Chapter 2 : Ziddi Dil Na Maane

Through the glass of the rehearsal hall, Maan watched her.

Maira.

Bathed in the golden spill of streetlights and headlights, standing beside Ishaan’s parked car. Her head tilted back as she laughed faintly at something Ishaan said, her hand brushing a stray curl behind her ear. Maan didn't realize his palm had tightened against the windowsill until he felt the slight bite of wood beneath his fingers.

He wasn’t sure what bothered him more—the warmth she seemed to radiate in someone else’s presence… or the way his gaze still found her through a crowd, like muscle memory.

He exhaled sharply, turning away.

The next day unfolded under the warm buzz of fluorescent lights and the faint hum of anticipation. A wide poster announcing the upcoming “Nita Ambani Cultural Centre Contemporary Showcase” had been pinned near the entrance—bold, hopeful letters, shimmering in gold.

Inside the studio, dancers stretched, chatting casually as Maan walked in with his ever-commanding presence. Maira was already there, warming up quietly in the far corner, her long black tank top tucked into high-waist joggers. Earphones in, head slightly bowed, but eyes alert. She knew his presence before she even looked up.

Maan clapped his hands once. “Okay, everyone. The NMACC performance is not just a showcase—it’s exposure. The best of the best are going to be there. Let’s rise to that level.”

He scanned the room. “Today we start learning the concept piece. Partner work. Group dynamics. Precision over drama.”

Then his eyes landed on the attendance list.

"No new joinee as of yet, which means are still stuck on a odd number" he muttered.

Aanya grinned playfully, nudging the dancer beside her. “Guess what that means... Captain dances.”

Everyone chuckled.

Maan didn’t smile. He merely lifted his chin. “Fine. I’ll partner with Maira.”

The studio fell silent. Heads turned. Even the music paused mid-beat, as if sensing the shift in air.

Maira slowly removed her earphones and stood, jaw tight, but eyes steady after realizing everyone were looking at her and awaiting for her reaction.

"Again?" she questioned.

“Looks like I’m stuck with you once more,” he said, half-teasing, half-exhausted.

Maira arched a brow, already reaching for her water bottle. “Is that your way of asking nicely or preparing me for battle?”

"Are you up for this cultural event or will you step back and await for another event?"

Maira thinks about what could be the consequences if she chooses to step back and in a quick moment to decide she chosed to face her fears even if it meant dancing with the partner who is her coach now who had once stolen her heart.

“Sure,” she said, voice neutral.

He met her gaze briefly, a faint smirk curved his lips, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to the center of the room, motioning for the rest to pair up and then turned back to the mirror. “Start from the lift and move into the arch hold. Five, six, seven—go.”

“This sequence is more intimate,” he announced. “If you’re not comfortable being vulnerable, you’re not ready for the stage.”

As they moved into position, Maira stiffened when his hand touched the small of her back. Not from fear—but memory. The way he used to hold her during rehearsals, when touch had meant more than choreography.

They began the routine.

The room melted away. Just rhythm, breath, the pulse of the beat... and each other.

Every movement felt familiar. Every pause, every glide, every turn—it was like they remembered each other’s bodies without trying. Their past chemistry surged through muscle and motion, so seamless that even the other dancers slowed to watch.

But then, like a ripple through still water, it changed.

A fragment of the past—her sobbing into a pillow, the flash of his retreating back, the hollow echo of their breakup—flared in her mind. Maan, too, faltered, stepping half a beat off the rhythm.

The spell broke.

He stopped the music mid-note. “We’ll continue tomorrow,” he said, his voice tight.

*

Outside the studio, Maira slipped into the passenger seat of Ishaan’s SUV. He was already waiting, elbow on the steering wheel, playlist shuffling softly in the background.

“You were late,” he said gently, glancing sideways.

“Sorry. Class ran over,” she replied, tugging her hoodie tighter around her. Her palms still tingled faintly from Maan’s touch—she hated that they did.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice threaded with concern. “You’ve been... distant.”

She smiled, practiced and quick. “Just tired. You know these dance things.”

He reached over, brushing her knuckles with his fingers. “I hope you’re not overdoing it. I don’t want you fainting in the middle of a twirl.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

A beat of silence.

*

Later that evening, as Maira changed into her robe after a shower, her phone buzzed. Rudra.

She answered on speaker, drying her hair.

“Finally! I thought you’d gone back into monk mode,” Rudra’s voice rang out.

“I’ve been busy,” she said, toweling her curls.

“Well, stop everything. Big news. Palki and I... we’re engaged.”

Maira paused mid-motion. “You’re what?”

“Engaged. It’s official Mairu... The wedding’s in a couple of months, but we’re doing an engagement party at the end of this month. Dad aur Diya aunty already know about this so you don't have to inform them, just inform Shaira aunty and Mayank uncle for me please, idk if Diya aunty or Dad must have conveyed the same but just letting you know as well to convey the same.

