Shreya

“Shreya, is there any problem?” Mr. Patil’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the conference room.

I blinked. His eyes were on me, steady and unreadable. Everyone else had their notepads out, their minds engaged. Except mine, barely remembering the last few slides that had been presented. My fingers were still curled around a pen that hadn’t moved in the last ten minutes.

“You look lost,” he added. “You understood everything, right?”

I nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yes… I did. All clear.”

The meeting ended soon after. Jayant walked out without glancing back, his face unreadable—professional, as always. A silence trailed behind him, one only I seemed to hear.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

As I gathered my things, a voice slid in from my left.

“So… something going on between you and the boss?” one of the women from our team slid into the chair beside me, her voice dipped in amusement.

I stiffened. “What?”

She grinned like she had caught me red-handed. “I mean, both of you took leave at the exact same time... and now there’s this weird tension in the air. You really think people don’t notice?”

I stared at her for a moment, then replied sharply, “There’s nothing going on.”

“Oh come on,” she teased. “You’re seriously going to pretend we didn’t see the looks during the meeting?”

My patience snapped. “Do you people not have work to do, or is gossip the only thing keeping you busy?”

Her smile faltered.

Without waiting for a reply, I gathered my notepad and laptop and walked out of the room.

I couldn’t deny it.
There was tension between us.
The kind that silence carries when words have been left unsaid.

They didn’t know the truth.
They didn’t know how it felt to stand in the same room with someone you had once imagined a future with.

∆∆°•°∆∆

“I think I’m officially in the move-on phase,” I announced dramatically to Maya over the phone, standing alone on the terrace during my lunch break.

“But you two weren’t even in a relationship,” Maya said gently, trying to keep things light.

“Exactly,” I replied with a sad laugh. “And still, here I am… already learning to let go of something that never really began.”

“I think he loves you, Shreyu,” she said softly.

I laughed, dry and bitter. “Then he should definitely win an Oscar. Because this morning he stood right in front of me, had the chance, the moment, everything. One ‘I love you’ — just once — would’ve been enough. But he didn’t say it.”

“He needs time,” Maya said, calm and understanding. “Give him that, at least.”

“Oh, I’m giving him time,” I scoffed. “And space too. In fact, I’m giving him the whole damn universe.”

Maya started laughing. “Yup, humor’s back. Classic denial stage.”

I groaned. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Little bit,” she admitted. “What do you actually want?” she asked after a moment. “Do you want to move away from him, or are you just waiting for him to come back?”

“I’m not waiting,” I lied, too fast. “But it feels like… like he has something going on with his best friend. The way that girl looked at him—it was too obvious. I’m sure something’s happening.”

Maya’s tone changed. “Shreya… are you okay?”

I didn’t answer right away. Just murmured, “Hmm,” and leaned against the terrace railing, eyes fixed on the clouds.

She shifted the topic, sensing I needed something lighter. “Hey, why don’t you come over? Help me pick an outfit for wedding?”

“I can’t. Mom’s coming for di's baby shower. I need emotionally prepared for all the aunties asking ‘Beta, when’s your turn?’”

We both laughed.
“Okay… but come soon, alright?”

“Yeah,” I said, almost absentmindedly.

The call ended, and I turned to the other side of the terrace.

There he was. Jayant.

Standing near the edge, slightly hunched, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The familiar gesture. He always smoked when he was stressed. One cigarette finished. Then another. By the time he lit the third, something inside me pulled me forward.

I didn’t even think. I just walked toward him.

"Itna piyoge to jiyoge kaise?"
"How will you survive if you smoke so much?" I asked, trying to sound casual. But my voice wavered.

He didn’t look at me. Just exhaled, eyes lost somewhere in the horizon.
"Jine ka man bhi nhi hai vaise"
“Surviving isn’t really on my list right now,” he said softly.

That stopped me.

I looked at him. Really looked.
His eyes carried the same ache that had been living inside me. That quiet, gnawing sadness.

