Morning arrived with a heaviness that felt almost physical—like someone had draped a thick, suffocating blanket over the entire Mehra mansion. Aanya had not returned to their room the entire night. Ishaan waited, restless and anxious, listening for her footsteps, hoping for the sound of the door opening. But she never came.

He had checked once—quietly stepping out to look for her. She was with Mrs. Mehra, sitting beside her like a silent guardian. Ishaan didn't interrupt. He didn't have the right, not after the way he had left her broken and confused.

He had spent the night sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, his hands threaded through his hair. His chest felt tight—too tight—like his heart was being pulled apart from every direction.

Too much was happening.
Too much was collapsing all at once.

He had to save Nisha dii.
He had to tell the family the truth.
He had to fix everything he had shattered with Aanya.

His thoughts spiraled endlessly.

Aanya is ignoring me... she's hurting because of me. And I can't blame her.
This isn't just about leaving her alone in the morning. This is everything.
Our marriage. The silence. The half-truths. The hiding. The confusion.

He kept saying he wanted to give their marriage a chance, but what had he actually done?

In front of the family member she was his wife, but his own mother didn't even know the truth.
Because of that, everyone treated her like a temporary presence... someone who didn't fully belong here.

He pressed his palms against his eyes, overwhelmed with guilt.

This wasn't fair.
Not to Aanya.
Not to his mother.
Not to himself.

If he truly wanted Aanya... if he truly wanted her to feel like his wife... he had to face the world with her, not hide her in the shadows of silence.

And then—Nisha dii.

He had to bring her back.
Before it was too late.
___

He  stood in front of the mirror, running a tired hand through his hair. His eyes were red—part exhaustion, part fear, part determination. His mind was a storm that refused to calm.

He inhaled shakily, gripping the sink as if he needed something solid to keep him grounded.

I have to fix everything.
I have to make this right—not just for me, but for everyone I've hurt... everyone I love.

His thoughts circled like a heavy, suffocating spiral.

First... mom.
Mom is drowning in grief every single day. Every breath she takes trembles with the pain of losing her daughter.
When she learns the truth—that dii is alive—her heart will finally breathe again.

He closed his eyes, tears stinging behind them.

She deserved that relief.
She deserved to know her daughter still existed in this world.

And after that...
After giving his mother the biggest truth she needed...

There was Aanya.

Aanya, who hadn't slept in their room.
Aanya, whose silence was colder than anger.
Aanya, who had cried behind closed doors because of him.

He swallowed hard, guilt twisting inside his chest.

I have to tell everyone about her too... about us.
She deserves her rightful place in this house. She deserves to be acknowledged—not hidden like a secret I'm afraid to face.

He remembered all the times she looked at him with hope—small, hesitant, fragile hope. A hope he never fully met. A hope he kept failing.

He whispered to himself, almost brokenly:

"Mom deserves the truth... and so does Aanya."

His reflection stared back at him—haunted by truth he had avoided for too long.

Yes... first I will tell them about dii. Then I will tell them about my marriage... about Aanya.

His breath trembled, fear creeping in.

Mom will be angry with me... for forcing Aanya into this marriage.
She'll be disappointed.
She'll question me.
But today I have to tell everyone, everything I can't hide truth hide aanye anymore.

But Ishaan nodded to himself slowly.

"She has the right to know everything... and she will understand eventually," he whispered.
"She always does."

He straightened his back, determination tightening in his shoulders.

He needed courage.
He needed strength.
He needed to stop running.

Because The moment he told the entire family the truth...

Everything—every lie, every pain, every broken thread—would begin stitching itself back together.

And maybe... just maybe...
Aanya's heart too. that what he thought. 

With determination settling in his bones, Ishaan finally, got ready, and stepped out of his room.

Everyone was gathered around the dining table. Aanya was sitting beside Mrs. Mehra, her head lowered, face pale and distant. Ishaan glanced at her, his heart twisting painfully when she didn't even lift her eyes to look at him.

