chapter dedicated to george_14h bhai I've come across multiple comments but never had anyone bhaizone the ml 😭 your comments have me rolling!!!! love looove looove youuuuu!

: chhaaon thi tere saath ki, be-rehem dhoop mein

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 12 : change is the only constant

One year and some months ago:

I could feel the ache budding at the sides of my forehead, my feet heavy with exhaustion from the airport, and yet, the fatigue was nothing compared to the fire blazing inside me.

The sleek lobby's chill did little to douse it; if anything, the glossy tiles and cold marble only added fuel.

This was my father's "empire". The place he bragged about like it was the world's core? I took in the towering windows and pristine surfaces, and it struck me as nothing but a hollow peace of plot.

A polished facade built to reflect nothing but his ego.

Ignoring the receptionist's startled look, I strode towards the elevator.

I swear to god i really didn't have the patience for greetings or formalities.

My fingers stabbed at the button repeatedly, the light taking its time to blink as if daring me to wait.

My head was buzzing, the only thing on my mind was reaching the top floor, facing whatever smug speech my father had lined up.

And get the fuck out already.

"Oh, look who's here!" Came a voice I would've paid anything to avoid.

Her syrupy tone, laced with venom, grated through my patience.

God, I was in no mood of this.

I pretended not to hear her, still jamming on the elevator buttons like my life depended on it. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears as I silently prayed for the doors to open and take me away from this mess.

Isha's heels clicked obnoxiously against the floor as she came closer. "Here to see your sweet little husband and his poor, pathetic family?"

My eyes snapped towards her, a glare so cold, it could freeze the flames inside me.

"You better watch your tongue, sister." I spat, my tone ice-cold, my patience thinner than a thread.

She scoffed, crossing her arms in that annoyingly self-satisfied way. "Or what? The criminal inside you will unleash itself again?"

Her words dripped with mockery, but there was a hint of fear in her eyes, just enough for me to notice.

Oh I love that look.

It was the perfect mix. The mockery in her face exactly capable of fueling the fire within me but those eyes, allowing the perfect category of fear to feed on.

I stepped closer to her, inching slightly into her personal space, watching as her smug expression wavered.

What can I say?

"Umhm." I let out a soft hum, a slow smile curling on my lips as I tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, drawing out the silence to make her squirm.

I'm a romantic.

"I've been to jail once, Isha," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper, just enough for her to hear. "I know what it's like. And trust me, I don't mind going back... if,"

I let my gaze flick down her frame with obvious disdain before meeting her eyes again, "-if people don't learn to mind their own fucking business."

I placed a hand on her shoulder, my smile still firmly in place, even though my insides were boiling.

The threat in my words hung in the air between us like a loaded gun. Her face blanched slightly, but she masked it quickly with a scowl, brushing my hand off her shoulder like she couldn't stand to be touched by me.

"You think you scare me, Khwahish?" she hissed, but her voice cracked ever so slightly.

I could practically smell the insecurity beneath her bravado.

I hit the elevator button again, harder this time, wanting nothing more than to leave her standing there, choking on her own pettiness.

They should invest more on these elevators because clearly, the current one's don't work!

Just as the doors started to open, her voice rang out again, dripping with a toxic sort of glee. "You really don't know, do you?"

I froze, my back still to her as she continued, "Does your poor little husband even tell you anything anymore? Like the fact that he's quitting his job for some roadside startup?"

My stomach clenched, the knot of anger inside me tightening painfully.

I hadn't processed it yet, not fully. When my mother-in-law had called me, frantic, just two days ago, telling me that her son was planning to quit his secure job and throw himself headfirst into his startup, I couldn't understand her.

What start-up?

He hadn't told me. Not a single word.

To keep things short, I had no idea that my husband of more than a year had a second job for years until 2 days ago.

And now, my father wanted to 'talk' about it, which was just a polite way of saying he wanted to tear Shehryar apart for making a decision he didn't approve of.

Isha saw the slight shift in my posture, and like the snake that she was, she swooped in for the kill.

"Oh, didn't know that, did you?" Her voice oozed with mock sympathy.

"What's he gonna do, huh? What hidden money does he have, or are you planning on paying his bills now? Oh! Don't tell me the entire family is here to beg!?"

I turned slowly to face her, locking eyes with her, not blinking once.

This bitch.

