life: The Truth Hurts (But Love Stays)
• Twisted Ties of Life: 24 Hours that Flipped the Script of Forbidden Love

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24 Hours that Flipped the Script of this Forbidden Love

Three Years Later

Aaditya

“Reyansh, stop now!” I called out, my voice echoing through the living room, half warning, half laughing.

But my little tornado of a son only shrieked with laughter and zipped past me like a mini rocket, his chubby legs moving faster than I thought possible for someone his size.

He’d started walking six months ago—wobbly steps, uncertain balance, arms stretched out for safety. But now? He ran like he had wings. And clearly, running had become his latest obsession.

“Dadaaa!” he giggled, beelining straight for me, eyes shining with mischief. That smile—damn, that smile—it had the kind of power that could melt down everything heavy in my chest in a second.

I crouched and held the spoon ready—mom’s khichdi cooling just enough. He took a bite mid-sprint, then off he went again, leaving me holding the spoon like a prop in some surreal parenting skit.

I let out a slow breath and laughed quietly to myself. Happiness should be like this, unfiltered, and not dependent on anything. Just feeling happy should be enough.

This chaos… this warmth… it was a blessing I had never expected.

Mom had been clear when she left for her temple visit this morning—make sure he eats properly, seated, with respect. “No running around with food!” she’d insisted, as if she forgot who we were dealing with.

Normally, he did. His baby chair, complete with a folding desk, was his regular place during meals. But not today. Today, my two-year-old had decided to break the rules.

And honestly? That was fine. He was allowed to be a little wild. I didn’t mind chasing him around with a spoon if it meant watching him glow with that kind of joy.

He was still just a baby—my baby—who’d seen too much, lost too much. If letting him be wild brought that spark to his eyes, I’d follow him around with a spoon for the rest of my life.

“Dada, go out today. Ice cream, Dada,” he said suddenly, skidding to a halt beside me. His little fingers curled around mine with an innocence that cracked something soft open inside my chest.

“First you eat, champ. Then we’ll talk ice cream.”

He nodded like he meant it, opened his mouth for another bite. I offered the spoon. He cleaned it and chewed thoughtfully before asking, “More?”

“Always,” I chuckled, feeding him again.

Then off he went, this time on his plastic tricycle, circling the living room. We had space and our living room was quite grand.

Half an hour and several laps around the house later, he was finally fed. His clothes were a mess—khichdi smudged across his cheek, his shirt, and somehow even his socks. I cleaned him up, changed him into a fresh T-shirt with a dinosaur print, and carried him down the corridor to where Dad was reading the paper.

“Daduuu!” Reyansh hollered as if announcing royalty.

My dad looked up, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he folded the newspaper and held out his arms.

“There’s my champion,” he said, scooping Reyansh from me like it was the best part of his day. Which, truthfully, it probably was.

“Don’t trouble Dadu, okay, big boy?” I warned playfully, brushing a hand over my son’s hair.

“I don’t,” he replied with mock innocence.

“He doesn’t,” Dad chimed in, already an accomplice.

Within seconds, Reyansh snatched the newspaper from my father’s hands and flung it like confetti. Pages floated to the floor like giant autumn leaves, and Reyansh stood in the middle of the mess, looking proud of his destruction.

“This is trouble, Reyansh,” I said, shaking my head with a sigh.

But he just flashed me a toothy grin, as if to say—You knew what you signed up for, Dada.

I bent down, gathered the scattered pages, bundled them together, and placed them on a shelf well out of reach. Dad chuckled, already resigned to the chaos.

“You go, I’ll handle him,” he offered.

I gave a nod of thanks and left them to their mischief.

Back in my room, I changed into a crisp shirt and trousers, checked my reflection once—more out of habit than vanity—and grabbed my keys.

The rain had finally stopped after three relentless days, and the first shafts of sunlight filtered through the window like a promise. I didn’t need to go to work—most of what I did could be managed from home—but I wanted to check on the office.

My consulting firm was my baby too, born around the same time as Reyansh. And after three days of monsoon madness, I needed to make sure it hadn’t drowned.

Everything was digital, so I wasn’t worried to lose anything, but I needed to see if the place needed my help.

Driving through the neighborhood, I saw some streets still choked with knee-deep water. Plastic bags floated like lazy jellyfish. But once I hit the main road, the scene shifted—the sun glinted off wet tarmac, and the way ahead was clear. I turned into the lane where my office stood and felt a slow wave of relief.

No water. No chaos. Just the quiet hum of normalcy.

Nitin, my assistant, was already there, standing outside with an umbrella folded at his side and a relieved smile.

“Nothing’s ruined, sir,” he said before I even asked. “Water didn’t even enter. I think the slope helped. We’re slightly elevated compared to the rest of the area.”

“Good,” I exhaled, finally letting go of the tightness in my chest. “Let’s open the windows. Get some fresh air in before we switch on the AC. Let the place breathe a bit.”

Nikhil nodded and went inside.

A second later, Ravi arrived, my office boy—drenched jeans, same crooked salute, same broken grin.

“How are you, Ravi?”

“Good, Sir. My house… it’s gone.”

The words dropped like stones. No drama. Just plain truth.

“Shit,” I muttered, then caught myself. “Okay. Let me know how much you’ll need to fix things. Till then, this office is your home. Don’t worry, we’ll get through this.”

He blinked at me, swallowed hard, and nodded. “Thank you, Boss.”

I just nodded. He headed in, grabbed a broom, and began like it was just another working day.

I lingered at the doorway, letting the scent of wet earth and faint whiffs of diesel settle over me. The city hummed in the distance—broken, battered, but moving. It was a strange kind of quiet. The kind that made you suspicious.

Like life was catching its breath before throwing the next punch. But the forecast said the worst was over. It could drizzle but heavy rainfall was off the charts now.

My eyes drifted past the road, unfocused, until I wasn’t looking at traffic anymore—I was staring straight into that cold, hollow pit inside me. The one I never touched when I was home. Reyansh filled that void, kept it at bay. His giggles, his tiny hands tangled in my shirt—they tethered me to sanity.

He was like my only link to calmness, or it was all darkening inside me.

But the moment I stepped out of his world and into mine, the darkness returned. Crawling up my spine, pressing behind my eyes. My eyes burned and a tear slipped out before I even noticed.

I wiped it quickly. No time for cracks.

What was gone was gone. No point in thinking about it. A flash of something stormed inside me, a face, a smile, a hum, that I could never really feel again. But it was inside me, and that was enough.

That had to be enough. People survived with less, I was the lucky one.

Turning back, I squared my shoulders, pulled my breath tight, and stepped into the day. It was going to be long. But I’d get through it. Somehow, I always did.

Gargi

“Sai, breakfast is ready!”

“Coming!”

I arranged the plates and set the bowl of upma on the table, tucking a spoon into the fresh coconut chutney. Sai liked the table set before he walked in—one of his endearing quirks.

I headed back to the kitchen for his juice. Orange, every single morning. Freshly squeezed if time allowed, though today, it was the canned one. Not my proudest moment, but hey, adulting.

I popped open the fridge, grabbed the cold jug, and just as I shut the door, my phone rang. Typical timing. I placed the jug on the dining table just as Sai walked in, looking sharp in his favorite cream shirt and coffee-colored trousers—he always wore that combo when he needed luck on his side.

He came straight to me, brushing a kiss against my temple, his cologne trailing close behind. I smiled, hoping the awkwardness didn’t show easily.

“Start eating,” I managed to say. “I’ll be back in a second. Might be Mom. I’ve been trying to reach her since the past two days.”

I sprinted across the room, swiped the phone just before it stopped ringing.

“Mom! How are you?”

Her sigh on the other end was more telling than words. “I’m fine, beta. The power was out, couldn’t call earlier.”

“I was worried! I was even thinking of flying home.”

“Then come.”

I hesitated. My fingers curled around the phone. That sentence. That possibility. India—home—was a space I’d kept sealed off.  I hadn’t set foot in India because I didn’t want to jinx my perfect life here. It was hollow but perfect. Because I knew one thing. One he could fill my life, rest everything and everyone would always feel hollow.