I blinked. Wow. Okay.

Dark. Depressing. Relatable.

"Okay... enjoy your Dhuaa (smoke)" I said quietly, my voice laced with disappointment, then turned and walked away.

I walked back to my seat, trying not to let the sting settle too deep. But of course it did.
The mind is such a traitor—it plays scenes you’ve tried hard to bury. I found myself remembering the little things. His laugh during a late meeting. That one time he brought me coffee without asking. The day our hands accidentally touched and neither of us pulled away immediately.
All meaningless now, maybe. But they had meant something to me.

Stop it, I told myself. I had already decided—I wasn't going to romanticize something that was clearly one-sided.

That’s when Payal came over, flustered.
“Shreya, I need to take the second half off. It’s urgent. My drawing deadline is today and it’s already been postponed once. Please...”

I nodded before she could finish. “Go. I’ll handle it.”

She looked surprised. “Are you sure?”

“The more work I have, the less time I’ll spend overthinking,” I said with a hollow smile. She gave me a grateful look and rushed off.

But handling her task was no joke. The drawing wasn’t simple—I had to first understand it, then pick up where she’d left off. Within an hour, my eyes began to strain and my neck stiffened from leaning too long over the screen. staring too long at tiny details. Exhaustion was crawling up my spine.

That’s when he walked in.
Jayant. Mr. Patil. Whatever he was trying to be today.

He stood beside my desk, arms folded, frowning slightly. “Why are you doing someone else’s work?” he asked, his tone low but concerned. “Don’t you love your eyes at all?”

I didn’t look up. My voice came out sharper than I meant. “No, I don’t.”

There was a pause. Then his voice softened. “Well, I do... For me, at least take a break.”

That one sentence. That damn sentence. My fingers froze on the keyboard.

My heart skipped. I hated that, still he did.
I turned slightly, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t need a break. I need to finish things.”

I didn’t mean the task. I meant us. Whatever this was.

Then, suddenly, he reached forward and closed my laptop screen. And before I could process it, he took my hand in his.

Reflexively, I pulled it back. “This is an office,” I said sharply. “Holding hands is... highly unprofessional.”

He raised an eyebrow, utterly unfazed. “Then let’s be professional about it. Come to my cabin. We’ll... have a meeting.”

“What?” I shot back.

But he smirked, changing track instantly. “Or... we could just go to the pantry. Grab a coffee, maybe?”

I didn’t reply. I simply stood up, annoyed, and walked toward the pantry. I could feel his presence behind me.

Before entering, I glanced back—There he was—half a step behind me, That faint, boyish smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Like he knew he had gotten to me.

∆∆°•°∆∆

I grabbed my coffee from the pantry and walked straight toward Jayant’s cabin without looking back. But I could feel his presence behind me, matching my pace with ease.

Inside, I settled into the chair across from his, quietly sipping the hot brew. He took the seat beside me, his own cup in hand.

But there was also... that look.
He kept staring at me. Calm. Almost amused.
I, on the other hand, was irritated beyond words.

His eyes sparkled as if he enjoyed this silent battle. I could see the teasing curve of a smile playing on his lips. And for some reason, that only made me more annoyed.

The coffee was almost gone. I stood up abruptly and leaned toward him, both hands gripping the arms of his chair, blocking him in. Our faces were close—closer than they probably should have been.

“Whatever you’re trying to do...” I said, my voice low but firm, “it won’t work. I’m moving on, Mr. Patil. So this... whatever this is... it’s a waste of your time.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

“Not a waste,” he said with maddening calm. “In fact, I’m enjoying this... immensely.”

I stared at him, stunned by his honesty—and even more stunned by how effortlessly he delivered it.
No hesitation. No guilt. Just a boyish charm wrapped in confidence.

“I’m leaving,” I said sharply. “One more month, and I'll be in Bangalore.”

