The memory didn't end gently- it tore itself away from her like a wound being ripped open again.

Aanya blinked, and suddenly the warm colors of childhood dissolved into the cold, quiet present of her bedroom. The Super Robo cloth lay folded in her mother's palm like a relic of a forgotten life, and Aanya felt something inside her break-slowly, painfully, beyond repair.

Her chest tightened. Her breath caught.
The air felt too thin to breathe.

"Mom..." her voice cracked-fragile, trembling. "I... I hurt him."

Mrs. Verma looked at her-really looked-and saw the storm building behind her daughter's eyes.

Aanya pressed her hand to her mouth as if trying to hold the sob in, but it pushed through anyway. A raw, helpless sound escaped her-small, wounded, uncontrollable.

"I hurt him, Mom..." i didn't meant to hit him that hard. she whispered again, her voice collapsing.

Her mother reached out instantly, pulling Aanya into her arms. Aanya fell against her chest with the force of someone who had been carrying years of memories she didn't know belonged to her. Her fingers curled into her mother's saree as if trying to anchor herself to something solid.

"I didn't remember... I didn't remember any of it," Aanya cried, the words tumbling out between broken breaths. "He was just a little boy... and I-I hit him so hard. I made him bleed."

Mrs. Verma stroked her hair gently, her voice soft and steady, even though her own eyes glistened.

"You were a child, Aanya. And children don't understand the weight of their actions."

"But he-he cried so much," Aanya choked. "He must have been so scared. And I didn't even comfort him. I just stood there-just stood there while he cried."

"You were scared too," her mother whispered.

Aanya shook her head violently, tears spilling down her face.

"No, Mom... I was cruel. I was cruel without meaning to be. And he-he still came back when he got better. But by then he had changed. He didn't talk to me anymore. He only came once... just to say sorry because he broke my Super Robo."

A small, guilty laugh slipped out. "And I-I didn't even say sorry back. After hurting him so badly... I didn't say a single word."

Her lips trembled violently.

"It wasn't like I didn't want to apologize," she whispered. "I was scared... scared he'd hurt me back. Scared he'd be angry. I tried to talk to him, but he just... didn't listen. He only said sorry and left. And after that... he never came again. He didn't want to see me."

Her breath cracked.

"I was so cruel to him, Mom. So cruel. He must have hated me."

Mrs. Verma cupped her daughter's cheek gently, guiding her gaze upward.

"No, beta... he didn't hate you. He was just a frightened little boy. You both were children. You-full of mischief and fire. And he-fragile, soft, a little too sensitive for the world." She sighs softly. "You were eight, Aanya. He was ten. But still delicate enough that even Ishwari's scolding could make him cry. He wouldn't speak to her for hours after she raised her voice."

Aanya blinked through tears, as if seeing her younger self and Ishaan through a clearer lens now.

"And yet," her mother continued, "no matter how much you teased him, irritated him, made him cry-he came every single day to play with you. Because he wanted to be your friend."

Her mother brushed a tear from her cheek.

"But the day you hit him... the day he bled-everything changed. He wasn't afraid of you hurting him. He was afraid of seeing you hurt again. He saw your broken toy, and he thought-if I go back, she will hit me again. Not because you were cruel... but because he believed he deserved it for breaking something you loved."

Aanya's breath shook, her chest tightening painfully.

"And after that day," her mother said quietly, "he stopped coming. Not because he hated you. Because he didn't want to be the reason you got hurt or angry again."

Aanya's eyes filled all over again.

"And you," Mrs. Verma added softly, "slowly forgot him as new friends and new lives filled your days. But he never forgot you."

Aanya froze.

"You know where your broken Super Robo is right now?" her mother asked.

Aanya shook her head slowly, confusion clouding her eyes.

A soft, bittersweet smile touched Mrs. Verma's lips.

"It's with Ishaan."

Aanya's breath hitched.

"Years ago, he came to me and said, 'Aunty, can you give me Aanya's Super Robo? Dad taught me how to repair things. I'll fix it and give it back to her.' But before he could... you left for America. And the repaired toy stayed with him."

A tear slipped down Aanya's cheek-silent, heavy, full of old innocence and new grief.

"I was wrong, Mom," she whispered, voice breaking. "I should have tried harder. I should have spoken to him. I should have apologized. I didn't hate him... he was my only friend back then." She let out a sob. "I irritated everyone, no one wanted to be my friend... but he still came every day with that little toothless smile."

She laughed through tears. "I used to tease him just because he cried easily. It was fun to irritate him. He was such a fragile crybaby."