Stepping back there felt like walking into memories I’d spent the last three years packing away. I had built something new here. Half of a life maybe, but it was functioning.

My heart wasn’t in it, true—but my brain? Oh, it ran the show efficiently. Smiled at the right moments, worked, cooked, existed. I’d become good at surviving without feeling too much.

“What happened, Gargi?” she asked gently, pulling me back.

“Nothing…” The lie tasted bitter, unfinished.

“I need you to come, beta. Our house… it’s ruined.”

I sat up, pulse jumping. “What?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” she said, her voice trembling now. “I’ve been staying at the neighbors for the last three days. The rains wouldn’t stop and I was so scared when the water rose too fast—I watched it seep in like it belonged. The ground floor is flooded. I just went back this morning—everything’s a mess. I don’t know how we’ll manage this. Your dad’s favorite couch… gone. His photos, his things—gone.”

A sharp ache bloomed in my chest. Not the couch. Not the memories we had pressed into every inch of that house.

“Oh, Ma…”

Of course I had to go. That wasn’t even a question. I just didn’t want to. Going back meant reopening wounds I had stitched up in silence. But love isn’t always neat, and it rarely shows up when convenient.

“Don’t worry,” I said quietly. “I’ll take the next flight.”

There was a pause. Then, a quiet: “Thank you, Gargi.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m your daughter.”

“I know,” she whispered. “After your dad passed, I leaned on you more than I should’ve. I was supposed to be the strong one. But sometimes… I still catch myself looking for him in the corners of that house.”

Maybe it was time to stop searching. Maybe grief had camped too long inside her. Maybe it had overstayed its welcome in me, too.

“Maybe it’s time to not cling to the old couch or the house he decorated himself,” she whispered.

“Wait for me. Then we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Her voice cracked, soft as a worn saree. “I’ve missed you so much. But I never said anything… you were growing, Dubai suited you. I didn’t want to pull you back. But now, I need you. Bring Sai with you, okay? And we need to talk… about everything.”

I stilled. Talk. That word had another name stitched into it—marriage. No. No… I couldn’t marry anyone else. But wasn’t that the only logical step now?

Aaditya had moved on. He had a life now, a family, and I couldn’t ruin that.

Aaditya was gone. I had to accept it. He deserved to be happy. And now I realized, he couldn’t be happy until I was close to him. In some strange way, I wasn’t letting him move on.

Sai had told me he returned to India. Out of curiosity—or weakness—I’d called Shama. She said he was doing fine. Taking care of Prerna. Preparing to be a father.

I know it happened, love bloomed in strange ways, and maybe they had finally found each other, maybe he was able to love her. Babies did that, they flipped the script.

And maybe I was the ghost that kept him from truly breathing.

“Gargi…”

“Sorry, Mom,” I whispered. “I’m coming. Just hang in there. I’ll take the next flight.”

“Okay, baby. Bye. Love you.”

∞

Sai and I stepped out of the airport into the humid embrace of the city. The air smelled like wet tarmac and chaos. He was already on the phone with the cab driver, moving with purpose while I lagged behind, still caught in a daze. We didn’t have much—just two handbags between us—but even that felt heavy after the flight.

The cab rolled up, and Sai opened the door for me like he always did—gentle, habitual. I slipped inside, the leather seat cold against my back, and offered him a small smile. He got in from the other side, and just like that, we were moving. Away from the airport. Away from what was. Toward something I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

We weren’t going to my childhood home—it had practically drowned in the rains. Mold. Water damage. Memories. Unbearable. The hotel felt like the safer option. Also, I wanted to meet Mom alone first. Before she saw Sai. Before she drew any conclusions.

“Hey,” Sai murmured, pulling me into his arms for a quick squeeze. His warmth was familiar, steady. “All will be okay.”

I nodded, resting my head on his shoulder for a fleeting second. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said easily. “I want to meet your mom. I haven’t even booked the Chennai flight yet. First, your family. Then mine. My mom’s been non-stop about meeting you.”

I smiled, or something close to it. The kind that didn’t reach my eyes. Everything was moving so fast, but I felt like I was underwater, watching it all unfold without me. My body was here. My mind was not.

How do you politely say you feel like you’re living someone else’s life?

But I couldn’t back out. Three years of living together came with certain expectations. Meeting his parents was a logical next step. Normal. Reasonable.

Except, my grip on ‘reasonable’ was slipping.

What if I really did have to marry him? Just like Aaditya—he married someone he didn’t love. Was I walking the same path, eyes wide open, heart locked shut?

By the time we reached the hotel, I was silently spiraling. I rushed through check-in, showered off the flight, slipped into a cotton kurta, and left before Sai could ask where I was going.

I tried calling Mom again. No answer. Typical. She had a habit of misplacing her phone and leaving it on silent, like the world would just wait. She’d answered before my flight took off—she knew I was coming. She was supposed to pick up. She always picked up.

The cab ride felt longer than twenty minutes, though my watch said otherwise. I spent every minute redialing her number—five calls, maybe more. Each one rang into dead air. No answer. No “I’m okay,” no “I’ll be home soon.” Just silence.

And as the car slowed in front of our old home, my stomach dipped. I stepped out, greeted by the aftermath of the storm. Mud crusted over the driveway like old wounds, rain-soaked leaves stuck to the gate, and the air reeked—damp rot mixed with something acrid, like spoiled food or forgotten grief. I grabbed a napkin from my bag and pressed it to my nose, tiptoeing across the mess, trying not to breathe it all in.

I rang the doorbell. Waited. Nothing. Rang again. Still nothing. Not even a flicker of movement behind the windows. Maybe the bell was broken too, like everything else.

Panic started nibbling at the edges.

With my heart drumming too loudly, I crossed the street to the Kashyaps’. Mrs. Kashyap opened the door before I could knock twice. “Gargi!” she squealed, pulling me into a hug that smelled like sandalwood and detergent. “You’re finally here. How are you, dear?”

“I’m okay, aunty,” I murmured, though I wasn’t. “You?”

“Oh, better now that the storm’s over,” she said with a cluck of her tongue. “Half the city’s flooded. Everything’s upside down.”

I nodded absently. “Is Mom asleep?”

She blinked. “She’s not home.”

My heart dropped like a coin down a dry well. “What?”

“She left this morning. Said you’d be here soon, had some things to finish up. Then Mrs. Verma called—”

Time stopped. Verma. Aaditya’s mother.

No. No way. She wouldn’t go there. But she didn’t know my history with his son. She knew we were close but she didn’t suspect us having an affair behind her back. If she knew… she would have been so ashamed of me.

“She must be there now,” aunty continued, completely unaware of the fire she’d lit. “Come in, I’ll make some tea.”

“I’m good, I had coffee at the hotel,” I mumbled, already stepping back. “I should find her first.”

Before she could insist, I turned and practically bolted out of the house, heart hammering, stomach in knots. I fumbled for my phone again. One more try. One more desperate call. Still nothing.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go to his house. Not after everything I’d done to leave it all behind. Showing up there would unravel three years of distance, of silence, of healing. And I wasn’t sure I’d survive the unraveling. I couldn’t show up and throw a wrecking ball into whatever peace he’d built.

But I had to go now. I had to find her.

I climbed into an auto like a woman possessed, my voice cracking as I blurted out the address. My hands trembled. My chest ached. And when we finally pulled up outside that house—that beautiful, cursed mansion—I nearly broke. My eyes stung. My throat clenched.

This place… this was supposed to be my home. My future. The people inside were supposed to be my family. I was meant to be his wife. But fate had flipped the script. Instead, I became his secret, his sin, his kept woman.

But that story ended.

Three years and three months ago, I made the hardest choice of my life. I ran. Not just for me—for him. Because as long as I stayed, he would never break free. And he needed to. He deserved a real chance.

Then three months after I disappeared, I heard the news—Prerna was pregnant.

I hadn’t even known he’d… that he’d consummated the marriage. I thought—no, I believed—if he still loved me, he wouldn’t. But he had. And I didn’t hate him for that. I couldn’t.

