Rishabh paced restlessly in his room, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. This wasn't supposed to happen now, he thought, feeling the weight of the situation. His phone rang, and he grabbed it in haste.

"Ek kaam nahi ho raha tum logo se," a voice on the other end said. Rishabh's frustration mounted as he cut the person off.

"Pagal ho! Meri kal shaadi hai, main kaise aa jaaun?" The voice persisted, and after a moment, it spoke again, "Rakho phone, sochta hun kuch."

Rishabh, in no mood for further conversation, quickly cut the call. He dropped his phone onto the bed and sank onto it, his mind still racing.

He had to fix this-he couldn't afford to lose anything. Not his company, not Arshia. After everything, after all the struggles, she was finally within his reach. He wouldn't let it slip away. Not now, not ever.

Just as he tried to steady his breath, his phone rang again. This time, it was his secretary. "Sir, the new building project we secured... the investors are pulling out. They're citing issues with the land, and some are demanding to speak directly to the company's boss. If we don't comply, they'll pull the entire investment. And not just that-they're talking about pulling out their shares as well. This could affect the whole company."

Rishabh's stomach dropped. He couldn't afford to lose this deal. His company was everything to him, but Arshia... she meant more. One more day, just one more day, he repeated to himself. After the wedding, he would be able to focus on everything else.

For now, he couldn't let this day get ruined. Tomorrow, she would be his, and nothing-no business, no issue-could take her away from him. He would find a way to fix the business, just like he would fix the rest of his life. The day after tomorrow, everything would be his, and she would be too.

---

The night was unusually silent, broken only by the low hum of the television in the living room where Rishabh sat. The glow of the screen flickered on his face as he scrolled through his phone, only to be interrupted by the butler.

"Sir, aapko kaha gaya tha Naya TV install karne ke liye."

Nodding absentmindedly, he turned on the newly mounted screen. Within moments, the breaking news banner caught his attention. His heart sank as he read the headlines flashing in bold letters-"Investors Pull Out. Shares Plummet One by One."

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" he muttered, running a hand through his hair as the realization of the crisis hit him like a storm.

His parents, who had been watching from the corner of the room, exchanged worried glances. His father remained silent, but the tension on his face spoke volumes.

Rishabh pulled out his phone and dialed his secretary immediately. His voice was sharp, commanding.

"Abhi jo bhi pehli flight hai, ticket book karo. Mujhe kal subah nikalna hai," he ordered before cutting the call abruptly.

His father, stunned, stepped closer. "Par beta, kal-"

"I'll come back and get married," Rishabh replied, already moving towards his room to pack.

She followed him, watching him hurriedly stuff his clothes into a suitcase. Her heart ached. She knew how long her son had waited for this wedding, for her. This wasn't just any marriage-it was about the love he had fought so hard for.

Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, she whispered, "Beta, kal shaadi karke chale jaana. Usse itni mushkil se paaya hai tumne."

He paused, looking at her, then held her hands firmly. His voice softened but carried unshakable resolve.

"Maa, vo ab mujhe nahi chhod sakti."

A shadow crossed his mother's face, her grip tightening on his.

"Aur agar Aarav uski zindagi me wapas aa gaya... tab bhi nahi?"

Rishabh's jaw tightened, his mother's words lingering like a haunting echo in the silence. Aarav. The name stirred something bitter inside him, but he pushed it down.

Without answering, he turned back to his half-packed suitcase, grabbing clothes with sharp, hurried movements. The zip of the bag rasped loudly as he pulled it shut, a sound as harsh as the storm building inside him.

His mother watched, hoping for a response, but he remained silent.

The weight of the past hung heavy in the air, but Rishabh refused to let it break his focus.

She can't leave me now. Not after everything.

He shoved his essentials into the side pockets, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't voice. The tension in the room thickened, yet he kept packing-faster, more determined.

His mother sighed, defeated. "Rishabh, beta-"

He cut her off, voice low but unwavering. "Maa, trust me. I'll fix everything."

And with that, he shut the suitcase with a final, decisive click.

He couldn't afford to lose the company. But tomorrow... tomorrow, he would return and make everything right. No matter what it took, he couldn't let this wedding slip through his fingers. He would fix the business situation later-Arshia, though, she had to be his. And he wouldn't let anything or anyone stand in his way.

Before heading to the airport, Rishabh made one last stop at the Solanki house. His mother had already informed them about the situation, and he needed to see Arshia before he left.

As he stood by his car, waiting, his eyes were clouded with urgency and uncertainty. The cool evening air seemed to match his state of mind. When Arshia stepped outside and saw him leaning against the car.

She walked towards him, her steps slow and measured. He extended both his hands, a silent invitation. Arshia hesitated for a moment, her thoughts swirling, before she placed her hands in his, their touch like a delicate promise.

Rishabh took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if releasing the weight of his turmoil, "Mujhe nahi pata tha ye sab ho jayega. Maine janbujh kar kuch nahi kar raha, mai majbur hun."

Arshia didn't say a word. Her voice was calm, void of sympathy or sorrow, as if she had already accepted the inevitable, "I know."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid words. He searched her face, trying to gauge her thoughts, but her eyes betrayed nothing.

Rishabh, his tone firm yet uncertain, looked at her as if trying to convince both her and himself, "Hum shaadi karenge."

