Chapter - The Weight of Unspoken Truths

Chapter - The Weight of Unspoken Truths

Author's Note 🌸

A small correction regarding the previous chapter. I mistakenly wrote "Raghu Dacoit" while referring to the story of Sage Valmiki. The correct name is Ratnakar, the dacoit who later transformed into Sage Valmiki through penance.

I truly apologise for this mistake 🙏.

Now enjoy the reading…

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Shauryash's profound pools of thoughts shattered the moment , a voice whispered in the air

“ Shaurya..”

For a moment he forgot to breathe. Suddenly the world paused . His finger curled instinctively. Five years — five years since he heard someone call his name with that same softness. The voice was so familiar ; all the years of agony suddenly awakened from nowhere.

Slowly, almost unwillingly , he turned around. There she was. His mother. The sight of her made time feel unexpectedly cruel .

The moment his eyes landed on her he observed she looked almost the same — yet not the same at all. Her eyes once carried the warmth of affection , only now it was buried under years of exhaustion. For a moment pain flickered in her eyes before she could hid it .

Irritation crawled in him as he tried to shake off any kind of vehemence clung to him .

Ishita stood frozen near the doorway, staring at her only son as if afraid he would disappear again. An empty ache grooved in her chest as her eyes darted across his features — he had grown taller , broader , the childish softness of his face had sharpened into something harder . Albeit to her ; he still looked like that small big who refused to sleep without her embrace.

Her throat tightened painfully as she whispered quietly “ Shaurya..” almost deliberately, as if the name itself was hurting her .

Shauryash's jaw clenched . Something screamed inside “ don't…don't say my name like that.” Because for years he’d trained himself to survive without that voice , without craving the warmness of that tone .

An unbearable silence poured into the room until Ishita spoke again. “ Kanha tha tu..itne saalo se” her voice trembled despite promising to herself before coming into this room .

Shauryash laughed softly, almost sarcastically, averting his gaze , pretending indifferent “ Kahin bhi .”

His answer stabbed her .

“ What would you do by knowing?” He added coldly.

Ishita flinched slightly not because of his tone , but she recognised it . The bitterness in his words wasn't hatred; it was hurt that was left untreated for too long , too far to reach to its hold .

Her gaze regarded him in disbelief, and watched how easily he settled on the sofa, ignoring her as if she was invisible. However, she collected her emotions and steadily her words “ Thik hai..” she whispered carefully “ jab tu wapas aa gaya hai toh …achaa laga.”

She slowly walked closer.“ Finally tujhe Ghar ki yaad toh aayi .” her tone became exuberant . She didn't directly mention her name knowingly, as if a maternal part was trying to test how long he would restrain his longing for his mother.

Something in his eyes flickered, as soon as it went away . His hand slipped through his damp hair restlessly . “ Soon… I'll leave!’ his tone was rude

Ishita startled,her smile faded away instantly “ Then , why did you come?” her composure cracked for a moment.

A bitter smirk sparkled in his lips, “ aapne barbadi ka jashan manane aya tha!” he whispered particularly to no-one but to himself.

For a fleeting moment, a face crossed his mind. Blue-grey streaming eyes , hiding mischief and innocence of life . A broken whisper of promises . Then the vermilion in someone else's name . His chest tightened violently , he wished he could lose the memory, able to forget the pain . He had imagined returning to Singhaniya house countless times imagining anger , revenge to destroy her like the way she shattered his trust, playing with his emotions. But tonight he had pity on his fate . Whoever he wanted, leave him .

His expression clouded with loneliness which didn't miss his mother's eyes.

Shauryash whispered changing the topic, “ Pragya ke liye tha srif . “ His voice turned cold , looking away . “Aab engagement khatam hogai hai phir chaal bhi jaunga!”

Ishita's heart twisted at her son's words …” Srif Pragya ke liye …” she paused trying to collect her emotions “ Doesn't it's your family as well ?”

His chest tightened, because even five years later despite everything some part of him has still wanted to come home . But pride was more cruel than longing.

Shauryash didn't respond first then he muttered , almost sounding indifferent. “ Family toh tab hota jab koi appan ho .

Ishita’s breath hitched. Her son never left because he hated them. He left because somewhere deep inside , he still believed no one fought for him to stay. She instinctively raised her hand to touch his cheek, then stopped halfway because she wasn't sure he would let her

“ Shaurya ,” she whispered quietly “ You are still angry with us ?”

But Shauryash stepped back immediately, Ishita stood frozen. They were standing under a single roof but yet felt like a thick invisible wall was there , large and stubborn.

Shauryash immediately pressed in, “Main thak gaya hoon... agar aur koi baat nahi hai…”

Ishita's heart squeezed at such formality from her son , as if he was a guest in the house . Her eyes stung to catch disappointment in her son. Because even now, he was doing what he'd always done as a child — standing tall , staying distant, looking unaffected, guarding the wound no one was allowed to see .