Her tears fell faster.

"And now-look at him. That same fragile kid... has become a tall, calm, composed CEO. He changed so much I couldn't even recognize him. I didn't know he was my toothless crybaby."

Mrs. Verma chuckled softly, and Aanya joined her, the laughter soaked in regret.

"You know," her mother said, "he was so scared of you that whenever he didn't listen something Ishwari scolded him, she'd threaten-'I'll get you married to Aanya if you don't listen.' And he would immediately obey, saying, 'No, Mom! She'll break my toys and take revenge for her robot!'"

Both mother and daughter burst into helpless laughter, tears mixing with faint joy.

"I was such a troublemaker..." Aanya whispered.

"Too much," her mother teased. "An eight-year-old girl who managed to terrify a ten-year-old boy-what else should I call her?"

Aanya smiled weakly, then asked softly:

"After I left... did he never come to Verma Mansion again?"

"No," her mother replied. "He buried himself in studies. Then, when he turned fifteen... Mr. Mehra passed away. And Ishaan changed. He wasn't the fragile boy anymore. He became cold. Distant. Quiet. He took on responsibilities he was too young for."

Aanya listened silently-each word shaping a new understanding of the man Ishaan had become.

"He always wanted to study engineering," Mrs. Verma continued, "but he chose business because he wanted to support Ishwari. Later, Nisha took over the office until he finished his degree. And the moment he graduated-he stepped into his father's shoes. He grew up far too quickly."

Her voice softened.

"And in all that, he forgot the road to Verma Mansion... and perhaps the girl he once tried so desperately to befriend. He never asked about you again. Ishwari always wanted to bring him here, but he refused every time. Only Nisha used to visit."

Aanya listened, stunned-everything fitting together slowly, painfully, beautifully.
her mother smiled gently, "that day when you come verma mansion to talk with Aransh... and he followed you here... your father and I were speechless. All those years he refused to step into this house. And suddenly, he was standing right outside. Do you know how shocked we were?"

Aanya swallowed hard.
Her mother's question hung in the air-

"How did you convince him to come, Aanya?"

The answer struck her like a whisper returning from the past. That day. That moment. When she said she wanted to go home and asked him to take her.

"I didn't convince him, Mom," she whispered softly. "I just said... I want to go to verma mansion. Will you take me? And he... he simply agreed."

__

The room had grown unusually still. Only the soft rustle of curtains and the faint ticking of the clock filled the silence. she sat beside her mother, her eyes still red from tears, her body exhausted from memories that had torn open old corners of her heart.

After several heavy minutes, Mrs. Verma finally spoke, her voice soft and motherly, yet carrying the weight of truth.

"Aanya... he isn't a bad person," she said gently. "I reminded you of your childhood memories with him not to make you feel guilty, but to make you remember who Ishaan Mehra truly is. He is still that fragile ten-year-old boy somewhere inside... he just learned to hide himself behind maturity and coldness. A mask he created so he could survive this cruel world, protect his family, and protect the people he loved."

Aanya looked at her mother with trembling lashes, listening.

Mrs. Verma continued, her words slow, careful, as if she was placing pieces of truth one by one into her daughter's hands.

"He is not a bad man. And I won't say he was right-because he wasn't. What he did to you was wrong. Very wrong. No excuse can defend that. But... if you put yourself in his place, even for a moment, you'll understand his breaking point. At the age of fifteen, he watched his father burn... right in front of him. He saw the world he knew collapse."

Aanya's breath hitched.

"When he finally stood back up," Mrs. Verma went on, "his family had become his entire world. He believed he had to protect them-protect them from every cruelty, every danger. And he did. He protected them fiercely. And then one morning... everything he lived for slipped out of his hands.

His sister-the girl he loved as dearly as his own life-he thought she was gone. His mother... the center of his world... fell into a coma. His father's company, built out of years of blood and sweat, collapsed. And the girl he was going to marry walked away from him. And the blame... the blame was thrown at Aransh, the friend who was like a brother to him."

She inhaled deeply, steadying her voice.

"Aanya, he faced all of that in one single day. Betrayal. Loss. Destruction. His heart shattering again and again. Tell me, in such a moment, whose mind works rationally? Can anyone stay calm? He trusted Arav. That was his mistake. Arav took advantage of his vulnerability. His grief. His fragile mind. Ishaan did what he was told because he believed Arav was the only person left standing by him."

Aanya's tears slipped silently. Her mother wiped one gently from her cheek.

