Jayant

The next morning was no different.

Alisha’s words from the airport echoed in my head like a chant I couldn’t shut off.

"The love you give me isn’t the love I want..."
"What I want—you can’t give."

What did she want? And why couldn’t I be enough for her?

These thoughts gnawed at me. So much so, I hadn’t even called Shreya to check if she’d gotten home safely last night. After leaving her on that empty road like an afterthought—I had no right to.

So, the first thing I did after reaching the office was call her to my cabin.

She walked in slowly, her eyes calm but cold.

I stood up. “Shreya… I wanted to talk about yesterday,” I began. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you. I shouldn’t have left like that, I—”

Before I could finish, she reached for the glass vase on the side table.
And let it fall.

The sound of glass shattering split the air like a gunshot.

“Sorry,” she said, But her voice didn’t match the apology.

Before I could respond, Vijay burst in. "Sir? Ma’am? Everything okay?"

I waved him off. “Yes, Vijay. It's fine. Just... go.”

He hesitated, glanced at the shards on the floor, then nodded and left.

I turned back to her. “Shreya, are you angry with me?”

“No,” she said, arms folded. She pointed to the shattered vase. “Some things… once broken, don’t go back the way they were. You can glue the pieces—but the cracks stay. They always stay.”

Her voice was calm. But her eyes—those eyes were a storm.

I stepped closer, trying to meet her gaze.

“What are you trying to say, Shreya?”

“I’m saying… yesterday, you didn’t just leave me on the road. You left something behind. Whatever we had—it cracked,” she said. Then she added with finality, “It’s over now.”

Over.

That word again.
The same one Alisha had walked away with.

Why was everything falling apart in twenty-four hours?

Alisha left with silence.
Shreya stood here with glass at her feet and finality in her voice.

I felt my head pound. My temples ached like they couldn’t hold one more emotion.

I dropped into my chair, clutching my head with both hands. “Enough,” I muttered.

Shreya looked at me, confused. “You’re not going to say anything?”

“What do you want me to say, Shreya?” I asked, my voice rising, exasperated. “Tell me what you want to hear—I’ll say it. Word for word.”

She stared at me.

And then, almost in a whisper, she said,
“Just don’t treat me like that again, Jayant. Like I didn’t matter. Like I was some background scene in your chaos. Prioritise me. Value me.”

I repeated her words back to her—not mockingly, but like I was trying to understand them aloud. Like I needed them to echo inside my own head before I could believe them.

“Don’t treat me like I didn’t matter… prioritise me…”

She blinked.

“Are you mocking me?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I’m trying to remember it.”

She stared at me—really looked at me. And for the first time, I think she saw the cracks in me too.

She stormed out.

And I... just sat there. Frozen.

Not in anger. Not in guilt.
Just the kind of silence that comes when your mind is too loud to think and your heart is too tired to feel.

And somewhere in my mind, a voice whispered—

"You’re losing everyone, Jayant. And this time… you can’t even blame them."

I found myself on the terrace, leaning against the railing, the wind harsh against my skin. My hands trembled slightly as I lit a cigarette—like I needed to feel something burning to match what was happening inside.

The first drag was bitter. The second—comforting.

Maybe this was the only kind of damage I had control over.

I wasn’t angry.
Just… defeated.

Lost.

Broken in ways I didn’t know how to fix.

I didn’t hear her footsteps until she was already there.

Shreya.

She paused a few feet away, and I instinctively looked down—guilty. Normally, I’d toss the cigarette away whenever any woman came near to me, i don't want to make them uncomfortable, But today… I didn’t.

Maybe I didn’t want to.

Maybe I wanted her to see the version of me that wasn’t polished. The one that bled quietly.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just pointed toward the nearby “No Smoking” sign.

No words. Just that little gesture of hers.

I looked away. Stared at the sky instead.

“You smoke?” she asked, her voice soft but firm. “I’ve never seen you.”

“Rarely i do, First in two months,” I said, my voice flat. “Today just… needed it.”

She stood at a distance. Probably trying to avoid the smell. Or maybe the version of me she wasn’t used to seeing.

“Rough day?” she asked.

I chuckled under my breath. “Wouldn’t you say so? You ended everything before it even had the chance to begin.”

There was a smile on my face, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

She looked at me for a second, then stepped forward—close enough now that I could see the seriousness in her eyes.

“If I was upset,” she said gently, “shouldn’t you have tried to make it right?”