Love and hate can’t live in the same room. Lust and hate can. But with Aaditya… it was only love. Always love. The kind that doesn’t die, even when you bury it deep, even when it breaks you.

I loved Aaditya Verma. With all my heart, and my soul.

My steps slowed as I neared the gate, the rusted hinges creaking like old memories I wasn’t ready to revisit. Why did Mom have to come here of all places? But then again, Verma aunty had been her closest friend for decades. Maybe she needed that comfort—someone who remembered the old times, the good times. Still, the thought of walking into that house, knowing it had lost every trace of Dad, made my stomach twist. We were supposed to renovate, start fresh… but fresh felt like betrayal.

My phone rang, and for a second, my heart leapt with hope. Maybe it was Mom, calling to say she was okay and I didn’t have to go in after all. But no. Sai’s name flashed on the screen instead.

I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey baby, how is everything?”

“Ruined.” My voice cracked more than I meant it to. “I haven’t gone inside yet—I can’t reach Mom—but even the outside is wrecked.”

“Don’t stress, okay? We’ll get professionals to clean it up. I’m just a call away if you need anything.”

“I know. Thanks.” I sighed. “I should go and find her now.”

“Where are you?”

“At… Aaditya’s house.”

A pause. “Oh. Why?”

“I think Mom’s here. She’s not picking up her phone.”

Another pause, heavier this time. “Are you sure you want to open old wounds?”

His tone shifted. Cautious, protective. But what choice did I have? If Mom was inside, I couldn’t let my fear of the past keep me from her. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I couldn’t be.

“I need to,” I whispered. “Talk to you later,” I said and ended the call before I changed my mind.

I walked up to the door and hesitated. My hand hovered over the bell as I drew in a slow, shaky breath. Then I pressed it.

The door opened just as I closed my eyes, silently bracing for whatever waited on the other side. I hadn’t spoken to anyone from this house in two years. The last person I’d talked to was Shama, and even that felt like lifetimes ago.

“Gargi.”

My eyes fluttered open. Aunty stood there, stunned for half a heartbeat before she stepped out and wrapped her arms around me. Her hug was tight, warm, and achingly familiar.

“Oh my God… it’s been so long.”

I nodded into her shoulder. “It has.”

When we stepped inside, the scent hit me first—faint sandalwood, dust, and something else… like memory. And then I saw her.

Mom sat with a mug in her hand, staring into nothing like she’d forgotten the concept of time. Her face looked older, worn by grief and silence.

“Mom,” I called softly.

She blinked, her eyes searching. When they landed on me, her expression crumbled like a fragile wall giving in to a tide. Tears spilled as she rushed to me and collapsed into my arms.

“Hey,” I whispered, holding her close as she cried. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this. I promise.”

“I lost your dad completely now. The memories, the house… even the furniture can’t be saved. I checked. Then Chandra told me to come here. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

I ran my hand up and down her back, grounding her. “Don’t worry, Mom. You’re coming with me. To Dubai.”

She stiffened. “No.”

“Yes,” I said gently but firmly. “Maybe this is a sign. Maybe Dad wants this. To see you live, not just survive. With your daughter. Not apart.”

She looked at me, her eyes softening. “I’d do anything for your dad.”

“I know.”

We settled on the couch as Chandra aunty brought in a tray of tea and snacks, the clinking of cups against the saucers oddly comforting. It should’ve been a normal afternoon. But it wasn’t.

My house was ruined and I had to take care of the damage. But as my eyes moved, I knew what I was searching. Him. He wasn’t here—and thank God for that. I had to leave fast, and then never return. I wouldn’t destroy his peace.

A voice—deep and familiar—floated in from the hallway. Uncle. I glanced up, a reflex more than anything, and froze. He walked in with a child nestled in his arms—a toddler, with that wild puff of hair, those deep eyes, that unmistakable curve to the lips. Aaditya. No. Not him, of course, but a copy. His son. My breath hitched before I could hide it.

My mind spun, landing right into the past—into us.

“Wow, Aadi… you were such a cute kid,” I said, grinning like a fool, flicking through his childhood album. He was stretched out behind me, chin hooked on my shoulder, his warmth draped over my back like a second skin.

He laughed, low and lazy, then nuzzled the curve of my neck before trailing kisses down my skin. I was lost in those pictures, and he—he was lost in me. “Aadi, I want a boy,” I whispered, not even meaning to say it out loud.

“Aadi, I want a boy.”

He pulled back slightly, blinking at me like I’d just asked for the stars. “Nope. I want a girl. Three girls. All with your eyes. Your mouth. Your stubbornness.” His eyes gleamed with that dangerous mix of mischief and longing. “We’ll just have to practice more.”

I laughed—and then gasped, because practice, for him, meant action. He moved inside me with the ease of someone who had memorized every inch of my body, every sound I made, every pause between my breaths.

There was a condom, of course. We weren’t reckless. But God, it felt like we were. Like we were writing our own rules. I cupped his face, wanting—needing—to see him. Really see him.

And he smiled. Not the smug grin he gave the world, but that soft, private smile that cracked open all the walls I’d built.

“I love you, Aadi,” I whispered, breathless and raw. He stilled above me, eyes locked on mine, body trembling as if my words had set something inside him ablaze.

He was inside me, and it felt heaven. Sex was something different with him. Not that I had any experience other than him but… I always thought sex as an act. But with him… it was life, it was something that breathed along with us.

“I love you too, Shona.”

Uncle walked over, warmth radiating off him like always. He bent slightly to place the little boy on the floor and then wrapped me in a tight hug. It felt oddly comforting and jarring at once. “How are you, Gargi?” he asked, his voice soft, familiar.

“I’m good, uncle. Um…” I hesitated, glancing at the boy. The resemblance had hit me like a slap. “He is…?”

“Reyansh. Aaditya’s son.”

My breath hitched, but I smiled, nodding like it didn’t gut me to hear those words. I reached into my purse, pulling out the only thing I had—a bar of chocolate. It was usually my comfort stash, but today, it found a better purpose. I knelt in front of the boy, holding it out gently.

He turned his head to his grandmother, eyes wide. “Dadi, can I take it?”

“Of course, you can,” she said quickly, her gaze flicking to me. “She is… Aunty. She’s Aunty.”

I wasn’t sure what she had paused on, but I was thankful she’d chosen not to finish it. Not in front of him.

He took the chocolate with a tiny, polite nod and stuck out his hand for a shake. My fingers curled around his, small and warm and impossibly familiar. It was like holding a piece of the past. My chest tightened. My throat closed. Tears welled up, blurring him.

He frowned. “Why are you crying?”

“I… I don’t know…” I whispered, blinking rapidly.

“She’s crying because she hasn’t seen you before,” came a voice I hadn’t prepared myself for. Smooth, deep, and hauntingly etched into every fiber of my being. “And you are the best.”

Aaditya.

I froze. The air shifted. I didn’t look up, but I felt him. Heard his slow, deliberate steps crossing the floor toward us. My eyes stayed fixed on the floor until the tip of his shoes came into view—black leather, polished. Then the hem of his trousers. I should’ve stood. I should’ve faced him. But my body refused.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I hadn’t allowed myself to imagine this moment—not even once—on my flight back. I had trained my mind to tuck him into a box marked “past” and locked it tight. But my heart? It had never agreed to the arrangement. He was still in there, pulsing through it all, quietly beating in the silence.

And now, here he was. Inches away. Breathing the same air. I wanted to look at him so badly. God, I wanted to. But I knew the moment I did, I’d lose control. My heart would bulldoze through every wall I’d built.

The mind only rules when the heart stays silent. Mine was just waiting for one glance to take over again.

“Um… why don’t we let them meet? Old friends.” Chandra aunty’s voice broke the awkward stillness like a pin pricking a balloon.

I wasn’t sure how my mother had reacted—she kept her face carefully unreadable. I had assumed aunty didn’t know, but now… maybe she did. Maybe they all did. One by one, they started leaving. Even Reyansh, my little heartbeat, disappeared behind someone’s legs. And just like that, we were alone.