"Yes, he took revenge. Yes, he went too far. And I'm not asking you to forgive him. No. What he did to you... you had no fault in it. You weren't part of their war. You were simply a girl chasing her dreams. And your world turned upside down for something that wasn't even yours."

Mrs. Verma cupped Aanya's cheek lovingly.

"You have every right to be angry. Stay angry as long as you need. Give him whatever punishment your heart demands. But at least think... think once from his side. Give him a chance to speak. To apologize. Do not repeat the mistake of shutting him out the way you did as a child."

Aanya lowered her gaze, her tears softening into a quiet ache.

After a long pause, she whispered shakily, "I don't hate him, Mom. The day Jay told me what happened to the Mehra family... to Ishaan... I decided I would find the truth. I would bring both my brother and Ishaan out of this web of lies. And I lived there for five months. In the beginning he was cruel... he shouted, he pushed me away. But he never harmed me physically, never crossed that line. I understood him even then... he was just hurting."

Her voice broke slightly.

"I don't hate him. But I can't forget what happened to me. My life changed in one day. I came there for my dreams, and I was forced toward marriage instead. I was hurt... the way he treated me, the way Ishaan hurt me with his words... I haven't healed from that. I understand his pain... but I am in pain too. I need time, Mom."

She wiped her tears slowly.

"And you're right. I won't repeat my childhood mistake. I'll give him a chance. But I need some time away from all this chaos. to face him again. When I face him again, I want to stand as a whole person... not a broken version of myself. And I want him to stand not as a guilty man but as someone ready for a new beginning."

Mrs. Verma smiled warmly and pulled her daughter into a soft embrace.

"This is entirely your choice, beta," she said gently. "Whatever you decide to do... I am with you. Always remember that."

Aanya leaned forward and hugged her mother-slowly, tenderly-resting her cheek on her shoulder. Her arms tightened around her mother as though grounding herself after days of emotional storms. For a long moment, neither said a word. They simply held each other, breathing in the quiet comfort that only a mother's embrace can give.

But then Mrs. Verma exhaled, a long thoughtful sigh, and gently pulled back.

"Aanya," she said carefully, "I have been thinking... I should go to the Mehra Mansion."

Aanya blinked, surprised. She straightened slightly, wiping her tear-stained cheeks as she stared at her mother with a silent question in her eyes. Why?

Mrs. Verma chuckled softly at her daughter's expression. "You don't know anything that's happening in this house, sweetheart. Since the day you returned, you've been locked up in this room. You have no idea what's going on outside."

Aanya frowned. "Mom... what are you talking about? What happened?"

"Oh-ho," Mrs. Verma said dramatically, folding her arms with a mischievous spark. "Your brother. Your dear brother Aransh-whom I barely saw touching his phone in the last five months-is now glued to it all day. Call... message... again message... another call... nonstop."

Aanya's eyebrows shot up.

"That's not even the surprising part," her mother continued, lowering her voice as if revealing a scandalous secret. "Do you know what shocked me the most?"

Aanya leaned forward, curious.

"Aransh never wakes up early. Even for office, he goes at ten. But nowadays..." Mrs. Verma paused for effect, widening her eyes, "...he wakes up at eight. Sharp. Gets ready faster than the sunlight. And leaves without breakfast!"

Aanya's jaw dropped. "What? Why? Did he take a new project? Some big meeting?"

"That's exactly what I asked your father," her mother said, laughing. "And you know what he told me?"

"What?" Aanya asked, half anxious, half amused.

"He laughed at me. And said-'Disha, what nonsense are you talking! Aransh goes to office even later these days. He reaches at eleven instead of ten!'"

Aanya stared at her, confused and alarmed.
"Then where is he going this early morning?"

Mrs. Verma placed a hand on her chest dramatically and whispered, "To Mehra Corporation."

Aanya was stunned. "Mehra Corporation? But why would he-?"

"Because Nisha has rejoined the office," her mother said, unable to hide her grin. "She reaches at nine. And your brother-who suddenly wakes up at eight without alarm-leaves the house just to reach there early. Without breakfast. Without tea. Without anything."

Aanya covered her mouth, a laugh breaking through. Her eyes softened with warmth.

"I spoke to Ishwari," Mrs. Verma continued proudly. "She said Nisha is the same. No breakfast. No proper sleep. Just running off to the office every morning."

"And," she added, raising one finger, "when I asked Aransh's secretary what he does there so early... she told me that both Aransh sir and Nisha ma'am arrive at Mehra Corporation, then walk out to different cafés everyday, eat breakfast there, spend time together, and after that go to their respective offices."