"Joh hukum mere aakah, I will inform them aur kuch dulhe sahab?".(As you command, my lord. I’ll inform them right away. Anything else, dear groom?),- Maira teases him.

"And I need you there. Front and center."

"Obvio! Yeh bhi koi poochne ki baat hai? Mere bhai ki shaadi hai, toh mein kyun nahi hogi? (“Obviously! Is that even a question? It’s my brother’s wedding—of course I’ll be there!”) - she claims her right over him.

"I know Mairu but also make sure Maysha and Shayaan clear their damn calendars.Shayaan who needs to clears his Goa match schedule and Maysha her some shampoo brand shoot. I don’t care. You're the eldest. They’ll listen to you.”

She laughed, soft. “They barely listen to anyone. But I’ll try.”

“Try harder. No excuses. You’re part of this madness and after that, am looking forward to hearing from a good news from you as well! No more hiding from giving me the happiness that I have been craving for ever since you and jeej had your first anniversary.”

Maira’s fingers froze over the phone.

She forced a laugh.

“We’ll see. One event at a time but am so happy I’m happy for you, Rudy and I hope you prove to be a better fiance and a hubby that you couldn't be when you guys were dating!.”

"Thanks Mairu and yes I know and will try my best not disappoint you and be a better version of myself for Palki".

"That's like a good brother.Chal I talk you tomorrow, good night Rudy".

"Good night Mairu".

When she hung up, the silence returned like a whisper. She looked at the calendar. The day was coming fast and she marked it.

She stared at the screen long after it had gone dark, her heart feeling heavier than it should.

*

The bathroom door creaked open with a cloud of steam, and Ishaan walked out, towel slung over his shoulders, drops of water glistening across his chest. His damp hair curled slightly near the edges. He looked effortlessly beautiful—hers.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he teased, raising an eyebrow as he came closer, planting a soft kiss on her temple. “Everything okay?”

She nodded, slipping her phone face-down onto the bedside table. “Rudra called.”

“Oh? What’s the news?”

“He’s getting engaged to Palki. It’s official now.”

“Wow, really?” Ishaan sat beside her, tousling his hair dry with the towel. “That’s good news, right?”

Maira smiled “Yeah. He asked us to come over. And you know what my mahashay (my lord) wants my 2 samples- Shayaan and Maysha to clear their "busy schedule" and plus he wants my both set of parents which includes his bio dad."

"Yeah thats obvious after all we are a family, though there is complex relationships but everyone are dear to each other, since his engagement is around the corner and his wedding preps too, I shall see that I can clear my work schedule as well so that I divert my patients to my colleague for the time being".

She leaned into him, drawing warmth from his body, from his presence that felt like home. For a moment, there was peace.

Then his fingers slowly trailed along her arm. A gentle caress. He turned her to face him, tilting her chin with a knowing smile.

“You know,” he murmured, “you’re way too beautiful for your own good."

“Ahh I've missed you,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

His lips brushed her earlobe. Then trailed lower, grazing the edge of her shoulder. She shivered—part from the intimacy, part from something else. Something deeper. A growing dread.

“Ishaan...” she began, but he was still close, still kissing that soft spot beneath her collarbone.

He pulled her closer, whispering near her ear, “You keep this up and we’ll have to press pause on dancing soon. Our little one will be keeping you too busy for rehearsals.”

Her heart dropped.

A baby. Again.

The word echoed in her mind, bouncing against the walls of a truth she hadn’t spoken aloud.

She pulled back slightly, her hand now resting on his chest, fingers trembling just a little.

“Ishaan... about that... I just remembered—my cycle. It beeped earlier.” Her voice was carefully neutral, laced with hesitation. “I think I’m getting it soon may be tonight.”

He paused. Looked at her. Concern flickered in his eyes.

“You sure?”

She nodded quickly, eyes darting away before they could meet his. “Yeah. It’s better not to risk it, right?”

He exhaled and gave her a small smile, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. “Of course. Health first. Always.”

“I promise... it’s just seven more months. Once the event is over... we both can continue the pills.” Her throat tightened. “And we’ll pick up from where we left off.”

She hoped the lie didn’t show.

But beneath the sheets, behind her back, her fingers curled into a silent confession.

Crossed.

A lie.

And it tasted bitter in her mouth.

*

The sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, spilling a pale golden hue over the quiet bedroom. Maira stirred slowly in bed, her limbs stretching against the comfort of the sheets as a soft aroma teased her awake—something familiar, homely. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment she lay still, watching the empty space beside her, the sheets neatly tucked in.

A faint clatter came from the kitchen.

She slipped on her robe and padded quietly toward the sound.

There, in the small but elegant open kitchen, stood Ishaan—still in his grey cotton T-shirt and pyjama bottoms—humming under his breath as he plated up two servings of avocado toast with a sunny-side egg and a few grilled cherry tomatoes.

“You’re cooking?” she said, half-surprised, half-amused.

He looked up and smiled, warm and easy. “Doctor saab’s day off. Breakfast is on me. You just sit down, lady-on-leave.”