Before I could react, she leaned down, plucked the cigarette from my fingers, and crushed it beneath her heel without hesitation.

Then she turned to walk away.

“Kind of hard to make things right when you declared it was over before I even got the chance,” I called after her.

She paused. Turned back just slightly—just enough for me to catch the smile tugging at her lips.

“Then restart it,” she said. “Who said we can't begin again?”

I sighed, a half-smile forming on my face. “I’m not great at apologizing, you know.”

“Well then,” she said, eyes twinkling, “you better start practicing. Because convincing me? That’s going to take effort.”

And with that, she left—leaving behind a crushed cigarette, the faint scent of resolve in the air, and the first spark of something... not broken.
___________________________

On my way to the meeting room, my mind wasn’t on work.

It was on her.

How do I win Shreya back? What would even count as an apology in her world? Words? Actions? Time?

I didn’t know.

As I stepped inside, both Shreya facing the large screen with her laptop open, sketches scattered around. and Kabir were already there—seated across the oval table, a 3D dome structure projected on the screen behind them. They both greeted me politely. Professionally.

No traces of last night.
No tension on the surface.

But I could feel it in the air.

Shreya’s voice was professional. Polished. Like she hadn’t told me yesterday that I broke something between us.

The dome design was up for discussion, and Kabir, our structural engineer, was running through its feasibility.

After a detailed breakdown, Kabir spoke plainly, without sugarcoating anything.

“Sir, I’ve gone through everything. According to Shreya’s current design, the structure just isn’t feasible. If we try to make it work—maybe—it might stand. But I can’t guarantee its longevity. The aesthetics might hold, but the dome’s integrity won’t.”

"It was beautiful.
But beauty alone doesn’t hold weight."

I turned to Shreya.

She was already prepared to defend it.

“I’m not compromising the design,” she said calmly. “It’s the soul of the entire concept."

Kabir sighed, not out of frustration, but inevitability. “The design’s aesthetic is brilliant, no doubt. But structurally? It’s flawed. The load won’t hold with this geometry..I’ve explained all the technical limitations. And You’re asking the design to defy gravity for the sake of beauty.”

Shreya’s voice didn’t waver. “Then maybe we need smarter solutions—not a safer design.”

Kabir tried again. “I’ve already run the simulations. Structurally, this isn’t viable without changing the form.”

I knew he was right. The numbers were right.
But what she was protecting wasn’t just a sketch on a screen. It was her integrity. Her belief that art mattered.

I could feel the tension climbing the walls. I understood both sides. I understood her passion. I admired it even. But at that moment—I wasn't just her colleague.
But I was the project lead.

And in that moment, I made a decision that felt like betrayal even as it left my mouth.

So I took a breath. And in a voice colder than I intended, I said, “Shreya, change the design.”

She looked at me. Silent. Eyes locked on mine. Hurt blooming slowly behind the mask of professionalism.

“But—” she began.

I didn’t let her finish.

“What’s the point of an aesthetic dome that collapses in a year? I need results that last, not ones that look pretty in presentations.”

My words weren’t loud. But they cut deep.

Shreya blinked once. Took it in. And then gave a single, slow nod.

“Noted,” she said quietly. “I’ll make the changes.”

And just like that, the fire in her dimmed.

She wasn’t defeated. She wasn’t broken. But something in her shifted—like she'd silently removed herself from the room, even though her body was still there.

We moved on with the rest of the meeting, but I wasn’t listening anymore.

I had won the argument.

But somehow… I had lost something else entirely.
___________________

The meeting was over. Kabir had already left.

Only Shreya and I remained, caught in the thick tension left behind. I walked out first, needing space—needing to figure out how the hell to make things right with her.

But I didn’t get far.

Because right outside, talking to one of our employees, was her.

The girl from the jewellery showroom.
The one who had stood beside Shreya’s ex like a future he never deserved.
The one who had ripped Shreya apart—at least in her memory.

And now… she was here.

My eyes widened in disbelief. “What the hell is she doing here?”
Why is she here? How did she even find us?

And then it hit me.

Damn it.
The showroom.
I had shouted Shreya’s name. Shreya Murty. With my name.

I closed my eyes, furious at myself.

She was talking to one of our staff members, her eyes scanning the area nervously. I saw her lips move—she was asking for Shreya.

Shreya.

No. Hell no.

I turned just in time to see Shreya stepping out of the meeting room.

Without thinking, I reached back and slammed the door shut—locking her inside.

Click.

