Chapter 10 : Tujh Mein Rab Dikhta Hai

Shayaan guided her quickly through the back entrance, one hand hovering protectively at her shoulder as they slipped inside. Their parents’ voices floated faintly from the adjoining corridor, but he timed their steps so they passed unnoticed, the wet footprints on the floor the only evidence of their arrival. He lowered his voice. “Go freshen up quickly. I’ll tell Shyam Kaka to wipe the floor, then will freshen myself and come to your room. If Mom or Dad ask why it’s wet, I’ll say I stepped out to pick up décor stuff and got caught in a light drizzle.” She nodded, still slightly dazed, and slipped toward the stairs while he turned back toward the kitchen passage.

Shayaan knocked on her bedroom door, the house had settled into its usual evening calm. Inside, Maysha stood near her mirror, hair damp from her shower, a towel draped around her shoulders as she gently dried the ends. Without turning she said lightly, “Come in, Bhai. I’ll be down for dinner in a bit.”

He stepped in and shut the door behind him. “Dinner can wait two minutes.”

She glanced at him through the mirror. “That sounds like an interrogation.”

“Relax,” he said, leaning against the wardrobe. “I just wanted to ask… the guy who dropped you.”

Her hands paused slightly in her hair. “What about him?”

“Nothing dramatic,” Shayaan replied calmly. “I just wanted to know who he is. I saw the car outside. And before you deny it—I wasn’t spying. You shared your live location.”

She exhaled softly. “He’s a reel client. We shot together today.”

“Hmm.” He studied her face, not suspicious, just protective. “You seemed… distracted when you got out of the car.”

“I was tired.”

“Mayshu.”

She turned then, giving him a small look. “Bhai, really. It was work.”

He held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded once. “Okay. I trust you.” A pause. “Just be careful, alright?”

Her expression softened. “I am.”

Satisfied, he pushed himself off the wardrobe. “Good. Come down soon before Mom herself comes to bring you the dinning table.”

She lets out a small laugh “I will.”

He left, pulling the door shut gently behind him.

Silence returned.

Maysha stood still for a few seconds, listening to his footsteps fade down the hallway. Then slowly she turned back to her dresser, her composure loosening now that she was alone. Her eyes drifted to her phone lying on the table.

The screen lit when she picked it up.

The same emails she had seen that morning stared back at her.

Brand collaboration proposals.

All declined.

Sender: Ayush.

Her chest tightened.

She opened his WhatsApp chat message which she had last seen in the morning which read as

“Don’t accept any brand deals involving us together. Let the rumors die. Please. Don’t give them content to feed on. That’s why I asked you to check with me before posting anything… so please don’t accept brand deals involving us together as ambassadors.”

Her throat constricted as she reread it.

“That’s why…” she whispered faintly. “That’s why you said no to all of them.”

Her thumb trembled against the screen.

“And I…” Her voice faltered. “I went and said yes to something else.”

The memory flashed vivid and immediate—Maan's presence, the dance, Maan’s voice close to her ear, the moment he had asked for her number, the way her heart had still been raw when she said yes , their moment in the car.

“Now even I can’t collaborate with you, Ayush,” she murmured, eyes glistening. “Because of that… I made an impulsive decision just to get over you after seeing your WhatsApp message—that you didn’t want to do any brand collabs that involved me.”

A tear slipped down before she could stop it. She pressed her lips together, wiping it quickly, but another followed, warm and accusing.

She shook her head once, as if scolding herself. “No. Stop.”

Drawing a steady breath, she set the phone down, reached for her moisturizer, and gently smoothed it beneath her eyes, blending away every trace of redness until her reflection looked composed again. Calm. Untouched. Unreadable.By the time she capped the bottle, her expression was steady.No one downstairs would know she had cried.

Over the past month, Maysha and Maan had steadily grown into the shape of a couple. Between his relentless training schedules and her demanding reel shoots, they carved out moments wherever they could—late-night drives, dinners, with some quiet hours that felt longer than they were by watching the sun rise together on Marine Drive with stolen kisses. He took her out on dates when time allowed, surprised her with gifts, and on days they couldn’t meet, apart from phone and video calls, it was phone-sex that they enjoyed. To Maysha, her relatiosnhip with Maan felt like something worth showing the world when the moment was right which couldn't do with Ayush as she couldnt be herself but she knew that with Maan it wouldnt be the case as he also enjoys the spotlight just like she does and she quietly hoped that she would prove that her heart was healing after Ayush on beginning again. What she didn’t know yet was the truth standing quietly behind her happiness: that Maan was a chapter from her sister’s past—one she could never truly overlook, especially when Maira still trained with him every day. And while Maysha believed she was building something real, Maan, patient and deliberate, was only waiting for the right moment… to reach Maira.

