Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Do you know a secret?

Aniruddh felt a shiver run down his spine when he saw Shrabani and heard Jhanak’s name. It was a moment of piercing realization, dragging him back to a day he wished he could erase forever—the day he had decided to end his life.

Flashback: Three Years Ago

Grief weighed heavily on Aniruddh, suffocating and relentless. Days after his father’s death, he found himself unable to accept the cruel reality. The thought of being utterly alone, orphaned by fate, consumed him. One evening, his despair peaked, and he resolved to end his misery. With trembling hands, he opened a drawer and pulled out a cutter, his mind made up.

Just as he was about to press the blade to his wrist, there was a knock at the door. Ignoring it, he tightened his grip. But the knock came again, and then a third time, louder and more insistent. Frustrated, Aniruddh slammed the cutter down and stormed to the door.

Standing there was Shrabani, a woman he had never seen before. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice heavy with irritation.

Shrabani folded her hands respectfully. “Aniruddh baba, you don’t know me, but I’ve worked for your father for years.”

His face twisted in pain. “If you’ve come for help, you’re too late. My father is gone. I can’t do anything for you.” He began closing the door.

“Wait!” Shrabani pleaded. “I know Bose Saab is no more, and I’m deeply sorry for your loss. But I have something important for you.”

From her bag, she pulled out a letter. Aniruddh looked at it, puzzled.

“Your father sponsored a little girl whose parents died in an accident. She was abandoned by her relatives, and Bose Saab took responsibility for her. He hired me as her nanny and supported her secretly. Every year on her birthday, she writes him a letter. Today is her 18th birthday, and this is her letter.”

Aniruddh stared blankly at the envelope, unsure what to do.

Shrabani continued, “I’m not asking you to take over his responsibilities. I’ll manage everything. But please, read this letter. It’s from someone who’s endured the same pain you’re feeling now. Maybe her words can comfort you.”

Reluctantly, Aniruddh took the letter, closed the door, and placed it on the table. His gaze returned to the cutter. As he picked it up, a gust of wind blew the letter off the table, landing it near his feet. Annoyed, he placed it back on the table, but the wind sent it flying again, this time brushing against his face.

Irritated but curious, Aniruddh finally opened the letter and began reading:

“Pronaam Sirji,”
How are you? I hope you’re taking care of your health. Today, on my 18th birthday, I want to thank you. You’ve given me everything—a life, an education, and hope. I’ve never met you, but you mean the world to me.

I want to share something with you: No matter how lonely life feels, you’re never truly alone. Pain may seem endless, but it will pass. Please remember that someone out there cares deeply for you. If you ever feel overwhelmed, think of me. I’ll stand by you, even if only in spirit. You’ve shown me kindness when the world turned its back on me. You deserve happiness, too.

With love,
Jhanak

Tears blurred Aniruddh’s vision as he finished reading. The raw sincerity in Jhanak’s words struck a chord deep within him. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of hope. He threw the cutter into the trash and clutched the letter to his chest. “Thank you, Jhanak,” he whispered. “You saved my life.”

Present Day

Aniruddh’s flashback was interrupted by Shrabani’s frantic screams. In his arms lay Jhanak, unconscious and battling for her life. Realizing the gravity of the situation, he carried her outside, only to be blocked by a swarm of reporters.

“Who is this girl?” one shouted.

“Is she your mistress?” another demanded.

Aniruddh’s patience snapped. “Move!” he roared. “She needs medical attention!”

The reporters reluctantly stepped aside. Aniruddh rushed to his car, placed Jhanak in the backseat with Shrabani, and sped toward the hospital.

At the hospital, Jhanak was wheeled into the ICU while Aniruddh and Shrabani waited outside. After an hour, Shrabani returned with a box.

“What’s this?” Aniruddh asked.

“These are all the letters Jhanak wrote to her Sirji over the years,” Shrabani explained. “She never knew your father had passed away. She kept writing to him. There’s one more—the letter she wrote today.”

Aniruddh hesitated but eventually opened every envelope. Each letter revealed Jhanak’s admiration for him—his resilience, his humility, and even the hidden pain she sensed in his eyes. The final letter, however, left him speechless.

“Pronaam Sirji,”
Last night, something extraordinary happened. I saw my idol, Aniruddh Bose, standing before me. We spent hours talking, not as a star and fan but as two ordinary people. Beneath his arrogance and curt demeanor, I saw his pain—a pain I understand all too well.

I don’t know how to explain this, Sirji, but I think I’m falling for him. I’m sharing this with you because you’re the closest to my heart. Please guide me.

With love,
Jhanak

Aniruddh’s hands trembled as he held the letter. Tears streamed down his face, a mix of gratitude and guilt. How could he deny his connection to her now?

Press Conference

Hours later, Aniruddh faced the media. “The rumors about me and Jhanak Chatterjee are false. She is not my mistress or my girlfriend. She is simply a kind soul who gave me shelter when I needed it most. That’s all.”

The room fell silent, reporters stunned by his curt dismissal. Aniruddh walked out, his heart heavy with unspoken truths.