My throat tightened as silence settled between us. My tears started slow, but once they came, they didn’t stop. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t built to go against him. Fighting him had never been in my nature. I wasn’t a warrior—I was his shadow, always had been. I didn’t want his throne, didn’t crave the power that followed him like an entourage. I just wanted him. His love. His approval. His warmth beside me every night, without secrets.

“Stand up, Shona,” he said quietly.

His hands brushed my arms—barely there—but even that small contact sent a current down my spine. He pulled back, like he felt it too. I was trembling, from within and without. A second passed. Then his hands were on me again, this time stronger, grounding. He helped me to my feet.

I looked up, straight into his eyes, and that’s when I knew—he was hurting too. The same ache I carried was reflected right there in his eyes. They were red. And then… a tear slid down his cheek.

No. No, not him. Not my Aadi. He wasn’t the type who cried. He wasn’t built to fall apart.

Without thinking, I reached up and wiped it away. My fingers barely touched his skin, but the moment we connected, it was as if something ancient and buried lit up inside me. That familiar hum, that pull. Even now, even after everything, my soul knew him. And loved him.

We were the kind of love that should have lasted. But destiny doesn’t care about “should haves.” It rips the script apart and writes its own. And now I knew—he hadn’t wronged me. Not really. He had done what he thought was right. What he had to do. And God… God always has his reasons.

“I should go,” I whispered, not trusting my voice to say anything more.

“I won’t stop you,” he said, his tone hollow. “I’m not that guy anymore.”

I wanted to run to him, wrap myself around him, stay in that space where the world couldn’t touch us. But I couldn’t. I had to go. I had to.

“Mom?” I called, my voice cracking.

Within minutes, the others returned. My mother looked at me—there was pity in her eyes—but I pretended not to see it. “Let’s go. We need to check the house.”

She simply nodded.

I turned, ready to leave it all behind, when I saw him. Reyansh. The one person in this twisted mess who deserved the truth.

I knelt beside him, giving him a small, tear-stained smile. “Sorry I cried,” I said gently.

“You’re still crying,” he replied, all innocence and concern.

“I know,” I whispered, brushing a knuckle under my eye.

“Why?”

“Because… I missed not meeting you sooner.”

He didn’t get it, but his tiny hands reached out and held mine. “Then don’t go. I’ll show you my toy room. It’s got so many toys.”

God, I wanted to. I really, really did. But life wasn’t that kind.

Still crouching beside him, I suddenly glanced around. Something didn’t feel right. Where was his mother? Where was Prerna?

My gaze dropped to the floor. Should I ask? Should I even want to know? Maybe she had gone to visit her family. But why would she leave Reyansh behind? No mother would leave her two-year-old son.

Unless… something had changed.

“Come,” the little boy tugged at my fingers with the kind of innocent urgency that made it impossible to say no. Before I could think of a polite excuse, I was already trailing behind him into his room. The door opened into a world of color—shelves overflowing with stuffed animals, toy cars scattered like confetti on the floor, and cartoon stickers peeling from the walls in that endearing way kids manage to turn chaos into charm. It was a dream… no, our dream. One we had crafted in whispers, back when love was young and the future was a canvas.

“Aaditya,” I had said once, my fingers tracing imaginary lines in the air, “my child’s room will be covered in toys.”

“Whatever you want, Shona,” he’d promised, his voice soft against my ear.

“Then don’t crib later that everything is expensive.”

“Have I ever?” He laughed, pulling me close. “I’ll save every rupee if I have to. You just design it. I’ll build it.”

“Hmm… good. Because my child will get the best.”

And standing there, in a room that looked like it had leapt straight out of that conversation, I felt my chest ache in places I didn’t know could still hurt.

Behind me, I sensed his presence before I saw him. I turned—and there he was. Aaditya. Quiet. Watching.

“Is it the way you wanted?” he asked, his voice gentle, almost unsure.

I nodded, unable to find words. Because how do you explain to someone that a room full of toys could feel like a punch in the gut and a warm hug all at once?

Reyansh came up with a proud little grin and handed me a grasshopper soft toy, his eyes shining. “Here, take this. Then you won’t miss me and won’t cry.”

I crouched down. “Wow, this is so cool. But you shouldn’t give it to me—it’s yours.”

“My dada will buy me a new one,” he replied with the confidence only toddlers and the deeply loved have.

I smiled, my throat tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you a gift.”

“You can bring it next time,” he said simply, already moving to show me another toy.

“Reyansh,” Aaditya’s voice came from behind, firmer now. “What did I tell you? Never ask for gifts from anyone.”

The boy shrugged, unfazed. “Okay, but she can come and play with me, right?”

“She can.” Aaditya’s gaze lingered on me. “And she can trust nothing will happen like it did before.”

That was for me. Not him. Not Reyansh. Just me. A buried promise or maybe a plea—I couldn’t tell.

While the child busied himself with his toy pile, I turned to Aaditya. “How were the rains?”

“Brutal,” he said, glancing out the window as if still hearing them.

I nodded, suddenly restless. “I need to check on my house. I should go.”

“I can come with you if you want,” he offered casually, but there was something in the way he said it—something careful.

I shook my head. “Not needed. I mean… I can manage it.”

“I know you can,” he said, hands in his pockets, “but your mother would probably feel better if I came along.”

He wasn’t wrong. But Sai was waiting for my call. His mother’s voice interrupted my hesitation.

“Aaditya will go with you both,” she decided, already walking toward the hallway. “He has a car, and if anything happens, he can get help quickly.”

Before I could protest, my mother nodded in agreement. “That would be great, Chandra.” She turned to him. “I hope you’re not busy?”

“No,” Aaditya replied, almost too quickly. “I went to the office earlier—our area didn’t face any damage. We aired the place, ran the AC for a bit. My assistant will shut everything down later. I’m free.”

I opened my mouth, wanting—needing—to ask where his wife was. But the words refused to leave my tongue. They stayed lodged somewhere between disbelief and pride.

Three hours and two missed calls from Sai later—calls I’d very deliberately ignored—the windows were finally open, letting in the smell of wet wood and decay. Aaditya had rolled up his sleeves and was crouched near the clogged drain, trying to push the water out with the back of a wiper. His office boy, Ravi, had arrived and was already moving through the mess like a machine—no questions, no emotions, just quiet efficiency.

I had settled my mother in a dry corner on a plastic chair, where she sat like a fragile statue, watching everything unfold. Her silence was sharp, heavy. Most of the furniture was beyond repair, soaked and splintered. The rest? It didn’t matter. I had made up my mind. If we renovated, it would all be new. No ghosts. No leftovers of memories trying to cling to the walls.

“Shona, hand me that rod? Maybe I can push whatever’s blocking the drain,” he said.

It was the fifth time he’d called me that. ‘Shona.’ My mother had stopped reacting after the third, and I wasn’t sure which part I liked more—her silence or the name rolling off his tongue like I belonged to it. I didn’t ask him to stop. Not this time. Instead, I handed him the rusted metal rod with a scrunched nose, trying not to breathe in too much of the mildew.

He grinned. “Why don’t you take a break? Nitin brought coffee and sandwiches. Go get something hot.”

“You sure don’t mind?”

“I don’t, baby. Go.”

‘Baby.’ That too. His tone was always gentle with me, coaxing, patient… except when it wasn’t. I’d seen the other side—the unreasonable one, the one that burned too fast, too hot. I never knew which Aaditya I’d get, but maybe that’s what kept me circling back like a moth.

“Um… Prerna’s on vacation? Has she gone to her mom’s place?”

“Something like that,” he said, turning away like the conversation never existed. I didn’t push. I was tired of pushing. I washed my hands under the outdoor tap and walked toward the divine scent of freshly brewed coffee. As soon as I wrapped my fingers around the warm cup, murmuring a “thanks” to Nitin, my phone rang. Again. Sai.

I answered. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Where are you?”

“Home. Water flooded the place. We’ve been cleaning all day. Sorry I missed your calls.”

“You should’ve called me. I told you I would come.”

“I know, I just…” I trailed off when I saw Aaditya step out. His gaze locked on me, unreadable. My chest tightened.

“Sai, I have to go. Still a lot to clean up.”

“Wait—what’s wrong with you? Why bring me on this trip just to leave me locked in a hotel room? When do I meet your mother?”