Five years of silence . Neither the mother and son had the courage to ask the only question that mattered:“ how were you ?

They were simple , yet tonight, it felt unfamiliar.

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Under the eerie light of the soft lamp , Sanyogita remained seated on the bed. She didn't remember when she returned to their bedroom .She was still in the same saree from Pragya's engagement party . Tiredness gripped her so deep she was barely able to move , even sleeping seems frightening.

She shifted on the bed , pulling her legs up , her arms wrapped her knees like a shield while her chin rested over it . She was immersed in a train of thoughts. Her present , past , and future merged together in an uncertainty. Her identity itself felt unfamiliar to her .

Her chest suddenly pressed down under the weight of the truth—her father's misery, her own biological mother , then lies in all the betrayals she has suffered alone . Her gripped around the bed edge tightened as fear seeped into her skin. Her mind tangled up in a windloop of what if—

What if her mother survived? What if she could see her , talk to her !”

Then suddenly , her father's words echoed in her mind; once the baby was born .. I'll send it to an orphanage, fabricating a story that the child had died .”

Fear crawled into Sanyogita's heart , “ What if she was abandoned after being born, and would she have been raised in an orphanage?” Her eyes welled up as the realisation hit her hard.

Then suddenly, a voice mocked inside “ How could she become selfish? Only thinking about herself, not the woman who lost everything only for the sake of her ; she didn't get the last chance to talk to her parents, her dearest brother before leaving this world.”

“ One woman sacrifices her life for the sake of her and another woman gets a new life only seeing her alive .”

As her thoughts kept crushing to and fro, another thought struck her , her father didn't tell her when and how her mother knew about her birth history. Sanyogita decided she would talk to her father in the morning.

The grandfather clock ringing loudly, echoed in the large living room. The haveli had fallen into deep slumber , the guest had already left long ago . Prithvi's as claimed the stairs , his each step was heavy and hesitant. He felt like a stranger to his own house . Everything in the surrounding was the same yet felt different.

The sound of the footsteps approaching , pulled Sanyogita out of her thoughts . Before she stood upright , her hands flew over her cheeks to weep her eyes immediately.

As she looked up, anticipating earnestly for his arrival, her heartbeat raced. But the moment he entered, she stood frozen .

She couldn't recognise the man who she had known for three months. The well controlled man was gone tonight. The man who could command authority and power suddenly looked defeated.

"Viraj..." Her lips trembled despite their evening emotions being damaged, “Where are you ?”

For a moment his eyes shifted towards her. But he didn't reply. Instead he stood before the dressing table , and began to unfasten his watch , calmly as if her question meant nothing.

Sanyogita stepped in, “ I asked you something , Viraj ?” she asked again this time firmly.

"Outside." He answered without looking at her .

"Outside where?" Sanyogita whispered quietly.

“In Club ." He replied vaguely.

Sanyogita's fingers tightened around her pallu. “A club?At this hour?”

For a heartbeat , a faint hurt flicker on her eyes which didn't miss Prithvi's sagacious gaze . Nevertheless, something dark inside him stirred.

"Why?" he asked softly.

She brows puckered. "What do you mean why?" Her hands clasp over her chest

"Just asking ." He said indifferently , still busy loosening the button of his cuff. "When did you start to bother about my schedules?”

The question stung her deeply. Sanyogita swallowed hard , and said "Mom pareshan thi."

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips as he whispered back "Mom ? " The way he said it made her uncomfortable. As though he knew she was hiding behind the excuse.

Silence again hung up in between them , heavy and awkward.

Prithvi's eyes remained flickered to her silhouette on the mirror , "You asked where I was." His voice turned dangerously calm. "I was with.."he paused " with newly found friends."

" Friends?" She looked at him confused.

Prithvi's eyes lingered on her for a heartbeat, guilt flashed through him. Then his wounded pride crushed it. " Three women!"

The words hit her like a slap , and Sanyogita stood frozen . Her hands unfolded immediately as something churned inside her — her fragile trust

"Janna nahi chahogi, Sanjh?" He turned around gently, watching her standing still .

The nickname sounded different tonight . It was no longer tender, nor did it sound protective but a taunt . As if an uninvited challenge.

Sanyogita's chest burned as she said, still trying to hold back her composure intact "What nonsense are you talking about?"

"Nonsense?" He laughed softly. "They were actually interesting." His gaze never left her. "We talked, we laughed. Those girls are very interesting…” his voice trailed slowly “ genuinely interested , and.." he paused for a while .

He watched her face turn deadly pale. His chest twisted at that sight . He knew everything was a lie. He was alone , dissolved in his grief and shattered feelings . Hated himself for saying such things, but his frustration slipped out. Yet, he pressed on . Because stopping would mean admitting his hurt. And Prithviraj Singhaniya never agreed to become a prawn to his own emotions.