Aanya burst into laughter, her sadness momentarily forgotten. "Looks like they're making up for those five months." she said between giggles.

"That's still nothing," her mother said, laughing even harder. "Two nights ago, I came to the kitchen to get a water bottle. And I heard a sound like someone climbing through a window! I rushed outside and guess what I saw?"

Aanya leaned closer, eyes sparkling.

"I saw Nisha climbing into Aransh's room from the window!" Mrs. Verma slapped her thigh, laughing. "This generation, I tell you!"

Aanya fell back on the bed laughing loudly and helplessly. The room that had been heavy with grief moments ago now echoed with warm laughter.

"That's why," Mrs. Verma said once she caught her breath, "I think we shouldn't make them wait any longer. I'm planning to speak to Ishwari and get these two married soon."

Aanya wiped her tears of laughter. "Yes, Mom, do it quickly. Otherwise, you'll become a grandmother even before you become a mother-in-law!"

Both mother and daughter burst into another round of laughter so pure and loud that it felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds-light, warm, and healing.

___

The next morning carried a soft, almost fragile stillness over the Verma mansion. After last night's emotional storm and the raw, honest conversation between mother and daughter, the house felt gentler-quiet, but not heavy. Workers moved around silently, doing their duties with practiced ease. Mr. Verma and Aransh had already left for the office early in the morning. Ansh, buried in textbooks, was locked inside his room; his exams were going on, and his final paper was only two days away.

Mrs. Verma spent her time in the garden, trimming flowers with a peaceful concentration.

Inside the house, after nearly three weeks of isolation, tears, and slow healing, Aanya finally stepped out of her room.

This time not for food, not to respond to anyone calling her-she came out simply to breathe... to feel herself again. She stood in the living room, letting the familiar warmth of her home wash over her. The quiet rustle of leaves from outside, the faint smell of jasmine, the soft morning light spilling through the windows-everything felt like a gentle hug she had missed terribly.

She inhaled deeply. Yes... this was home.

Just then, the main gate opened, and someone walked in. Aanya turned instinctively.

It was Jiya.

Her eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't expected to see her here-in verma mansion.

Jiya spotted her too. For a second she froze, then she gave a tiny, sheepish smile, almost shy, almost guilty. She walked toward Aanya slowly, then nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Umm... h-hi... h-hi, b-bhabhi..." she stammered, forcing an awkward smile.

Aanya blinked. Did she hear that right? Did Jiya just... call her 'bhabhi'? Her eyes widened even more.

"Oh-hi... hi, Jiya," Aanya replied, still stunned. "Umm... how are you... here... I mean-how did you come?"

She didn't even know what she was asking. She was too confused to form a proper sentence.

"Oh! I came to meet Ansh," Jiya said quickly.

"You... you know Ansh?" Aanya's brows lifted in surprise.

"Y-yes. He's my friend. We study at the same college. We... share the same class."

" Same class? But you're doing fashion designing... and Ansh is studying graphic designing. How is that possible?"

"Oh," Jiya laughed softly. "Yes, our main courses are different, but we share an Illustrator class. We have our last Illustrator exam coming up, so we're practicing together. He told me to come here."

"Oh, okay. He's upstairs in his room. The room on the left side of the staircase."
Aanya smiled gently.

Jiya nodded and turned to go-but then she abruptly stopped, hesitated, and slowly turned back. Her big brown eyes looked up at Aanya nervously.

"Um... bhabhi..." she whispered, her voice timid, "I'm really sorry for how rude I was to you before. Please forgive me. I'm not a bad girl... I swear I'm not. I don't know what came over me that day that made me yell at you... especially when it was my fault."
Her lips formed a small, guilty pout.

The sight almost made Aanya burst out laughing. She tried-she really tried-to hold it in. But when Jiya fluttered her eyelashes like a scolded child trying to look cute, Aanya lost control completely.

A laugh escaped her.

"You're laughing at me?" Jiya asked dramatically, pouting deeper.

Still laughing, Aanya reached forward and gently pulled Jiya's cheeks. "Oh God, why are you Mehra twins so cute? You sound exactly like Jay. For a moment, I felt like I was talking to him."

"That's because I am Jay in the female version," Jiya declared sassily, lifting her chin.

Both of them burst into laughter.

"So... have you forgiven me?" Jiya asked softly.

"Mmm... yes. But on one condition," Aanya teased.

Jiya blinked. "Condition? What condition?"

"You have to design a dress for me."