They ate in strained silence.

When breakfast ended and everyone was about to disperse, Ishaan pushed his chair back and spoke, his voice low but steady.

"I want to talk to everyone. It's something important."

Everyone froze.

His tone wasn't casual. It wasn't normal. Something deep and unsettling hid beneath it.

They followed him into the living room.
Ishaan sat down, elbows on his knees, fingers intertwined, staring at the floor like he was preparing himself to break open.

Mrs. Mehra looked nervous.
Aanya looked silently frightened.
The rest of the family stood waiting—breath held, hearts tight.

"What is it, Ishaan?" Mrs. Mehra asked softly.

Ishaan inhaled deeply.

He had to do this.
For his mother.
For Aanya.
For Nisha dii.

His voice trembled slightly as he began, "What I'm about to say is shocking. It changes everything that happened in the last five months."

Everyone leaned forward.

His throat tightened—yet he forced himself to speak.

"Mom... Bella is back."

The room reacted like it had been struck by lightning.

Gasps.
Shock.
Bewildered eyes.

Aanya stood motionless, staring at him as though her heart had suddenly shattered quietly inside her chest.

So this is why he left yesterday.
This is why he ran.
Bella.
He still loves her... he always did.

Her fingers curled tightly at her sides, but she remained silent, her face drained of all color.

Mrs. Mehra's voice shook with anger.
"Why is she here now?"

"Mom, please... listen," Ishaan said firmly. "What I am about to say is unbelievable... but it's also... the best thing we could have hoped for."

Sikha folded her arms, tension evident in her eyes.
"Just say it clearly, Ishaan."

He swallowed hard.

"two day ago, I met Bella... I was furious. I yelled at her. I questioned everything. But then... she told me something that broke me—broke me in a way that finally gave me hope."

He lifted his eyes, tears shining.

"She didn't run away."
"She was kidnapped."
"And in that place... she met Nisha dii."

Everyone's breath caught.

Ishaan whispered, his voice cracking. "mo-mom nisha dii is alive."

The room collapsed.

Jiya let out a raw, broken cry and clung to Jay, shaking uncontrollably.
Jay pressed his lips together to keep himself from breaking, tears slipping silently down his face.
Sikha broke down in Mr. Dinesh's arms.
Even Karan—who rarely cried—had tears filling his eyes.

Mrs. Mehra's entire body trembled as she stared at her son, disbelief and hope battling inside her.

"She's alive...? My daughter... my Nisha?" she whispered in a voice so fragile it felt like it might disappear.

Ishaan nodded and pulled her into his arms.

"Yes, Mom. She's alive. I'll bring her home. I promise."

The sob that escaped her was heartbreaking.

But Aanya...

She stood frozen—heart pounding, tears gathering, everything inside her trembling.

If Nisha dii is alive... then my brother... my Aransh...

Every accusation he had endured...
Every insult thrown on his name...
Every doubt she had tried to suppress...

All of it dissolved.

Her brother was innocent.
Completely innocent.

A sob escaped her lips, her legs weakening.

She didn't know what to feel first—relief for Arasnh, joy for Nisha dii, or the sharp ache of being betrayed by Ishaan with Bella's name. why didnt he tell me before that bella is back , she thought her self

The room dissolved into chaos, grief, relief, and disbelief.

Ishaan continued explaining everything—He told them everything.

How Bella didn't run away.
How she was kidnapped.
How she met Nisha dii there.
How Nisha was alive.
How a man named Corvo orchestrated all of it to destroy Ishaan.

By the time he finished...

The living room had collapsed into heartbreak and relief.

Eighteen August—the day they all thought they lost a daughter, a sister, a friend.

Today, they learned she never left them.

The body they buried... belonged to someone else.

"Mom, please don't cry," Ishaan whispered, holding her trembling shoulders as gently as he could. "Nisha dii is alive. And I promise—I will bring her home safely. I won't spare that man... the monster who did this to her."