“What the—Jayant!” her voice rang out from behind the door, sharp and annoyed. “Did you just lock me in?!”

I didn’t answer.

“You think this is going to save you from my anger? Terrible plan, by the way!”

Her voice was laced with frustration, irritation, maybe even betrayal—and she wasn’t wrong. But I couldn’t let her see that woman. Not yet.

Not like this.

I turned toward Maya, anger tightening my jaw.
"Who the hell are you?....what are you doing here?."

She looked at me, startled. “Thank God..Jayant you. I'm maya. I just want to talk to Shreya—please, I—”

“There’s no Shreya working here,” I said coldly. "You need to leave".

The colleague beside her glanced between us, clearly confused.

“You. Get back to work,” I snapped at him. He flinched and hurried away.

“I know you and Shreya are… really close,” she began, her voice trembling, words falling over each other in a rush, like she was afraid she wouldn’t be allowed to finish.

“Nandani di told me,” she added quickly.

But I wasn’t having it.

My tone had already risen, firm and final. “Leave.”

Her eyes widened slightly at the coldness in my voice, but she pressed on, clinging to some fragile hope.

“Maybe Shreya didn’t tell you about me,” she said, breath hitching. “I’m her best friend—”

“You were,” I cut in sharply.

Her face changed. A flicker of pain flashed in her eyes, followed by a quiet kind of shock.

“So… you know?” she asked softly.

I didn’t answer that.

Instead, I stepped closer, lowering my voice but making it sharper—like ice slicing through tension.

“Now leave,” I said. “Leave her alone.”

My words rang clear in the corridor.

Around us, heads had turned. Colleagues had paused—eyes on us, like spectators unsure whether to step in or stay silent.

But I didn’t care.

All I could see was Maya’s face—cracking beneath the weight of truth, of regret, or maybe just the realization that she’d lost access to a part of Shreya forever.

And all I could feel was the fire rising in me—the one that burned to protect Shreya from anything that dared reopen the wounds she hadn’t even begun to heal.

I grabbed Maya’s hand—not gently, not harshly, just firmly enough to make it clear she wasn’t staying here another second.

“Let’s go,” I said through clenched teeth, guiding her toward the exit.

But she didn’t stop talking.

“I just need one chance,” she pleaded, her voice shaking, breaking. “Just one moment to talk to her. To clear the misunderstanding.”

I didn’t slow down.

she said quickly. “I want her to know that it wasn’t what she thinks. That I didn’t—”

“Enough, Maya.”

But she kept going, the desperation in her voice growing heavier with each word.
“She doesn’t need to forgive me,” Maya added, “but she deserves to know the truth. Or else she’ll keep living in the hurt.”

And just like that—my feet stopped.

Her words didn’t ask for sympathy.

They asked for sense.

For the first time, I wasn’t looking at the girl who shattered Shreya—I was looking at a girl who had been shattered too, standing in the wreckage of silence and assumption, trying to salvage something before it was too late.

My grip on her wrist loosened. My mind ran in two directions.

I hated the idea of opening that wound for Shreya.

But I hated more the idea that she’d live her life blaming herself for something that wasn’t even real.

And maybe—just maybe—Maya was right.

If Maya had really cheated…

If she had truly broken Shreya the way Shreya believed—

Then why would she keep coming back?

Why would she stand there, vulnerable and exposed, asking for nothing but a chance to be heard?

Guilt doesn’t chase this long. Lies don’t wear this much exhaustion.

And as much as I hated to admit it… she didn’t look like the villain anymore.

I looked at her again, her breath still uneven, her eyes still glistening from the weight of something she hadn’t yet let go.

If this pain wasn’t hers to begin with, then maybe—just maybe—Shreya had been carrying the wrong story all this time.

I thought of Shreya at the jewellery store—how she froze. How the happiness in someone else’s smile ripped her open like it was a crime.

I had to end this. Not for Maya. But for her. For Shreya.

So I sighed, steadying myself, and stepped aside.

“Come with me,” I said, this time not as a command, but as something closer to surrender.

Maya blinked, surprised.

“To my cabin,” I added. “If you really want to talk… I want to hear everything. From the beginning.”

She nodded—grateful, relieved—but quiet. No victory in her face. Just… hope.

As we walked side by side through the hallway, I could feel the stares. A moment ago, everyone had seen me nearly throw her out. Now I was walking her back in, like an ally.

Judgment was instant.

I opened the door to my cabin and let her in.

