There are wounds that never show on the skin—
Only the heart can feel them.
Only the soul can bleed for them.
And only the person living them can truly understand the weight.

When you love someone and life steals them from you...
When every truth you believed turns into a lie...
When every choice you made becomes a regret...
The pain is not something the world can see.
It is something only the one breaking inside can feel.

And Ishaan... Ishaan was standing exactly in the center of that storm.
A storm that had devoured him for five months.
Overwhelmed, suffocating, drowning—yet still walking because he had no choice

Five months.
Only five months—yet it felt like he had lived and died a thousand times.

He believed his sister had taken her own life.
He believed his mother collapsed into a coma because of the same trauma.
He believed Aransh—his childhood friend, his brother in everything but blood—was the monster who destroyed their family.

Then came the second fracture:
He believed the woman he loved abandoned him when he needed her most.
Left him alone in darkness.
Walked away when he was breaking.

And in his anger, in his humiliation, in his grief...
He married Aanya.
A revenge marriage.
A punishment.
A cruel decision made by a wounded man desperate to hurt someone because he himself was hurting.

But life had twisted everything in ways he never expected.

The truths he had clung to were nothing but illusions built from lies and misunderstandings.

His sister wasn't dead.
She never committed suicide.
She was kidnapped.
His lover didn't betray him—she was taken from him.
Aransh didn't cheat nisha—he was a victim, fighting a battle no one saw.

And Aanya...
She had nothing to do with any of this.
Yet he dragged her into his chaos.
Blamed her.
Hurt her.
Crushed pieces of her heart that she never showed him.

And the strangest, most terrifying truth of all?

He fell in love again.
With the woman he married for revenge.

How pathetic.
How unbelievable.
How painfully human.

He didn't choose it.
He didn't plan it.
But no one controls the heart—no man, no god, no destiny.

Her kindness, her patience, her softness—
They seeped into his wounds and healed things he didn't even know were broken.

Aanya broke every wall he ever built.
She walked into his heart quietly, gently—
And he let her in.

Now the thought of living without her made his chest tighten with a fear he could not explain.
He wanted to hold her, protect her, kiss her, confess everything—
But he didn't know how.
He didn't know if he even deserved her.

Last night had changed everything.

The woman he loved—his wife, his rose—had given herself to him.
Freely.
Softly.
Completely.

He still couldn't believe it wasn't a dream.
But it happened.
It was real.
And for the first time in years... Ishaan was happy.
Truly, profoundly, terrifyingly happy.

__

His sleep broke because of the stubborn, constant ring of his phone.
Annoyed, half-awake, he reached toward the nightstand—
And froze.

There was a weight on his arm.
Warm. Soft.
Like a small creature wrapped around him protectively.

He opened his eyes fully.
And his breath hitched.

Aanya.

Curled against him like she belonged there—
Her cheek pressed to his chest,
Her leg tangled around his like she was anchoring him to the bed,
Her fingers clutching his shirt even in sleep,
Her hair scattered like dark silk on his skin.

She looked messy.
She looked adorable.
She looked heartbreakingly his.

He smiled.
A slow, helpless, disbelieving smile.

I can't believe you're here, he thought.
In my bed. In my arms. After everything... you're still here.

He brushed her cheek with a tenderness he didn't know he possessed.

"I promise you," he whispered, voice trembling, "I'll make you happy. I'll prove that I deserve to be loved by you. I'll earn your forgiveness, your trust. You gave yourself to me... I'll give you the world. From now on, you're the only thing that matters."

She slept on, peaceful, like she had finally rested after years of fear.
He chuckled softly—careful not to wake her.

But the phone rang again, slicing through the moment.

He sighed, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then let his lips brush hers—soft, reverent, barely there.

Reluctantly, he untangled himself, leaving her warmth step by step so delicately it felt like peeling away from a dream.

It was only 5 AM.
Too early for them.
Too early for reality.

He reached the nightstand, picked up the phone—

And his expression darkened.

Bella.

Why was she calling this early?

He answered—and the first thing he heard was her crying.

Before he could speak, her broken voice rushed through the line, trembling with panic, fear, desperation.
His entire body went rigid.
He sat upright, alert.

