Third Person POV.

Falak could hear her own heartbeat.

Too loud.
Too fast.

It echoed in her ears, drowning out even the sound of rain against the windshield.

Her fingers tightened around the seatbelt across her chest, knuckles turning pale as if holding onto it could somehow keep her grounded.

Don't look at him.

Don't look.

Don't—Her eyes betrayed her...Just for a second. From the corner of her vision.

Saksham's profile was sharper than she remembered.

His jawline more defined. Cheekbones harsher. The softness of youth gone, replaced by something carved and masculine.

He was still devastatingly handsome.

But different.

Nine years ago he had looked like a dangerous boy. Now he looked like a dangerous man. The realization hurt more than she expected. Time had moved forward for him too.

Of course it had.

What did you expect, Falak?

That he would stay frozen where you left him? Her throat tightened. She forced her gaze back to the rain-streaked window.

Water droplets raced each other down the glass, merging, breaking apart — like timelines that had once been together and now weren't.

Beside her, Saksham's face remained blank.

No expression.

No visible emotion.

Just that familiar stillness. He had always been like this. Even as a child.

Quiet.

Observant.

Unreachable to most people. Teachers called him arrogant. Friends called him intense. Strangers called him intimidating.

But she—She had seen the boy behind it. The boy who smiled rarely but genuinely. The one who laughed only with people he trusted. The one who softened when she was near. The one who looked at her like she was the only person in the room.

A sharp ache spread through her chest.

That version of him doesn't exist anymore.

Or maybe...

It exists.

Just not for you.

Her grip on the seatbelt tightened further.

Because once—

She had been the exception. The only person who could read his silences. The only person who could pull emotions out of him.

The only person who saw warmth beneath the cold exterior.

Now...

She was just another person sitting beside him.

Another obligation.

Another inconvenience he had to deal with out of courtesy.

A stranger with history.

Her eyes burned suddenly.

No.

Don't cry.

Not here.

Not in front of him.

She swallowed hard, forcing the lump down her throat. The car filled with quiet tension — not hostile, not angry, just heavy with everything unsaid. She wondered if he could hear her heartbeat. If he could feel how close she was to falling apart.

Probably not.

He looked so unaffected.

So composed.

So distant.

Maybe he really has moved on...Maybe I was the only one who stayed behind.

That thought hurt the most. Because she had spent years convincing herself she had healed.

Built a career.

A life.

An identity separate from him.

And yet sitting here...Just inches away...Her body reacted like no time had passed at all. Love was cruel like that.

It didn't ask permission to stay...Her gaze drifted again before she could stop it. His hands on the steering wheel.

Long fingers.

Faint scars across his knuckles. She remembered those hands differently. Holding hers. Pulling her closer. Brushing her hair away from her face.

Protective.

Possessive.

Gentle in ways no one would ever believe. Her chest constricted painfully.

That boy loved you.

This man doesn't.

The realization settled quietly inside her ribs.

Not explosive.

Not dramatic.

Just... heavy. Acceptance sometimes arrived like grief.

She turned her face fully toward the window again, blinking rapidly to clear the moisture in her eyes.

Outside, streetlights blurred into golden streaks through rain. Inside, silence stretched between them like an ocean.

So close.

So far.

And for the first time since sitting in the car...Falak understood something with terrifying clarity.

She hadn't lost him today.

She had lost him nine years ago.

Tonight was just the moment she finally felt it again. The rain had softened into a steady whisper against the windshield. Inside the car, silence sat heavy between them — not uncomfortable, not peaceful — just... full.

Falak kept her eyes on the blurred city lights outside, watching them stretch into streaks of gold and white as the car moved forward.

She could feel his presence beside her like heat.

Too close.

Too familiar.

Too dangerous.

And then—

His phone rang.

The sharp vibration cut through the quiet like glass breaking. Saksham glanced at the screen once.

His expression didn't change. He pressed the answer button and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Yes."

One word.

Flat.

Monotonous.

Detached.

Falak's stomach tightened instantly. A woman's voice spilled softly through the speaker — gentle, sweet, coated in affection.

"Where are you?"

A pause.

"In the car."

"Did you have dinner?"

"No."

"You should eat something. You've been skipping meals again."

Silence.

Then his low response.

"Hmm."

Falak felt something twist under her ribs. The voice continued, warm and attentive.

"And don't forget — tomorrow evening we have the Mehra event. Mom reminded me twice already. I'll send your outfit to your suite. Please try to sleep early tonight... you look exhausted these days."

Another pause.

"Okay."

No emotion.

No softness.

No irritation either.

Just... nothing.

But the woman on the other end didn't seem bothered. Her tone remained affectionate.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

A beat.

"Yeah."

He ended the call.

Just like that.

Falak's fingers curled slightly in her lap.