His jaw tightened with rage.
Karan and Jay stood behind him, their fists clenched so hard their knuckles turned white.

"I swear, I'll kill him," Karan shouted, voice shaking with fury. "How could he do something like this to Nisha dii?"

"Karan, calm down," Mr. Dinesh said, though his own anger was visible in his eyes. "We will catch him. And he will be punished."

Jay looked at Ishaan, confusion and anger mixing in his voice.
"But bhai... who is this Corvo? Why would he do all this?"

"I don't know, Jay," Ishaan replied, frustration heavy in his tone. "But I'll find him. No matter who he is or where he is hiding."

Mr. Dinesh stepped forward, brows creased.
"But how is this possible, Ishaan? We buried Nisha. With our own hands."

Ishaan inhaled slowly, the memory hitting him like a punch.

"Yes, uncle... we buried someone. But that body wasn't Nisha dii. It was someone else. Corvo switched her with another dead woman."

The room fell silent.

He continued, voice low and filled with pain.

"That day... all of us were shattered. None of us saw her face.  i was not their police took me in their custody becuse of scandle. Mom and Jiya were the only ones near her surgery, but after the doctor declared Nisha dead... Mom had a panic attack and collapsed. She was rushed to the emergency room."

Jiya's lips trembled, eyes swelling with tears as old pain resurfaced.

"I was alone," she whispered, almost to herself. "I didn't know what to do... everything was happening so fast..."

"And when I reached the hospital," Ishaan continued, "the doctor told me Mom had slipped into a coma. And that Nisha had died."
His voice broke for a second. "I wasn't in the state to see her face. I could barely breathe... I was having a panic attack myself."

Jay lowered his gaze, remembering.
"After I came... and heard the news... I couldn't look either. I was numb."

Ishaan nodded.

"In all that chaos, Arav handled everything. He talked to the doctors. He dealt with the paperwork. He arranged everything for the funeral with Rajiv uncle. None of us were thinking straight. No one even thought to check the body one last time before sending it for post-mortem."

He swallowed.

"And after the post-mortem... we immediately took her for the funeral. You all came directly there. No one saw her face. No one knew."

He rubbed his forehead.

"And yesterday... when I went back to that hospital, to find out,  I found out something even stranger. The doctor who performed Nisha's surgery—the one who declared her dead—resigned the very next day after the accident. All the staff from that night disappeared. 

Everyone listened in stunned silence.

Karan's voice rose again, this time confused and suspicious.
"But bhai... you said Arav handled everything. He was there the whole time. How could he not notice anything strange? Didn't he see Nisha's face?"

Ishaan froze.

For a moment... even he didn't have an answer.

He had trusted Arav blindly.
He had never questioned him.

His mind was spinning when Jiya suddenly spoke, her voice shaky.

"No, Karan bhai... Arav bhai didn't see her.  he was not their whole time. He had booked a private room for us. He took me and mom  there so we could rest. Surgery was still going on. he was with us for sometimes. And he managed Jay's arrival too that time. Maybe... during all this time......its all happned. 

Everyone let out a slow breath.

It made sense.
Logically, emotionally, painfully—it fit.

But not for Aanya.

Her mind refused to settle.

Just for a fleeting second, a dark thought crossed her mind:

What if Arav deliberately sent Jiya and aunty away so the body could be switched?
But... why would he? He loved this family.
He's Ishaan's closest friend.

She shook her head quickly, pushing that thought away, ashamed for even imagining it.

Her eyes drifted to Ishaan.

you know everything, every truth from two days , but still you didnt tell me. bella is come back two days ago, but you didnt tell me , instead you-you leave after sleeping with me you go to bella . she thought will looking at ishaan tear follwing from her eyes.

ishaan was holding Mrs. Mehra as she cried uncontrollably, her whole body shaking with grief and hope.

"Ishaan... please," she begged, clutching his shirt like a lifeline, "bring my daughter back. Bring my Nisha back to me... please."

Her voice broke into pieces.