"O-okay... okay, calm down," he said quickly. "I'm coming. Nothing will happen. I'll be there."

He hung up.
Ran a hand through his hair.
His heart raced—not from fear, but from worry.

Then he looked back at Aanya.

Peaceful.
Soft.
Glowing with the remnants of last night.

"I'm sorry, rose..." he whispered, guilt tightening in his chest. "I didn't want to leave you like this—not after the most precious night of my life. But I have to. Don't worry... tonight, I have a surprise for you. I'll make this up to you."

He left a final kiss on her forehead.
Then another on her lips—soft, warm, lingering.

Just one more taste before reality dragged him away.

He stepped into the shower, put on his office attire, adjusted his blazer, grabbed his necessities, and paused one last time at the door.

She didn't stir.
Didn't turn.
Didn't know he was watching her like she was the center of his universe.

He smiled.
A quiet, soft smile meant only for her.

And then he left.
_____

Now—
He  sat on the edge of the sofa, his posture rigid, hands clasped so tightly that the veins on his knuckles stood out. The apartment around them looked like a battlefield—shattered glass glittering like fallen stars, broken showpieces scattered like memories crushed beyond repair, drawers pulled open as if someone had clawed through them in desperation.

 Beside him sat Bella, her breath still uneven from the earlier panic, her cheeks wet, eyelashes clumped from tears that refused to stop even though the danger had passed. The silence between them was dense, like smoke lingering after a storm. Finally, Ishaan exhaled heavily, rubbing his forehead.

"Bella... calm down. I checked everything. There is no danger now. It was just a thief."
His voice was gentle but worn out, the kind of tone that comes after, emotionally draining night.

He continued, choosing his words carefully.
"It wasn't Corvo's men. Just a thief. The watchman told me another vacant apartment was robbed a few days ago. Yours has been empty for months... that's why he tried to break in. He thought no one lived here."

Bella didn't look at him; she stared ahead—her chest rising and falling, hands still trembling despite her attempts to appear composed. She had returned to her home after five long months—months filled with trauma, captivity, survival—and all she wished for was rest. Just one peaceful night.

But fate was cruel to her too.

She had fallen asleep instantly after arriving—her body collapsing after the emotional storm of telling Ishaan everything. She had expected—hoped—that he would stay with her, sit beside her, offer her comfort after so long.

 But Ishaan had shown nothing. His eyes didn't meet hers the same way. His words were measured, formal, distant. Something inside her sensed it, Felt him slipping away even before knowing why. but she did not press him. She needed time to realign herself with the world again. She thought they would talk slowly—later—when both were ready. 

But Then midnight came like a nightmare.

Her sleep broke to the sound of footsteps, things falling, someone whispering outside.
Fear clenched her throat.
She had crawled to her bedroom door, opened it just an inch—
And saw two men searching her living room, picking up everything, scattering her belongings like trash.

Her heart almost stopped.

She shut the door silently, grabbed the heaviest showpiece she could find. and then take her new phone and call the copes.
Every cell in her body screamed run, but survival forced her to stand her ground.

The moment one thief unlocked the door—
She slammed the heavy object into his head.
He collapsed instantly.
The second lunged forward; she darted out, breathless, toward the kitchen, her hands shaking as she grabbed a knife.

"If you come near me—I'll kill you!" she shouted, voice trembling, soul burning.

But the man didn't flinch.
Didn't fear her.
He kept advancing.

Objects crashed.
Furniture toppled.
Her safety, her sanity, her peace—everything fell apart again.

Just before he reached her—
The police arrived.
The man was dragged away.
The danger ended.

But fear doesn't vanish that easily.
Her first instinct—the only name she could cling to—
Was Ishaan.

She had called him, shaking, crying, thinking Corvo's men had returned for her.

Now, sitting in here, she clung to that fear like it was her last shield.

"I'm scared, Ishaan," she whispered. "What if they come back?"

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"They won't. And you're coming with me. Stay in my apartment until everything settles. You'll be safe there."
His tone was firm, protective—yet distant, like he was speaking through a wall.

Bella nodded softly.

But inside Ishaan... something else was tearing him apart.