An Hour Later, at the Hospital

Shrabani carefully spooned food into Jhanak’s mouth, who had been moved to the casualty ward for further treatment. Her face was etched with concern as she asked gently, “Now that all the allegations against you have been cleared, do you feel any better?”

Jhanak nodded slightly, her tired eyes reflecting both relief and lingering pain.

Just then, the door creaked open. Aniruddh stepped inside hesitantly, his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet Jhanak’s eyes. He took a deep breath and addressed Shrabani quietly, “Can I… can I speak to Jhanak privately? Just for two minutes?”

Shrabani glanced at Jhanak for approval. Jhanak instinctively caught Shrabani’s hand, her fingers gripping tightly as she shook her head, signaling her unwillingness.

Shrabani offered a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Jhanak. I’ll be right outside.”

Reluctantly, Jhanak released her hand, and Shrabani exited the room, casting a worried glance over her shoulder.

Aniruddh hesitated, then slowly approached Jhanak, sitting on the chair beside her bed. She turned her face away from him, her body language cold and unyielding. Tentatively, he reached out to touch her hand, but she pulled it away sharply.

“Jhanak, I…” he began, his voice trembling, but she raised her hand, silencing him with a firm gesture.

Her hands moved with purpose, signing angrily, “I don’t want to hear anything from you. I don’t even want to see your face. Just leave!”

Aniruddh’s heart sank. He tried once more, his voice filled with regret, “Please, Jhanak, just let me explain—”

But her agitation grew visibly, her breaths quickening. Alarmed that she might have another panic attack, he stopped himself. Defeated, he stood up and backed away, his shoulders heavy with despair. Without another word, he left the room.

Outside, Shrabani intercepted him, her expression a mixture of sympathy and worry. “Did you talk to her?”

Aniruddh shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Shrabani placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Just give her some time,” she said softly.

But Aniruddh was too consumed by his heartbreak to hear her. Without replying, he walked away from the hospital, disappearing into the shadows of the night. After that day, Aniruddh vanished from the public eye entirely, leaving no trace of his whereabouts.

A Few Days Later

When Jhanak was discharged from the hospital, Shrabani handed her a letter. Jhanak stared at it in surprise. It was from her Sirji—a man she had always written to but had never received a response from before.

Her hands trembled as she opened the envelope and read the words inside:

"I know what happened to you, but turn your pain into power. Let this be the beginning of a stronger, braver you, Jhanak!
Regards,
Sirji"

The letter brought tears to Jhanak’s eyes. Those simple yet powerful words ignited a spark within her. Determined to leave the pain behind, she resolved to focus on her dreams and rebuild her life.

Her Sirji continued to guide her through his letters, offering unwavering support and financial help to ensure her journey toward success remained uninterrupted. Jhanak channeled her pain into her passion, stepping into a future full of hope and resilience.

Over the years, Jhanak blossomed into a world-renowned dancer, earning accolades and admiration from across the globe. Her grace, passion, and talent captivated millions, yet she remained an enigma in other ways. Despite receiving countless acting offers, she turned them all down. Even more notably, she rejected every marriage proposal Shrabani brought her way.

Deep within her heart, Jhanak carried an emptiness that no amount of fame or success could fill—a void that only one person, Aniruddh Bose, could occupy. But Aniruddh had vanished without a trace. The last she had seen of him was on her birthday years ago, at the hospital.

For a brief time, the media buzzed with speculation about the mysterious disappearance of the celebrated actor. Headlines were filled with wild theories, but like all trending news, the frenzy eventually faded. Aniruddh’s name became a forgotten whisper in the industry, and nine years passed with no sign of him anywhere.

2023 – Jhanak’s 30th Birthday

Jhanak had turned 30 but remained single. Though marriage proposals still poured in, she rejected them all with quiet finality. The day had been filled with celebrations and laughter, but as the evening wore on, the loneliness she kept hidden began to surface once again.

As the guests departed and the house fell silent, Shrabani approached Jhanak with a familiar envelope in hand. “Another letter from Sirji,” she said with a faint smile, placing it on the table.

Before Shrabani could leave, Jhanak caught her hand. Her gaze was sharp, and her tone betrayed an urgency she could no longer suppress. “Mashi,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “you’ve kept the identity of Sirji a secret all these years. But I can’t take it anymore—I need to know who it is. Tell me, Mashi. Who is he? What’s his name?”

Shrabani hesitated, her face clouded with hesitation. She averted her eyes, avoiding Jhanak’s piercing gaze, and turned to leave.

But Jhanak wasn’t done. She stepped in front of Shrabani, her hands trembling as she signed with a determined expression: “Tomar kasam (I swear on you), Shrabani Mashi. Tell me who it is!”

Shrabani froze, her shoulders stiffening. After a long moment of silence, she let out a sigh, her voice heavy with emotion as she finally blurted out, “Aniruddh Bose!”

Jhanak stood rooted to the spot, thunderstruck. The name echoed in her mind, louder than any applause she’d ever received on stage. Her knees weakened, and her eyes widened in disbelief.

“Aniruddh Bose?” she whispered to herself, her heart racing as she grappled with the revelation. For nine long years, the man she had been searching for had been closer than she ever imagined, hidden behind the letters that had been her lifeline.

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To be continued.