Not for her redemption.
Not for drama.
Not even for closure.

But for clarity.

Because Shreya deserved that.

Even if it meant unlearning everything she believed about her own heartbreak.
________________

Hours had passed since I had walked Maya to the door of truth—and locked Shreya away from it.

And now, she was back.

The door to my cabin creaked open. Shreya walked in, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—but the fire in them was more playful than furious.

“Mr. Jayant Patil, do you think this office is your personal playground?” she snapped. “I was angry and you locked me in! Are you five?”

I didn’t even lift my head fully—just glanced up, calmly.

“Sorry, Miss Murty,” I said, deliberately plain.

Her mouth fell open. “That’s it? A plain ‘sorry’? Seriously, is that all you know? Have you never had to apologize to a woman before?”

I laughed quietly.

“You really are impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head.

But her expression had already softened.

“Shreya,” I said, leaning forward a little, “be ready this evening. Wear something nice. We’re going out.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You mean… a date?”

“Something like that,” I said with a small smile.

She didn’t respond immediately. Just stood there for a second—then the corners of her lips curved into the kind of smile that made the whole room feel lighter. Whatever anger she’d been holding since morning vanished the moment she heard the word date.

And for a second, I forgot everything else too.
__________________

That evening, I had a small box delivered to her, wrapped with deep maroon paper and a note signed only:
—J

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a charm shaped like an architect’s compass. I had it picked just for her.

From across the hallway, I saw her receive it. She didn’t say much. But she looked toward my cabin from a distance and mouthed a simple: “Thank you.”

And then she smiled.

Not just with her lips—but with her eyes.
But tonight wasn’t only about dinner.
Something else was going to happen.
And I needed Shreya to be strong.
________________

She stepped into my cabin just before leaving. bracelet already wrapped around her wrist like it belonged there.

“You’re not dropping me today?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“No,” I said gently. “Today, I’ll be picking you up.”

She tilted her head, confused.

“You take my car,” I said, tossing her the keys. “The driver will drop you home. Be ready by 7. I’ll come get you from there.”

She looked at me, puzzled. “What’s going on with you today?”

I gave her a half-smile. “Just be ready.”

She held the keys and walked out, humming to herself.

The moment the door shut behind her, I leaned back in my chair and exhaled slowly.

God, what am I doing?

My hands trembled slightly as I ran a palm over my face.

What I was about to do—revealing the truth, showing her a past she had buried—it wasn’t something I could undo.

I hadn’t asked her permission.
I had taken the decision alone.
For her.

But was that fair?

I wasn’t sure. All I knew was—if she kept living in that lie, she would never heal.
________________

At home, I stood in front of the mirror, buttoning my shirt, but my mind was far from calm.

It kept replaying everything.

Shreya’s trembling lips when she kissed me that night—not out of passion, but out of pain. That was my first kiss. Not a romantic fantasy… but a moment heavy with silence and ache.

I remembered the jewellery store. How she froze when she saw them. Her eyes. Her breath. How she stood there like a part of her still hadn’t moved on.

And here I was… about to dig that wound wide open.

What if I ruined everything?

What if she never forgave me?

Once ready, I picked up my phone and hesitated for a moment before texting Alisha:
“Wish me luck. I’m about to do something… really difficult.”

Her reply came after a pause.
“All the best.”

That was it.

No follow-up. No concern. No softness.

I stared at the screen a second longer than I should have.

Maybe I was expecting more. Maybe I shouldn’t have.
________________________

When I reached Shreya’s place, she was already waiting downstairs.

And then—
She stepped into view.

Red bodycon dress. Hair cascading down her back. That bold red lipstick that turned her softness into something fierce. Confident. Alive.

For a moment, I forgot what words even were.

She opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, catching me off-guard with a playful smirk.

“Are you just going to stare with your eyes wide open,” she said teasingly, “or do I get a compliment too?”

I blinked, fumbling like a fool. “You look… beautiful...breathtaking. I mean—gorgeous.”

“Thank you, thank you,” she grinned, clearly enjoying the effect.

We drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and just when I thought maybe tonight could begin softly, she dropped the question.

“I heard a girl came to the office today,” she said casually, too casually. “And that you two had… a bit of a argument?”
She didn’t look directly at me—just played with the bracelet on her wrist.

My grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Who told you that?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even.

“that not answer.. Was it Alisha?” she asked suddenly, turning to face the window, like she didn’t want to meet my eyes.

