Half an hour ago

Verma family sat scattered across the living room, still breathless from the storm of shopping that had swept through the house only an hour earlier. Bright fabrics, jewelry cases, shoe boxes, and accessory bags lay open across the carpet like the remains of a festival—colorful, chaotic, and overwhelmingly alive. The women had just returned, their laughter fading into tired sighs as they settled onto the sofas. The air still carried the scent of new clothes and fresh mehndi, the fragrance of an upcoming wedding.

Just then, Mr. Verma walked in, phone pressed to his ear, his brows pulled tightly in worry. His usually calm face looked shadowed, as though the weight of a sudden crisis had settled on his shoulders.

"But how can we arrange a new CEO in such a short time...?" he said in a low, tense voice. "I cannot come... Aransh's wedding is in two days."

He paced once, listening intently, then ended the call with a defeated sigh. When he sank onto the sofa, everyone's eyes immediately turned to him, concern carved into their faces.

"What happened, Dad? Who was it? You look worried," Aransh asked, sitting up straighter.

Mr. Verma rubbed his forehead before speaking.
"It was the manager from our American branch. The CEO there met with an accident... he's been put on complete bed rest and has resigned. Our ongoing project is in the execution phase; without a CEO, everything will collapse. And there is an extremely important meeting in two days. Someone from us has to go and handle the situation immediately."

Silence fell over the room like a heavy curtain. The air felt tight.

"I cannot leave here's branch," Mr. Verma continued. "There is too much work happening here. And you"—he looked at Aransh—"you cannot go. Your wedding is in two days."

The weight of the situation settled like a stone in the air.

Aanya, who had been quietly listening, turned her eyes toward her father. Her heart tightened—not out of fear, but out of responsibility. She had always seen her father handle storms silently. Today, he looked stuck, trapped.

And she couldn't bear that.

Aanya straightened, her voice calm and steady. "Dad... if none of you have a problem, then... I can go."

Every head snapped toward her.

She took a breath, her voice steady even though her heart trembled. "It's good for me. I... need time to heal. Staying here, surrounded by my past, I won't be able to move forward. I was already thinking of going to America for a while. Maybe handling the branch will help me grow. Bhai can guide me from here. And if I join Verma  tech Co. in the future—which is the reason I came back—this experience will actually benefit me."

Her words were sincere, practical, and painfully honest.

Mrs. Verma looked at her with wide eyes. "But, sweetheart... the wedding is in only two days. You'll miss it."

A gentle sadness touched Aanya's smile.
"Mom, if I don't go, then either Dad or Bhai will have to go. And then they will miss the wedding. Bhai cannot go, it's his wedding. And Dad... he is needed here. So someone has to take responsibility. And yes, I will miss the wedding... but this is important too."

Her voice broke slightly but she kept going, her conviction shining through.

"It's not just our company at stake," she continued. "So many employees depend on these projects. Families run because of the jobs our company provides. If we let the branch fall apart or leave a major project incomplete, it won't hurt only us. It will hurt them. We can survive a loss... but they cannot. We cannot let that happen."

Mrs. Verma's eyes softened with tears. She reached out, holding Aanya's hand with quiet pride.
"You're right," she whispered.

Mr. Verma leaned forward and gently held Aanya's other hand. "I am proud of you," he said, voice thick with emotion. "Go. I have full faith that you will handle everything."

Aransh wrapped his arms around his sister, pulling her into a warm hug.
"I trust my Aanu completely," he murmured. "If you work there even for a little while, I know you'll turn that branch into one of America's top companies."

Aanya laughed softly against his shoulder, touched by his confidence.

"I'm not joking," he insisted. "And... I know you want to get away from this chaos. From this pain. From the past. Maybe this is what you need. But remember—you're going only to come back."

Aanya nodded slowly, her eyes shining with a quiet strength.

For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe.

__

Present

He couldn't move. Couldn't blink. Couldn't even understand how his heart was still beating. The world dissolved around him—voices muffled, colors fading, walls tilting. Only one truth remained sharp enough to cut straight through him:

She was leaving.
She was going away from him.
Again.

Something inside him snapped—quietly, silently, but completely.

"No... no..." he whispered, breath breaking apart, "she... she can't leave... she can't..."

The words weren't words anymore—they were the fragments of a man losing the one thing he loved.