*

It's was almost morning

He had told her to be ready by six.

So at exactly 5:59 p.m., Maysha slipped out through the back door, sandals in hand so the latch wouldn’t click. The corridor was quiet, the house humming softly with pre-competition nerves that hadn’t yet turned into chaos. She eased the door shut behind her and turned and there he was.

Maan leaned casually against the car, arms folded, watching her like he had been there longer than he needed to be. His gaze softened the moment it landed fully on her.

“You walk like you’re escaping prison,” he murmured.

She smirked, slipping into the passenger seat. “I am escaping. From family surveillance.”

He chuckled and started the engine.

The city was still half-asleep as they drove and their hands quickly found each other as he continued stering using his hand right. By the time they reached Marine Drive around 6:30, the horizon had begun to glow.They climbed down and sat along the edge, the sea stretching endlessly ahead, waves folding into each other like whispered secrets. The wind was cool, carrying salt and morning hush. Maan slid an arm around her shoulders and drew her gently into him, and she leaned without hesitation, cheek resting near his collarbone.

For a while they just watched the sky.

Then, softly, he asked, “Did you sleep well?”

She bit her lip thinking about yesterday's doze of euphoria, eyes still on the horizon. “Yes… after the video call, I did.”

He smirked as he noticed the way she bit her lip knowing she enjoyed it just much he did “Nice.”

He turned his head slightly to look at her. “Now madam… it’s been almost one month into your rebound. Did I manage to impress you?”

She tilted her face up, amused warmth in her eyes. “Of course you did.”

“His brows lifted with a hint of masked genuineness. ‘Good. Because just a few more hours… and then we make us official, okay?’”

She nodded lightly. “I know, " For a brief second her eyes drifted, the memory of that reel flashing in her mind , she then continued, voice steady again,

“Since we did a reel at your request, I had to comply with the other dance academy participants too. That’s why I made reels with their team members as well—and added a segment in the competition where the judges can decide which reel has the best moves, chemistry, and views.”

“That’s nice,” he said, lips curving. “And I hope I win that segment. I’m sure our chemistry is better than any contestant you collaborated with.”

“Confident, huh?” she teased softly. “I like it when you get possessive and competent at the same time.”

“It’s my very nature.” he boast in pride.

They fell silent again as the first rim of the sun appeared, molten gold pushing slowly above the waterline. The light brushed across her face, catching in her lashes, warming her skin.

Maan watched her instead of the sunrise.Then he leaned in and kissed her.Slow. Unhurried.She didn’t pull away. When their foreheads rested together, she whispered, voice soft as the tide,

“All the best for your competition, Coach Maan… I’m looking forward to being jealous watching your duet with my sister.”

He let out a quiet laugh and kissed her again, this time lingering.

“But I wish it was the opposite, jaan,” he murmured under his breath.

She blinked. “What?”

He shook his head lightly, brushing his nose against hers. “Nothing. I was just saying… you’re cute when you get jealous.”

Another kiss.

She smiled against his lips, settling closer into his chest as his arms tightened around her. They stayed like that, wrapped in each other and the morning breeze, watching the sun rise higher.

*

Otherside of the town,Maira, still in her nightgown, moved briskly around the room, gathering everything she would need for the day. Her duffle bag lay open on the bed while she checked each item twice—makeup kit, hair accessories, safety pins, spare tights, costume pieces carefully folded so not a sequin bent out of place. Beside it, her suitcase stood ready, half-packed, waiting only for the final additions she never trusted herself to arrange the night before.

In the kitchen, the faint aroma of ghee lingered. She had already prepared parathas before the sun had properly risen, stacking them neatly in the casserole so they would stay warm.

She packed a few separately into her tiffin—she had to reach the academy early, and today breakfast would be a car breakfast in between traffic signals.

“Ishaan, breakfast is ready! Are you done?” she called, walking to the bedroom door and knocking lightly.

The door opened almost at once. He stood there dressed for work—shirt buttoned, trousers pressed, watch fastened. Ready for the world, as always.

“Go freshen up,” he said gently. “Till then I’ll do the aarti… and make your meethi dahi.”

She nodded, grateful without saying it, and slipped past him toward the bathroom.

By the time she came downstairs again, she was dressed for the day, hair neatly tied, face fresh. She paused at the dressing table before leaving the room, her fingers hovering over the sindoor box and mangalsutra lying inside the drawer. After a quiet second, she closed the drawer, picked up her wrist mangalsutra instead.