Disha.

Of course it was her.

Who else would call him like that? Who else had the right? A strange ache spread slowly through her chest.

Not jealousy.

Not exactly.

Something quieter.

Deeper.

She realized something in that moment that hurt more than she expected.

Disha loved him.

It was obvious.

In the concern.

In the reminders.

In the softness of her voice. And why wouldn't she? Saksham had always been— alak's throat tightened—someone people gravitated toward. Even as a teenager, he had been different.

Not loud.

Not charming in the obvious way.

But magnetic.

Like the sun.

People revolved around him instinctively.

Admired him.

Feared him.

Wanted his attention.

Wanted his approval.

But no one really touched him...No one crossed the invisible boundary he kept around himself.

Except—

Her chest constricted painfully.

Except me.

There had been a time when she stood closer to him than anyone else in the world. A time when he let her see everything.

His anger.

His vulnerability.

His jealousy.

His need.

His possessiveness.

Especially his possessiveness.

Memories flashed like sudden lightning behind her eyes. His fingers wrapping around her wrist when someone looked at her too long.

The way his jaw tightened if another boy stood too close.

The low, dangerous tone when he said,
"You're mine, Falak."

Not ownership.

Not control.

But fear.

Fear of losing her.

She used to be the center of his world.

The gravity he orbited.

The only person who could pull reactions out of him...The only one who saw emotions he hid from everyone else.

And now—

Now someone else called him at night...Someone else reminded him to eat...Someone else planned events with him...Someone else existed in the space she once lived in.

Her lungs trembled.

It wasn't that she wanted that place back. She didn't. She couldn't survive that version of love again.

But realizing it was gone...Gone permanently...Hurt in a way she hadn't prepared for. Because once—He had looked at her like she was his entire universe. Now he barely looked at her at all.

A quiet realization settled over her. People don't stay frozen in our memories.

They move forward.

They build new lives.

New attachments.

New routines.

New loves.

And sometimes...

You become nothing more than a chapter they closed.

Her eyes burned. She blinked quickly, turning her face slightly more toward the window so he wouldn't see.

Rain streaks blurred the city into watercolor shapes. Inside her chest, something fragile cracked open again.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just... enough.

Enough to remind her that some losses never fully healed. Beside her, Saksham drove in silence, face unreadable as stone.

And Falak understood with painful clarity—

She used to be the sun in his life. Now she was just another star in a sky he no longer looked at.

The car slowed.

Falak recognized the familiar gates immediately.

Kashyap Bhawan.

Home. Her heartbeat picked up again — not from fear this time, but from awareness. The drive was over. The silence was ending. Which somehow felt worse.

The car stopped completely in front of the entrance porch.

For a second she didn't move. Her fingers fumbled with the seatbelt latch, slipping once before it finally clicked open. She could feel his presence beside her — steady, solid, overwhelming — and it suddenly became too much.

Too close.

Too real.

Too dangerous for her composure.

"Thank you," she said quickly, voice barely above a whisper. She didn't wait for a response.

Didn't look at him.

Didn't give herself the chance.

She pushed the door open and almost rushed out, sandals hitting the wet ground as she hurried toward the entrance.

Her heart pounded like she had escaped something.

Or someone.

Behind her—

The car engine was still running.

But she didn't notice.

Didn't see that the headlights remained fixed on the gate long after she disappeared inside. Didn't know that Saksham hadn't moved.

Not even an inch.

Inside the car, his hands were still on the steering wheel.

Grip tight.

Jaw locked.

Eyes fixed on the doorway she had just entered. Something inside his chest twisted — sharp and unfamiliar.

He exhaled slowly, like breathing itself required effort.

Then finally...

After nearly a full minute...

He drove away.
**********************

Her room still smelled faintly of lavender. The same scent from her childhood. The familiarity should have been comforting.

Instead, it made everything feel heavier.

Falak closed the door behind her and leaned against it, eyes shut, breathing uneven. The night replayed in fragments.

Rain.

His voice saying her name.

The car.

The phone call.

His silence.

Her chest tightened again. She pushed herself away from the door and walked slowly toward the bed, sitting down mechanically.

And then—

Memory crept in.

Uninvited.

Unstoppable.

Flashback — Nine Years Ago

School corridor.

Late afternoon sunlight pouring through tall windows. Falak stood near her locker, laughing softly at something Naina had said. A group of senior boys walked past.

One of them glanced back.

Too long.

Too obvious.

Falak didn't even notice. But someone else did. Heavy footsteps approached. Before she could react, fingers wrapped around her wrist.

Firm.

Possessive.

She turned.

Saksham.

His expression was calm.

Too calm.

The dangerous kind of calm.

"What?" she asked, confused.

His jaw tightened slightly as his eyes flicked toward the boys walking away.