Before anyone could reach him, before a single voice could call his name, Ishaan ran—out of the room, out of the mansion, out of his own collapsing composure.

He didn't see the stairs. He didn't feel the ground beneath his feet. He only felt fear.

Raw, consuming, suffocating fear.

Fear of losing her again. Fear of repeating a wound he had never healed from.
Fear of waking up tomorrow in a world where she didn't exist within his reach anymore.

He threw himself into his car, breath shaking, vision blurring with tears he didn't even know were falling. The engine roared to life with a vicious growl, matching the chaos inside him.

Behind him, the Mehra family scrambled into their cars. Panic tightened every face. No one had ever seen Ishaan like this—not in twenty-four years of his life. Not cold. Not controlled. Not furious. But broken. Completely, terrifyingly broken.

He drove like a storm—reckless, shattered, desperate—his heart beating louder than the rushing wind. The moment he sped out of the Mehra mansion, it felt as if the world outside the windshield had turned into one long, trembling blur.

His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white—stark white—like every drop of blood had drained from them. The veins on his forearms stood out, pulsing with the frantic rhythm of his racing heart. He wasn't driving a car anymore; he was holding on to the last thin thread connecting him to her.

His breath hitched as the tires screeched against the road.

The engine roared violently, mirroring the chaos ripping through his chest.
He pressed his foot on the accelerator without thinking—without caring.
Streetlights stretched into long streaks of gold as he flew past them, each one flashing like a heartbeat collapsing into the next.

"Don't leave... please don't leave..." he whispered to no one, his voice breaking apart.

His vision blurred for a moment. It wasn't the speed. It was the tears gathering in his eyes, refusing to fall, burning instead—trapped, like everything else he felt. One tear finally escaped, sliding down the edge of his cheek and falling against his shirt. He didn't wipe it. he couldn't even move his hand. He clutched the wheel harder, as if letting go for even a second meant losing her forever.

The road curved sharply. Ishaan barely slowed. His breath shook as the car swerved, stabilizing only because instinct took over where his mind failed. His thoughts weren't thoughts anymore; they were desperate flashes—memories, fears, guilt hammering inside him in a merciless loop:

Her hurt eyes at the wedding... Her trembling voice that night...The silence she gave him the next morning...The moment she walked past him like he no longer existed...

A painful sob escaped him—raw, unfiltered, broken.

He slammed one hand against the wheel in frustration, the sound cracking through the closed car like thunder.

"Why didn't I stop her that day..."
"Why didn't I go behind her..."
"Why did I let her walk away again..."

His breath shattered with every word. Wind rushed past the half-open window, pulling at his hair, pushing against his chest—cold, sharp, almost punishing. But inside, he was burning. His heart felt too big for his ribs, too heavy for his body, too wounded to beat normally. Each beat punched against his chest like a warning—like time slipping through his fingers.

Every red light, every vehicle ahead, every second that slowed him felt like a personal attack from fate itself. He leaned forward unconsciously, shoulders tense, jaw clenched so tight it trembled. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, unblinking, desperate, frantic.

When he finally saw the Verma mansion ahead—its tall gates, the faint outline of the building glowing under the evening sky—something inside him cracked open.

Relief.
Fear.
Hope.
Panic.

Everything merged into one overwhelming force. He didn't even bother parking properly. The car jolted as he slammed the brakes, half-skidding to a stop across the driveway. The door flew open before the engine even finished whining.

Ishaan stumbled out, breath ragged, sweat dampening his temple, fingers trembling uncontrollably.

His chest tightened so painfully it almost brought him to his knees. He took one step.
Then another.

And then he ran—ran like a man trying to outrun his own breaking heart, like nothing else in the world mattered more than reaching her before she disappeared again.

The car was left crooked, door wide open, engine still running.

Inside, a quiet storm brewed—bags half-packed, suitcases open, tickets ready. In two hours, Aanya would be gone. The evening air outside held a strange heaviness, as though the sky itself knew something irreversible was about to happen.

Ishaan pushed open the main gate with so much force it rattled the metal.

"AANYA!" His voice tore through the house like lightning.

Everyone in the living room froze. Mr. Verma stood up abruptly. Mrs. Verma gasped softly. Aransh stiffened.