“Great,” he replied casually, "Not a  problem. I can follow you to Bangalore also"

My jaw clenched. “Mr. Patil, you—”

He cut me off, almost gleefully. “Say it. I like it when you talk directly like this. It suits you.”

That’s when I realized just how close I had gotten to him. Too close.

His eyes didn’t move.

I pulled my hands away and straightened up. Without another word, I turned and walked toward the door.

I was nearly out when his voice called out from behind, soft yet sharp—
“Take a U-turn. You can't move on.”

I didn’t respond.
Didn’t even pause.
Just kept walking out of the cabin, ignoring the chaos he left in my chest.

What is wrong with this man?
And more importantly... why does his madness feel so strangely comforting?

I reminded myself, Don’t forget, Shreya... this is the same man who acts differently when others are around. This version of him—the quiet, charming, borderline poetic one—only shows up when you're alone with him.
So don't forget this.

∆∆°•°∆∆

I had completely forgotten that I needed to go shopping for Didi’s baby shower. It wasn’t until JJ reminded me just before I left the office that it hit me—and by then, I was already exhausted. My body ached. Every inch of it. After drowning myself in work that wasn’t even mine—Payal’s delayed drawing submission, the unending rush of deliverables—I had barely managed to drag myself out for shopping.

But skipping the shopping wasn’t an option. Maa was arriving tomorrow, and if she found out I hadn’t helped with anything, she’d probably chew me alive. And to make things worse, I didn’t even know the Delhi markets that well.

There I was—alone, worn out, carrying an overloaded shopping bag in one hand and a half-crumpled list in the other, dragging myself from one chaotic shop to the next. My back hurt. My arms were trembling from the weight. My entire body was screaming for rest.

Without warning, someone took the heaviest bag from me.

Startled, I turned. Jayant

Before I could say anything—ask him what he was doing here, or why he always showed up when I was trying my hardest to forget—he simply said, “You can show me your anger later, for now just let me help you.”

Then, without waiting for permission, he took the list from my other hand. “These items are available on the left lane." already starting to walk ahead. "Come"

I just stood there, watching him.

He walked a few steps before realizing I hadn’t moved. Then he turned back, came toward me, and without a word, reached out and took my hand. Not asking. Just… leading.

And like a fool, I followed.

We moved from shop to shop with quiet coordination—he held the heavier bags, occasionally crossed things off the list, and I told him what colors or sizes to pick. There weren’t many words exchanged, but still, so much was being said in the silence.

Halfway through, his phone started ringing.

His hands were full, so I reached into his pocket to get it for him.

The screen lit up with a name that made my stomach twist—Aalu.

I didn’t need context. I already knew.
Aalu was Alisha.

I was drowning in flashbacks. Goa. How he left me for her.

I silently handed the phone to him, offering my other hand for the shopping bags instead.

But Jayant didn’t take the call.
He stared at the screen for a second, then declined it and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

And just as I reached for the bags—he didn’t hand them over.
Instead, he took my outstretched hand in his free one. This time, his grip was tighter. Possessive. Unapologetic.

"Let’s finish your list first," he said softly, as if nothing had happened.

And just like that, we kept walking.

No confrontation. No questions. No drama.

But inside me—something was unraveling. I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t know what to feel. All I knew was that he still had the power to show up when I least expected him—and make everything more confusing than ever.

∆∆°•°∆∆

Next day

In break hour, I spotted Kavita from HR and walked over, holding my paper cup like it was a shield.

“Hey Kavita,” I said casually, “Just wanted to ask—how many days of notice do I need to give if I’m planning to resign?”

She looked up sharply, blinking at me in disbelief. “Wait—what? You’re resigning?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, trying to keep it breezy. “I’m moving back to Bangalore next month.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? But… we were about to issue your promotion letter in a few days.”

I froze.
“What?” I asked, the smile slipping off my face. “Promotion? Mine?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly, still trying to read my expression. “We got recommendations from Jayant sir. His review was really strong… actually, he personally suggested your name for fast-track consideration.”