"He was staring."

Falak blinked. "Who?"

"That guy."

She followed his gaze and realized.

"Oh... I didn't even see—"

"I did."

His grip tightened just enough to send awareness up her arm...Not painful.

Just... claiming.

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

"Jojo, leave my hand," she whispered, glancing around nervously.

"No."

Her heartbeat stumbled.

"Saksham—"

"You're mine."

The words came low.

Rough.

Not loud enough for anyone else to hear. But they hit her like lightning. Her breath caught.

It wasn't arrogance.

It wasn't ego.

It was fear.

Raw.

Unfiltered.

Like the idea of someone else looking at her threatened something deep inside him. She softened instantly.

"You're crazy," she murmured.

His eyes searched her face intensely. "You don't understand what you do to me."

Her stomach flipped.

"Jojo..."

"If anyone touches you," he continued quietly, "I'll break their hand."

Her lips parted in shock. Then she laughed softly, trying to lighten the moment.

"You're so dramatic."

But his expression didn't change...Because he meant it.

Completely.

And somehow...That intensity had made her feel safe.

Wanted.

Important.

Chosen.

*****************

Falak's eyes opened slowly. Tears had slipped down her temples into her hair. Her chest hurt with a familiar ache.

That boy loved me.

The realization echoed through her mind. That version of Saksham had loved her with a ferocity that bordered on obsession.

And she—She had loved him just as deeply. But life had happened...Mistakes had happened...Pain had happened.

And now...

Now he was someone else's future.

She wiped her tears with trembling fingers. "You're not that girl anymore," she whispered to herself.

But memories didn't listen to logic. They lived where emotions did.

And tonight...

Everything felt dangerously alive again.
**************

The night was silent.

Too silent.

The kind that made every small sound louder than it should be.

Abeer sat at his desk, laptop open, spreadsheets glowing against the darkness of his room. His sleeves were rolled up, tie loosened, hair slightly messy from running his hands through it for hours.

Work had always been his escape.

Numbers were predictable.

Life wasn't.

His phone vibrated suddenly against the table.

Hospital number...

A strange unease crawled up his spine. He answered immediately. "Yes, Abeer Kashyap speaking."

The voice on the other end was urgent.

"Sir... I'm calling from City Heart Hospital. Your father— Mr. Ajay Kashyap— he had another cardiac episode. We've shifted him to ICU. You need to come immediately."

For a moment—The world stopped...Sound disappeared. Air vanished from his lungs.

"What?" The word came out strangled. "No... I just saw him this evening— he was stable—"

"Sir please come quickly." "No... no... no... no..." he muttered under his breath, grabbing his car keys with shaking hands.

The call ended. The phone slipped from his fingers onto the desk.

Abeer stared at nothing.

His chest felt hollow.

Cold.

Like someone had punched straight through him.

"Papa..."

The word broke from his throat before he even realized he was speaking. The door burst open seconds later. Falak stood there, eyes wide with fear.

She had heard his voice.

"Bhai? What happened?"

He looked up at her.

And she knew.

Before he even spoke. "ICU," he whispered. "We have to go."

Falak's face drained of color. Within minutes the house was awake. Lights turning on. Footsteps echoing.

Voices overlapping in panic.

Hospital — 1:12 AM

The ICU waiting area smelled like antiseptic and fear. Abeer paced relentlessly, hands in his hair, breathing uneven.

Falak sat beside Alisha, fingers clenched together so tightly her knuckles hurt. Naina stood behind them, one hand on Falak's shoulder, the other holding her own tears back.

Mr. and Mrs. Arora had arrived quickly, offering quiet support.

Time moved strangely.

Too slow.

Too fast.

A doctor finally emerged from the ICU doors.

Everyone stood at once.

"How is he?" Abeer asked immediately, voice breaking. The doctor removed his mask. "He had a severe cardiac arrest. We managed to stabilize him for now, but the next 24 hours are critical."

Falak's stomach dropped. He knees gave up, and she dropped on the floor, eyes red, but no sob came out.

Abeer swayed slightly before catching himself on the chair. "Can I see him?" Alisha rushed to him and held his shoulder, her eyes full of tears.

"Only you for a minute."

Abeer nodded instantly and followed the doctor inside...The doors closed behind him. Falak pressed her hands over her mouth to stop the sob rising in her throat.

Naina pulled her into a hug.

"It'll be okay," she whispered, even though her own voice trembled.
********************

Abeer walked closer slowly—His Papa... who carried the whole world on his shoulders. Now lying unconscious.

Fragile.

His vision blurred with tears. "Papa..." he whispered, voice shaking. "You can't... you can't do this... not to me..."

His fingers curled around his father's hand carefully, afraid to hurt him.