Ishaan's eyes darted wildly—searching, scanning, begging. She wasn't there.

"Aanya!" he screamed again, voice raw, shaking from the inside out.
"You can't leave like this... please... where are you?"

Behind him, the Mehra family rushed in, breathless and terrified. Ishaan didn't even notice them. He was too far gone. His hair was a mess, his shirt stuck to his skin with sweat, his lips trembling with every breath. His eyes were bloodshot—wide and frantic—as if he had been running for miles escaping something inside him.

He stumbled toward Mrs. Verma, grabbing her hand with fingers that felt almost ice-cold.

"A-aunty..." he whispered, unable to steady his voice, "where is she? Did—did she already leave me? No... no... she can't... she can't do this..."

His voice cracked mid-sentence, breaking like thin glass under weight.

"Please... say something..." His lower lip trembled violently. "Why isn't anyone telling me anything?"

His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths—like each inhale hurt more than the last.

"Please, Aanya..." his voice collapsed into a whisper, aching and helpless, "please come back... please... I—I'm so sorry..."

Upstairs, Aanya  hear the shouting of her name she froze. She knew that voice. She knew that desperation. It hit her before she even processed it.

Ishaan.

Her heart stopped. The dress slipped from her fingers. Her legs moved before her mind could think. She ran. Down the hallway. Down the stairs. Every step echoing the pounding of her heart. She entered the living room just as Ishaan staggered from one person to another, whispering her name, begging the universe not to take her away.

He looked like something inside him had died and was still dying.

Eyes red, chest shaking, sweat trickling down his temples, breath strangled. He wasn't the intimidating Ishaan Mehra. He wasn't the distant man she'd seen in the last month.

He was the boy she once knew—the boy who broke easily and loved deeply.

The boy who feared losing his loved one's  more than he feared anything else in the world.

Aanya stood at the edge of the living room, frozen.

She had imagined facing him one day—someday—when she was stronger, when the wounds were silent, when the ache didn't tremble under her ribs. But not like this. Not with him looking... destroyed. His back was to her. His shoulders were shaking—barely, but enough for someone who loved him to notice.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, voice barely a breath, "please... don't go..."

Those words sliced straight through her. Her lips parted, but no sound escaped. Her fingers trembled at her sides. Her chest tightened painfully. She took one small step. The floor creaked.

Ishaan froze.

He didn't turn immediately. He just stood there—perfectly still, like his body was afraid to hope... afraid that the sound he heard was just another illusion created by his bleeding heart.

Slowly... painfully... he turned. And then he saw her.

Aanya.

Standing there. Breathing. Real.

In that moment, the ground could have cracked open beneath him, and he wouldn't have noticed. A storm could have torn through the house, and he'd still be staring only at her.

His breath left him in a violent rush.

"...Aanya?"

Her name fell from his lips like a prayer—shaking, reverent, terrified.

Aanya's eyes widened. She had seen Ishaan angry, distant, cold. But this... This wasn't Ishaan Mehra. This was a man who looked like he was drowning. His eyes glistened—full of pain, regret, and a grief so deep it looked ancient. Tears clung to his lashes, unfallen, trembling with the weight of everything he had buried.

"Aanya..." he whispered again, voice cracking, "please... don't leave..."

She swallowed hard, throat burning. Her heart clenched so tightly it hurt to breathe.

"Ishaan..." she murmured softly.

Just her voice broke him. His chest shuddered. His chin quivered. His composure—something he guarded every second of his life—shattered completely. He took a step toward her. Then another. Then another. By the time he reached her, he looked like a man who had run miles barefoot through fire. He stopped just inches away, searching her face as if memorizing every inch—her eyes, her lashes, the trembling corners of her lips.

No words came out. Only a small, broken sound—like someone who had been holding his breath underwater for too long.

And then—

He pulled her into his arm. Not gently. Not politely. Not carefully. He hugged her like a drowning man clinging to the only piece of land left in the world. His arms wrapped around her with a desperate strength, holding her so tightly it was as if he feared she might disappear if he let go even for a second. His face buried itself against her neck, breath crashing in broken waves.

And then came the trembling. Not from cold. Not from weakness. But from a pain so deep it had hollowed him out for days. He held her like he needed proof she was really here. Like he needed her heartbeat against his chest to believe he hadn't lost her. Like he had been wandering blind in a storm and suddenly found home again.