Jiya gasped dramatically. "REALLY?"
She practically jumped on the spot, her face lighting up like a child who had been offered a whole candy shop. "Of course! Of course I'll design a dress for you! Thank you!"

In her excitement, she threw her arms around Aanya, hugging her tightly, then released her just as quickly and ran upstairs toward Ansh's room-still bouncing with joy.

Aanya stood there frozen for a second, staring at the empty staircase where Jiya had vanished.

Then she laughed-soft, genuine, warm.

"This Mehra family... why are they all so impossibly cute?" she murmured to herself with a smile that finally, finally reached her eyes.
___

The glass-walled meeting room of Mehra Co. was washed in sharp afternoon light, the kind that made everything look cleaner, sharper, colder. The long conference table was filled with the project team-developers, strategists, analysts, and department heads-each with files, tablets, and progress charts open in front of them.

At the head of the table sat Ishaan Mehra.

To the world he looked perfect-crisp white shirt, tailored black suit, tie pinned neatly in place, posture straight, eyes focused.
To anyone watching from outside, he was the flawless CEO-calm, intimidating, precise.

But Nisha, sitting to his right, could see it.

The hollowness.

A certain emptiness behind his eyes, like he was functioning only because he had to.
Like every piece of him was held together by sheer discipline... and the tiny amount of hope he refused to let die.

But still-he didn't slip.

Not even for a second.

Here, he wasn't a brother nursing heartbreak, not a son carrying expectations, not a husband aching silently.

Here, he was the CEO of Mehra Tech Co.

And he performed the role with brutal grace.

Nisha glanced at him again. His hand wasn't shaking. His voice wasn't weak. His expression wasn't broken.
He was in control-absolutely.

But she knew the truth. She had seen him two days ago, sitting in the cold outside the Verma mansion, shivering, waiting, hurting. And she had seen him after-quiet, steady, respectful. Giving Aanya the space she needed, yet never stopping the roses... never stopping the handwritten notes... never stopping the routine of standing outside her open window in silence, just to feel close in the only way she allowed.

Nisha didn't stop him either. If this was the only thing giving him peace, she would never take it away. She sighed softly and forced her attention back to the meeting as one of the project leads spoke.

"Sir," he began, his voice carrying a subtle excitement, "Mehra Tech is almost ready. All major systems have reached the final phase of development, and every product has now entered active testing."

A quiet murmur of approval swept through the room.

He continued, "All AI models are fully trained and operational. The predictive engine, the medical-assist bot, the security algorithm, the smart-learning module-each one has passed preliminary performance benchmarks. We're now conducting stress tests and final integration checks."

Ishaan gave a small, measured nod-professional, steady, a hint of pride carefully hidden under his usual composure.

The R&D lead added, "If progress continues at this pace, sir, we can begin controlled deployment trials within the next two weeks."

"And, regarding the AI-integrated healthcare module, we've completed the second round of stress testing. The system is stable at 87% load capacity. We will need an additional week for optimizing the predictive engine."

Ishaan nodded.
His voice, when it came, was calm. Controlled. Sharp.

"87 % percent is not enough. The module needs to hold minimum ninety-five. This will be used in high-risk medical environments. Anything less is unacceptable."

"Yes, sir," the lead said quickly, making notes.

Another manager spoke up.
"Sir, about the hardware integration with VerTech Industries-the chip prototypes arrived this morning. Their performance has improved, but the thermal output is still higher than projected."

"How high?" Ishaan asked without blinking.

"Seven to nine degrees above the safety threshold."

"Unacceptable."
Ishaan leaned forward slightly-just enough to command. "Contact VerTech and schedule an emergency alignment call. We cannot risk overheating during AI load cycles. I want revised prototypes in seventy-two hours."

"Yes, sir."

The room moved like a machine-everyone speaking only when needed, every word purposeful.

Another slide changed on the screen.

"sir," the Finance head said, "for Phase Three development, we'll require an additional twenty-five crore allocation. Research and development cost has exceeded earlier projections."

"Approved," Ishaan said immediately.
"But in return, I want the data security branch expanded. Hire two more cryptographers. And increase the penetration testing cycle. Mehra Tech cannot afford vulnerabilities."

"Yes, sir."

Nisha watched him.

No hesitation. No distraction. No flicker of personal pain.He was steel in a suit.
Even though inside, she knew he was bleeding.

