She picked up the call, her fingers trembling slightly, and heard a deep, weighted voice resonate through the receiver, "Hello."

Arshia placed a hand over her chest as though steadying her heart. She had waited years to hear that voice. Standing there with the phone pressed to her ear, the moonlight poured over her, casting her in silver hues. Yet, no words formed on her lips. From the other end, the voice kept calling out, "Hello, Hello," but she remained frozen.

This conversation had been postponed for far too long.

What would be its outcome? Would it soothe her soul or leave a bitter poison in her throat?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a single word escaped her lips, "Aarav."

It wasn't just a name-it was a longing, a cry. She closed her eyes, her heart aching, and whispered again, "Aarav."

She wanted to feel the weight of this moment, to let the reality sink in that she was finally speaking to him, "Itne saal maine tumhara intezar kiya hai," she began, her voice thick with suppressed emotions.

From the other side, someone tried to speak, but she interrupted, her voice firm yet breaking, "Shh, aaj mujhe bol lene do."

Her throat tightened as she spoke, her pain barely contained, "Tum shuru se mera comfort the, fir tumhare naam itni aadat ho gayi ki ab chhut nahi rahi."

Silence followed her words, but she continued, "Maine tumhara intezar kiya hai, Aarav..."

The other side began to say something, but she cut in sharply, "Chup raho kaha na, itne saal maine suna hai, ab tum sunoge."

Her voice softened as she let herself fall into the memories, "Jab mujhe bachpan me chot lagti thi, mamma kehti thi roogi toh Aarav tumse baat nahi karega. Dekho, itne saal maine kabhi tumhe roo kar nahi bulaya. Mai tumhare naam ke sath used to ho gayi hoon. Mera naam aayega toh tumhara naam zarur aayega. Tum mera comfort ban gaye ho; baaki sab mujhe uncomfortable karte hai."

She paused, choking back her tears, before adding, "Maine itne saal tumse wafadari ki hai."

Both sides of the call fell silent, as though even the moonlight hesitated, waiting for one of them to speak.

"Aa jao, Aarav," she whispered finally. Arshia had never called anyone like this before. She had always been detached, indifferent to the world around her, "I'm waiting for you."

"Tumhari awaaz bohot khubsurat hai," came Aarav's response, his voice low and deliberate.

And then, after a pause, he asked, "Tum kon ho?"

Her eyes squeezed shut, tears slipping through as though her very soul were leaking through the cracks, "Wahi jo kabhi tumhari bohot achi dost thi aur..."

"Mai kyun aaun?" he interrupted, his voice hard now, "Tumhe mujhe se mohabbat hai?"

"Haan," she admitted, her voice trembling yet resolute. "Mere liye duniya me koi bhi Aarav nahi ban sakta. Maine 12 saal tumhara intezar kiya hai, 12 saal aur kar sakti hoon. But tum aao, mere liye aao."

There was a pause on the line, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the silence.

"Mai tumhare shehar aa raha tha, tumhare liye," Aarav said finally, his voice layered with a complexity she couldn't decipher. "Maine kabhi tumhe disowned nahi kiya. Tum meri ho, hamesha meri rahogi."

She held her breath, the tears cascading freely now as his words washed over her.

But then, his tone shifted, colder, heavier. "Ek baar maine tumhari wajah se apni family khoyi thi. Dubara nahi kho sakta. Mai tumhare liye apni family ko nahi chhod sakta, kyunki tumse Jo rishta hai usme mohabbat nhi... nafrat hai."

His words cut through her like shards of glass, and before she could respond, he added with a finality that stole the air from her lungs, "Aarav tumhare liye kabhi nahi aayega."

People had always told her he wouldn't come. She had always dismissed them. But now, he had said it himself. What could she say to them now?

Aarav... Aarav had broken her once again. Aarav had left her in tears once more.

She raised the phone with one hand, muffling her sobs with the other, but her quiet, hiccuping cries still reached the other end. For a long time, she wept, and he listened.

At last, she spoke, her voice stripped of sorrow, stripped of warmth-just empty. "Maine saari zindagi tumse wafa nibhayi." Her eyes, red-rimmed and raw, stared into nothing. "Tumhara naam suna, apna samjha. Tumhe nahi dekha toh kisi ko nahi dekha. Tumhe nahi suna toh kisi ko nahi suna."