My lips curled into a small, sarcastic smile as I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Isha..." I sighed dramatically, shaking my head like I was truly disappointed.

"Don't worry, Shehryar and I aren't gonna bug your father for investments, we prefer class."

I loved smacking that grin off. I smiled as the doors started to close. This has to be the slowest elevator I've ever come across!

"I assure you; daddy can still manage his princess' pocket money without any divisions, as always."

-•❅•-

I stormed into the office without a second thought, the door banging open with a force that rattled the windows, yet all I managed to get was simply two pairs of eyes snap my way.

And here I was thinking I was finally going to have the most dramatic entry of my life.

The tension in the room immediately swallowed the echo of my footsteps. My eyes swept over the familiar yet nauseatingly pristine space. I had only ever been here once and yet the memory it brought was more than fresh. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows allowed the light to spill onto the tiled floor, cold and sterile. In the center of the room, two plush leather sofas faced each other, flanking a circular glass table that held untouched cups of tea, as if we were here for some polite, meaningless gathering.

On one side sat Shehryar's parents-Mumma and Baba. Their eyes snapped to me the second I entered, guilt flickering across their faces as if they'd been caught in the middle of commiting something shameful. They were seated so stiffly, so uncomfortably, and for the life of me, I couldn't understand why. My own parents-if you could even call them that-sat across from them, oblivious to my presence as my father continued his goddamn lecture.

"You really think you can take care of her? Quit your job, chase after some fantasy with that startup of yours, and you call that a plan?" my father's voice dripped with disdain as if he was talking to some random kid whose lifelong bills he had sponsored.

"A family needs stability, not pipe dreams."

I almost wanted to laugh. As if he cared. As if he had ever cared.

I wasn't a fool, nor was I born yesterday to not be able to see past his facade of being a concerned father.

Hell, the only reason he agreed to this marriage in the first place was because he thought that the man he was giving me in the hands of was one with no income, because somehow thanks to my stars the minions he had left behind Shehryar before our marriage didn't get the concept of working hybrid.

And like any other sadist in the world, all my father assumed was for me to spend the rest of my life being stuck with an unsuccessful and dejected failure who would make my life a living hell because of his failed financial status.

Clearly, that didn't turn out as planned. However, that was a bearable poison for this man and his family to swallow.

But this. The chances of Shehryar succeeding weren't. The chances of the man I am married to succeeding in any way weren't.

"Shehryar, you're making a mistake. You can't support yourself, let alone my daughter, with these kind of reckless decisions."

The words spilling from his mouth were nothing but hypocritical venom. He sat there, pretending to be the concerned father, warning Shehryar's parents about how their son was incapable of taking care of me, about how I deserved better. My throat burned, and my hands clenched at my sides.

Better?

My fingers twitched with the urge to laugh, to scream. But I swallowed it all down.

Instead, my eyes searched the room. Not for them, not for their pitiful expressions. I was looking for him.

Shehryar stood by the window, his back partially to me, his side profile framed by the sunlight streaming in. He looked... different. A little taller, a little broader, his shoulders carrying a weight they hadn't before. His hair had grown longer, a few stray strands falling across his forehead, and his stubble had darkened. Something about him was more rugged, more hardened. But that wasn't what made my breath catch.

It was the way he stood there, completely indifferent to everything. Like the words being spewed by my father were beneath him.

Too nonchalant.

Too calm for the chaos that surrounded us.

I felt him shift, his face was devoid of any emotion, but his eyes... those distant, cold eyes locked onto mine the second I stepped into the room. And for just a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Six months.

Six months since we last saw each other, six months since we shared ou-

I shook my head.

It had been a good two year of our marriage now, and yet, here he was, standing in front of me like a stranger. Like he barely knew me. He didn't even look away-his gaze burned into me, unmoving, as if he were dissecting every part of me from a distance. But his expression remained cold.

Always so detached.

Does he even care?

I tore my gaze from him, my heart thudding painfully in my chest, and glanced at his parents again. They couldn't even look me in the eye. Why did they look so ashamed? Why were their heads down, as if they had committed some crime? Why was Shehryar-the man I married-standing there, letting my father humiliate him in front of them?

What the hell?

But more than that, a fresh wave of anger surged through me. Why did he need to explain himself to my family-a family that never gave a damn about me in the first place?

My eyes narrowed.