I stared at her, the air suddenly heavier around me.

My promotion… based on his review?
So this is how he wanted to play it?

Was this his way of stopping me from leaving? Throwing a shiny offer in front of me so I’d stay glued to a life I was trying to walk away from?

I laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. “Promotion, huh? That’s flattering. Especially considering I’ve only been here a few months.”

Kavita smiled faintly, still confused. “Yeah, but your work’s been good… and Jayant sir’s recommendation really pushed it forward.”

I nodded slowly, but my mind was miles away.

He thinks I’ll stay for a title? For a little raise?
He still doesn’t get it.

He was offering me growth while I was trying to heal trying to get away from him. And for a moment, just a flicker of one—I felt angry. Not at him entirely, but at myself… for still letting him affect me like this.

∆∆°•°∆∆

I stormed into his cabin without knocking.

There were three people already inside, sitting around his desk. They looked up, startled by the abruptness. But I didn’t care. I didn’t even glance at them.

“I need to talk to you. Alone. It’s urgent,” I said, my tone crisp, leaving no room for negotiation.

Jayant looked at me—his expression unreadable. But he quickly nodded and gestured for the others to leave. They filed out awkwardly, sensing something was off.

As soon as the door clicked shut, I walked straight to his desk and slapped the envelope onto the polished wood.

He blinked. Picked it up. Opened it.

Then he looked at me with furrowed brows. “Shreya... what is this?”

“Don’t play dumb,” I snapped. “It’s my resignation.”

His eyes searched mine, confused, or pretending to be. “But… why? What happened?”

“You want me to spell it out?” I scoffed. “You thought a promotion letter would stop me, right? That I’d fall for that? That I'd stay just because you offered me a shiny title?”

His expression shifted—he looked stunned, but I wasn’t done.

“You think this job means more to me than my self-respect? Or that your approval is enough to make me stay?” I asked, stepping closer.

He stood from his chair and came around the table. “Shreya, please… calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” I cut in. “I’m tired, Jayant. Tired of waiting, guessing, hoping.”

He sighed, gently placing a hand on my arm. “Look, if this is about the promotion—”
“It’s not about the promotion!” I snapped. “It’s about you. Showing who you are truly. What I meant you. If you believe a little greed can hold me back, you never really knew me.”

"Shreya" he said quietly.

“don't call me Shreya ,” I replied bitterly. “You never gave me a reason to believe you loved me. You never said 'I love you'.”

“Do I really need to say those words?” he asked, voice low, almost defensive.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “I need to hear them."

“I do,” he said softly. “I do shreya.”

I stared at him. “what you do? properly. Say ‘I love you’ like you mean it.”

He took a deep breath. His lips parted. “I... I... d-do... lov—”

I held up my hand and turned my face away. “don't.”

He looked up, startled. “Why? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Don’t say it like that. Don’t force it. The day when it comes from your heart—without hesitation, without fear—then say it.”

His face paled. I could see the words stuck in his throat, choking on emotion.

“Shreya…” he whispered.

I stepped forward, gently placing my hand over his chest, right where his heart beat—fast and uneven.

“Say it when this tells you to. When it isn’t forced. When it’s not a reaction but a confession.”

He looked at me like he was about to break.

I stepped back. Tears threatened to rise, but I held them in.

I turned to leave.

He grabbed my hand. “Stay. Please.”

I looked over my shoulder. “Give me a reason.”

He didn’t reply. His grip loosened.

I gently freed my hand from his and walked away. Out of his cabin. Out of his office.

And maybe—just maybe—out of the space where I had waited far too long for love to speak first.

∆∆°•°∆∆

Next day

Morning sunlight spilled into the hall, glinting off strings of marigolds and jasmine. I was already on a wobbly wooden stool, trying to drape the last garland across the doorway, when Amma bustled in with a fresh arm‑load of flowers.

“Main kar lungi, Amma,” I insisted, taking the fragrant bundle from her.