Downstairs, Ishaan was already at the table finishing his breakfast. Maira stopped first at the small mandir in the corner. She removed her slippers and folded her hands, bowed her head, and whispered a prayer—steady hands, clear mind, and just enough luck to carry her through the competition.

When she reached the kitchen counter, Ishaan was rinsing his plate. He turned, wiped his hands, and held out a small bowl. “For good luck,” he said.

Sweetened yogurt.

She smiled softly and accepted it.

Na kuch poocha

Na kuch maanga

“All the best for your competition,” he added. “I’ll try to make it for at least for one of your performance.”

She bent instinctively to touch his feet. He caught her wrists halfway.

“Maira,” he said, half-protesting, half-smiling. “I’ve always told you—I don’t believe in this.”

Before she could react, he bent instead and lightly touched her feet.

Her eyes widened. “Ishaan… you didn’t have to.”

Tune dil se diya

Jo diya

He only shrugged, as if equality were the simplest thing in the world.

She picked up the wrist mangalsutra she had placed earlier in the pooja thali and held it out. Without a word, he tied it gently around her wrist. Then he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

She smiled—a quiet, grateful smile that carried history in it.

“Oh, by the way,” he said casually, “did you see Maan and Maysha’s reel? They posted it to gather support for Team Ignite.”

Her brows lifted. “What? No. I didn’t know she did a reel with him.”

“I saw it this morning,” he said. “Check your family group. She shared the link.”

Curiosity flickered across her face. She opened her phone and found it within seconds. The video loaded. She watched.

Her expression shifted—first surprise, then stillness.

On screen, Maan and Maysha moved in perfect rhythm, their steps sharp, fluid, almost electric. Their chemistry was undeniable, every beat landing like it belonged to them alone. They looked… effortless. On fire.

Ishaan watched her watching. A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “I can see the jealousy on your face,” he teased lightly. “Despite being your dance partner, he seems to have better sync with Maysha.”

She blinked, immediately shaking her head. “It’s nothing like that. I’m happy she got the opportunity.”

She locked her phone and slipped it aside. “Anyway, let’s go. I don’t want you getting late because you’re dropping me to NMACC. It’s already off your route.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said simply. “Not when it comes to doing something for you.”

She looked at him then—really looked. Something softened, then tightened again.

“Why do you make me feel guilty about my choices, Ishaan?” she asked quietly. “Every single day… ever since I decided to divorce you because my life choices didn’t match yours. The love and respect never reduced, but still… for six months I’ve kept wondering why this is happening to us. I know it’s for the better. I know that. Still…”

Na kuch bola

Na kuch tola

He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

“Har din senti hona zaroori hai?” he murmured. “I know it was your decision. I was angry before—I showed it too. But these last six months…” He exhaled softly. “We were hurting, yes. Still we lived them well. Even when it felt like we weren’t ourselves sometimes. So don’t start overthinking again, okay? That’s what made you lose focus in training until Aanya spoke to you—and then to me—so I could remind you to leave the overthinking at home".

Muskura ke diya

Jo diya

His tone warmed. “Consider it Rudra’s duty I’m performing.”

She laughed weakly through her tears.

He grinned. “Speaking of him—does Rudra still give you motivation now that he’s engaged?”

“Yes,” she said, wiping her eyes. “He called this morning too. Just to check if I packed everything.”

“That’s so Rudy,” Ishaan chuckled.

Tu hi dhoop

Tu hi chaaya

Tu hi apna paraaya

He picked up her duffle bag and dragged her suitcase before she could reach for it and headed toward the door while she was left to carry just the tiffin box. “Come on, champion. Let’s get you to your stage.”

Aur kuch na jaanoo

Bas itna hi jaanoo

Outside, he loaded her luggage into the car trunk while she stood watching him for a moment—watching the man she was learning to let go of, even though kindness still lived between them like something that refused to leave.

Then she took a steady breath… and stepped forward.

The wind rushed against Maira’s face as she leaned slightly out of the moving car window, the last bite of paratha still warm on her tongue. The road stretched ahead in a silver ribbon, morning light gliding over passing trees and shop shutters just beginning to open. She pulled back in, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek, and glanced sideways.

Ishaan was driving, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting near the gear. Calm. Focused. Dependable.

Tujh mein rab dikhta hai

Yaara main kya karoon

Her fingers moved unconsciously to her wrist, touching the mangalsutra that rested there like a quiet promise. A small smile appeared—soft, private, grateful. Lucky, she thought. I really got lucky.

And just like that, her mind slipped back to the evening where it had all begun.