He never even told me. About his plans, his ambitions, the future he saw for us (If at all he did that is). And yet, somehow, my family-my stepfather-knew before I did. The betrayal simmered underneath my skin, but I couldn't afford to feel hurt right now.

My stomach twisted with fury, and before I knew it, I couldn't take it anymore.

"What the hell is going on here?" My voice cut through the room like a whip, this time gathering everyone's attention as they flinched, except Shehryar. He didn't move an inch. He just turned his head slightly more in my direction, a slight glint covering his eyes all of a sudden.

My father straightened, eyes narrowing as he took me in. "Khwahish, this is a family matter. We're discussing your husband's ability to provide for you-"

Before he could say anything further, I stepped forward cutting him off.

"This is a personal discussion." I said, my voice dangerously calm as I stared him down. "One that should be happening in our home, not in some random man's office."

Turning my head to my in-laws I gestured for them to get up from their seats. "Mumma, baba- we should get going,"

My father raised an eyebrow, his lips curling slightly like he thought I was just throwing a tantrum. "I'm assuming you're still not aware of your husband's stupidity yet, Khwahish, but do not worry we're family, we are here to hel-"

"No, you're not. You're sitting here playing judge and jury over a man who owes you nothing." I said firmly, my voice cutting through the silence only to have my mother interject this time.

"Do not speak to your father like that! What makes you think you can use that tone of yours on us!? How da-"

I simply cut her off.

"And what makes you think that any of you have the right to speak to my husband like that?" I continued tremors of my rage building inside me.

"This is our life, not yours. Shehryar doesn't owe you an explanation, and frankly speaking, neither do I."

My father's face hardened, but I wasn't done. "You think you guys can question his ability to take care of me? The two of you? Of all people? Let me remind you that you lost that right a long time ago."

"Khwahish, you're being the same pathetic irrational little gir-" my father tried to interject, but I was beyond reasoning.

"No, I'm not. What's irrational is you sitting here, acting like you have the right to tear down the one true person who cares about me- all while expecting me to just shut up and listen like some mute doll?" I turned to Shehryar's parents, and they finally lifted their heads, their eyes full of discomfort.

"Why are you hanging your heads like he's done something wrong? You should be happy for your son, he's following his dreams, he's working hard, and I support him. As should you, Baba."

I looked at my father-in-law and then at his mother, "Mumma, there's nothing to be ashamed of."

I could feel the heat rising in the room, the tension thick enough to choke on. But the man behind all of this just stood there, still as ever, barely blinking. I glanced at him, expecting at least a flicker of stress, maybe some sign that he was feeling the weight of this moment.

But none.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He actually looked entertained, like this was some kind of game, and he was just waiting for the final move.

"You think quitting a stable job and chasing some idea is what's best for you?" this time it was my mother-in-law, her tone dejected.

"It's not about me, mum-"

"Foolish!" my father spat, now visibly angry. "I'm trying to protect you, Khwahish! Protect you from a selfish man who clearly can't even see past his own ambitions!"

My laughter came out before I could stop it. "Protect me? That's rich, coming from you. Protect me from what, exactly? From a man who's actually a man? From a man who doesn't just see me as a tool for his own agenda?"

"Khwahish-" My father's voice was sharp, cutting.

"Enough!" This time it was my mother.

"You will not speak to us this way! Your failure of a husband is making reckless choices, and as your parents, we have every right to-"

"What did you say?" a bitter cynical chuckle escaped my lips.

How dare she?

Honestly, at this point, I couldn't help but question myself just as much as I questioned them.

Was this normal?

To feel so disrespected and attacked when, in reality, no one was even pointing a finger directly at me? For the first time in my life, my parents weren't targeting me-it was the man I was married to. And somehow, that hit differently. A strange, unsettling sense of offense crept into my veins. I was speaking out more than I ever would have if their words were aimed at me. But for some reason, their criticism of him felt infinitely worse.

Shehryar and I were far from close. Sure, to the world, we had been a married couple for over a year, but were we really supposed to be that strong? Was marriage meant to create a bond so intense that any harsh word and attack against your partner could make you feel as if you were the one bleeding?

Despite the fact that we were anything but normal?

"A failure of a husband, huh? Might I remind you that the two of you have made a career out of bullying people into submission, and being the sick opportunists that you are. So if 'failure' looks like that, then I'm more than happy to be a part of it because guess what- that man right there has more courage and integrity in his little finger than what the two of you combined have in your entire bod-"

I knew I had overdone myself, I was aware, but somehow the more that I looked at those faces the deeper the reality of us sank in.