Because his mind wasn't in the ruined apartment.
It was with Aanya.
His rose.
His wife.
The woman he had left sleeping in his bed after the most precious night of his life.
__

It was already nine.
Office hours.
Meeting time.
He couldn't go home.
Not yet.
Not when Bella needed him.

Now,  seating in his apartment, the one he had bought for himself, Bella watched him. He looked restless, his gaze stubbornly drifting away, his mind clearly somewhere else.  

And when he stood to leave—
Bella looked at him. A look filled with expectation. With longing. With the trust of someone who had waited five months believing he still loved her.

Ishaan swallowed hard... and sat back down. defeated, rubbing his palms against his thighs as if preparing for something painful. He couldn't prolong this. Couldn't lie to her with silence.

He had to break the truth— even if it shattered her.

"Bella... I want to tell you something."

She turned to him instantly, her eyes soft, open, trusting.
"Yes, Ishaan. Tell me. I'm here."

His throat tightened. He inhaled deeply—too deeply—as if trying to gather courage from the air around him.
"Bella... first... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I never wanted things to turn out like this. It wasn't in my control. 

Her brows furrowed, confusion clouding her expression.
"Ishaan... what are you talking about? Why are you apologizing? I don't understand."

And then he said it—one breath, one blow, sharp as a blade.
"Bella... I am married now."

The world inside her stopped moving. Her breath stilled in her chest.

She blinked, as if her ears betrayed her.
"What... what did you say?"
A weak, trembling smile appeared—one that hoped he was joking, prayed he was lying.

But he repeated it, each word a cold truth hammering against her heart.
"I'm married now."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Tears slid down her cheeks before she could even feel them.
"No... no, it can't be. You're joking. Why are you joking like this, Ishaan?"
Her voice cracked, not from disbelief but from desperation—like someone begging reality to turn back time.

"I'm not joking," he whispered, misery in his eyes.
The next question escaped her like a broken whisper:
"And... with whom?"

Ishaan closed his eyes, guilt flooding his features.
"With Aanya Verma. Arash Verma's sister."

Shock tore through Bella's face.
"What?"

Slowly, painfully, he told her everything. What happened after she is  gone, mrs mehra went coma, their bleafe that nisha is dead, then he kidnapped Aransh, and Why he married Aanya. How the relationship began.

What he did to hurt Aransh. How his rage consumed him. How he punished Aanya without reason. How Aanya—who had nothing to do with any of their chaos—became entangled in their messy, destructive world.

And then he told her the part that hurt her the most—
that somewhere along the way, he fell in love with Aanya.

When he said those words, something inside Bella hollowed out completely. She sat still—too still—her tears falling silently like rain dripping off a broken roof. What was she supposed to feel? Her life had already been fractured these past months. First kidnapped. Then rescued. Then shattered again by the one person she loved unconditionally.

She let out a small, painful laugh.
"Life is cruel, isn't it, Ishaan?"
He flinched, guilt tightening his jaw.

But she continued, voice trembling yet strangely calm:
"You married Aanya to hurt Aransh. But Aransh was already destroyed... framed for cheating on Nisha di... everyone knew he loved her beyond anything. And Aanya... she didn't deserve any of this. Fate dragged her into our mess."

She brushed her tears, but they kept falling.
"I was gone for five months. You thought I left you. And you moved on.
I'm not angry that you moved on. I'm hurt for Aanya. She did nothing. She got dragged into our chaos unfairly. And you... you weren't wrong either, Ishaan. You lost everything in one day. Anyone would break. You needed peace... and you found it in her."

Her voice softened even more.
"And maybe... maybe my love wasn't strong enough to hold you."

"No!" Ishaan said instantly, tears gathering in his eyes. "Bella, your love had no fault. It's me. Only me. I am the betrayer. Please... don't blame yourself. Please forgive me for falling for her."

She shook her head slowly.
"Don't say sorry for loving her. If you truly love her... accept her completely. She deserves that. She didn't ask for this chaos. Yet she ended up in the fire we created. So don't carry guilt because you moved on. That is not a sin." Please don't feel guilty for loving her. it will be insult for her. tear continuesly flowing from her eyes.

At her words, the tears Ishaan had been holding back finally spilled. He looked shattered—broken from the guilt, torn between past and present.

Bella inhaled shakily.
"Ishaan..." she whispered.

