📍R A J A S T H A N, I N D I A

It was late evening, and the night had settled over the terrace where Arshia stood, a gentle breeze weaving through her hair as she gazed out into the darkness. From below, faint voices drifted up-lively conversations and laughter filling the air from the gathering in the living room. Her uncle had invited his friend's entire family for dinner, and their voices mingled in a familiar symphony of warmth and nostalgia.

Yet, standing alone beneath the starlit sky, Arshia felt a world apart, enveloped in her own quiet thoughts, away from the vibrant chatter below.

Arshia heard footsteps approaching from behind, but she remained still, her gaze fixed on the quiet night beyond. A deep voice broke the silence, "what are you doing here, alone?"

"Nothing," she replied, eyes still set on the distant horizon, her tone calm and unwavering.

The voice belonged to Rishabh Agarwal. With his effortless charm and presence that radiated confidence, he was everything girls dreamed of-charismatic, successful, a man whose life in London exuded sophistication. But no amount of admirers could fill the space left by the one person who never looked his way. The girl he'd longed for since his teenage years was now standing before him, distant and unseeing.

"Tumhe pata hai neeche kya baatein ho Rahi hain?" Rishabh's voice cut through the quiet after a long moment of silence.

Arshia shifted her gaze to him, a silent signal that he could continue.

"Ananya aur Aman ki shaadi ki baat chal Rahi hai..." he trailed off, watching her closely, searching for even a flicker of reaction. But her face remained impassive, eyes distant as they gazed into the night. Her silence was unbreakable, a wall that even the news of Ananya's engagement couldn't penetrate.

Her thoughts spun, piecing together the reason for tonight's gathering. So that's why this dinner was arranged... Aman's always been in love with Ananya, and they'd have no

obstacles-except Rishabh.

Rishabh wanted to marry her. Of course, she mused with a wry smile. He must have made it clear: if Aman wants Ananya, then Arshia has to agree to marry him.

Her hand drifted to the back of her neck, rubbing it as if easing away the tension of her realization. "Why, why am I so sharp? Why do I see things coming before anyone even says a word?" she muttered inwardly, a hint of frustration tingling beneath her calm.

"Tum kuch kahogi nahi?" Rishabh's voice cut through her thoughts, probing.

"Jo tum chahte ho vo hoga nahi," she replied, her tone edged with defiance.

Rishabh only smiled, undeterred by her coldness. "I'm making your life easy," he said with a calm confidence that grated against her silence. Seeing the indifference in her gaze, he leaned closer, voice lowering with pointed certainty. "Aur jiska intezaar tum kar rahi ho, vo kabhi nahi aayega."

His words lingered in the air, challenging, yet her expression remained unchanged, as if his taunt couldn't reach the depths where her secrets hid.

She kept her face stoic, betraying none of the turmoil inside, but his words struck like a blade, cutting deeper than she'd ever let him see. Hearing those words from someone else-"vo kabhi nahi aayega"-seared her heart in a way she hadn't anticipated. It was as though he'd put voice to her own unspoken fears, making them real, undeniable. The wound bled silently, yet fiercely, within her.

"We are not children anymore, Arshi. Second options should be for everyone," Rishabh pressed, his tone unyielding, as if trying to bend her will.

Her fists clenched, the urge to throw a punch and shut him up coursing through her veins. But she held it back, locking her emotions behind a veil of calm.

"Aarav nahi aayega," Rishabh's final sentence hung in the air, a cold truth that made her insides hollow.

The moon, once bright and clear, slipped behind the black clouds, as if mirroring the darkness that now consumed her heart.

Her legs felt as though they were losing their strength, threatening to give way beneath her. She wanted to sit, to collapse under the weight of his words, but she refused to show Rishabh that kind of vulnerability.

"Aarav aa... aayega," she stammered, her voice breaking like fragile glass, but she forced herself to speak with whatever strength she had left.

Her eyes burned, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. She wouldn't cry-not in front of him, not in front of anyone. But deep inside, every inch of her was screaming to let the tears flow. It was all too much, and yet, she couldn't afford to break. Not now.

"Vo nahi aayega, Arshi," he said, his words sinking into her heart like cold steel. "I know I'm hurting you, but this is the truth. I also know that you are strong enough to understand."

He left the terrace without waiting for a response, his footsteps echoing in her ears long after he was gone.

She stood there, facing the dark sky, repeating the words to herself in a quiet whisper.

"I'm strong," she repeated, her voice steady, though her heart felt far from it.

"I'm strong," she repeated again, this time with a flicker of defiance, as if trying to convince herself that the pain would somehow fade if she said it often enough.

But with each repetition, the weight of her own words grew heavier, her eyes red, and her heart shattered, unable to believe the lie she was trying to tell herself.

"I'm strong," she repeated, her voice thick with helplessness, as if the strength she tried so desperately to hold onto had slipped through her fingers, leaving her nothing but an empty shell.

She had once been strong enough to face the world, to smile through the pain, but now, standing alone in the cold night, it felt like the very core of her had been hollowed out.

She was strong enough to watch herself break and still pretend to stand ...but deep within, the cracks in her heart whispered stories of pain that no one could ever hear.

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📍M U M B A I, I N D I A

Ansh's car smoothly guided through the grand gates, entering the sprawling mansion. The towering structure stood in stark elegance white marble facade gleaming under the city lights. The vast garden surrounding the mansion was meticulously manicured, with towering trees and fountains that whispered tranquility. The mansion was a perfect blend of modern luxury and classic architecture, with floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the city's skyline. Inside, the space was bathed in soft, ambient light, exuding an aura of wealth and power that matched its owner.