I didn't respect them anymore.

I just couldn't.

The moment the words left my mouth, I could see it - the shift in my father's face, the sheer fury darkening his features, twisting his expression into something venomous.

Something I was more than aware of.

His lips pulled back into a tight line, nostrils flaring, and before I could even register what was happening, his hand shot up. It wasn't anything unexpected or new, just like every other time-

It was fast. Too fast.

The room seemed to still for a split second, my breath caught in my throat as I watched the arc of his hand, aiming for my face. My heart slammed against my ribs, and for a moment, I was frozen. I didn't have time to move, didn't have time to think.

It was going to happen. Again.

And I knew for a fact that even after years, I wouldn't be able to move. Again.

A part of me couldn't help but picture the Khwahish who would at one point wait for the impacts so she could simply get over it quicker, and then there was the Khwahish now who somehow somewhere, even years later, felt the same familiar emotions take over like a sudden gush of air. A sense of mockery consuming my insides just at the thought of what changed?

Change.

My eyes zeroed at the fingers that wrapped around my father's wrist with a firm grip.

I looked at the familiar figure that now stood between my father and I.

My eyes taking in the man who in one fluid motion, had caught my father's wrist mid-air, the impact so seamless that the sound of their hands meeting was barely audible. The tension in the room snapped tight, and everything seemed to pause. My father's hand trembled, trapped in Shehryar's grip, inches away from striking me.

I stood there, still, stunned, my eyes wide as I realized what had just almost happened.

Shehryar didn't look fazed. Not even remotely. His expression remained maddeningly calm, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. He didn't budge, didn't so much as shift a leg, just held my father's wrist like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like he could crush him any moment, if he wanted to, as he slowly, leaned in just a fraction.

"Touch her and you'll wish you hadn't."

The words were deliberate, cutting through the air like a blade. Every syllable was calm, but they were heavy, packed with a quiet threat that sent a chill down my spine.

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't scream or shout.

He didn't need to.

The sheer authority in his tone commanded the room.

For a split second, no one breathed. My father stood frozen, his wrist still locked in Shehryar's grip, his eyes wide with shock. Shehryar didn't waver, his posture relaxed, almost as if this whole thing was beneath him.

But the weight of his presence-his towering figure, his absolute control-made it clear that this wasn't a negotiation.

"You think being her father gives you power over her?" Shehryar asked, his voice as smooth as ever, though there was an unmistakable edge to it. He let out a low, almost amused breath.

"That ends now."

He released my father's wrist with deliberate slowness as if dismissing him, and when my father staggered back, it was as if the entire room released a breath it had been holding.

However, I held my breath, the weight of his words sinking into the room. My father stepped back, eyes darting between me and Shehryar, clearly caught between fury and fear.

Shehryar, still standing between us, glanced over at me with a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if to say, 'You handled that'.

His gaze flickered briefly with something soft-protective, perhaps even slightly amused-but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

I shifted my focus to my father, whose face was a mixture of shock and rage, then to my mother, who looked like she might faint at any second.

Shehryar's parents sat in stunned silence, unable to process the escalating situation. The tension in the room was suffocating, thick with unsaid words and power dynamics. Yet all I felt was a strange, growing calmness like the storm had passed the moment Shehryar stepped in.

The man beside me straightened, his movements deliberate and poised, his confidence palpable.

"If you wish to maintain any relationship with your daughter," Shehryar began, his voice quiet but filled with a subtle warning as he brushed a speck of dust off my father's shoulder with an almost dismissive touch,

"I suggest you rethink your approach."

His words sliced through the tension like a knife. My father's breath hitched as Shehryar's tone deepened, his next statement landing with the weight of a final, unchallengeable decision.

"And if you ever forget that again," Shehryar's voice dropped even lower, sending a ripple of unease through the room,

"I'll make sure you never have the chance to remember."

Silence followed, and for a second, it felt like the air itself had stilled. My father's face tightened in response, but he didn't move, didn't speak. No one did.

You see, that was the thing about change.

It was the only constant.

-•❅•-

Present Day:

"Thank you for this award,"

Shehryar's voice echoed through the grand hall, crisp and steady. He held the trophy with a bittersweet smile, the faintest hint of something unspoken hovering around the edges of his expression.