She clicked her tongue. “Fine, fine—learn now. It’ll help in your sasural one day.” 

I shot her a look. “Amma!”

“What?” she said, feigning innocence before hurrying off as Di called for her from the hall.

I stretched upward again, toes barely balancing on the stool. One second everything was steady—then my foot slipped. The world tilted and, before I could even gasp, I landed in someone’s arms. Firm. Steady. Familiar.

I opened my eyes.

Jayant.

He set me down gently, eyes anxious. “Be careful…”—he paused, voice dropping—“…for my sake.”

My heart stuttered. It always did when he said things like that.

He reached for the garland still clutched in my hand. “Let me finish. I’ll do it.”

Too stunned to argue, I passed it to him. My mind raced—Who invited him? I certainly hadn’t. Before I could ask, another voice cut in.

“Arre, you come early, dost!” JJ—my brother‑in‑law—strode in, draping an arm over Jayant’s shoulder as if they’d been friends forever. My eyes widened; I didn’t know they even knew each other.

The two of them walked inside, JJ proudly presenting Jayant to Amma as an “important guest, my friend.” Amma greeted him with her warm, motherly smile, utterly delighted.

And I just stood there beneath the half‑hung flowers, pulse racing, wondering how a man who could make me breathless in a single second had somehow woven himself into my family’s world without my permission.

Jayant had blended into the chaos like he belonged. From the moment he arrived, he began helping with the decorations—stringing lights, adjusting garlands, carrying boxes. He moved with such quiet ease that even Amma started giving him instructions as if he were part of the family.

He and JJ were laughing too much. Not just the polite chuckles of new acquaintances—real, belly-deep laughter. It made me suspicious. Very suspicious.

Guests hadn’t arrived yet. Amma was busy setting up for the small puja that was supposed to take place before the main ceremony. I found a moment, pulled Jayant aside, lifting my eyebrows as I confronted him, “How do you know JJ? Last I know, you two didn’t even know each other.”

He shrugged with a smug little grin. “We didn’t. But now… we do.”

Before I could question further, Amma called out, “Shreya! Jaldi aaja!”

“I’m coming, Amma!” I shouted back, then turned to Jayant with a glare before walking away. But he wasn’t done.

“Sometimes,” he called after me, loud enough to hear, “you have to make friends with the girl's people to get to the girl.” I felt the heat rise to my cheeks.

I helped Amma arrange the puja thali, but Jayant’s eyes never left me. Every time I glanced up, he was watching. And because of that, I kept fumbling—dropping things, spilling petals, almost knocking over the diya stand. Amma scolded me at least five times.

After that

My foot accidentally stepped right into the intricate rangoli design Amma had spent an hour on. I was about to place my other foot when Jayant lunged forward and pulled me back—straight into his chest.

I crashed into him, my breath catching. Amma came rushing over.

“This girl will ruin everything! Look at this! All my hard work—gone!”

“I’m sorry, Amma!” I began to explain.

Jayant stepped in calmly, “It’s okay, Aunty. I’ll fix it.”

I turned to him in disbelief. “You know how to make rangoli?”

He gave me a playful grin. “Of course. And you should help. You’re an architect—design is your thing, right?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Design on paper. With pencil. Not with colors on the floor.”

He knelt down and began fixing the rangoli—slow, patient, precise. And somehow, he made it even more beautiful.

The moment I stepped out, dressed and ready, Jayant froze — his eyes widened, completely stunned. Slowly, almost in a daze, he walked toward me. And as he passed, his voice dropped to a breathless whisper, "Meri Jaan lene ka irada hai kya" ("Do you intend to take my life?") And just like that, he kept walking, leaving me standing there — heart racing, cheeks burning, and breath caught somewhere between a smile and disbelief.

By the time the guests began arriving, everyone was dressed and ready—except JJ’s family, who were delayed due to a late flight. Nandini Di looked radiant. The house filled with chatter, but the waiting dragged. People were starting to get bored.