5 YEARS AGO

The garden lights in Diya and Rahul’s bungalow had glowed like scattered stars. A soft fire crackled in the outdoor pit, its warmth wrapping around the cozy seating arranged near the poolside. Maira, who was escorted by Maysha sat carefully on the cushioned chair, saree pleats arranged neatly, palms resting together in her lap.

Maysha left the gardenarea leaving them alone and joined back inside. Ishaan sat acrosss in a blazer and crisp shirt, posture polite, expression attentive, eyes kind but slightly nervous.

For a few seconds neither spoke.

Then she broke it.

“Hi… I’m Maira Sharma. Previously Maira Wadhwa, before legal adoption.”

His brows lifted with pleasant surprise. “Wow. That’s interesting. I’m Dr. Ishaan Khanna. I’m a pediatrician. What do you specialize in?”

She let out a small breath. “Actually… I’m originally a classical singer. But the demand for classical music isn’t much in the market. I tried my hand at dance too, but I wasn’t very good at it. Still… I’d like to go back to singing someday. If it’s possible… with you.”

“I’m okay with anything you decide to do as a career,” he said simply.

She tilted her head, studying him. “Are you genuinely this progressive? Because you sound too good to be true.”

“You can bet on me with all my heart.”

Her lips curved despite herself.

“And your parents?” she asked. “Are they okay with you being this… progressive?”

“Yes,” he replied. “In fact, they want us to stay separately after marriage. They feel too much family involvement can spoil married life.”

“That’s… very thoughtful,” she said softly. “And sweet.”

He chuckled. “Not as sweet as the kids I treat. By the way—about kids. Do you want kids?”

Before she could answer properly, a groom’s procession passed outside the bungalow gates, drums and brass band exploding into the evening air. She leaned slightly forward and spoke louder, trying to be heard over the noise.

“I don’t think of considering to have kids… not now or later.”

But the music swallowed half her sentence.

What reached him was—

“Considering to have kids… later.”

By the time the band passed and silence returned, Ishaan nodded thoughtfully. “Alright. That’s fair enough. Enjoying life first is important too.”

She smiled in relief. “I know, right? I’m glad we agree on this.”

They continued talking after that—tea arrived, then snacks, and conversation flowed easier, lighter, punctuated with shared laughter that surprised them both.

Inside the hall, both her families and his parents exchanged hopeful glances.

Outside, neither of them realized a misunderstanding had quietly stitched itself into the foundation of their future.

BACK TO PRESENT

The car slowed at a signal, pulling Maira back to the present. She looked at Ishaan again, her expression warm.

He glanced at her briefly. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just… remembering the day I first met you.”

He smiled. “Good memory or embarrassing memory?”

Tujh mein rab dikhta hai

Yaara main kya karoon

“The lucky kind,” she replied. Then, after a small pause, she added softly, “Even after saying yes to marry each other the very same day we met, we chose to court each other for a month before our court marriage… to get to know each other more and fall in love. And we sure as hell did fall for each other. We even legalized our marriage before our grand wedding with all the rituals.”

Ishaan’s smile widened as the memory clicked into place. “Oh yes, I remember the jhoota chupayi rasam. Babe, your paltan is insane. Just imagine—I had to give money not just to your immediate siblings Shayaan and Maysha, but even to your adoptive stepbrother, the infamous Rudy… and his stepsister Aarohi too.”

She laughed softly. “But I’m glad you have such a great bond with these kiddos. And with Rudra bhai as well.”

“They’re my munchkins,” he said easily.

Maira turned her face slightly toward the window again, her chest filling with quiet contentment as she watched the road blur past. He had blended into her world so naturally—her parents, her siblings, her extended family—like he had always belonged there. Like he had been written into her life long before she met him.

Her eyes stung.

Sajde sar jhukta hai

Yaara main kya karoon

“How many times will you make me fall in love with you, Ishaan?” she whispered under her breath, voice barely louder than the wind brushing past her lips. “Why are you making me question my choice of leaving you…”

“Hm?” Ishaan glanced at her briefly, eyes still mostly on the road. “You said something?

"Nothing".

"Cool"

Tujh mein rab dikhta hai

Yaara main kya karoon

She blinked quickly, tilting her face so the breeze could dry the moisture before it gathered. Though Ishaan didn't hear her words but he noticed her eyes. Of course he did. He didn’t say anything, didn’t call it out, didn’t make her self-conscious.

He just glanced at her, eyes soft, and gave the faintest nod, murmuring under his breath—

“My paglu.”

Rab ne bana di Jodi

Hai...