Devraj’s POV

It had been hours since Kartik left the file on my desk, but my mind hadn’t found a moment’s peace.

Her face—those tear-streaked cheeks, trembling lips, shattered voice—it was haunting me like a ghost I had never invited, but couldn’t turn away either.

I wasn’t someone easily affected. I had built my life like a fortress—brick by brutal brick, locked and cold. But this girl... Srisha. She’d walked right into that fortress and lit a fire in the darkest corner of it.

Without permission. Without warning.

I looked down at her picture again. The one where she sat on the steps, her chin resting on her hand. The sunlight fell across her like poetry. Her eyes—god, those eyes—so expressive, so alive. I wondered how such a soul-crushing amount of pain could reside behind a gaze so soft.

And yet, I had seen that pain firsthand.

I hadn’t meant to get involved. I was only there by chance. But fate, or whatever cruel game destiny was playing, threw her into my arms that night. Literally.

She had collapsed against me like the world had stopped spinning for her. And for a moment, as her body trembled and her sobs ripped through the air... I couldn’t breathe either.

That night replayed in my mind like a curse. Her voice, broken.

"Main sab galat thi... sabse galat. Main toot gayi hoon."

I had never hated the sound of a woman crying as much as I did then.

And now... she doesn’t even remember me.

The thought gripped my chest. Tight.

I should’ve felt relief. One less entanglement. One less complication.

But I didn’t.

I felt something that scared me far more than anger—concern. And beneath that concern, a quiet... terrifying pull.

I wasn’t the man to go after answers that didn’t serve my purpose. But something about her made me restless. Like I had touched something forbidden and now the taste of it wouldn’t leave my mouth.

I had tried to shove the feeling down.

But then I saw that bastard’s name in the file.

The man she trusted. The one she loved.

The one who ruined her.

My hand curled into a fist so tight, my knuckles turned white. That man had looked at her smile and chose to destroy it. He had the world in his arms and still wanted fire. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. And he sure as hell didn’t deserve her.

She should’ve hated the world. She had every reason to. But instead, she had apologized. To her brother. To her father. She blamed herself. My jaw clenched tighter. Why do women like her always carry the weight of someone else’s mistakes?

I stood up abruptly. I needed to see her.

Not because I should.

But because I couldn’t stop myself anymore.

Would she recognize me? No.

Would she look at me the same way again? Probably not.

But something inside me whispered...

I wasn’t meant to be a stranger in her story.

Not anymore.

Even if she didn’t remember me—I remembered her.

And that... that was enough to bring the storm back to her doorstep.

This time, not to watch her break.

But to make sure no one could ever break her again.

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Srisha’s POV

The first thing I noticed was the smell.

Faint... familiar... home.

A soft blend of sandalwood, clean cotton sheets, and the lingering hint of my mother’s perfume—something so deeply stitched into my memories that my heart trembled before my eyes even opened.

I was home.

My lashes fluttered open, and for a second, I felt weightless. Almost like I’d drifted between worlds and somehow landed back in the one I used to pray for. My head rested against the pillow I hadn’t touched in months, and the ceiling above me was painted the same warm ivory shade I remembered.

But it wasn’t the ceiling or the bed that made my heart jolt awake.

It was the voice.

“Srisha... meri bacchi,” a whisper, choked with tears.

“Mumma?”

My throat burned as the word escaped my lips, raspy and soft, like it had been held back for too long.

And then I saw her—my mother, Arpita. She looked like she’d aged in days rather than years, exhaustion written in the lines of her face, worry darkening her eyes. But the moment she saw me sit up, she broke. She leaned forward, taking my face in her trembling hands, sobbing like a child.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered. “I thought I’d never hear you call me again.”

My heart shattered.

Before I could speak, two more figures rushed into the room. Nandini—my bhabhi, my sister in every sense—and...

“Manvi!” My voice cracked as I said her name.

The moment our eyes met, my body moved on its own. I scrambled out from under the blanket and threw myself into her arms. And she caught me, like she always had. Always would.

She didn’t say anything at first.

She just held me.

Her arms around me were warm and strong, steadying my shaking frame. My sobs finally broke free—ugly, raw, gut-wrenching sobs. I buried my face in her shoulder, clutching onto her kurti like it was the only thing keeping me alive. Her hand found the back of my head and gently cradled it, fingers stroking through my hair like a lullaby.

“You’re safe now,” she whispered. “Cry it out, Rishu. Let it all go. I’m here.”

And I did.

I cried for every broken promise. Every lie I believed. Every time I thought Kunal was my world. Every moment I chose to silence my instincts because love was supposed to be patient, right? Kind. Trusting.

But love—what I thought was love—had betrayed me in the cruelest way.

It had left me hollow.

“Kunal…” I finally muttered, voice shaking. “He was never mine. He never loved me.”

Manvi pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. Hers were fierce. Protective. “No, he didn’t. Because he doesn’t know what love is. He used you. Lied to you. Manipulated you. And you, Srisha... you gave him your everything.”

I nodded, more tears spilling.

“How could I be so blind?” I asked, a whisper of shame laced into my voice.