Every word fell into the heavy silence between Aaditya and me. Even without speaker mode, I knew he heard it all. His back stiffened, but he said nothing. Just turned to wash the grime off his hands and legs at the same tap I had used. Nitin handed him a coffee, and he took it without looking at me.

“I’m sorry. We’ll talk once I’m back,” I said and hung up without waiting for a reply. My fingers trembled as I slipped the phone back into my jeans. What the hell was I doing? I couldn’t keep leading Sai on. I couldn’t marry him. I just… couldn’t.

It wasn’t just about love. It was about truth. And honesty. Sai deserved someone whose heart lit up when he walked in. Mine didn’t. Mine stayed still. Quiet. It wasn’t fair—to him or to me. Aaditya had already made one mistake marrying without love. I wasn’t going to make another. Not like him. Not like this.

In India, marriage is everything. Bigger than love. Bigger than truth. Bigger than freedom. And maybe that’s why affairs sting so deep—they rupture something sacred. But so does staying in a loveless marriage. So does forcing yourself into one. And if your mind is the only thing showing up, while your heart stays missing… that’s not a marriage. That’s a slow death.

“Shona…”

I froze. My heart stuttered, my fingers curled into my palms. That name—his voice—hit me like a gust of wind I hadn’t braced for. I looked up, slowly, cautiously. Aaditya stood a few feet away, his brows drawn together, eyes searching mine.

“Don’t,” I whispered, the word catching in my throat. “Don’t call me that. Call me Gargi. You haven’t used my real name even once.”

The silence that followed was sharp, cutting through the space between us like glass. His face faltered—just a flicker, but enough. Like I’d slapped him across the face and left a mark. Then he nodded, quietly. “Sorry… Gargi.”

Something shifted. A subtle crack. It was small, but it felt seismic inside me. I hated hearing my name from his mouth like that. I loved when he called me Shona. I had clung to it like it meant we were still real. Now it sounded… distant. Wrong. A part of me collapsed and I didn’t know how to stop the tears. What the hell was I doing crying in front of him? Where was my resolve?

I wanted to be strong. I thought I was strong. But strength doesn’t mean much when your heart sees its person again. It all slammed into me—his voice, his presence, his scent—and I broke.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Sh—Gargi,” he said, stumbling over my name like it didn’t belong to me either.

He stood there, awkward and unsure, and I did the stupidest thing—I stepped forward and fell into him. Just like old times. My arms wrapped around him, desperate, aching. But he didn’t hold me back. His arms stayed limp at his sides, and the absence of his embrace hit harder than any goodbye ever could.

He wasn’t mine anymore.

The realization twisted inside me like a blade. I pulled back quickly, ashamed and shaken. My legs moved on instinct and I rushed inside, past my mother, who saw the tears streaming down my face and looked like she’d just swallowed her own regret.

“I’m so sorry, Gargi,” she said softly. “You lost him because of me.”

Her words stopped me mid-step. I turned, confused and aching. “Mom… you knew?”

She nodded, eyes heavy with a sorrow I hadn’t seen in years. “I was so lost in my own pain… I couldn’t see yours. I destroyed my own daughter’s life.”

“Don’t say that,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “It happened because it was supposed to. Maybe it was fate… or maybe karma. But it’s not your fault.”

She looked away, guilt pooling in her expression. “When I finally realized what I had done, it was too late. Chandra told me to stay quiet. She thought silence was best for everyone.”

My head spun. So much hidden, so much unsaid.

“I can’t marry Sai,” I murmured, more to myself than to her. “I can’t walk into something built on lies. I can’t do that to someone else.”

My mother’s lips quivered as she nodded, her eyes shimmering with something old and tender.

“I thought you had moved on. I truly did. But now I see… you never did. You can’t. Not when it’s real. You think time will smother that kind of love, but it doesn’t. I’m living proof of that. It’s been years, and still, your father… his love burns inside me like wildfire. I’ve just learned how to live around the flames.”

That undid me. I folded into her arms, clutching her like she was the only truth I could still hold on to. “You’re enough for me, Mom. Let’s just leave. Come with me to Dubai. We’ll start fresh. Just us. I don’t need any guy in my life.”

She didn’t respond right away. She only looked at me—really looked at me—like she was searching for something in my face, something she wasn’t ready to say aloud. And then finally, almost like peeling off a bandage, she asked, “So… you don’t know about Prerna?”

I froze, a chill creeping up my spine. “What about her?”

“She… she…” My mother’s voice broke, and my heart hammered against my ribs.

“She found out?” I blurted, panicking. “She knows about us? Did she leave him? Did I—did I ruin everything?”

Mom placed a hand on mine, steadying my spiral. “No, sweetheart. She didn’t find out. But… during her delivery—there were complications.”

I stared, not understanding. “What… what are you saying?”

And then she said it. So soft, but so final.

“She’s no more.”

The world stilled. I didn’t hear it as much as I felt it, like a detonation in my chest that sucked out all the air.

“What?” I breathed, barely recognizing my own voice.

“She passed away during childbirth. Aaditya is raising Reyansh on his own now. And he’s doing a wonderful job.”

I couldn’t process it. I couldn’t even think. All I could feel was the aching hole inside me where my breath should have been. My Aadi. Alone. With a baby. While I was in another country, pretending to move on, which I failed miserably.

“He started his own consulting firm,” Mom added, like it would somehow anchor me. “He’s doing well. Always had the brains, that one. But after he got fired in Dubai…”

My head snapped up. “Fired?”

“For causing a ruckus looking for you,” she explained softly. “He lost everything. And those were some dark days. He came back home, but he wasn’t really there. He lived like a ghost. And poor Chandra—she would cry in my arms, saying she didn’t know how to reach her son anymore.”

I closed my eyes, shame crashing over me like a tide. I did that. I caused that. Aadi, my brilliant, resilient Aadi, reduced to a man who was fired, broken, lost—all because of me. I hadn’t just left him. I’d wrecked him.

And still, all I could think was… how badly I wanted to find him. How much I wanted to hold his hand and say the words I should have never left unsaid.

Later that night, I dropped Mom off at Chandra Aunty’s place. She didn’t want to come to the hotel with me, and the house was inhabitable.

I smiled as I left, glad she still had someone who felt like home. The drive back to the hotel was quiet, the kind of silence that creeps under your skin and lingers. I tapped my keycard against the lock, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.

The room greeted me with stillness—no TV humming in the background, no soft music playing on Sai’s speaker, no smell of coffee from the tiny kettle he loved using.

Something felt off.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, still in the clothes he wore earlier, his bag sitting next to him like it hadn’t even been touched. Packed and zipped. Ready.

“Sai?” I said, unsure, already sensing something was wrong.

He looked up slowly. His eyes were dull, rimmed red, too tired.

“I just wanted to wish you goodbye before I left,” he said.

I blinked, stunned. “What?”

He didn’t snap. His voice was quiet, calm even, but his jaw was tight. “You fell in love again, didn’t you?” he asked. “And it’s not with me. Again.”

“Sai…” I stepped forward instinctively, but he didn’t look away. He wasn’t angry. He was just… exhausted.

“I didn’t tell you before,” he said, his tone dropping even lower. “But he didn’t leave you alone easily. Tabbasum begged him to go, but he wouldn’t. He sat in your old office and cried. Sobbed, actually. Asked everyone where you were. Pleaded. Said he couldn’t live without you.”

My breath hitched. I couldn’t speak.

“They didn’t want to, but they had to call the police. He wasn’t violent or anything. Just wouldn’t leave. Just kept repeating your name like a prayer. His company fired him. But the police… even they couldn’t bring themselves to press charges. They saw it too. His pain.”

My eyes burned. I shut them tightly, but the tears escaped anyway, sliding down with the weight of everything I’d buried.

Sai kept watching me. “I used to wonder, what kind of love makes someone unravel like that. You don’t see it around. Not real ones. But for the last three years and three months…” he paused, his voice trembling with restraint, “I saw it in your eyes. You never said it. You hid it well. But it peeked out sometimes. In your silences. Your hesitation. Your smiles that never reached your eyes.”