The room fell utterly still. everyone gasp tear falling from their eyes. 

But Ishaan didn't notice. He wasn't hugging only girl. He was holding the girl whose silence had destroyed his sleep. The girl whose pain he couldn't forgive himself for causing. The girl he thought he might lose forever.

His voice came out fractured against her skin.

"Aanya... please..." His voice trembled so violently he could barely speak. "I can't— I can't lose you again. Not again... not like this..."please dont go too far... please."

Aanya's breath hitched. She felt his tears—hot, desperate—falling onto her skin. "I know I hurt you," he whispered, voice raw and bleeding, "I know I broke you... and I deserve every bit of pain you feel. Every tear. Every fear."

His shoulders shook.

"But please....just give me one chance to make my mistake correct....please dont leave me....i-i am so sorry -so sorry rose....please punish me i will take any punishment...but dont leave me."

Her vision blurred with tears. He lifted his head slowly, painfully, eyes red and shimmering.

"You can hate me," he whispered. "You can stay angry for as long as you want." "You can take all the time you need to heal." "I won't come near you without your permission."

He swallowed hard, breath unsteady.

"But don't leave... don't run away from me ... I-i promise i will become a man who you deserve...i will never hurt you again." please dont leave becuse of me."

Aanya's tears finally fell.

"I'm not leaving because of you," she whispered, voice thick with emotion. "I'm leaving because I don't know how to live here... without breaking every day."

Ishaan's face crumpled. Those words destroyed him. He looked like someone had reached inside his chest and crushed his heart with bare hands.

"I know..." he breathed. "I know I've made this place painful for you." "And I swear, Aanya... I swear on everything I have left... I will spend the rest of my life fixing that pain."

A sob escaped him—silent but devastating.

"But don't go away... don't let distance become another wound we can't heal."

Aanya's hands reached up—hesitant, trembling—and touched his cheeks.

He closed his eyes instantly, like her touch was the first breath after suffocating for hours.

"Rose..." he whispered, choking on emotion.

She look at him slowly, meeting him at eye level. Both broken. Both trembling. Both drowning in everything left unsaid.

"If I stay..." she whispered shakily, "it will hurt too much." It will break me."

"If you go..." Ishaan whispered back, "it will destroy me."

Silence. Trembling. A heartbeat that wasn't steady on either side. Then his voice broke entirely—

"Please don't leave me." The words slipped out of Ishaan's mouth like a dying man's plea, fragile and shattered, trembling against her shoulder. And Aanya—for the first time in weeks—didn't fight the ache inside her. She let her tears fall, openly, helplessly, like her chest had finally cracked open.

And Ishaan...The second he felt her tears against his chest, something snapped inside him.

Slowly—almost lifelessly—he loosened his grip on her. His hands slid down her arms, fingers trembling uncontrollably. His breaths came uneven, like he was fighting against his own chest.

And then, without warning—

He dropped to his knees. Right at her feet.

A collective gasp tore through the room.

Mrs. Mehra's hand flew to her mouth. Nisha flinched, eyes overflowing.
Aransh froze, stunned. Mr. and mrs verma  froze mid-step, disbelief hardening their features.

Even the staff at the door forgot how to breathe.

Aanya's eyes widened, horror and heartbreak crashing together.

But Ishaan didn't care. He didn't see the room. He didn't notice the shock. He didn't care that he was Ishaan Mehra—the man who never bowed before anyone, the man who once ruled every space he walked into. He was just a shattered husband kneeling before the woman his wife he feared losing.

His shoulders shook uncontrollably. Tears hit the floor like tiny, desperate confessions.
His voice came out strangled—broken beyond recognition.

"Please... forgive me." His hands trembled uncontrollably as he folded them together in front of her feet—begging. "Please don't leave me."

"I'm begging you... please forgive me," he whispered hoarsely, staring not at her face, but at the ground near her toes—too ashamed to look up. His voice cracked like something inside him was tearing apart. "I will do anything. Anything. Just... Just... don't leave me. Please... don't walk away from me again."

A sob escaped Aanya's chest, sharp and unprepared. She couldn't hold it—not when he was falling apart like this. She collapsed to her knees too, without thinking, without breathing, as if her body refused to let him kneel alone.  Her arms wrapped around him in instinct, pulling him tightly against her chest, as if shielding him from the world.