I let out a breath—half a laugh, half a sigh. “You’ll have to meet Alisha someday,” I said.

“I will,” she replied quietly. “I definitely will.”

And then she fell silent, her gaze fixed out the window as the city lights flickered past her reflection.

The silence in the car had stretched long enough.

I glanced at her, trying to lift the heaviness between us with something light.

“I’m hoping,” I said, half-smirking, “tonight will be the night I get my second kiss.”

Shreya turned her head sharply, eyes wide with mock surprise. “Wait… that was your first?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, trying to sound casual. “The one you ruined, by the way.”

She raised an eyebrow and scoffed playfully. “Ruined? Please. You should be grateful it even happened.”

I chuckled. “Oh, believe me, I’m thankful. I just expected it to be a little more… romantic. Less… emotionally catastrophic.”

She laughed at that—genuine, warm.

For a moment, things felt easy again.

But then came a pause.

A shift.

“I still can’t believe it though,” she said softly, almost to herself. “You’ve never had a relationship before?”

I shrugged, trying to mask the truth with humor. “You had, right?” I said too quickly—too carelessly.

The name Rishabh buzzed unspoken between us like static.

I wanted to take the words back the second they left my mouth.

But Shreya didn’t flinch. She didn’t look hurt. Just a little amused.

“Yes,” she replied calmly. “I’ve had… a few.”

That made me snap to attention.

“A few?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light, but my curiosity—maybe even jealousy—slipped through.

She turned to me with a teasing smirk. “What, you want an exact number? Should I list them alphabetically?”

I groaned. “No, thanks. Not interested.”

We both laughed, but somewhere beneath the smiles, I could still feel the weight of everything unsaid.

Because tonight wasn’t just about dinner or flirting or second kisses.

Tonight was about truth.

We kept driving forward, both of us dressed for a date…

Heading gently, unknowingly, toward a storm neither of us was truly ready for.
_________°•°_______

We were just stepping into the restaurant.

Shreya’s hand was laced with mine—warm, trusting, unaware.

The place was silent.

Empty.

She paused at the entrance, surprised. “It’s... all empty?”

I nodded. “Booked it. For us.”

She turned to me, her smile softening, like she wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or overwhelmed.

And then she started speaking—half laughing, half confessing.

“You know,” she said, “I have so many reasons to be mad at you. So many. For leaving me on that road… for locking me in that room… for showing up when I didn’t ask you to. But somehow—somehow, without even trying—you make me forget every one of them.”

She looked at me then, truly looked—eyes open, vulnerable.

“I should’ve stayed angry. But I didn’t. I just… didn’t want to.”

And then she stopped.
Mid-sentence.
Mid-smile.

Because her eyes had landed on the table across the room.

The one where they were seated.

Maya and Rishabh.

Shreya’s expression crumbled.

Like something inside her shattered into shards of disbelief and betrayal.

She let go of my hand, sharply, instinctively. Her body went cold as she took a step back.

“Let’s go,” she whispered. “Let’s just leave. Let’s go somewhere else.”

She grabbed my wrist, already trying to turn me around.

But I didn’t move.

I stood still. Silent.

Then, without turning, I said, “I invited them.”

And just like that—she froze.
The blood drained from her face.

Her fingers slowly slipped from my wrist like she was touching fire.

She stared at me. Empty. Hurt. Not even angry—just… broken.

And then, without a word, she turned.

And walked away.
Sometimes, the only way out of a wound is to walk right into it.
And I was hoping… she’d choose to turn back.
Even if it meant walking through hell to do it.
But she didn’t turn back.

She kept walking away from me… from the table… from her past.

And maybe from us.

So I followed.

“Shreya,” I called, catching up to her in the hallway just outside the restaurant doors.

She didn’t slow down.

I reached for her wrist, gently grabbing hold of her hand, stopping her mid-step.

“Just listen,” I said softly. “Please. Just hear what they have to say.”

She turned to me, eyes red, fury and heartbreak swimming together in them.

Her hand jerked out of mine with force, her voice almost trembling.

“Why should I? Why the hell should I listen?” she snapped. “You met with them, didn’t you? Spoke to them behind my back? What did she do—feed you some sweet apology? Did Maya manage to pull you onto her side too? Is that what this is?”

“Shreya—”

“What, Jayant?” she cut in, voice cracking. “You think I haven’t heard enough lies already? I don’t care what excuses she has. I don’t care what he has to say. I don’t want to hear it!”