He retreated to his room, the quiet solitude embracing him like an old friend. Shedding the weight of the day along with his formal attire, he changed into a comfortable set of home clothes, the fabric soft and familiar against his skin. After a lingering glance at his reflection, he ran a hand through his hair and made his way to the dining area, where a warm glow spilled over the table, inviting him to the quiet comfort of home.

The room hummed with soft laughter and gentle clinks of silverware against plates as everyone settled into their dinner. Conversation flowed around the table, stories from the day filling the air with warmth and lightness. Then, quietly, he entered. Without a word, he took his seat, his movements almost ghostly in their silence.

He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge the exchanges happening around him. Instead, he focused on his plate, eating in measured, unhurried bites, as if the world around him had faded into something distant and muted. For a moment, his presence cast a subtle chill over the table, a reminder of some unspoken weight he carried alone.

One by one, the others fell into a respectful quiet, stealing quick glances his way, their smiles dimming as they absorbed his solitude. Yet he remained undeterred, his face unreadable, intent on finishing his meal as if the food were the only constant in a world that kept shifting underfoot.

He turned to his younger brother, Riaan, his gaze steady but curious. "What's your plan after graduation?"

Riaan leaned back in his chair with a sigh, his shoulders relaxing. "I need a break."

"Break?" Maya, their cousin and Ishvik's younger sister, raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Why? You should take admission in graphic design. You've got a real knack for it."

Riaan chuckled, though he didn't seem entirely convinced. Before he could reply, Ansh's voice cut in, calm yet firm. "You can go on a vacation, but after that..." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "You either continue your studies, or you join the business."

Riaan looked at his older brother, a hint of resignation in his expression. He knew there'd be no easy way out with Ansh involved.

*Vo Ghar ka chota bacha tha aur chote bache ke dukh se kon nawakif hai*

After finishing his dinner, he rose from the table, his chair scraping faintly against the floor. Without a word, he made his way to his room, the door closing quietly behind him. Inside, the soft glow of a desk lamp illuminated the papers spread out before him. He dove into his work, fingers flying over the keyboard as he handled the day's pressing tasks with the same intensity he brought to everything else in his life.

Once the work was done, he stood up and moved toward the balcony, the night air cool against his skin. The city sprawled before him, a sea of lights twinkling like distant stars. He stood there for a long moment, phone in hand, his gaze fixed on the horizon, as if waiting for something... or someone. The phone remained silent, the quiet punctuated only by the distant hum of the city below. He glanced at it once more, his thumb hovering over the screen, but there was no call.

His breath came out slowly, a quiet frustration lingering just beneath the calm facade.

As the phone buzzed in his hand, he glanced at the screen. A message. His shoulders eased, and he exhaled a breath of quiet relief, his tense grip loosening.

His phone rang, the name Devansh flashing on the screen. He rolled his eyes, a sigh escaping him before he answered the call.

The phone barely reached his ear before Devansh's voice burst through, brimming with excitement. "Kaam kaisa laga?"

"Kaam ki baat pe aao," Ansh interrupted, his tone sharp and irritated. "Tumhari irritating awaaz sirf mai apne kaam ke liye sunn sakta hoon."

Devansh, momentarily crushed, swallowed his annoyance and launched into his plan. He explained, in elaborate detail, how he had taken steps to sabotage an employee's career on Ansh's behalf.

"Maine tweet kar diya hai-#Whistleblower," Devansh announced, almost proud of his ingenuity.

Ansh pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience wearing thin. "Isse bekar plan maine aaj tak nahi suna," he retorted flatly before ending the call without another word.

This time, Devansh didn't just crush him 100 times in his heart-he upped it to 200, and this time, it wasn't silent.

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📍M O N T M A R T R E, P A R I S

Ishvik and his friend Yash wandered through the vibrant streets of Montmartre, Paris, soaking in its artistic charm. They stopped by Place du Tertre, the bustling square known for its street artists, caricature painters, and hand readers. The air was filled with the hum of creativity, as fortune-tellers and palm readers set up small tables, offering glimpses into the future.

Yash glanced around, his eyes lighting up as he spotted a fortune-teller's table. "This place is famous for hand reading," he said with a grin. "Let's get your hand read."

Ishvik shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I don't believe in this stuff."

"Come on, man, just for fun!" Yash nudged him playfully, clearly not taking no for an answer.

The hand reader reached out, her eyes sharp and mysterious as she gently took Ishvik's hand. She studied it for a moment before looking up. "Your name?"

"Ishvik Singh Rathore" he answered, his tone flat but polite, curiosity flickering in his gaze despite his earlier reluctance.

The hand reader closed her eyes, her fingers lightly tracing the lines on Ishvik's palm. After a moment of stillness, she opened them and fixed him with a piercing gaze. "This is not the name you were given st birth, is it?"

Ishvik's brows knitted in surprise. "Yeah," he admitted cautiously.

The hand reader tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Your previous name starts with the alphabet 'A,' doesn't it?"

A flicker of disbelief crossed Ishvik's face. "Yes," he murmured, his voice barely audible, as the weight of her words settled over him.

Ishvik leaned forward slightly, curiosity piqued. "What's my next journey?" he asked, his tone light, though his passion for travel gleamed in his eyes. For him, traveling was more than a hobby-it was his escape, his sanctuary.

The hand reader's gaze deepened as she traced another line on his palm. "Love," she replied simply.

Ishvik blinked, leaning back. "What?" The disbelief in his voice was clear, as though the idea was foreign to him.

The hand reader's expression remained enigmatic, "But be careful," she warned, her voice carrying an air of mystery that left him with more questions than answers.

Ishvik shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he pulled his hand away. "This is why I don't believe in this stuff," he muttered under his breath. Without another word, he stood up and walked away, leaving the hand reader's cryptic words hanging in the air behind him.

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