He stood then, brushing invisible dust off his jeans. “Today, I saw it clearly. You were with him today, weren’t you?”

I nodded, throat too tight to speak. “I met his son,” I finally whispered.

Something in Sai’s face shifted. A crack in his usual calm, barely there, but I saw it—like a faint tremor before an earthquake. A flicker of pain crossed his eyes, but then, almost stubbornly, it turned into something else.

Hope. Just because I had said I’d met his son.

As if that one simple truth meant we weren’t truly over. That maybe, just maybe, there was still a thread connecting us, thin but not completely broken. It made my chest tighten, watching that flicker bloom in his eyes.

And that’s when it hit me.

Even now, after everything, Sai was still willing to stay. Still willing to be the man standing beside me, even if I was barely there. Even if what I had left to give were scraps—fractured thoughts, silences too long, a heart still belonging to someone else.

He was still here, loving me, knowing he’d never have all of me. And it hurt. God, it hurt more than anything.

Why did he have to love like that—so gently, so fiercely, so selflessly?

Why couldn’t I love him back?

I wanted to. But my heart had its own stubborn rhythm. It beat for someone else and refused to fall in line. I didn’t have control over it, not really. Some days, I’d lie to myself and pretend I did. But not today.

“I’m sorry…” My voice cracked before I could finish.

He looked at me—not angry, not bitter, just heartbreakingly calm. “I could blame you. I could throw words, say things that might hurt, but they’d all be lies. You’re… you’re a great person, Gargi. You really are. Not just surface-level good. You listen. You really listen. You’re not wrapped up in shallow things like makeup or brunches or trends. You see people. You saw me.”

He exhaled sharply, like he was letting go of something that had been holding him hostage. “The time we spent together… I won’t forget it. Not ever. But I walked into this knowing. I saw it in your eyes every day. The way you looked when you spoke about him. I knew. And I still stayed. That’s on me.”

I didn’t say anything. I just stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. He pulled me into his chest, holding me like he had so many times before—firm and steady, no judgment, no resentment. Just… comfort.

Sai had been the lighthouse in my storm, the one person who had shown up without questions, without hesitation. He could have judged me for everything—for falling in love with someone who was never mine to begin with. But he didn’t. And that kindness, it was both a gift and a wound.

“I’m sorry I led you on,” I whispered into his shirt, feeling the warmth of him for the last time.

He stepped back and gave me a sad smile. “You didn’t. Trust me, you didn’t. I was already there, long before you even noticed. And I’ll be okay. Have a great life, Gargi. Really. And if you ever come to Dubai, it won’t be awkward. Whether you stay or just come to pack your things, I’ll be fine.”

I nodded, my throat tight.

He lifted his hands to cup my face gently, his thumbs brushing my cheeks like he wanted to memorize the shape of me. Then, just like that, he let go. Picked up his bag. Gave me one last look—soft, unblinking—and turned toward the door.

I stood there, numb, watching him go. The sound of the door clicking shut behind him felt like a final punctuation mark. But I couldn’t just stand there, not with my emotions clawing at my insides like wildfire. I grabbed my purse, fumbled with the lock, and walked out. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew I couldn’t stay.

At the elevator, I jabbed the button over and over like that would make it arrive faster. My reflection in the shiny metal doors looked pale, lost. I stepped inside the moment they opened and slammed the ground floor button a few more times, my hands trembling.

Once I hit the ground floor, I didn’t stop. My legs moved like they had a mind of their own—quick, impatient, like they were trying to run ahead of the ache lodged in my chest. The night air hit my face, sharp and unforgiving, and I scanned the road, blinking back the stupid tears clouding my vision.

Just one cab. That’s all I needed. One cab to take me away from this moment, this feeling, this everything.

My eyes flicked left, right, and then—thank God—an autorickshaw slowed down.

I waved it frantically, practically jumping in before it fully halted. I rattled off the address like it burned on my tongue and slumped into the seat, the engine revving beneath me like my insides—too loud, too raw.

The ride blurred past, all neon lights and honking chaos, but I didn’t notice much. Just sat there, arms crossed tight, like they could somehow hold me together. When we stopped, I shoved a hundred-rupee note at the driver and didn’t wait for change. My feet took off before logic could catch up. The bell echoed louder than I expected. Shit. It was past eleven. My heart sank. What was I even doing?

Then the door creaked open, and Chandra aunty appeared, wrapped in her night shawl, her frown deepening with each second of silence that stretched between us. I opened my mouth, trying to string something together—an explanation, maybe even an apology—but I didn’t need to. Reyansh’s small face peeked out from behind her, all sleepy eyes and wild hair, and that’s when my knees buckled. I crouched down, arms open without thinking, and he didn’t hesitate. He ran into me like I was home. Just like that, everything inside me softened.

“Can I stay, aunty?” I asked, my voice embarrassingly small.

She gave a short nod. “Aaditya just went to bed. You want me to wake him?”

I quickly shook my head. “No… I just…”

“She can stay with me!” Reyansh jumped in before I could finish. “Dadi, we can sleep in the toy room!”

“But won’t you trouble aunty and—” I began, but he was already shaking his head.

“I won’t. Promise.”

I turned to her, hesitant. “If it’s really not an issue…”

Aunty sighed, her face softer now. “Come in. Have you eaten anything?”

I hadn’t. Not even close. But I couldn’t admit that, not now. “Yes,” I lied, trying to smile.

“Okay then. I’ll get you something comfortable to wear. You can sleep with Reyansh.”

She looked at him sternly. “Don’t trouble aunty, alright?”

“Yes, Dadi. I’ll be a good boy.”

She chuckled. “Your dad thinks you’re asleep already. He read you two stories, didn’t he?”

“Aunty will read me two more!” he announced proudly.

I laughed, a real one this time, scooping him into my arms. He held onto me like he didn’t want to let go, his little hands fisting my kurta. I changed quickly while he waited, then crawled into the mattress beside him. His head found my chest like it always had a place there.

“Lion and a boy,” I read the title softly, my fingers brushing his hair. “Hmm. Sounds like a solid one.”

“Read it,” he mumbled, already halfway to sleep.

I started the story, voice low and steady, but before I even turned the second page, he was out—his arm flung over my shoulder, his breathing soft and even.

I wrapped the blanket over us, pressing a small kiss to the top of his head, and in that moment… the world slowed down.

For the first time in years, the chaos went quiet. I closed my eyes, one hand still stroking his hair, and just let the peace sink in.

Aaditya

I froze. My brain couldn’t compute what my eyes were seeing. There she was—Gargi—curled up on the single bed in my old room. But it wasn’t just her presence that threw me off balance. It was my son. My son. Fast asleep, his tiny arms wound tightly around her neck like he belonged there. Like he always had.

Just yesterday, she’d crumbled into my arms, sobbing, after lashing out at me for calling her Shona. That word—so loaded, so sacred—had slipped out of me like muscle memory. And then those tears… damn it.

Something inside me cracked hearing her cry like that. It should’ve been rage or resentment, but all I felt was guilt, deep and raw. I couldn’t stay after that. I knew I’d messed her up—her, and Prerna too.

And truthfully? I didn’t deserve any version of happiness. So I walked away, thinking it was the right thing to do.

The old me—the arrogant, selfish Aaditya—he wouldn’t have walked. He would’ve wrapped things up with a dinner at her favorite place, kissed her forehead, and assumed that would fix everything. But I wasn’t that guy anymore. Her pain felt like my own now. And it scared the hell out of me.

But nothing could’ve prepared me for this. For walking into my kid’s toy room and seeing her here, in the bed with him, holding him like he was hers.

“Looks good, right?” My mom’s voice tugged me back to the present.

I blinked, confused. “What… what is this? How did this happen?”

“She came late last night. He woke up. Said he wanted her to read him a story, and then he just… wouldn’t let go.”

I stared at them again. “But he just met her.”

“Children feel energy, Aaditya,” my mom said softly. “They don’t need time to recognize what feels like home.”

I didn’t know how to respond. My throat felt tight.

“She must be exhausted. Let them sleep. I’ll freshen up and head to work.” I told Mom.

