REYANSH KHURANA

As I sit in my opulent office, surrounded by the symbols of my family's success, my mind wanders to the one thing that truly matters - Pranati. Eight years have passed since she left, yet the ache in my heart remains. I've built an empire, expanded our alcohol business, but the void within me grows. Pranati's absence has become a constant reminder of what I've lost.

My thoughts drift to our tumultuous past. Our love was all-consuming, passionate, and fiery. We clashed, we argued, but our love remained unwavering. Her departure shattered me, leaving an unfillable void. Time, they say, heals all wounds, but mine has only deepened. Every waking moment, I'm haunted by memories of her laughter, her smile, and her tears.

Jugnu, our daughter, is my sole connection to Pranati. Being a father has brought me joy, but it's also intensified my longing for Pranati. I've tried to fill the gap with work, but nothing suffices. My Prani, my love, Rey's Prani my everything - she's the missing piece that makes me whole.

I gaze at the old photograph on my desk, Pranati and I smiling, in love. My heart swells with emotions. Can I win her back? Can I redeem myself? The fear of rejection grips me, but I must try. For Jugnu's sake, for my own sanity, I must bridge the chasm between us.

I close my eyes, and memories of Pranati flood my mind. Our whirlwind romance, the laughter, the adventures... Our love was all-consuming, passionate, and pure. But amidst the chaos, I made a mistake – a mistake that haunts me to this day.

I remember the day Pranati told me she was pregnant. "Rey I'm pregnant." She told me excitedly expecting the same excitement from my side.

Fear gripped me, uncertainty clouded my judgment. I asked her to abort our child, "abort it Prani! Hum khud bacche hai iss bacche ko kese sambhalenge?" unaware of the devastation those words would cause. Pranati's face fell, her eyes filled with tears, and her voice trembled. "You want me to kill our baby?" she whispered. My heart shattered, but my fear silenced my conscience.

That moment changed everything. Pranati's love for me turned to dust. She left, taking our unborn child with her. Eight years of separation followed, a chasm grew between us, and I was left with the weight of my mistake.

Now, as I look back, I realize the gravity of my error. I lost Pranati, our child, and my own sense of self. The guilt gnaws at me, a constant reminder of what could've been. I long to turn back time, to hold Pranati close, to tell her I'm sorry.

But fate gave me a second chance – Jugnu, our beautiful daughter. Through her, I've experienced the joys of parenthood, but also the pain of Pranati's absence. I've tried to make amends, to prove myself, but the wound runs deep.

I wonder if Pranati can ever forgive me, if she'll ever see the sincerity in my eyes. I'm willing to spend a lifetime making it right, proving my love, and earning back her trust.

Just then my phone vibrate indicating someone had messaged me. As expected it was from my private investigator whom I had hired to find My Prani.

As I stared at my phone, my heart skipped a beat. The message on the screen sent a rush of emotions coursing through my veins.

"Pranati Mishra wants to meet you."

My mind went into overdrive, racing with possibilities. What does she want? Has she finally forgiven me? Is this a chance to make things right? The questions swirled, taunting me like a cruel tease. I felt like I was standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether I'd take a step forward or tumble backward.

My eyes lingered on her name, Pranati Mishra. The same name that haunted my dreams, fueled my regrets, and sustained my hope. Eight years of separation, and yet, the ache in my chest remained raw. I thought of Jugnu, our daughter, and how she'd brought us back into each other's orbits.

With trembling hands, I typed my response:

"Where and when?"

The wait for her reply seemed interminable. Each passing second stretched like an eternity, testing my resolve. Finally, her response arrived:

"The coffee shop on 5th Street. Tomorrow. 5 pm."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the encounter. Tomorrow would be a turning point. I would confront my past, my mistakes, and my longing. I would fight for a second chance, for redemption, and for the love that once burned bright between us.

Regret and guilt consumed me as memories resurfaced. I recalled the pain I'd caused Pranati when I'd asked her to abort our child. Her devastated expression still haunted me. And then, she vanished into thin air.

Desperation drove me to hire private investigators, scouring every lead, every hint. The truth they uncovered shook me to my core - Pranati's mother had sent our newborn to an orphanage.

My conscience wrestled with the knowledge. Pranati believed our child was born lifeless, a tragic loss. But I knew the truth. Jugnu, our daughter, was alive, thriving under my care. I'd kept her safe, raised her as my own, cherishing every smile, every laugh.

I remembered the day I adopted Jugnu from the orphanage. Sister Mary's words echoed in my mind: "This child needs you, Reyansh. Give her a loving home." I'd vowed to protect Jugnu, provide for her, and never let her experience the pain of rejection.

Pranati's mother had manipulated her, deceived her into believing our child didn't survive. I'd always wondered why Pranati left without a word. Now, I understood. She thought our child was gone, lost forever.

My past mistakes weighed heavily on me. Asking Pranati to abort our child, abandoning her when she needed me most. The what-ifs haunted me. Would she have stayed if I'd supported her? Would our child have grown up with both parents?As I awaited our meeting, memories of our past swirled. Our love, our laughter, our tears. Pranati's smile still lingered in my mind. I longed to see it again, to hold her close, to explain.