She was shaking.

Not out of rage.

Out of something deeper.

The kind of ache that lives under your skin long after the wound has closed.

I took a breath. And stepped closer.

“You’re happy with me, aren’t you?” I asked, my voice quieter now. “Shreya… tell me you are.”

She didn’t answer.
Not aloud.
But her lips trembled.
Her eyes gave her away.

“Then let’s end this,” I whispered. “Let’s end what’s still haunting you. I can’t bear to see you carry this anymore.”

And slowly, I reached out again.

This time, when my hand found hers… she didn’t pull away.

I tightened my fingers around hers—not to hold her back, but to hold her up.

Then I gently led her back into the restaurant.

Step by step.

Past the flickering candles and the empty tables…

Until we were standing right in front of the two people who had once broken her.

But this time, she wasn’t alone.
This time, she was holding my hand.
And she didn’t let go.

Flashback
In jayant cabin
Maya sat silently across from me, her fingers trembling slightly as they toyed with the hem of her sleeve. She didn’t look up when she spoke. Her voice came out low… and tired.

“I wasn’t always the villain in her story,” she said, quietly, almost like she was asking me to believe that first.

Then she looked up at me, eyes glimmering with something halfway between guilt and grief.

“Shreya and I weren’t just best friends, Jayant. We were everything to each other. Since childhood. From our first scraped knees to our first crushes—we saw it all. Together. I knew her handwriting before I knew mine. She knew when I was lying just by how I blinked.”
She took a breath. The kind that fills your chest with ache before letting it out.

“It started in college. Shreya had a crush on this guy—Rishabh. He was charming, confident, and most dangerously, he was my cousin’s friend. So she came to me, smiling like a child with a secret, and said, ‘Help me… set things up with him.’ And I did. Or at least, I tried to.”

Her eyes dropped to her hands, fingers nervously tracing invisible lines on the table.

“I got close to Rishabh—only for her. I started spending time with him, trying to get him to notice Shreya. But instead... he noticed me.”

She swallowed hard.

“One day, he told me. That he liked me. That he wanted me.”

Her voice cracked for the first time.

“But I rejected him. I told him no. I told him I couldn’t… because of her. I thought that would be the end of it.”

She laughed bitterly under her breath. “I was naive.”

“Rishabh didn’t take the rejection well. He got angry—hurt. And to punish me, he did the one thing he knew would twist the knife: he went to her.”

Maya looked up at me again, eyes sharp with the memory.

“He started getting close to Shreya. Not because he liked her. But because he wanted me to feel jealous. Wanted me to regret turning him down. And it worked. God, it worked.”

She closed her eyes for a second, remembering the way everything began to spiral.

Her voice cracked. “And I did. I watched her fall for him. Fully. Blindly. She was so happy, Jayant. I’d never seen her like that before. I wanted to tell her. I tried to tell her. I told her he wasn’t what he seemed, but she didn’t want to hear it.”

“She thought I was jealous.”

A pause. Then—quieter:

“Maybe I was. Not of him—but of what they had. Or what she thought they had.
So when he proposed… she said yes.”

Maya’s hands clenched together.

“I couldn’t watch it anymore. I broke. I told Shreya not to believe him—he was using her as a pawn.”

She shook her head, eyes suddenly wet.
“But then… something worse happened.”

“She heard a different story before she could even digest mine.”

“I don’t know how or who twisted the story, but one day she confronted me in front of everyone. Accused me of stealing him. Of lying. Of betrayal.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“She said I’d always wanted him. That I pretended to be her friend while secretly being with him.”

Maya looked at me like she was still trapped in that moment.

“Rishabh, of course, couldn’t handle the drama. He love me so much that he can't watch me to get humiliated by shake of his name. He cracked. He admitted it—that he never loved Shreya. That he only got close to her to get to me. In that one moment, everything I had tried to prevent… happened. She broke.”

She blinked away tears, and her voice shrank.

“She didn’t let me explain. She didn’t want my side. She decided her truth. And in front of everyone… she cut me out.”

But by then, the damage was done. She was shattered. I was exiled. And the girl who used to sit beside me in every classroom… pretended I didn’t exist.”

Maya looked away now. “After that… the college turned on me. Rumors spread like wildfire. People whispered things in corridors, stared at me in classes. They called us the girls who shared a man.”

“I lost everything. My dignity. My best friend. And somehow, even the truth.”