"I already lost Mom... I can't lose you too... please... I need you... Falak needs you."

A tear fell on the bedsheet.

Then another.

And another.

For the first time in years...

Abeer Kashyap broke.
****************

Minutes later—Footsteps approached from the corridor. Falak didn't look up. But Naina did.

Her eyes widened slightly.

Shubh had arrived with his father. Concern was written all over his face. "Falak... Naina..." he said softly, moving closer.

He hugged Naina, then placed a steadying hand on Falak's shoulder.

"I'm here."

And then—Another presence entered the space.

Heavier.

Colder.

Falak felt it before she saw it...Her spine stiffened instinctively.

Saksham.

He wore a black crisp suit, hair slightly damp like he had come straight from somewhere without caring about appearances.

His face was unreadable.

But his eyes—

His eyes went directly to ICU room the moment his best friend stepped out of the ICU.

Abeer looked shattered.

Completely.

The strong, composed man everyone relied on was gone...In his place stood a son terrified of losing his father.

For a second—

Nine years disappeared.

Saksham's jaw tightened.

Abeer looked up.

Their eyes met.

So much history passed between them in that single moment.

Brotherhood.

Fights.

Loyalty.

Betrayal.

Distance.

Loss.

Pain.

Neither spoke.

Then Saksham stepped forward...Close enough that only Abeer could hear him. "How is he?" The question was quiet.

Rough.

Abeer's composure cracked instantly."Critical," he whispered. "They don't know if—"

His voice broke.

Without hesitation, Saksham grabbed his shoulder.

Firm.

Grounding.

The same way he used to after school fights years ago.

"I'm here," he said.

Two words.

But they carried years of friendship inside them. Abeer's eyes filled. For a second it looked like he might actually break down completely. Because no matter what had happened between them...Some bonds didn't disappear.

They just waited.

Abeer barely answered anyone. He was sitting on the chair, elbows on knees, head in his hands.

Completely shattered.

Alisha knelt in front of him. "He'll be okay," she said softly, holding his arm. Abeer shook his head.

"I wasn't there..." his voice cracked. "I should have been home... I should have noticed something... what if—"

"Stop," Alisha said firmly. "This is not your fault." But guilt was already eating him alive. Alisha looked at the person standing beside Abeer, she looked conflicted. Saksham did not say anything. 

For a moment, time rewound years.

Two best friends.

Brothers.

Now strangers. 
**********************

Abeer was standing outside the hospital, smoking, his eyes bloodshot red, fist clenched. He was barely holding himself. Alisha was standing by the hospital door when Saksham came and stood beside her.

" I always envied what you two had... back in school, we six might be a group unbeatable, inseparable...but what you two had was beyond loyalty...you two were brothers." She smiled brokenly, wiping her tears.

Saksham stood rigid... face blank, but his knuckle clenched. He moved and stood beside the person who was once his confined place.

The silence was unbearable. "He might die!" Abeer snapped, voice breaking. "That's how he is!"

Peoplepassing by froze. Saksham did not say anything

Abeer puffed smoke curled around them.

"You know what that feels like?" his eyes were red, tears spilling. "To stand there and watch your parent fight for their life?! To not know if they'll survive the night?!"

Saksham didn't react outwardly.

But his fists clenched.

"I already lost Mom," Abeer continued, voice trembling violently. "If I lose him too... I'll be alone... completely alone... my sister will be alone."

That word hit.

Alone.

Because Saksham knew.

Abeer wasn't just talking about parents. He was talking about losing him too.

Years of distance.

Broken friendship.

Unspoken betrayal.

Abeer's voice dropped to a whisper. "I needed you..." he said, tears falling freely now. "Back then... when everything broke... I needed my best friend... and you weren't there..."

That landed like a punch.

For the first time...Saksham's composure cracked.

Barely.

A muscle moved in his jaw.

His eyes darkened.

"Funny because you were also not there when I needed you the most," Saksham said quietly.

Abeer let out a broken laugh.

"Needed?" he repeated. "You ruined everything for me...for her...for maa and for yourself."

Silence.

Heavy.

Painful.

Raw.

Then suddenly, Abeer grabbed Saksham's collar.

Not aggressively.

Desperately.

"Don't let him die..." he whispered like a child. "Please... I can't lose him too..."

That moment.

That vulnerability.

That shattered boy in front of him...Destroyed Saksham's defenses.

Slowly...Saksham placed his hand over Abeer's wrist.

Firm.

Steady.

"He won't," he said.

Not a promise.

A vow.

And for the first time in years...Abeer leaned forward. Forehead hitting Saksham's shoulder.

Crying.

Completely broken.

And Saksham...Didn't move away.

He stood there.

Holding him.

Like he used to.

Like nothing had changed.

But everything had.
************************

|| STAY TUNNED||