He wasn't sure if the words were meant to reassure Arshia or if he was just desperately trying to convince himself. Regardless, they hung in the air, a fragile promise, before he finally turned away, heading towards the airport.

---

The wedding day had arrived, and the atmosphere was alive with excitement, laughter, and the constant hum of gossip. Aman and Ananya's wedding was a grand affair, and every relative seemed to have something to talk about. Whispers about Rishabh and Arshia were spreading through the crowd like wildfire. Everyone knew the situation, but it was far more entertaining for people to weave their own stories and make their own assumptions.

Arshia, as always, remained unaffected. She had learned long ago that people would talk, no matter what. The absence of Aarav didn't surprise her; it was almost expected. But now, with Rishabh's sudden departure, the gossip had intensified. Yet, she kept her head high, unaffected by the murmurs that surrounded her.

The guests couldn't help themselves-whether it was about Aarav's absence or Rishabh's abrupt departure, they seemed to find joy in creating stories. But Arshia was a quiet observer. She had been through much worse, and this was just noise to her now. No matter what they said, it didn't change her reality.

She walked through the hall, unbothered by the stares and whispers. In a way, she had become numb to it all. She knew that her life would go on, no matter what anyone else believed. The rumors would fade, and so would the attention. But for now, they were just background noise to a day that was supposed to be about Ananya's happiness. And that was all that mattered.

---

After three or four days, the relatives dispersed, returning to their homes, and the Solanki house began to feel quieter. The chaos of the wedding had settled, leaving behind an emptiness that made Arshia's decision feel even more definitive.

She approached her uncle that evening, her voice steady but her words resolute, "I'm going to Mumbai tomorrow." The plan had always been for her to leave after the wedding, and her ticket had already been booked. Her bags were packed, neatly placed in her room, waiting for the morning.

The next day, Ananya and Aman insisted on dropping her off at the airport. As they stood in the departure area, the reality of her leaving sank in. Ananya hugged her tightly, her eyes glistening with tears she was trying hard to hold back.

"You better call me everyday," Ananya whispered, her voice breaking. "I'll miss you so much."

Arshia smiled faintly, patting her back, "I will. Take care of yourself and keep Aman in check."

Aman chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't worry. I'm in good hands."

"Tumhe kisi bhi cheez ki zarurat ho, mujhe call karna," Aman spoke, his tone unusually soft and sincere. It was the first time he'd said something like this to her. Normally, their conversations were brief-occasional inquiries about her studies or polite exchanges about his work. Nothing more, nothing less.

Arshia raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Apni biwi ke aage caring ban rahe ho?" she teased, trying to lighten the moment.

Aman gave her a small, exasperated smile, shaking his head. "Maine tumhara bada bhai hoon, cousin brother hi sahi. Koi bhi problem ho, call karna mujhe," he repeated, his gaze steady and full of genuine concern.

The words caught her off guard, and for a moment, she felt a warmth she hadn't expected. Aman had always been reserved with her, but today, she could sense something deeper-an unspoken promise that he would always be there if she needed him.

She nodded, her teasing demeanor softening. "Pata hai." she replied lightly, trying to brush off the emotional weight of the moment. But deep down, she appreciated the gesture more than she let on.

But even he couldn't hide the tinge of sadness in his eyes as he looked at Arshia. They had all been through so much together, and her leaving felt like the end of an era.

As Arshia walked toward the security check, she turned back one last time to wave at them. Ananya's tears had finally spilled over, and Aman was holding her, trying to console her. Arshia took a deep breath and walked forward, her heart heavy but her mind determined. Mumbai awaited her-a new beginning, a new chapter.

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📍M U M B A I

Rathore Mansion

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across the sprawling lawn of the Rathore mansion. Dadu sat quietly in his wheelchair in the yard, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves around him. His eyes held a faraway sadness, as though burdened by memories he couldn't escape.

Ansh approached silently, dropping to the ground beside his grandfather, resting his arms on his knees. The silence between them felt heavier than words.

After a long pause, Dadu finally broke it.

"Tum usse maaf kyu nahi kar dete," his voice gentle yet probing.

Ansh's gaze remained fixed on the grass, fingers digging into the soft soil. His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"Yeh mere bas me nahi hai, Dadu."

Dadu shook his head, the disappointment evident in his wrinkled face. "Tum aise toh nahi the."

A bitter smile touched Ansh's lips, void of warmth.

"Waqt ne bana diya."

Dadu exhaled deeply, his frail hands clutching the armrest of the wheelchair as he stared at his grandson.

"Jo tumhare saath hua... wahi tum uske saath kar rahe ho."

Ansh's head snapped up, eyes narrowing.

"Dadu, main ky kar raha hun? Maine usse freedom di hui hai! Kahin bhi jaane ki, kuch bhi karne ki. Maine padhaai ke saath job karke sab ki responsibility uthayi hai... aur aap kehte hai mai-"

"Mai Ishvik ki baat nahi kar raha."

Silence.

Ansh's breath caught, his throat tightening painfully. His face paled as if the words had physically struck him.

He stood up abruptly, just like he always did when this topic came up-running from it, from the memories he refused to face.

Dadu, however, didn't stop. His voice followed him, quieter but cutting deeper.

"Tum aise toh nahi the, Aarav..."

Ansh halted mid-step. His entire body went rigid.

Aarav.

The name echoed through his mind, sharp and relentless, dragging him back to the very wound he had buried for so long.

Yes. Aarav.

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