She was quiet for a moment, then added, softly—

“After that, Rishabh was the only one who stood by me. He knew what had really happened. He had caused what happened. And… somewhere along the way, when we had nothing left but each other… It took me years to fall in love with him"

“I know I’m not innocent, Jayant,” she said finally. “But I didn’t cheat her. I didn’t steal anything from her. I lost her. Because she chose not to believe me.”

She sighed, like the confession had carved something out of her.

“I just want her to stop carrying this pain. Even if she never forgives me… she deserves the truth.”

Her lip quivered. “Even if she never forgives me… I just want her to stop bleeding from a wound I didn’t give her.”

Flashback ended
____________________

We were all seated at the same table—four people and a decade’s worth of unspoken words between us.

No one spoke. The silence was so thick, it felt like we were all breathing in guilt instead of air. Shreya’s hand was clasped tightly around mine, her fingers digging into my skin as if I were the only anchor holding her together.

Sensing the pressure, I whispered, “You can talk. I’ll give you space.”

I tried to get up.

But she didn’t let go. Instead, her grip tightened. I looked into her eyes—and she didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. That one look said, Please, don’t leave me alone in this.

So, I stayed.

Maya hesitated, then slid a small, white envelope across the table. A wedding card. Gold-embossed. Elegant. I watched Shreya’s throat move as she swallowed hard, holding back something that wanted to rise.

“I want my best friend at my wedding,” Maya said softly, her voice trembling despite the brave smile she wore.

My eyes were fixed only on Shreya.

But she didn’t smile back. She didn’t even blink.

Instead, her voice came out sharp and cold. “Why are you marrying him?”

The question hit the air like a slap. Maya and Rishabh exchanged confused glances. Neither had expected that.

Maya started to explain, “Shreya… the story you heard in college—it wasn’t the truth—”

But Shreya cut in, her tone laced with icy sarcasm. “But it is true now, isn’t it?”

Rishabh leaned forward, his voice laced with forced calm. “What happened back then—wasn’t Maya’s fault. In fact, she was willing to give me up. For you.”

Shreya turned her head toward Maya, arching a brow. “Oh really? In that case, let’s test it. Leave him. Right now. For me.”

There was no tremble in her voice—just challenge, and bitterness that had fermented for years.

I had never seen Shreya like this—so raw, so ruthlessly unfiltered.

Maya went silent. Her lips parted slightly, as if to respond, but nothing came out.

“I just want my best friend back,” Maya whispered.

Shreya laughed bitterly. “Best friend or boyfriend? Pick one. You can’t have both.”

“Shreya…” Maya began.

“What?” Shreya snapped, her voice rising now. “If I was angry, if I misunderstood, if I turned away—you should’ve come to me. You should’ve fought for our friendship. Not run into his arms like some tragic heroine. If he broke me—you were supposed to destroy him. Not fall in love with him.”

Maya’s eyes dropped to her lap, tears welling.

But Rishabh couldn’t stay quiet anymore. “Shreya, don’t act like you were the only one who suffered. You humiliated her in public, You spread rumors. You turned people against her. You let her face hell alone.”

He leaned in. “I stayed. When no one else did. I picked up her pieces while you were too busy sharpening your knife of vengeance. And to be honest…” His voice dropped into a low burn. “I still hate you. For every tear she cried because of you.”

“Rishabh,” Maya tried to stop him, gently tugging his sleeve.

But he wasn’t finished.

“I’m here only because she asked me to be. For her. Otherwise—”

“Otherwise what, Rishabh?” I said, cutting him off, my voice harder than I’d expected.

I hadn’t spoken in a while. But I wouldn’t stay quiet anymore.

“Want to punish her? Hurt her again? Try it. Just think about it. I dare you.”

He went quiet. The tension tightened like a noose.

I leaned forward. “I’ve been patient. But not with Shreya. Not when it comes to someone hurting her. Not again.”

The silence returned. But now, it wasn’t quiet. It was electric.

Shreya said nothing. She just sat there… staring at the wedding card.

I didn’t know what she would choose next—forgiveness, fury, or simply walking away.

But I knew one thing.

I wouldn’t be letting go of her hand.

Not this time.

I looked at Shreya. She looked at me. I said everything without speaking a word.

Forget this. Let’s just leave.

But her eyes didn’t soften. Her jaw clenched, and her voice—when it finally came—was sharp and devoid of warmth.

“Fine. I’ll come to the wedding.”

She stood up without waiting for a response. That one sentence held no peace, no closure—only cold compliance.