Prithvi took slow steps towards her , "They listened. They didn’t look at me like I was a problem to solve." His voice dropped slowly . "They didn’t flinch when I reached for them."

Her breath hitched. Pain brimmed her eyes, yet she stood upright watching him , listening to his words were venomous and taunting.

“ And God …” he dragged his hands through his hair , a broken laugh softly curled in his lips ."And they drove me crazy... Sanjh...I couldn't explain... it was incredible—

The words were simple, yet they struck harder than any blow. Sanyogita's eyes grew heavy , her fingers curled her pallu tightly. She even felt difficulty to stand any longer. Her instincts screamed to leave , yet she was unable to move .

“They let me breathe, Sanjh.” Prithvi's chest clenched painfully as a wave of self-loathing flooded him.

"Enough..." She whispered quietly "Bas." She repeated raising her palm in the air as a gesture to stop . The word escaped her in a faint breath, carrying an ebb of pain instead of anger.

Prithvi took a tentative step forward, but she instinctively backed away, until her back pressed against the cold wall which felt unforgivable tonight.

His gaze fixed on her, he repeated, "Bas?” He asked “ why ?” "Sun nahi sakti?" Her voice was taunting , filled with desire and concern.

His hands moved to settle on either side of her, firmly caging her , when she protested to leave , he pinned her wrists to the wall while her large frame looked over her . Their warm breathing crushed together. The acrid smell of alcohol seeped deeply into her nostrils, intensifying her discomfort more than his words . Some part of her still believed this wasn't truly him , yet that realization made it more tormenting.

Sanyogita's self-esteem snapped immediately, struggling to free herself from his gripped., "Viraj... leave me!"

Prithvi's jaw clenched, "That's not the answer," his tone turned deadly in its calmness. "Why does it bother you?"

His words hung in the air, a challenge wrapped in quiet intensity.

"You can do whatever you want," she choked out, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “ Aap kuch bhi kare usey hume kya farq padta hai .”

For a fragile heartbeat Prithvi's breathing caught. He gripped around her wrists loose.

An oppressive silence settled over them , thick with unspoken anguish.

Prithvi's jaw tightened as his mind seemed to scream silently. "No... No... It's not true!" he protested internally, desperately wanting to kiss her at that moment, to make her realise that every ounce of her cared for him. But he couldn't.

Instead his words escaped harsher than he intended:"Good...Jinta kam , farq padhe , utna hi achha hai .”

Sanyogita looked up sharply. Disbelief and disappointment merged together in her gaze as though it was another nightmare.

"Chalo," he said with a bitter smile touching his lips. "Ek kaam karte hain.”

She blinked with confusion "What?”

"Party karte hain." He laughed maniacally , but that laughter only indicated pain . "Finally, main is bojhse aazad ho jaunga. Let's celebrate freedom."

Sanyogita stared, unable to believe her ears. "Freedom?"

Prithvi nodded, his throat tight as he fought to swallow his bitter emotions. "Why not? Kitne din yeh jhooti shaadi main jeeta rahunga? Jahan sirf zimmedari ke naam pe bandhe huye hain. It's suffocating, Sanjh." He looked away, as if bored with the subject. "Asli cheezein toh kabhi thi hi nahi.”

Sanyogita's heart seized; she couldn't breathe for a moment. "So... that's what you think?" Her voice trembled. "For you..." She paused, desperately trying to hold herself together. "Is our marriage just a responsibility?"

Prithvi didn't answer first because the truth would shatter him. So lying was easier. He spun immediately, unable to look at her .

Her gaze dropped slowly, a tear slipped down her cheek. "I thought..." The words died in her throat.

“ I thought you loved me.” But she couldn't say it not tonight, when everything else was crumbling.

Prithvi stood there like a stone, pretending not to hear the heartbreak in her voice, pretending his own heart wasn't breaking too.

The one person she thought she could lean on, the one she had wanted to run to tonight stood before her like a stranger.

Suddenly, his voice drifted out slowly, each word stabbing pain. "Soon... the lawyer will send the divorce papers. Then we won't have to pretend anymore.”

The world seemed spinning around her , the last remaining ounce of prevention which she held back abruptly smashed at his revelation

"D-divorce... paper?” she whispered, her voice trembled.

He heard her but couldn't meet her gaze , he knew if he did, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together. Prithviraj Singhaniya never cried in front of anyone. Without a word, he silently left the room, unaware of where his legs were taking him.

Her blurred vision followed him retreating to the door. She collapsed onto the cold floor, her hand flying to her mouth as if scared someone might hear her shattering. Tonight, her heart bled more than her eyes.

As the door closed with a soft click but to Sanyogita it was a heavy blow . Her mind replayed every memory. All his concern for her dreams, his care to protect her . He called her Sanjh as though her name itself was precious. TTheir kiss beneath the sky full of promises, was those every moment measured by responsibilities and duties only .