"I'm not leaving you, Ishaan..." Her voice trembled against his ear. "I'm not leaving forever." I'm just... going for a while."

He froze, breath caught painfully in his throat.

She cupped his face between her hands, lifting his tear-soaked eyes to hers.

"I need to heal, "I need space to breathe without breaking. I need time to remember who I was before all this pain swallowed me.""I just... need to go for a while," she whispered.
"So I can breathe without breaking. So I can heal. So I can live again."

Her voice shattered, but she kept going.

"I want to come back to you as someone whole, not someone drowning in old wounds. If I walk back into the Mehra mansion now, everything will look perfect... but nothing inside me will heal. I never got a chance to forget the pain. To let it fade."

Her thumb brushed a tear off his cheek.

"So please... let me go for a little while. So when I return, I can return with a full heart. So that when you look at me, you don't feel guilty anymore. And when I look at you, I don't see the shadows of the past."

Her voice cracked with the weight of her own truth. "We both need time, Ishaan. Time to breathe. To heal. to come over of our past. To become ourselves again."

His chest caved in as he listened, every word carving deeper into him.

Aanya continued softly, desperately: "When the right time comes, we'll meet again... as two whole people. No pain. No regret. Only us."

Tears streamed down her face as she said it.

Ishaan stared at her like a man who had lost everything and suddenly been offered a small piece of hope. "I—I'm so sorry," he choked. "I never meant to hurt you. Not even for a moment. Please... forgive me. Please... please." He broke down again, voice cracking under the weight of everything he had held inside.

Aanya gently framed his face with her palms, leaning her forehead against his. "I'm not angry with you anymore," she whispered. "I forgave you a long time ago."

The second those words touched his ears— something inside Ishaan collapsed entirely. A strangled breath escaped him, and without thinking, he pulled her into another desperate, crushing embrace—as if her forgiveness was the only thing keeping him alive.

And then...He said it. The words she once thought she had imagined. The words she believed he had whispered only in the heat of a moment that night. The words she never expected to hear again—not like this.

"I love you, Rose," he breathed against her shoulder, voice raw, trembling, terrified.

Aanya's breath caught instantly. Her entire body went still. For a moment, she forgot how to blink, how to breathe, how to exist. Was she hearing correctly? Was Ishaan Mehra—the man who always hid behind walls, behind pride, behind silence—confessing his love on his knees in front of both their families?

He pulled back just enough for his voice to reach her ear again, weak and breaking.

"I really love you, Rose," he whispered, every word shaking. "I love you so much..."I want to except you, our marriage not just out of guilt, but because  i really, really love you rose. 

She tried to look at him, tried to speak—but he hugged her tighter, almost fiercely, as if he was afraid even her reaction might shatter him. He pressed her face into his neck, hiding his own expression from the room, from her, from the fear inside him.

"Don't say anything," he whispered, voice trembling like a wounded child begging not to be abandoned. "You don't have to. I know you don't feel the same. And... it's okay." (oh only if you know ishaan) 

His arms tightened around her waist, holding her like she was the last remaining piece of his world. "My love is enough for both of us," he breathed. "Just stay with me. Stay somewhere close. I don't need you to love me back... I just need you."

Aanya's eyes burned, tears slipping down silently as his voice broke again.

"You want time?" he whispered, pulling back but keeping their foreheads touching. "Then go. I'll wait. I'll wait for you even if it takes days... months... years." His hands slid down to hold hers, trembling so badly he could barely hold on.

"But promise me one thing..." His voice cracked. "T—tell me you'll come back. Please... tell me you won't leave me forever." For a moment, everything in the room disappeared—the families, the shock, the silence. It was just him... shattered. And her... breaking.

Aanya cupped his face with trembling hands.

"Where else would I go," she whispered softly, painfully, "if not back to you?"

And Ishaan closed his eyes—because he had never felt relief, love, or heartbreak so deeply in his life. It was as if her words needed time to travel through the ruins inside him before finally reaching his heart. And when they did— Something inside him cracked wide open.