I will mom, i will he wishperd.

The room felt unbearably heavy, as if every breath carried the weight of truths waiting to break open. Ishaan inhaled deeply, his chest rising with the burden he had carried for far too long. When he finally lifted his eyes, they locked with Aanya's—she looked back at him without blinking, her brows softly furrowed, as though she sensed the storm brewing inside him. Her silent concern pierced him deeper than any accusation could.

Ishaan exhaled shakily and rose from his seat. Even as he stood, his gaze never left her. Aanya didn't look away either; instead, her confusion grew. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her dupatta, fear and anticipation fighting inside her.

"Mom... there's something more I need to tell you," he said quietly, turning toward Mrs. Mehra.

Mrs. Mehra looked at him with a mixture of exhaustion and dread.
"More? What else is left now, Ishaan?" she asked, her tone trembling.

Ishaan lowered himself to sit at her feet, something he hadn't done since childhood. He took her hand gently—his own hands shaking—and whispered, "Mom... in the middle of all this chaos... I did something terrible. Something you will be disappointed to hear. Not just you—all of you will be disappointed in me. But please... try to understand me, just once."

The room fell silent. His words hung like a blade in the air.

"What are you talking about, Ishaan?" Mrs. Mehra asked, her voice tightening with fear.

Ishaan swallowed hard. His throat burned.
"Mom... in between all this... I got married."

Aanya's eyes widened. Shock rippled through her so violently she forgot to breathe for a moment. After everything... he's telling them now? Just like this? she thought, her heart thudding painfully.

Mrs. Mehra froze as if the world had stopped around her.

"Married?" she whispered. "Married to whom?"

Ishaan gave a small, almost helpless chuckle, remembering an old memory.
"To the girl you used to threaten me with when I was a kid... the one you said you would marry me to if I didn't listen to you. The same girl who used to beat me and scare me."

Mrs. Mehra blinked in confusion. A long-forgotten memory surfaced—she used to joke that she would marry Ishaan to the daughter of her best friend. She hadn't thought about that girl in years.

"You... you married Disha's daughter?" she asked, stunned.

Ishaan shook his head slightly.
"yes... I married  your bestfreind daughter , Aransh's sister."

Silence snapped through the room like lightning.

Everyone turned toward Aanya with wide, disbelieving eyes. She stared at the floor, tears dripping silently onto her hands. They couldn't believe it—the girl living under their roof, the quiet shadow in their home... was the sister of the man they  blamed for Nisha's death.

"How—why? Mrs. Mehra stammered. "That girl lived abroad."

"Yes, she... she wasn't in India before. She returned a few months ago after completing her graduation. Maybe you didn't know," Ishaan said weakly. His voice began to tremble. "I—I..."

His words choked, but he forced himself to continue. He told them everything—how, in his anger and grief over thinking Nisha was dead, he had tormented Aransh... and how, blinded by rage, he forced Aanya into marriage. Every word felt like a confession of a crime he could never erase.

The hall echoed suddenly with a sharp, explosive

  SLAP.

Mrs. Mehra had struck him.

Everyone gasped, stunned. Aanya's head jerked up—her eyes wide, horrified—as she stared at Ishaan and his mother. She didn't know what to feel, where to stand, whom to defend. Her heart twisted painfully.

Mrs. Mehra grabbed Ishaan by his collar, shaking him as tears spilled from her eyes.
"Why? WHY did you do this, Ishaan? What did that girl ever do to you?" she cried, her voice breaking.

Ishaan didn't resist. He didn't raise a hand. He simply stood there, letting his mother pour her pain into him, because he knew he deserved every bit of it.

She raised her hand to slap him again—but Sikha rushed forward and caught her wrist.

"Bhabhi... please. At least let him explain. Let him finish," Sikha pleaded.

Mrs. Mehra stepped back, breathing heavily, tears streaking her face.
"Speak," she demanded.