He lifted his head, eyes red.
"Yes?"

Her voice was soft, fragile, almost childlike—
"Please... leave."

His breath caught.
"Bella, please... don't shut me out. Please. We were friends before lovers. At least for that friendship—"

She didn't look at him.
"I'm not angry at you, Ishaan. I just... need time. Please. Leave me alone."

He stared at her for a long moment, then nodded, understanding.
"Okay. I'll go. But promise me you won't shut me out completely. If you need anything—anything—call me. Maybe I'm not your lover anymore... but your friend will always be here."

For the first time, she looked up. A small, fragile smile.
"I know."

He stood, walked to the door, and paused. His fingers trembled on the handle. Then he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

And the moment the latch clicked—
Bella collapsed.

She slid down to the floor, her body shaking violently as sobs tore from her chest. She cried the way a heart cries when it breaks without warning—loud, raw, agonizing.

Outside the door, Ishaan stood motionless, listening to every painful, tearing sound. His own tears fell silently as he whispered to the empty hallway—

"I'm sorry, Bella... I'm so, so sorry."

And walked away.

__

Nisha sat on the edge of the bed in the dimly lit room, her frame small... fragile... almost ghostlike in the silence of the Corvo mansion. For hours she had stared out of the tall window, watching the grey sky as if searching for an escape inside the clouds. A untouched tray of food rested on the table beside her—cold, forgotten, and rejected. The maid stood helplessly, wringing her hands, begging softly for Nisha to take at least a bite. But Nisha didn't move. She hadn't eaten since the previous night, and her stillness carried a frightening finality.

Finally, when the maid's patience broke into fear, she made the call.

And within half an hour, Corvo arrived.

His footsteps echoed through the hallway before he even entered, heavy and deliberate—footsteps of a man who owned every soul under this roof. When he walked in, the maid stepped away instantly, still trying one last time to coax Nisha into eating.

Corvo raised a brow.
"What happened?"

The maid bowed her head nervously.
"Sir... I've been trying to feed her since last night. She refuses to eat anything at all."

Corvo's eyes shifted to Nisha—her hollow stare fixed on the world beyond the window, as if her soul were outside while her body remained trapped in his gilded prison. He sighed, annoyance flickering across his face.

"Leave," he ordered.

When the door shut, the room thickened with a suffocating quiet. Corvo walked forward and sat beside her, his presence a dark shadow intruding on her fragile peace.

He leaned back, crossing his legs leisurely.
"Nisha, how long do you plan to starve yourself?"
His tone was almost amused.
"At this rate, you'll actually die for real this time."

Nisha didn't turn. Her voice was brittle, ice-cold.
"Then let me. I'd rather die than accept food from your men... or your maids."

Corvo exhaled slowly, dragging his hand down his face as though bored of this defiance. Then a dangerous smirk curled on his lips.

"Fine. If you won't eat from my people's hands... how about someone from yours?"

Nisha's head snapped toward him—suspicion, fear, and anger mixing in her eyes.
"What do you mean?"

He leaned closer, his voice soft but dripping with menace.
"I mean... why don't I bring someone who belongs to you? Someone who will take very good care of you."
His smirk widened.
"Someone who is—interestingly—getting close to your brother." and very close to aransh

Nisha felt the blood drain from her face.

Corvo continued, enjoying her reaction.
"You know me, sweetheart. Whatever Aransh loves... whatever Ishaan cares about... I destroy. Piece by piece. I break what they cherish. I ruin whoever touches their hearts."
He shrugged lightly.
"So I'm simply planning to bring that girl here. The one who's getting closer to Ishaan."

Nisha's voice trembled with horror.
"No—no. You're not touching anyone near my brother."

Corvo chuckled, leaning back as if her words were nothing but a child's protests.
"Oh, but I have to. How else will I keep you alive?"
His eyes darkened, hungry, obsessed.
"You're mine, Nisha. I love you. How can I let you starve and weaken?"

A wave of disgust crashed through her, her stomach twisting painfully.
Her voice hardened, cold as steel.
"I am not yours. I will never be yours. I am a one-man woman—and that man is Aransh verma."

Corvo laughed—low, cruel.
"Your one man believes his woman is dead. So now... his woman is mine."