“Wait, it’s Sunday.”

“Yes, but… I had unplanned three days’ leave because of the rains.” I told her.

“Don’t go today,” she insisted. “Today be there for her.”

“Mom, don’t go there.” I told, my tone resolute. “There’s nothing left here. I can’t… I can’t relive that.”

“When life knocks at your door, Aadi, you can’t just turn your back and pretend you didn’t hear it. Sometimes fate takes something away from you, not to punish you, but to wake you up. To make you see its worth,” Mom said, her voice soft but firm, the kind that didn’t shout but still demanded to be heard.

I couldn’t meet her eyes. “No. I forced her to do things she never wanted to do. I cheated on Prerna, Mom. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved honesty, loyalty, love.”

Mom gave me a long, measured look. “Weren’t you loyal?”

I exhaled sharply and glanced at Gargi. She looked so peaceful as she slept with my son curled beside her. “I was,” I admitted, my voice almost a whisper. “But to her. To Gargi. That was the problem, wasn’t it? I only ever loved her. And then… I made a decision that destroyed everything. I married someone else, and that one choice flipped our world. Every step I took after that was just damage control. Prerna became my responsibility.”

Mom leaned back, hands clasped in her lap, watching me carefully. “And even then, Prerna never really saw it. You never left her alone, Aadi. You took care of her the best you could. I’m not saying what you did was right. I’m saying… you didn’t do it from a place of malice. Life sometimes puts us in impossible situations. We don’t always get to choose the easy way.”

I felt something catch in my chest as she continued. “But yesterday, I saw her eyes, Aadi. Gargi’s. You might have buried your feelings under the weight of guilt, but she didn’t. She still loves you.”

I looked away, unable to bear the warmth in her voice or the sting in my chest. My throat tightened as I shook my head. “No. I broke her once. I’m not going to do that again.”

“Then let me ask you something,” Mom said quietly. “If you’re so sure, why is your heart beating like this? Why do your eyes keep looking for her even now?”

I stared at the floor, unable to answer.

She leaned forward. “Today is a blank page, Aadi. God has given you a chance to start over. Don’t waste it.”

I frowned, unsure where she was going with this. “Mom… what are you implying?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Don’t let her go. Stop her.”

My heart lurched, but I forced myself to resist. “No.”

“Aaditya.” Her tone sharpened. “She loves you.”

“She’s with someone else now.”

“She was here last night,” Mom said, voice tight with urgency. “At eleven-thirty. You tell me—who shows up that late at night if they’re truly with someone else? Who knocks on an old door that broke them once unless a part of them still hopes?”

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.

She softened again. “Don’t let this go. Because if you do… there won’t be another chance. If you marry someone else, you’ll still carry this love in your heart. You’ll cheat them of the loyalty they deserve, just like Prerna was cheated. But this time, knowingly.”

Guilt slithered through me like barbed wire, tightening with every breath. “But Prerna…” My voice cracked. “She never said it out loud, but she knew. Somewhere deep down, she must’ve felt it. That something wasn’t right. That I wasn’t… completely hers.”

Mom’s gaze didn’t waver. There was pain in her eyes—familiar and heavy. “Exactly,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “So don’t make that mistake again, Aaditya. This time, it’s not just about you. You’re choosing a life not just for yourself, but for her son too. He needs a mother’s love—real love. And look at him… he already reaches for her like he’s known her soul since birth.”

I did look. And it nearly broke me. Because it was true—he was reaching for her. Not hesitantly. Not unsurely. But like he belonged to her.

“Be the Aaditya she fell for,” Mom said, her voice firmer now. “The one who made her feel seen, desired, protected. She never ran from your darkness, beta. She embraced it. Your possessiveness, your control—it didn’t scare her. It made her feel wanted. She craved that version of you.”

“Mom…”

“I won’t tell you what to do. It has to be your choice, or you’ll wreck three lives this time. But I’m your mother, and I know what love looks like—raw, terrifying, beautiful. That’s what you both have. So hold on to it. Make her yours again. And then spend every day loving the ground she walks on.”

She left me with that. I didn’t move. Just stood there staring at my son curled up next to her on the bed—two worlds I never thought would collide, now sharing the same breath. I turned and walked away, leaving them to their peace.

It was almost noon when I finally stepped out of the study, my shoulders aching from sitting too long. I was home because Mom had insisted—her tone had that don’t-argue finality that made even grown men like me obey. I’d told her I still had some pending work and she’d waved me off with a “Fine, but don’t overdo it.” So, I holed up in the study, trying to drown in numbers and reports, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d expected Reyansh to barge in like he always did—his footsteps thudding, his little voice calling out, “Are you done yet, Dada?”

But today, he didn’t.

I stepped into the living room and froze mid-step. There he was, standing in front of Gargi with a glint in his eyes, the kind that always came before mischief.

“Reyansh, come now. The food’s getting cold,” Gargi called gently.

“Run after me,” he teased, clearly enjoying the attention.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching.

“I don’t have your father’s stamina,” she replied with a tired laugh. “Come now, baby. I’m starving too.”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “Then you eat.”

Gargi’s head shook softly. “Not before you do.”

“You not eat before me?” he asked, suddenly serious, his brows pinched as if this concept offended his two-year-old logic.

“Never,” she replied, her smile warm and unwavering.

Without another word, Reyansh climbed into her lap and began eating, quiet and focused like a soldier on a mission. When his plate was wiped clean, he stood, tugged her hand, and said with all the gravity of a king making a decree, “Now, you eat.”

Gargi hesitated. Her eyes darted to my mother.

“Aaditya…” she began softly.

“Don’t wait for him,” Mom said, not unkindly. “He’s locked in the study. I told him to stay home today, so of course, he’s working more than usual from home.”

“But… he’ll have to eat alone and…”

“I’m here,” I said, making my presence known.

She flinched, startled. I caught the way her body stilled, how she swallowed before looking up at me. My mom arched a brow, amused, then ushered her authority in the room.

“Go to the dining room, both of you. Eat in silence. No drama, you both need alone time.”

Gargi’s mother looked up and gave a small nod. My father did too. Gargi, though, kept her gaze fixed to the floor like she was waiting for some sign from the tiles. But I knew she was waiting for me.

“Come,” I said, letting that one word carry the weight of a thousand unspoken ones.

I didn’t check if she followed. I just turned and walked to the dining room. If she came, then maybe there was still something left between us. If not… well, then I’d accept that I’d destroyed too much.

I reached the table and turned back, half-expecting emptiness.

But she was gone.

My heart sank, dragging my hope down with it. Of course she wouldn’t come. Not after what I’d done. I’d pushed her too far, tried to possess her like she was mine to own. When she’d begged me to stop, I hadn’t listened. Maybe this was my punishment—eating alone in silence, again and again.

I slumped into the chair and dropped my face into my hands.

Everything was done. Over. Mom wanted me to be happy, I knew that, but maybe some people were just destined to chase happiness like a mirage—close enough to burn, but never to touch.

“Um…”

My head snapped up.

She stood in the doorway, hesitant and ghostlike, like a memory unsure if it should linger or disappear.

But she was here. She actually came.

I didn’t wait. Thought abandoned me the moment I saw her. I crossed the room in long strides and pulled her into my arms. She let out a soft gasp, but I didn’t let her speak. My mouth crashed onto hers—messy, desperate, and aching. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t polished. It was everything I’d bottled up—guilt, longing, apology, anger… love.

She whimpered into the kiss, but I held her tighter. I needed this. Mom had said I needed to find the man I used to be. But what no one knew was—I was only ever that man with her. Only with her.

She didn’t know how many times I’d walked into her old office, only to crumble. I’d begged strangers for a clue about her whereabouts, humiliated myself in front of people who didn’t even care. She broke me. Completely.

“You are not leaving this house without my permission. Ever.” My voice was low but unyielding.

“Aadi…” she whispered, but I cut her off.

“No Aadi. I swear, I’ll lock you in if I have to.”

“I won’t run again,” she said quickly, eyes wide. “I promise. I just… I need to go back to—”

“No. I’ll handle everything in Dubai. But you are not going back there. I lost too much already. I won’t risk losing you again. Not for anything. Do you understand me?”