Ishaan finally spoke—broken, wounded, but honest. He told them about his hatred, his grief, his rage, his misguided revenge. How everything he did was twisted by the belief that Aransh had killed Nisha. How he punished Aanya for a sin she never committed. How guilt had been eating him alive ever since.

Aanya's tears fell faster, each word slicing deeper into her.

When Ishaan finished, Mrs. Mehra closed her eyes, her voice calm but firm.
"Ishaan... no amount of anger or pain gives you the right to force someone. Not like this. Never."

"I know, Mom..." he whispered. "I know I committed a sin. I want to make things right. Please... forgive me. All of you... please forgive me. I wasn't in my right mind then."

Mrs. Mehra took a deep, shaking breath.
"Where is she  Aransh's sister now? Did you leave her once you learned the truth?" she asked coldly.

"No!" Ishaan said instantly, his voice breaking. "No, Mom. I will never leave her. She is here." he look at aanya with broken eyes.

Mrs. Mehra followed his gaze.

Her breath hitched. Her hand flew to her mouth. Tears escaped her eyes.

Ishaan walked toward Aanya, gently took her trembling hand in his, and said softly—

"She is my wife, Mom.
Aanya Mehra.
Your best freind daughter.  aransh sister" My Aanya."

Aanya looked at him—stunned, overwhelmed, torn between joy and sorrow.
Should I be happy that he accepts me... or broken because Bella is back... and she never left him? she thought.

Her heart felt like it was breaking in two.

For a long, breathless moment, Mrs. Mehra simply stared at Aanya—as if her mind refused to accept what her eyes were seeing. Her lips trembled, and her fingers pressed against her mouth, trying to hold in the shock that shook her to her core. The girl she had looked at for days with polite distance, the girl she assumed was just a helpless guest, the girl who silently moved around the house that girl was...

her daughter-in-law?
Her Ishaan's wife?
her best freind s daughter?

Mrs. Mehra felt the ground shift beneath her.

Slowly, heavily, she took a step forward. Aanya lifted her eyes at the sound—wet, trembling, full of fear and apology. She looked like a child waiting for punishment she knew was coming; her body stiff, hands twisting together, tears sliding down her cheeks without a sound. She looked fragile. Breakable. Lost.

And that sight stabbed something deep inside Mrs. Mehra.

Her heart squeezed.

Her legs weakened.

"A-Aanya..." Mrs. Mehra whispered, barely able to breathe the name.

At the sound of her name spoken so softly, Aanya blinked rapidly, more tears falling. She didn't know if she should step forward or step back. She didn't know if she was accepted or hated. Her entire body shivered with fear. She had never imagined this would be the moment she would be revealed—exposed—like a secret truth thrown into a storm.

Mrs. Mehra took another step.

Then another.

Her eyes roamed Aanya's face—one filled with pain, exhaustion, and quiet courage. She looked so young... so undeserving of the mess she had been pulled into.

A lump rose in Mrs. Mehra's throat.

With a shaking hand, she reached out, as if afraid Aanya might vanish if she touched her too hard. Her palm hovered near Aanya's cheek, trembling, uncertain.

Aanya froze.

"Oh, beta..." she whispered, her own tears finally falling. "What did my son do to you...?" she hug her tightly.

Aanya stiffened at first—shocked, confused, unbelieving.

But then, slowly... cautiously... she melted into the embrace.

Mrs. Mehra stroked her head, her voice shaking as she whispered, "You suffered so much... and alone. And we didn't even know who you were."

The entire room felt a sudden shift.
Aanya... was no longer the outsider.
She was the daughter they never saw coming.

Mrs. Mehra pulled back slightly, holding Aanya's face between her palms.

"You are my daughter now," she whispered. . And no one—no one—is allowed to hurt you again."

Mrs. Mehra wiped her tears, and turned toward Ishaan with a sternness that cut deeper than any slap ever could. Her expression carried disappointment, hurt, and a mother's controlled anger—all simmering beneath her calm voice. Ishaan looked up immediately, hope flickering in his eyes, but it died when he saw her face.