The meeting continued, covering progress charts, projected timelines, new patents, AI training data, user interface modifications, marketing rollout plans, and risk assessments. Each time someone brought a concern, Ishaan cut through it with a sharp, solution-driven rationale. Each time someone hesitated, he redirected them with a clarity that made everyone straighten in their seats.

He was flawless. He was hurting.He was functioning anyway.

Twenty minutes later, the final slide appeared: Project Status - 88% Complete.

"We will reach Phase Three by mid-February," the project manager said confidently. "But we require faster approvals from the board for new resource acquisitions."

"I'll handle the board," Ishaan said.
"Your only responsibility is to ensure your team doesn't fall behind. If you need overtime approvals, request them by tonight. If you need cross-department support, take it. The project will be completed on schedule."

"Yes, sir."

Finally, he closed his file.

"That's all. You may leave."

Chairs shifted, documents gathered, laptops shut. The team filed out respectfully, some sneaking nervous glances-they always did, because Ishaan Mehra in CEO mode was a force.

When the room finally emptied, silence settled like dust.

Nisha didn't move.
She watched as Ishaan leaned back, exhaled softly, and closed his eyes for a brief second-one second where the mask slipped just a little.

Just enough for her to see the boy beneath the CEO. The boy who still loved. Still waited.
Still hoped.

She didn't say anything. This was his battle.
And he would survive it in his own way.
So she simply stood up, touched his shoulder gently, and whispered,

"Good work, Ishaan."

He opened his eyes.They looked sharp again.
Cold. Controlled. "Let's prepare for the board meeting," he said, as if nothing inside him was breaking.

Nisha nodded and followed him out.

Carrying his silence, his strength... and the quiet pain he never allowed anyone else to see.
___

The office had grown quiet after the board meeting, the kind of quiet that settles over a building once the important battles of the day have been fought. Ishaan sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, his focus narrowed on the files spread before him. Numbers, projections, contracts-order in chaos. Work was the only thing that kept his mind from spiraling into the same thoughts that hunted him day and night Aanya.

He had just reached for another document when the door swung open with an urgency that didn't belong in a corporate office.

Nisha barged in, breath slightly uneven, eyes wide.

Ishaan immediately straightened, the pen slipping from his fingers.

"What happened, Dii?" he asked, voice tense. "You look-what happened?"

Nisha closed the door behind her, walked closer, and stopped right in front of him.

"Ishaan... we need to go home. Right now."

His brows pulled together sharply.
"Home? But it's too early. Is something wrong? Is Mom okay?" He rose from his chair so abruptly that it rolled back an inch.

Nisha lifted her hands slightly, urging him to calm down.

"Relax. Mom is completely fine," she assured him. "In fact... she sounded more than fine. Actually, she sounded-happy. Too happy."

Ishaan froze for a second.

"Happy? Then why did she call us back so urgently?" he asked, confusion knitting his voice.

Nisha shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. She just said we need to come home immediately. Verma family is coming over for a very important discussion."

The words hit him like a blow.

Ishaan's breath hitched. His chest tightened instantly.

"V-Verma family?" he whispered more to himself than to her. "Important...discussion?"

The world around him slowed for a moment, sounds dimming, air thinning.

His thoughts scattered like loose pages in a storm-chaotic, uncontrollable, panicked.

Was Aanya coming? Was this about them?
Was this about the divorce papers Aransh had mentioned? Was Aransh serious?
Was this the day they would tell him... it was over?

His heartbeat turned uneven. A cold dread slid down his spine.

He was so lost inside the storm in his head that he didn't even hear Nisha stepping closer until her voice cut through sharply.

"Stop," she commanded gently but firmly.

Ishaan blinked, startled, his eyes lifting to hers.

"I can practically see your brain running wild," she said, arms folding as she studied him. "Stop right there, Ishaan. Don't torture yourself with assumptions."

He swallowed hard, jaw clenching.

"But Dii-"

"No." She shook her head. "Overthinking will not change what's waiting at home. We'll go and we'll listen. Whatever the Verma family wants to discuss-let it come. We'll face it together."

Ishaan nodded weakly, but the fear didn't leave his eyes. He looked like a man being asked to walk toward a door he wasn't sure he could survive walking through.

Still, he forced himself to breathe, forced himself to move. "Okay," he whispered. "Let's go home."

Nisha placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"Good. Now come."

And as they walked out of the office, Ishaan's hands trembled ever so slightly-"Because he was scared-terrified of the storm that might be waiting for him at home.

What if that storm changes everything?"

Thank you my lovely readers for your precious time.
If you like the chapter please vote and comment.
Bye bye take care 🫂🫀☺️