Jayant and JJ stepped in to at control over things.

Played antakshari with a group of aunties. He somehow convinced two uncles to do a poetry contest, much to their wives' embarrassment. He was relentless—keeping everyone smiling, involved, distracted from the delay.

Then someone suggested a dance. Jayant immediately volunteered to handle the music. While Amma tried to resist, even she cracked a smile when he pulled out the speaker and began setting it up.

A little while later, JJ leaves to pick up his parents.

Then someone suggested a dance. Jayant immediately volunteered to handle the music. While Amma tried to resist, but Jayant didn’t listen to her. he pulled out the speaker and began setting it up.

He disappeared into JJ’s room to get the music box connection, I followed, instinctively, offering, “I’ll help.”

He glanced back at me over his shoulder with a crooked smile but didn’t say anything. I don’t even think he needed help.

Maybe he just knew I’d come anyway.

I stormed into the room, barely able to contain myself. “Why are you doing all this?” I demanded, my voice tight with confusion and frustration.

Jayant looked up, calm but resolute. “For you,” he said simply.

“For me? But why?” I asked, my eyes searching his face for an explanation.

“Because I want you to know… you matter to me. Just as much as anyone else in my life—maybe more.”

He turned, ready to walk away and head outside. I instinctively reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him.

“Jayant,” I said softly but firmly, “First convince yourself that I truly matter to you. Only then try to convince me.”

He didn’t hesitate. He turned back to me, cupped my face gently between his palms, and looked me straight in the eyes. “You do matter to me, Shreya,” he whispered. “And I’m already convinced. I trust myself... and I trust what my heart tells me.”

His words made my breath hitch. My heart was racing, like it always did whenever he was close, but this time it wasn’t just the proximity—it was the weight of what he was saying.

Then he smiled faintly, that familiar smile that made everything around us blur. “You know,” he added, voice low, “the words you want to hear... I want to hear them too.”

I blinked, confused. “What words?”

He tilted his head, teasing. “The three musical ones. You know exactly which.”

“You’re being serious?” I asked, trying to hide my smile.

“Of course I’m serious,” he replied. “You’ve said so much from your heart—but you never actually said the words. Not properly. Not clearly. And not to me.”

I looked away and exhaled sharply, embarrassed. “Really, Jayant? I didn’t say it? Maybe you weren’t listening properly. Maybe your ears are the issue. Do you really believe I never said it?” I looked back at him, my voice rising, “I have said it—plenty of times. You just don’t remember—”

Before I could finish, he placed a finger gently on my lips. “Relax,” he said with a small chuckle. “Everyone’s waiting for us outside. Let’s go.”

And just like that, he stepped away and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there, a thousand thoughts swirling in my head.

Wait... had I really never said “I love you” to Jayant?
I began to wonder—Had I only felt it... but never really said it out loud?

∆∆°•°∆∆

The music had already begun to pulse through the house, vibrant and lively. Jayant, as if it were his own celebration, was right in the middle of it all—dancing with everyone, laughing too loudly, too freely. The energy around him was infectious, and for a moment, it felt like nothing could go wrong.

Just then, Amma came to me, her voice gentle but urgent. “Your Baba is calling,” she said. “Keep an eye on Nandani. I’ll just go take the call.”

I nodded, not thinking much of it at the time. “Okay, Amma.”

Jayant caught my hand and tugged me toward the center. “Come on! You can’t just stand there looking pretty.”

I gave in with a reluctant laugh. He danced with such ease, such joy, But while spinning, my eyes found Nandani Di sitting quietly on the edge, watching us with a soft smile but clearly avoiding the crowd.

Without a second thought, I walked over to her, held out my hand and said, “Come on, Di… just for a move. No one’s watching.”

She resisted gently. “No, no, I’m fine.”

But I didn’t listen. I took her hand anyway, pulling her up with affection and guiding her toward the others.