A sound escaped his lips—a soft, helpless, broken exhale... the kind a person releases only when they've been drowning for too long and suddenly taste air again. He grabbed her face with both hands, almost clumsily, almost too urgently, as if he feared she would disappear if he didn't hold on.

"Aanya..." he whispered, voice hoarse. I-i will wait...i will  wait even if you take eternity to come back to me." His thumbs brushed her cheeks, wiping tears that kept falling faster than he could erase them. "You're coming back," he whispered again, needing to hear the words in his own voice. "You'll come back to me." 

"I will," she whispered.

The two words melted something inside him. He didn't break down—he collapsed. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face against her neck, exhaling like a man who had been holding his breath for months. Aanya closed her eyes and held him just as tightly, her fingers sliding through his hair, grounding him, soothing him, steadying him.

Behind them, the room was frozen—no one dared move.

Mrs. Mehra's hand covered her mouth as silent tears rolled down her face. jiya holding her mother arm crying silently.  Aransh lowered his head, his chest tightening painfully. Nisha held Mrs. Verma's arm, both trembling from everything unfolding before them.

But Ishaan... Ishaan was lost in her. When he finally pulled back, his hands were trembling violently. "I'll fix myself," he whispered, forehead pressed to hers. "I'll fix every part of me that ever hurt you. I promise you, Rose... when you return, I'll be someone who deserves you."

Aanya shook her head gently, tears falling. "I don't need a perfect man, Ishaan," she said softly. "I just need you not to be broken." he swallowed hard, jaw tightening with the effort to stay composed.

"I'll wait," he whispered. "No matter how long it takes. I'll wait for the day you walk back through those doors."

Aanya's fingers slid down to hold his hands.

"And when I do... I want to see you smiling," she breathed. "Not carrying guilt. Not punishing yourself. Just... living."

His lips parted, pain flickering in his eyes—because she was asking him to breathe without her... even if temporarily.

"I'll try," he whispered, voice shaking. "But every moment without you is going to hurt, Aanya."

"I know," she whispered.
"Me too."

He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers, as if memorizing her presence, her breath, her warmth—something he could carry through the months or maybe years  of distance.

___

"The airport felt too bright. Too loud. Too cold. Yet inside Aanya... everything was unbearably quiet. She walked through the glass doors with her small suitcase, her family behind her—but she felt none of it. Every step felt like walking away from a piece of herself. Because she was.

Across the parking area, another car screeched to a halt. "Ishaan." He had followed her. But this time, he didn't run toward her. He walked. Slowly. As if each step hurt. As if his bones weighed more than his body could carry.

Aanya saw him approaching through the crowds—disheveled hair, red eyes, breath shaking with every exhale. She stopped walking. For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was just... silence. A silence that screamed louder than any words.

Ishaan finally stood before her—close enough to touch, yet afraid to. "Aanya..." he whispered, voice barely holding itself together.

She swallowed, her throat burning. "You came."

"I had to," he breathed. "How... how could I let you walk into an airport without seeing you one more time?" His voice broke on the last words.

Aanya looked away, tears gathering like glass behind her eyes. "I'm only going for a while, Ishaan. I told you I'll come back."

"I know," he said softly. "But knowing doesn't make it hurt any less."

Her lips trembled. His voice was barely a breath. "Tell me you're not doing this because of me. That you're not running from me."

"I'm not," she whispered. "I'm running from the past... not from you."

He closed his eyes, one tear falling despite him trying to hold it back. When he opened them again, they looked swollen, red, desperate. "Can I... walk you to the gate?" he asked, as if asking permission to breathe.

Aanya nodded.

And they walked side by side—without touching, without speaking—but every second felt like goodbye echoing off the airport walls. At the security line, Ishaan stopped. He couldn't go any further.

Aanya turned to him. And in that moment... the world around them blurred. "Ishaan..." she whispered. He shook his head quickly, like a child refusing to hear something painful. "Don't say anything yet," he murmured. "If you say goodbye... I don't think I'll survive it."

Aanya's vision blurred instantly. Her chest tightened painfully.

He came closer—not touching her, just... standing so close she could feel the tremble in his breath. "I don't know what these months or year  will do to me," he whispered. "I don't know how I'll sleep... how I'll wake up... how I'll walk through that house without you." His voice broke again. "But I promise you... I won't let the pain turn into resentment. I won't let the distance turn into silence. I'll fight every day to stay whole... so when you return, you don't find a shattered man waiting for you."