I followed her lead, rising too, unsure whether to pull her back or let her go. But before either of us could move farther, Maya reached out and grabbed Shreya’s wrist.

“Shreya,” she said, her voice quivering, “I love Rishabh, I do. But I still haven’t forgiven myself for losing you because of him.”

Shreya turned slightly, her posture tense, her face unreadable.

“Our wedding is happening,” Maya continued, eyes beginning to shimmer, “but I can't walk into that new life carrying this old guilt. I don’t want just a friend back—I want you. My Shreya. The girl who was more than family to me.”

Shreya didn’t say a word. Not at first. Her silence was louder than anything spoken. I reached out instinctively, ready to gently free her from Maya’s grasp—but she stopped me. Her hand brushed mine lightly. A signal.

She wasn’t done yet.

And then, in the faintest, calmest whisper, she said, “I’ll try. But keep him away from me.”

Her gaze flicked toward Rishabh—cold, deliberate, and final.

And Maya… she simply nodded.

We all sat down again.

Plates arrived, but food felt like a formality. Shreya and Maya spoke in fragments—small exchanges about the venue, the dress, the date—but there was a cautious stillness in their conversation. A careful choreography, both trying not to step on the broken glass of the past.

But I wasn’t listening to them.

My eyes were on him. Rishabh.

The man who had used Shreya’s heart like a pawn in some twisted emotional trade just to get closer to Maya. he was the reason for all this pain, and now dressed up in a suit, playing groom.

I couldn’t look at him without feeling the urge to walk across the table and say the things Shreya never did. But I didn’t.

Because this wasn’t my battle.

Still, one truth echoed in my mind—Shreya didn’t deserve what happened to her. And she never got the justice she should have.

So if she had to sit through this dinner pretending to be okay, I would sit right beside her pretending even harder.

And watch him.
______________________

After hours of heavy words, unfinished truths, and buried history laid bare—Maya and Rishabh finally left.

And now it was just us.

Just me and Shreya.

The silence between us wasn’t tense. But it wasn’t comfortable either. It was like standing on a bridge after a storm—you’re safe, but you’re not sure if the ground beneath your feet is still strong enough to walk forward.

I stole a glance at her.
No expression.
No tears.
No outburst.

And maybe that worried me more than anything.

I raised my hand and subtly gestured to the staff standing at the far end. With a soft nod, he walked over to the control panel on the other side of the restaurant and flipped a switch.

The lights on the opposite side of the restro slowly began to glow—dim at first, like a sunrise creeping into the night—then brighter, warmer. They revealed a small open space, set perfectly beneath a canopy of fairy lights. The music shifted—no longer background noise, but something soft, romantic... deliberate.

A dance floor. And her.

I stood up and offered her my hand. She looked at it, then at me, a flicker of surprise in her gaze. But she didn’t hesitate. Her hand slid into mine like it belonged there.

I led her to the floor. Slowly. Wordlessly.

I placed one hand at her waist. She rested hers lightly on my shoulder.

And we danced.

There were questions in her eyes, I could feel them. A storm of emotions swirled quietly behind her gaze—confusion, exhaustion, maybe even betrayal.

But she said nothing.

And in that moment, I was grateful.

We moved gently, slowly. Just two people holding each other in a moment that didn’t ask for explanations or apologies.

Her forehead brushed against my cheek at one point, and my grip around her tightened just a little—not possessively, just to say I’m here. She didn’t pull away.

The world outside felt too far. Too loud. Too broken.

But in here?
There was still something whole.
Maybe not forgiveness. Not yet.
But grace.

And sometimes, that’s more than enough.

And then—without warning—Shreya stopped moving.
Her hands slid from my shoulders, slowly, deliberately... and rose to my face.

She cupped it gently.

As if I might break.

As if she was holding something fragile in her palms—not just my skin, but maybe everything unspoken between us.

And then... she kissed me.

Soft.
Certain.
No rush, no hesitation.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss meant to fix everything. It was the kind that simply said, I feel something too.

And I kissed her back.

My hands found her waist, her spine, the small of her back—moving like they already knew the map of her. Her fingers slipped behind my neck, her body melting into mine, the kiss deepening with every passing second. We weren’t thinking anymore. We were just being.

Breathing.
Tasting.
Holding.

When we finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against mine.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered.

“You won’t,” I promised.

And in that stillness, with hearts pressed close, it felt like something had begun.

Something called love.

_______________
🫶🫶

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