She chuckled, sliding into the chair as he brought her plate over.

“I thought you had rounds this morning.”

“I shifted some consults to later in the week.” He poured her a glass of orange juice. “Thought I’d pamper my wife instead. Especially since… you know.”

She froze briefly.

“Your period,” he added, gesturing vaguely. “I figured you’d be cramping or tired, so…”

Her fingers curled slightly around the fork. “Right. Yeah. Thanks, that’s... sweet.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You better go light on the dancing today. And I’ve blocked lunch. Just the two of us. My wife, my best friend, my favorite girl—deserves a date and also I have even packed a heat water bag—you can carry it to rehearsal. Or I’ll drop it off.”

Maira felt her smile falter. “You didn’t have to do all this…”

He cupped her cheek. “I wanted to.You deserve to be pampered too, Mrs. Maira Khanna.”

There it was again.

That name.

Mrs. Maira Khanna.

She’d grown used to hearing it and has found solace to be wanting be called Mrs.Khanna

"I like that when you call me that! When you own me."

"Of course you do Mrs.Khanna".

He pecks on her forehead and a faint smile plays on her lips knowing that she loves to be call his but terms and conditions applied which he might not seem to agree upon".

*

The studio echoed with steady beats as Maan adjusted the volume from the console, looping their chosen track once again. Maira stood mid-room, already barefoot, sweat glistening down her back. They were practicing one of the more complex sections—transitions, lifts, and footwork synchronization that demanded timing, trust, and precision.

They were both excellent dancers. But emotionally? The rhythm was harder to hold.

“No, no. Wait, that diagonal cross ruins the symmetry,” Maan muttered, stepping back. “We’ll lose visual balance if the right side flares too soon.”

Maira caught her breath, her hands on her hips. “So maybe we pivot on the second beat instead of the first? Gives enough time for the drop step.”

He looked at her, nodded. “That could work. Want to try it again?”

They went through the sequence. Twice. And by the third round, the formation finally held. The music cut, and silence fell.

“You’re a machine,” he said, grabbing a towel and tossing her a water bottle. “Lunch? You deserve a treat. My treat.”

She blinked. “Lunch?”

“Yeah, come with me. Just a café nearby. I know you’re watching your caffeine but they’ve got this spinach ravioli you’ll thank me for.”

“I—I actually already have lunch plans.”

He raised a brow, smiling, but didn’t let up. “Push them? Reschedule? Just one hour?”

Maira hesitated, sensing the shift in his tone—lighter on the surface, but uncertain underneath. Was he going to bring up the past? This lingering air between them? Did he want to talk about it?

“I can’t,” she said gently. “It’s with my husband.”

Maan paused. “Your husband?”

“Yes,” she said, softly but firmly. “Ever since I have joined back to the academy I have been heading home with him only.. after the rehearsals. I don't know if you have seen him though? But that’s Ishaan..Dr.Ishaan Khanna, a pediatrcian.”

Maan’s face changed. A beat of silence.

“Oh... he’s your husband?” He laughed faintly, mostly at himself. “I thought… never mind.”

He stepped back, holding up his hands. “You enjoy your lunch date with your husband. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She watched him go, a strange emptiness blooming in her chest.

Five years ago, we meant something. And now? We’re just professionals. Just two dancers mirroring each other on polished floors while pretending not to look too long.

She is now Maira Khanna ,someone’s wife now, someone’s daughter-in-law. A sister-in-law. . The girl he’d known—Maira Sharma—was buried under layers of titles, duty, and choices she couldn’t always explain.

And he? Maybe he still loved her.

But she?

She didn’t know anymore.

*

That night, the apartment was quiet, save for the faint splash of water from the bathroom.

Maira stood under the shower, letting the heat soak into her neck and shoulders. Her forehead pressed against the tiles, the steam curling around her like a veil.

Outside, her phone buzzed where it lay on the dresser. Ishaan, toweling his hair, glanced over.

A small pop-up lit up the screen.

“Ovulation Day: High chances of pregnancy”

He froze.

His hand, mid-motion, dropped to his side. The buzz from the phone faded into silence, but not the echo it left in his chest.

His brows furrowed.

"Ovulation?"

But hadn’t she told him she was on her period just a day ago

That totally didn’t add up. As a doctor, the cycle timelines were second nature to him. Ovulation came roughly two weeks before the next period. Not the very next day.

He placed the phone down gently, lips pressed into a firm line.

"She was lying".

His jaw clenched.

"Why?"

His first instinct was to ask her.

But then he heard the water turn off, followed by the sound of the glass door opening.

He sighed.

Not tonight.

She emerged wrapped in a soft robe, towel pressed to her dripping hair, her face glowing from the warmth of the shower.

“Feeling better?” he asked, casually.

She smiled. “Much.”

He smiled back—tender, and his eyes searching.

But as she slipped into bed beside him, her back turned to his chest, his eyes remained open in the dark thinking about how he will confront her.