At first, half-heartedly trying to match the rhythm. And then—just as she turned to step away from the crowd—Someone bumped into her. Hard. The kind of jolt that wouldn't hurt an average person—but she wasn’t average. She was pregnant.

She lost her balance.

And the next moment, she fell—straight onto her stomach.
"Aahhh..Amma"

“NANDANI DI!” I screamed, louder than I’d ever screamed in my life. pushing through the crowd, falling to my knees beside her. My heart dropped. All the joy in the room vanished in an instant.

People froze. The music was switched off. The cheerful chaos turned into stunned silence. Jayant rushed over. Amma came running too. Everything was a blur.

Di was holding her belly, her face twisted in pain.

“Ahh...My. Baby..It hurts… oh God, it hurts,Ahhh” she whimpered, tears already forming in her eyes.

Panic surged through me. My hands trembled as I tried to help her sit up. “It’s okay, Di, I’m here. We’re all here. Someone call the doctor—please!”

∆∆°•°∆∆

In hospital

Amma and I sat silently outside the room, the air thick with dread. Neither of us had spoken since we arrived. The only sound was the distant murmur of nurses and the occasional beeping of machines.

Jayant had driven us there in a frenzy, breaking every rule of the road, panic etched deep into his face. We were hoping—praying—that Nandani and the baby would be okay.

We’d informed Jiju too. He must’ve left everything midway, because he had rushed straight to the hospital.

Then suddenly, Amma stood up.

She turned toward me, her eyes sharp and voice cold. “Who told her to dance?”

I stood slowly, my throat tightening. I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Woh… Amma… I…”

The guilt was eating me alive, and I barely managed to get the words out before a voice came from behind.

“It was me, Aunty,” Jayant said, stepping forward. “I asked her to dance.”

Before I could process it, Amma turned and slapped him—hard. The sound echoed down the corridor.

“Amma!” I gasped.

Jayant didn’t flinch. His face remained still, calm in a way that almost scared me. He didn’t defend himself. He didn’t explain. He just stood there, accepting it.

“How dare you!” Amma shouted, her voice shaking. “You have no right to put Nandu and her child in danger like this. If someone doesn’t know about something, they should stay away from it—and especially stay out of someone else’s personal matters. You are a guest—act like one. Stop trying to become a part of a family you don’t belong to." Her voice trembled, but it wasn’t just anger—it was fear. A mother’s primal fear of losing her child… or her grandchild.
"If anything happens to that baby… to Nandani…”

“Amma, please,” I interrupted, stepping in. “It was an accident. No one meant for this to happen.”

“Don’t you dare defend him!” she snapped, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I told you to keep an eye on your sister. How could this happen while you were right there?”

Just then, Jiju came rushing down the hall, breathless, panic all over his face. “Where’s Nandu? What happened? How is she?!”

“She’s inside,” Amma said coldly, then pointed toward Jayant. “Ask him.”

Jiju didn’t hesitate. He stormed up and grabbed Jayant by the collar, fury pouring out of him. “What the hell did you do?!”

Jayant didn’t defend himself. He didn’t even raise his hands. He just stood there, still, almost hollow.

“Let him go!” I shouted, trying to separate them.

The doors finally opened. The doctor stepped out, removing his gloves with slow precision.

Everyone fell silent.

“She’s stable. Both mother and baby are safe.”

It was as if someone had lifted a mountain off our chests.

Everyone exhaled.

We didn’t wait. Amma, JJ, and the rest of the family rushed in to see Di, tears of relief already spilling. I stayed behind. My feet didn’t move. I wasn’t sure if they could.

Jayant hadn’t moved either. He stood by the wall, hands in his pockets, eyes lost somewhere far away. I looked at him.

After that, he began to walk away—without saying a word.

I followed him out of the hospital, quietly, almost instinctively. He didn’t look back, didn’t wait.

He had taken the blame for something he didn’t do... just to protect me. Just to shield me from Amma’s anger.

He lied—for me.

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