Manvi grabbed my shoulders gently but firmly. “Because you have a heart that believes in good. Because you saw love where there was poison. That’s not weakness, Rishu. That’s strength. You didn’t lose anything—you survived.”

Nandini came closer, tears rolling down her cheeks. “We all tried, beta... we tried to warn you, but we didn’t want to push you away. It killed us to see you breaking, to see him isolating you from your family, your own self.”

“I didn’t listen,” I said softly, guilt weighing me down. “I pushed you all away. I believed him. I thought he was protecting me.”

Arpita cupped my face again. “And now you know the truth. That’s what matters. You came back to us. That’s all I ever prayed for.”

The room was filled with the silence of hearts trying to heal.

I looked around. Everything was still the same... but I wasn’t. I was different now. A girl who had loved too deeply, trusted too freely, and paid the price in scars that would take a lifetime to fade.

But I was also a girl who had people—real people—who never stopped fighting for me. Who never stopped loving me, even when I pushed them away.

“I feel broken,” I whispered. “Like I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Manvi rested her forehead against mine. “Then let’s find her again. Piece by piece. Day by day. And this time, you won’t do it alone.”

“I don’t deserve you,” I sobbed.

“You deserve the whole damn world,” she said, fierce and unwavering. “And I’ll burn it down before I let anyone hurt you again.”

In that moment, I didn’t care about the past, or what came next. I just knew I was in the arms of someone who meant it when she said “forever.”

My best friend. My mother. My bhabhi.

They weren’t just comforting me. They were holding my broken soul in their hands and telling me I could live again.

And I believed them.

Because sometimes, family isn’t just blood.

It’s the people who pick you up when the world forgets you.

And in their arms, I knew—I was finally home.

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Srisha's POV

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that doesn’t comfort—it suffocates.

The kind where the only sound loud enough is the war raging inside your own chest.

I sat on the edge of my bed, knees drawn close to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around them like I could hold myself together just a little longer. The moonlight poured through the half-open curtains, casting a soft silver glow on the floor, mocking me with its serenity. The world was sleeping peacefully while I...

I was shattering silently.

My eyes were swollen, lashes damp from the endless crying I had done throughout the day. My voice was hoarse, throat dry, but my heart—my heart felt the heaviest. As if someone had reached inside and ripped out every tender part of me, leaving only the echo of betrayal and heartbreak.

I stared blankly at the wall in front of me, not really seeing anything. Just breathing. Just existing. And even that felt like effort.

I gave him everything.

Everything.

I loved Kunal with the kind of devotion that poets wrote about. Blind, pure, loyal love—the kind that makes you forget who you are, as long as he’s happy. I chose him when the whole world warned me not to. I stood by him, defended him, loved him even when it hurt.

But what did he give me in return?

Lies. Deception. A love that was never real.

Was I really that naive?

A sob broke from my lips, uninvited, sharp. I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to silence the sound, but it was no use. My chest heaved with the weight of a pain that no one could see. I rocked back and forth, tears pouring down my cheeks like an endless river.

"I thought he loved me," I whispered to the dark, my voice shaking. "I thought I meant something to him… like he meant everything to me."

The betrayal cut deeper than any blade ever could.

“I loved him with all my heart,” I said louder, broken. “With everything I had… wasn’t it enough? Wasn’t I enough?”

I stood up, stumbling a little, and walked to the mirror.

The girl staring back at me looked like me… but wasn’t.

Her eyes—once bright with dreams—were dull and glassy. Her lips trembled. Her cheeks were streaked with dried tears. Her soul—visible only to her—was fractured. Bruised in places no one could see.

"Don't I look good enough?" I asked my reflection, voice trembling. "Don't I deserve happiness too?"

My knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor, curling up at the side of the bed like a child. The marble felt cold against my skin, grounding—but only just.

“Why me?” I cried, staring up at the ceiling. “Why me, Shiv ji?”

My palms pressed together as if prayer could ease the ache. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just loved someone with all I had. Is that a crime now? To trust? To believe?”

The silence didn’t answer.

No divine whisper came.

Only the sound of my own weeping.

Each sob was heavier than the last. Each breath harder to take.

I wept for the version of me that still believed in fairy tales. I mourned the girl who thought love alone could heal everything. I cried for the sleepless nights I spent trying to understand his coldness, blaming myself when he pulled away.

And now, the truth was a boulder crushing my chest.

He never loved me.

He was never mine.

And maybe… he never deserved me in the first place.

I curled deeper into the blanket that had slipped from my bed onto the floor, pulling it over me like a shield. The cool fabric against my skin, the faint scent of home—everything was here. But I felt like I was nowhere.

I was in pieces.

And for the first time in my life, I didn't know how to put myself back together.

Somewhere between the tears and the ache, my body gave in to exhaustion.

My breaths slowed. My lashes fluttered shut. My hand, still clenching a part of the bedsheet, loosened its grip. And like that—still broken, still hollow—I fell into a restless sleep.

Tears still clung to my cheeks.

Heart still cracked wide open.

And somewhere in the middle of that darkness… I hoped that maybe—just maybe—tomorrow wouldn’t hurt this much.

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