She flinched, closing her eyes as his words stabbed deeper than any blade.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as panic rose inside her.

Please... bella... I hope you've reached ishaan.please come soon.
Don't let him hurt anyone else.

Her fingers trembled on her lap.
Who is the person he's talking about?
Who is close to Ishaan?

Her silent prayer echoed through her mind like a desperate whisper—
Please... whoever she is... protect her. Don't let him touch her too.

__

Aanya's heart felt unusually heavy that day—an invisible weight pressing on her chest since the moment she woke up alone in that cold, empty bed. Her movements were slow, her smiles weaker, her eyes dull. Even Mrs. Mehra noticed. She handed mrs mehra medicine gently, mrs mehra  trying to coax a smile out of her, but Aanya only lifted the corners of her lips out of politeness, not happiness.

 And when she sat with Jay, laughing and joking the way she always did, something was missing. Her laughter sounded hollow, like an echo instead of a sound. She pretended to be fine... but she was breaking quietly inside.

She kept replaying the night and the morning over and over again.

Why did he leave me? What did I do wrong?
Was it just the heat of the moment? Did he regret touching me... kissing me?
Did he remember Bella and run away because of guilt?

Her chest tightened every time her mind whispered the darkest thought—

I know he still loves Bella.
Maybe I was just a mistake he made in a moment of weakness.
Maybe... he woke up and realized I am not the one he wants.

By evening, these thoughts were eating her alive. She didn't feel like sitting with the family, but she forced herself. She sat quietly in the corner of the living room, hugging a cushion, eyes fixed on the floor. Every tick of the clock felt like needles pressed against her skin.

Then at 8 PM, the main door opened.
Ishaan entered with a calm, relaxed smile—completely unaware of the storm inside her.

Everyone greeted him. He greeted them back. When his eyes found her, he smiled softly... warmly... but Aanya looked away the second their eyes met.

His smile faltered.
A small frown touched his forehead.

She's avoiding me... she's angry.
He sighed helplessly.

No worry... I'll fix everything. In just a few minutes, you'll be smiling again, Mrs. Mehra. I promise.

He walked to their room with excitement, unaware that her heart was sinking deeper.

After a while, Aanya entered too. He was fresh, checking something on his phone, a faint smile playing on his lips—the smile of a man planning something sweet. She noticed... and that only hurt her more.

He looks so happy. he didnt even feel sorry for leaving me alone.
Maybe he doesn't even realize how much I cried because of him.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, walked to the study table, and picked up her book—trying to hide her shaking fingers.

Ishaan came up behind her, his warmth brushing her skin. She felt his breath near her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut. She inhaled deeply, trying not to tremble.

"Aanya..." he said softly.

She didn't want to answer. But her heart betrayed her.

"Hmm?"

"Get ready wear something pretty. We're going out."

"Out? Why?" she asked quietly, without looking at him.

"You'll find out soon," he said, smiling gently. "Just get ready."

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied flatly.

He paused.
Confusion crossed his face.

He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her like she was precious.

"Please, Aanya... get ready. We're getting late."

Her body stiffened. His warmth, instead of comforting her, only reminded her of the morning's cold emptiness.

"I said I'm not going anywhere with you," she said, her voice colder this time.

Ishaan frowned softly, now sure she was upset. Still, he tried again. He hugged her tighter, leaned into her ear, and whispered—

"Please..."

But that broke her.

All the hurt of the day—all the doubt, pain, insecurity—erupted at once.

She shoved him hard.

Hard enough to make him stumble back several steps.

"I SAID I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU! DIDN'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!" she shouted, voice cracking with wounded frustration.

Before he could respond, she rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Silence crashed into the room.

Ishaan stood frozen... breath stuck in his chest, eyes wide, staring at the empty space where Aanya had been just a moment ago. His hand hung midair, fingers curled slightly—still shaped as if he were holding her.

He slowly lifted his hand, staring at it in disbelief.
His throat tightened painfully.

The closed door stared back at him like a wall separating their worlds.

His voice broke in a whisper only the empty room heard—

"Aanya... I planned a date for us..."

But she wasn't there to hear it.
And his eyes slowly filled with tears he didn't allow to fall.

Thank  you my precious readers for reading