She paused, her breath shallow, her heart hollow. "Lekin tum... Tumne Mera dil today hai. Ab mujhe mohabbat ka toh pta nhi lekin tumse nafrat jarur hai."

The silence lingered, and then the call was cut from the other side. She placed the receiver back in its cradle with a slow, deliberate motion.

Her heart felt like it had stopped; it was as though her body had forgotten how to breathe. It wasn't just her voice that had gone silent-it was her very soul.

Vo jo beniyaj sa ho gaya,

Vo jo ek raaj sa ho gaya,

Jise kuch garj hi nahi rahi,

Usse dashte har sawal kiya.

Ananya found her in the dim corner of the house, her face pale, eyes hollow. She didn't need to ask what had happened-she knew. But what could she do?

"Arshi..." Ananya's voice was soft, careful.

"Mai thodi der me aa rahi hoon," Arshia whispered, her voice lifeless, not meeting her friend's gaze. Without waiting for a response, she turned and climbed the stairs to her room.

Ananya followed her, concern etched across her face. She watched as Arshia went into the bathroom, the sound of running water echoing through the quiet space.

Ananya sat on the edge of the bed, waiting.

When Arshia emerged, her face was freshly washed, but the redness in her eyes betrayed her. Ananya stood and approached her, "mai touch-up kar doon?" she offered gently.

Arshia didn't respond. She simply walked to the dressing table and sat down, staring at her reflection as if she didn't recognize the person in the mirror.

Ananya began her work in silence, dabbing concealer over the evidence of tears, brushing powder across her face, adding the faintest hint of color to her cheeks. It was mechanical, an effort to put on a mask, to hide what lay beneath.

When Ananya was done, she held out her hand, "chalo."

Arshia followed without a word, allowing herself to be led to the lawn.

The engagement ceremony was in full swing. The lawn was alive with laughter and music, shimmering under the glow of fairy lights. Ananya guided Arshia to a seat next to Rishabh before quietly slipping away to find Aman.

Arshia sat there, her body present but her mind somewhere else entirely. She couldn't hear the music, the chatter, or the clinking of glasses. If Ananya hadn't dragged her here, she would still be sitting upstairs, lost in the echo of that call.

The crowd gathered around Arshia and Rishabh, the air buzzing with excitement.

(Vo nahi aayega)

The words rang in her mind like a haunting melody, drowning out everything around her.

Rishabh smiled and gently slipped the ring onto her finger. The crowd erupted in applause.

(Aarav tumhare liye kabhi nahi aayega)

Naina took Arshia's hand and extended it toward Rishabh, motioning for him to put the ring on her finger.

(Kyuki tumse jo rishta hai, vo nafrat ka hai)

Rishabh's hand met hers, steady and warm, as he slid the ring onto her trembling finger.

(Aarav tumhare liye kabhi nahi aayega)

The applause grew louder, a deafening roar in her ears.

People moved away, laughing and congratulating each other, heading toward Aman and Ananya, leaving Arshia and Rishabh sitting there.

Arshia felt detached from her surroundings, her vision blurring as those words continued to echo in her mind, louder and louder, until they were all she could hear.

(Vo nahi aayega... Aarav tumhare liye kabhi nahi aayega)

Arshia couldn't remember how long she had been sitting in that chair, surrounded by the buzz of celebration, the clinking glasses, the loud congratulations. Everything felt like a blur-faces, voices, even the ring now weighing on her finger.

The next thing she knew, she was in her room. How she got there, she didn't know. Her legs must have moved of their own accord, her body functioning like a machine, disconnected from her mind.

Now, she sat on the cold floor of her balcony, the lehenga pooling around her. The chill of the tiles seeped through the fabric, but she didn't feel it. The world outside was quiet, save for the faint sound of laughter and music from the lawn below. The stars above seemed so distant, just like everything else.

Her fingers unconsciously traced the lines of her palm, where the faint imprint of the ring sat heavy. It felt foreign, like it didn't belong to her.

Her eyes drifted toward the sky, glazed and unfocused. The weight of the night pressed down on her, suffocating and unrelenting.

She had been here for hours-or was it minutes? Time had lost its meaning. The only thing anchoring her was the echo of that voice on the phone, cutting through her like shards of glass.

(Aarav tumhare liye kabhi nahi aayega)

A shiver ran through her, but she didn't move. She just sat there, letting the emptiness consume her.

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