"And you..." she said quietly, but the weight in her voice silenced the entire room.

Ishaan's shoulders stiffened. His breath caught.
He had faced enemies, grief, and loss.
But nothing frightened him more than the judgment in his mother's eyes.

"You think you'll get forgiveness this easily?" she whispered, each word hitting him like a blow. "Not from me... and definitely not from Aanya."

Ishaan swallowed hard, guilt flooding him again.
"I know, Mom," i am sorry he murmured.
 

Mrs. Mehra's eyes glistened—not out of pity for him, but out of the shame she felt as a mother.
"Yes, you were in pain," "I understand your pain... but it still didn't justify your actions." she said with a trembling exhale. " pain never gives anyone permission to break someone else. You forced a girl into marriage... a girl who had nothing to do with any of this. You hurt her, Ishaan. Deeply. And that guilt—you will carry it. And you must earn forgiveness... not demand it."

"I will, Mom," he whispered, voice cracking. "I swear... I will. I won't hurt her again. Nor you. I will spend whatever time it takes to earn her forgiveness."

His eyes shifted to Aanya—seeking even a tiny spark of acceptance.
But Aanya didn't look at him.
Not this time.

She kept her gaze lowered, eyelashes wet, her fingers gripping the edge of her dupatta. Her heart was racing with a storm of fears—Bella's return, Ishaan leaving her alone after such an intimate night, the confusion of being accepted yet not fully secure. She felt small. Unsteady. Breakable again.

That hurt Ishaan the most.
The distance she placed between them stabbed him deeper than any harsh word.

Slowly, the room calmed after the storm of revelations. The family scattered to process everything—some stunned, some whispering among themselves, some still shaken by the truth. Chairs shifted, footsteps softened, voices faded.

Aanya now sat on the sofa with Mrs. Mehra who kept hold of her hand protectively, as if shielding her from any further harm.

Ishaan watched them from a distance.

His Mom and Aanya... together.
Talking.
Comfortable.
And he—standing alone with guilt pressed heavy on his chest.

I need to talk to her, he thought.
I need to make things right. Today. Now.

He started to walk toward them, gathering his courage.
"Aanya—" he began, voice soft, hesitant.

But before the sentence could fully leave his lips, his phone vibrated in his pocket—loud in the tense silence.

He closed his eyes in irritation and answered.

"Sir," Sunny's urgent voice came quickly, "the meeting starts in half an hour. The team is already here. Where are you? Everyone is waiting."

Ishaan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply.
"Okay... I'm coming," he replied quietly, defeated.

The call ended.
Silence settled.

He looked at his mother and wife—two women he loved in completely different ways, both sitting together, both looking away from him.

His mother didn't even raise her eyes when he said softly, "Mom... I'm going to the office."

"Go," she answered coldly, still stroking Aanya's hand. "Who is stopping you? 

Her words hit him harder than expected.

Aanya also didn't look up.
Not a glance.
Not even a flinch.

Ishaan felt something break inside him.

He exhaled shakily, nodded, and walked out of the mansion—his heart heavy, his hope hanging by a thin thread.

As the door closed behind him, he promised himself silently:

When I come back...
I'll talk to her.
I'll fix this.
I'll fix everything.
Even if it takes my whole life.

__

Evening settled over the Mehra mansion like a heavy blanket—thick, unmoving, almost suffocating. After the emotional storm of the day, the house was unnaturally quiet. No footsteps. No voices. No distant murmur of the staff. Just silence... a silence so deep it felt like the walls were holding their breath.

Aanya walked through the corridor slowly, her mind still trapped in loops of doubt and heartache. That was when the sudden shrill ring of the landline cut through the stillness, making her flinch slightly. The sound echoed in the empty mansion, sharp and misplaced.

She hesitated only a moment before moving toward the telephone table.
She picked up the receiver.
"Hello?" her voice was soft, tired.

For a second, there was only silence on the other end—strange, heavy silence.