Aanya lifted her hand—hesitant, trembling—and rested it on his cheek. He closed his eyes instantly, like her touch was the only language his heart understood. "I'll miss you," she whispered.

He inhaled sharply, chest shaking. "I'll miss you more than I can ever say."

Her fingers slid down his face, memorizing the way his stubble felt against her palm—soft, warm, too familiar. Shaking, Ishaan took her hand and pressed one long, trembling kiss into her palm. Not claiming her. Not begging. Just loving.

And then—
Her boarding announcement echoed through the speakers. Aanya's breath shattered. Ishaan's eyes widened like someone had punched the air out of him. "Don't go yet," he whispered, voice cracking. "Just... one more second. Just one." he hugg her despratly."

She  clutched him instantly, arms locking across his back, holding him like he was the last breath she had left.

He buried his face in her shoulder. "If you walk away now... take my heart with you," he whispered. "Because it won't survive here without you." Aanya's tears soaked his shirt. Her hands gripped his jacket like she was afraid to let go. "I'll come back," she cried softly. "I will. I swear, Ishaan... I will come back."

Aanya had already stepped out of his arms, but Ishaan... he didn't move. His fingers remained suspended in the air, as if still holding the shape of her. His breath trembled; his shoulders shook uncontrollably. The airport lights reflected in the shimmer of his tears, turning them into tiny wounds on his face.

She took one step toward the security gate. His entire body stiffened. Another step. He swallowed hard, like every inch she moved away was tearing something out of him. By the time she reached the gate, he looked hollow—like someone had scooped out his soul and left only the shell standing. She turned back one last time... softly, gently... her eyes glistening.

That single look destroyed him. His knees nearly gave out. His lips trembled violently before the words finally escaped him—broken, fragile, almost inaudible: "Come back to me, Rose..."

Something inside her shattered instantly.

Her breath punched out of her chest. She couldn't do it—she couldn't walk away after hearing him break like that. With a strangled sob, she dropped her suitcase and ran. Ran with everything she had. People gasped, but she didn't hear them. Her world had narrowed to one man—one cry.

She threw herself into his arms with the force of someone drowning and reaching the shore.

Ishaan caught her like he had been waiting his entire life for that moment. His arms wrapped around her desperately—so tight, so trembling, as if he feared that if he loosened even a little, she would vanish in front of him. Her face buried into his neck; his breath broke against her shoulder.

For long, aching minute, neither of them spoke.

They simply held each other—two broken hearts clinging together to stay alive.

Eventually, Aanya slowly pulled back. Her hands cupped his face as she looked at him—really looked at him. The red in his eyes. The tremor in his jaw. The heartbreak carved across every line of his expression.

She rose on her toes... and pressed her lips gently, softly, tenderly against his. It wasn't a passionate kiss. It wasn't a desperate kiss. It was a goodbye kiss soaked in love, pain, and promises they weren't ready to speak.

Ishaan froze. He didn't even touch her. Didn't move. Didn't breathe. It felt like the kiss had stunned him so deeply that even his soul went still.

Aanya pulled away with a shaky breath and whispered against his lips, her voice breaking:

"Don't cry... my toothless crybaby."

She didn't wait to see his reaction. She didn't dare. If she looked at him again, her resolve would crumble completely. So she turned, grabbed her suitcase—and ran straight past the boarding gate until she disappeared from sight.

Her family waved a soft, emotional goodbye as she crossed over to the other side.

But Ishaan... Ishaan didn't move. He stood frozen in the middle of the terminal, lips still parted from the ghost of her kiss. His fingers lifted to his mouth unconsciously, as if trying to hold on to the last place she had touched. If the kiss hadn't shaken him to his bones already... That name did.

"Toothless crybaby..."

His voice cracked as he whispered into the empty air, the realization hitting him with a devastating, overwhelming sweetness:

"She... she remembers me... She knows. I am her toothless crybaby."

His voice broke completely.

"Oh Rose... how am I supposed to live without you? Please... please come back soon..."

And for the first time in his life, Ishaan Mehra let the world see him fall apart—not out of weakness, but because loving her had become the most painful, beautiful part of him.

Good days are on the way 🙂 😉
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