His grip on the award tightened, and he raised it slightly, his gaze momentarily drifting upward. "This is for him." he said, his tone lowering to something almost reverent.

Him? My heart gave a small, curious leap.

He meant God, you shame of a worshipper!

I cursed, nearly rolling my eyes at myself. Of course, Shehryar would bring his faith into this.

I was grateful to be with a man who never forgot to give thanks where it mattered most. But there was something about the way he said it-a subtle pause, a restrained emotion flickering in his eyes-that unsettled me just a little, though I couldn't pinpoint why.

I'm overthinking it again, arent I?

As if sensing my gaze, his eyes found mine in the crowd. For a fleeting moment, something raw and intense flashed there, cutting through the polished exterior he wore so effortlessly. And then, as if realizing the public stage he stood on, his expression softened, his lips barely curving into a half-smile.

"And, of course, my wife." he added, voice steady, but his face took on a rare gentleness like he was letting slip something he didn't usually reveal.

I froze, the words landing like an unexpected note in the middle of a familiar melody.

My wife.

It was a simple mention, yet it took me entirely by surprise. Shehryar didn't seem like the one to weave me into his public speeches, to let anyone see beyond the surface. Our relationship was rarely on his lips, forget expecting for him to utter it in crowds like this, and here he was, acknowledging me in front of all these people as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

My breath caught, and I felt a strange warmth filling my chest. The sharp sting of tears I had been trying to hold back for so long edging at my eyes as I held my phone in hand, recording every moment.

I could barely react, barely move.

Truth be told, I had no real place in his business world-I hadn't been there in those secretive early years when he'd built The HOS group of Industries from the ground up, hadn't been involved in its daily grind or decisions.

But even so, every one of his achievements felt like a piece of my own journey, each milestone his company hit feeling like my own small victory.

Pride bloomed inside me, too potent to hide, as he stood there-my husband-holding an award in his hand and letting the world know that, somewhere in it all-

I mattered too.

As the applause reverberated around me, I turned off my video, clapping my hands with unrestrained enthusiasm. Shehryar's brief words echoed in my mind-"my wife."

I wished he had been more of a talker, that he would have given a full-fledged speech instead of just those three broken lines. But maybe that was just him, always modest, always keeping the focus away from himself.

I admired him for it, yet part of me longed to hear him share the journey behind his success, to voice the struggles and triumphs that had shaped him into the man he is today.

My heart fluttered as I watched him stride toward our table, a confident yet humble air around him.

There was something magnetic in the way he moved, and when he reached me, he simply passed the award into my hands. It was a moment that sent a rush of disbelief coursing through my veins; my brain barely caught up with the instinctive way I grasped the cold metal trophy.

The award itself was stunning-a sleek, silver figure representing an eagle in mid-flight, perched atop a polished wooden base. It gleamed under the soft lights, engraved with the words: Best Emerging Entrepreneur and Shehryar's name below it.

The award felt monumental, a validation of all his hard work and relentless dedication. I couldn't help but smile at it, the symbol of his achievement reflecting my own pride.

Shehryar settled into the seat beside me, and just as he did, his hand instinctively found mine, wrapping around it like it belonged there.

I didn't resist. Instead, I looked down at my lap, feeling the weight of the trophy in one hand and the warmth of his palm in the other. It was a comforting juxtaposition, a tangible reminder of the man I was growing so fond of in these short four days of being around him.

I wasn't an astrologer, but it didn't take a star chart to tell me that I was truly winning in life for a change.

Every fleeting moment we shared felt like a small victory. A building block in what I hoped would someday lead to a grand structure. A small step in a road I was taking the first time, a step I hoped someday would lead us both to a satisfactory destination.

I glanced at Shehryar, his stoic demeanor now softening as he looked at me, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and I almost felt I couldn't breathe.

In that moment, I knew, I knew that I was doomed.

In that moment I knew that no matter how bright the future felt, there was definitely a storm that lay ahead.

The storm that always came after a good memory.

A storm that ruins everything, because why else was my heart beating so fast? Why else were my hands cold? Why else would I be happy? If not to cry tomorrow?

Truth be told, I was scared of my own happiness, and more than anything-

I was scared of falling in love.

-•❅•-

Your being was like a seamless shade, from the scorching sun's crest

-•❅•-

Happiest Diwali my lovessss!! (IK I'M 2 DAYS TOO LATE!)

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