"Hello?" she repeated.

A quiet sigh came through the line.
And then a voice she recognized instantly.

"Aanya..."

Her entire body froze.
Her fingers tightened around the receiver.
Ishaan.

Why is he calling on the landline? she wondered, her heartbeat tripping over itself.

"Y-Yes?" she managed to say.

"I... forgot my file at home," he explained hurriedly. "I have a meeting at seven. I need that file now. Normally a worker picks up the landline, so I thought I'd ask someone to send it."

"Oh," she replied simply—fighting the swirl of emotions she didn't want to spill over a phone call.

"Aanya... I'm sorry. Are you angry with me?"

She didn't answer immediately. Her throat felt tight.

"Aanya?" he repeated, voice softer.

"Hm," she replied, distant.

"Talk to me, please."

"I am talking."

"Not like this..." Ishaan whispered. "Tell me what I did wrong. I'll make it right. Please."

A thousand thoughts hit her at once: seriusly ishaan what you did wrong.?

You left me after last night.
You didn't tell me about Bella.
you didn't tell me that you know the truth.
You kept so much from me.

But she swallowed all of it.

"It's nothing like that," she said instead.

"Then why—"

"You have a meeting, right?" she cut him off gently. "I'll tell a staff member to send your file."

She didn't give him a chance to reply—
She ended the call.

Aanya stared at the receiver for a moment, breathing deeply.

This... this isn't a phone conversation. We need to talk face-to-face... without running. Without fear.

She looked around.
The house was empty.

No workers.
No Jay.
No Karan.
No Mr. Dinesh.

Strange.

She checked her watch.
6:30 PM.

Only thirty minutes left before Ishaan's meeting.

Who do I even send the file with?
She waited ten more minutes, hoping someone would return.
But no one did.

Finally, she stood up, determined.

"I'll take it myself... I'll just hand it to a worker at the office entrance and leave. That's right. Simple."

She walked to Ishaan's home office.
A single brown file lay on the table, exactly where he must've left it.
She picked it up, hugged it to her chest, and walked toward the exit.

Outside, the mansion grounds were quiet.
Too quiet.
___

Ishaan reached home around 8 p.m., exhausted but carrying a fragile hope in his heart, and bookey of rose in hand— today, he would finally talk to Aanya, explain himself, fix the damage he had caused.

But the moment he stepped inside, that hope cracked.

The house felt... wrong. Too quiet. Too still.

He walked toward his study, expecting to find the files he had asked for, maybe even assuming Aanya might be there, waiting for him with her usual calm presence.
But there were no files. No sign of her. 

He goes to their bedroom, but he faced silent , no aanya is there seating table reading book, he check bathroom its aslo empty.

A strange heaviness settled in his chest. Ishaan moved through the house faster now — first the living room, then the dining area, then the balcony. Empty. All empty.

"Aanya?" he called, expecting her soft reply from somewhere.

Silence greeted him back.

His heartbeat stumbled.
He checked the guest room, the kitchen, even the backyard — but she was nowhere. Not a trace of her.

And then a wild, terrifying thought flashed in his mind.

Did she... leave me?
No. No she wouldn't. She can't. She wouldn't do this. Not like this.

But the thought stuck like a thorn, digging deeper with every passing second.

Panic surged through him now — raw, uncontrollable.
He rushed back to the living room, voice shaking as he shouted her name:

"AANYAA!"

Nothing.

His breathing turned uneven. His hands trembled. He could feel fear spreading through his veins like poison — the fear of losing her, the fear that his mistakes had finally pushed her away for good.

One by one, family members came rushing out, alarmed by his voice. Mrs. Mehra, sikha, mr dinesh and karan who just come from outside , jay jiya aslo rush from there room, all startled by the panic radiating off him.

Ishaan's eyes were wild, desperate, almost unrecognizable as he shouted again, louder this time, his voice breaking:

"WHERE IS MY WIFE?!"

Okay, bye-bye. Take care, my lovely flowers.