She nodded, lips trembling, but didn’t say a word.

I cupped her face, holding it like it was the most fragile, sacred thing in my world.

“I don’t know if you realize this… but I’ve only ever loved you, Gargi. What you are to me… there aren’t even words. You’re my soul. You’re my conscience. You’re the person I want to see first thing every morning—and the last face I want to look at when I close my eyes. If I never wake up again, I want you to be the last thing I see.”

She broke in my arms, weeping quietly, her fingers curling into my shirt like she was anchoring herself.

“Reyansh is my life, my soul,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotions I hadn’t let surface in years. “And now… he’s yours too.”

She looked at me with tear-glassed eyes, the kind that held lifetimes of ache and love. “He is, Aadi. God, he is. The second I saw him… I just closed my eyes and whispered to the universe—don’t take him from me. Please. He’s got your hair, your smile… and the second I looked at him, I knew. He’s you. He’s mine.”

I didn’t respond right away. There was a storm churning beneath my calm. So I said it—measured, controlled. “But on my terms.”

“Anything,” she breathed, stepping closer, her voice cracking. “Whatever you want. My life, my soul, my heart—they’re all yours. I’ll do anything you ask of me. Just… please. Will you forgive me?”

I frowned. “Forgive you? For what?”

“For breaking you.” Her voice cracked in a way that didn’t ask for sympathy—it begged for release. Then, as if something inside her snapped, she sank to her knees. Not dramatically. Quietly. Like guilt had finally found its way through her armor and taken her down. And I stood there, stunned. Because watching her crumble like that… it shattered me. But strangely, it also stitched something back together.

And that’s when I remembered—why I fell for her. She was the kind of woman who questioned me when I needed to be questioned… and surrendered when I needed her to. She always knew when to hold me close and when to just give. Not out of duty. But because she wanted to.

“You were shamed,” she whispered, staring at the floor like it held all her regrets. “You lost your job. You lost yourself. And I… I ran. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that. But maybe… if you can forgive me, truly… I might just learn how to forgive myself too.”

I leaned in slightly, forcing her to look up. “Marry me. Then I might think about forgiving you.”

Her eyes widened, completely unprepared for my reply. I lifted a brow. “You thought you’d come back here stuttering apologies and I’d melt just like that? No, Gargi. You had no right to leave me. You didn’t. Your life belonged to me. Only me. What I chose to do with it was my decision. Never yours.”

She nodded, lowering her gaze, and I grabbed her shoulders, lifting her gently to her feet. “Go wash your face. We’ll eat.”

She turned and left silently. When she came back, she served food—hers and mine—with a strange calm that felt like peace finally finding its home. Then we sat and talked. For two whole hours, uninterrupted. But our words were only half the conversation. It was the silences between them where our souls truly spoke.

After dinner, I looked at her and said, “Your mother… she moves in here. I’m not giving you another reason to choose someone else above me.”

She blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. There’s space here. And besides, Mom and she are close. After losing her house and the memories of her husband with it… she needs people. She needs us.”

She nodded slowly, like gratitude was too heavy for words. “Thank you,” she whispered.

I leaned in, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “I take care of you, and everyone who belongs to you. You… you care only for me.”

“And Reyansh,” she added with a soft smile.

“No,” I said, my voice firm. “I should be your priority. Always.”

She didn’t argue. Just walked over and climbed into my lap, settling there like she belonged. Straddling me. Holding me. Breathing me in. And maybe miracles were real, because in the span of twenty-four hours, my world had flipped. But this time… in a way that felt right.

She pressed her forehead to mine, and I said softly, “The next child… make sure it’s you.”

“No. I want you. And I know God will hear me.”

I smirked, exhaling. “So you’ll disobey me?”

“I don’t want to… but my gut says it’ll be you.”

I didn’t push. Whether it was a boy or a girl didn’t matter. What mattered was that my life was in my arms again. Breathing. Whole. Ours.

And for once… I didn’t want anything else.

Thank you, this is the end. Stay tuned for another story.

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Do check out my articles on Twin Flames.

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Author Payal Dedhia independently publishes books on Amazon Kindle. You can check her collection by clicking here.

If you like Dark Romance Fiction, do read my Scintilla Series. Click here to read.

Aayansh Ahluwalia isn’t just a billionaire business tycoon—he’s the kind of man who haunts people’s nightmares. The world may recognize Scintilla Corporations as a legitimate empire, but Aayansh isn’t confined to the light. In the shadows, he commands an empire of fear, power, and blood. He rules over the underdogs, the darkness that terrifies everyone else.
Ruthless and untouchable, they call him a devil for a reason—he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t blink when it comes to taking lives.
His existence is fearless. His power, unmatched. Yet beneath the wealth and carnage lies a void—a darkness so complete it consumes him. There’s no light, no hope. Just emptiness stretching endlessly, leaving him hollow.
Then, one night, everything changed.
He saw her—a woman so radiant, so full of life, she made his chaos stand still. She erupted into his world like a dream, settling in his heart and claiming it as her own.
Tisha Chopra.
Aayansh hadn’t been searching for her, hadn’t asked for her. But the moment he saw her, he knew—she would be his.
She didn’t belong in his world, and that only made him want her more. Her laughter, her light—it wasn’t meant to survive the darkness he thrived in, yet it pulled him in, unrelenting. Like a predator to prey, he followed. He didn’t want her to save him. No. He wanted to ruin her, piece by piece, until she belonged to him completely. He would drag her down, crown her queen in his Devil’s Paradise, and make her sit beside him on the devil’s throne while he ruled the world.

What unfolds is a story steeped in obsession, control, and desire—a dangerous game where love is a battlefield, and submission comes at the cost of a soul.
Scintilla isn’t just the name of Aayansh’s empire; it’s the pulse of this saga—a place where power thrives and morality dies.

The series is divided into four phases:

🔥 The Chase – Where the predator finds his prey. Click here to read.

1. The Beginning – A collision of worlds. A spark ignited.
2. Unveiling Paradise – Her light tempts the darkness.
3. The Masked Guy – Secrets wear masks. So do devils.
4. Unleashing the Demons – Once awakened, there’s no turning back.
5. The Winner – Victory tastes sweeter when claimed by force.

🔥 The Possession – Where obsession takes root. Click here to read.

1. New Beginning – The chase ends. The real game begins.
2. The Rules – Boundaries are set, only to be broken.
3. Gilded Cage – Possession doesn’t feel like freedom.
4. Unleashed Fury – When control falters, chaos reigns.
5. Ensnared Hearts – Hearts trapped, souls scarred.

🔥 The Submission – Where surrender is demanded, not given. Click here to read.

1. Her Resistance – Light fights back. Darkness pushes harder.
2. Her Confession – Truths whispered in the dark.
3. The Good Times – A fleeting calm before the storm.
4. The Devil Struck – The predator strikes. The angel shatters.
5. Angel’s Judgement – When love turns to reckoning.

🔥 The Reward – Where love and darkness collide, leaving nothing unscarred. Click here to read.

1. The Storm – Chaos erupts, tearing apart the fragile ties of love and power.
2. The Punishment – Sins are judged, debts are paid, and vengeance claims its due.

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The Arranged Marriage series is a collection of 5 books.

Book 1 – The First Meet (Read now)

Book 2: The Life Together (Read now)

Book 3 – The Surprises in Store (Read now)

Book 4 – The Everchanging Times (Read now)

Book 5: The Story of Us (Coming Soon)

The Unscripted Love Series is a collection of 10 books

Book 1 – Arjun’s Jenny (click to read)

Book 2 – Priti’s Rendezvous with Somesh (click to read)

Book 3 – Rana’s Vivacious Girlfriend (click to read)

Book 4 – Claire’s Dashing Raj (click to read)

Book 5 – My Rebirth (click to read)

Book 6 – My Family (click to read)

Book 7 – My Sister’s Wedding (click to read)

Book 8 – My Secret Love (click to read)

Book 9 – My Silent Romeo (click to read)

Book 10 – The Brunch (click to read)

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