Perhaps she had misunderstood everything. Perhaps his kindness had only been a generosity. All his concern had only been responsibility. His support had only been duty.

And she...a broken laugh escaped her lips. She had again mistaken all of it for love. Maybe she had given those moments meanings they were never meant to carry. Yash had once felt familiar because their wounds looked alike.

But Viraj...

Viraj had taught her what it meant to trust someone.What it meant to wait for a message. To search for one face in a crowded room. To smile without reason. To feel safe.

And just when she had finally gathered the courage to step towards that future; he had stepped away.

A fresh tear slid down her cheek.

The irony was cruel ; the day she finally understood what love was , it was the day she had lost it.

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The outside world slept under the comfort of darkness but inside the bedroom remained illuminated by a single lamp beside the bed. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked before silence reclaimed the night . As Ishita leaned on the mattress, lying on her stomach, instead of dosing off her eyes stayed glued to the outside world peeking through the window as if a reflection of her own heart — dark , empty and lonely . She tried to squeeze her eyes tight but her mind seemed stubborn and defiant, refusing to let her sleep . As she felt the stirring of Siddharth on the other side of the bed , she grew conscious. Ishita's eyes dropped immediately.

“Bhaut raat ho chuki hai , “a voice whispered quietly “ so jao , Ishita.” He said after closing the book and put it on the bedside table as he shifted under the blanket.

Her hands wrapped over her chest as though a shield. l protecting her vulnerability “ I'm tired .”

He didn't respond, as he knew the answer was nothing to do with tiredness. After all years of togetherness, he knew every version of her. She stood strong in the presence of other prying eyes in the light but how much she was stuttering in the dark the dark suppressed and he was the only silent companion of this agony .

Ishita's heart squeezed as Siddharth continued “ Don't feel sad ,” he said , knowing it one words won't lighten her stone on her chest , “ Sab thik ho jayega ek din “

Ishita's eyes sting with warm tears , as she replied “ He still thought I abandoned him.”

The weight of own words settled down heavily on her chest .

Siddharth remained silent for a long time and that silence settled between them like an old companion. “ Do you remember when Shauryash was eight , and he stopped drawing?” He said quietly “As someone laughed at his creation .”

A faint smile lit on her lips despite her eyes sting with tears . “ You spent hours convincing him . But he still cried and didn't want to draw again.”

Ishita nodded in acknowledgment “ Yes .”

“Then he surprised, you with his new drawing the next day ” He reminded her

“ That was different , Sid !” She said in a tired voice .

“ No , “ he shook his head . “ It wasn't.” he turned to her “ back then he was afraid of bullying and now he is afraid of the truth .”

The words stuck somewhere in her heart. Nevertheless she said “ He hated me “

“No .” Siddharth squeezed her shoulder , “ he’s hurt .” He paused before saying further. “ There is a difference. If he truly hates you he won't return.”

“ No , Sid “ Ishita shook her head ,“ He’s come for Pragya . “

“ Maybe,” Siddharth said softly, almost pulling her into his chest “but even if he did , he still considered someone of us as a family. And he stayed long enough to argue with you.”

Ishita looked at him quizzically, “ Matlab?” She whispered “ I didn't get you ?”

He smiled slightly , “ An angry boy still , seek answers.” His tone softened “ but indifference doesn't “

Ishita inhaled sharply “ but how would we do that , Sid ?” She retorted back like an injured bird trying to grasp the last symbol of hope with her wound power . “ What if he never believes me ?”

Her voice choked. Suddenly the air in the room turned thick, outside the dog stopped barking. As if even it knew this wasn't a moment of noise .

“ Ishita,” he whispered softly, “ we believe what we choose to .” his hand caressing her head as if mending over her injured heart .” For years , Shauryash only heard one side of the story and created his own perspective. Perhaps it's time he learned how it really began.”

Flashback…

Siddharth and Ishita both had been best friends since childhood. Siddharth attended a school reserved for the wealthy families. However, because of the staff quota , Ishita was admitted into the same school as her father who was also one of the teachers there. Despite her circumstances, Ishita's hard work shone through . Siddharth often admired the way she carried herself, especially how she ignored cruel comments. The batchmates ridiculed her behind her back and blamed it was her father's influence that brought good results to her. At first, they were just classmates. Friendship developed over months through everyday interactions.

Ishita often helped him understand difficult topics he struggled to decode. It was also she who introduced him to street food for the first time — panipuri. His ears turned red like a siren as flavour hit his tongue. Though she teased him, with caution to try it with yogurt but his competitive spirit fired up , challenging her.

However , when Ishita topped in the school board exams , the whispers faded into silence .Siddharth watched her with admiration , noticing her how she remained composed despite the judgements of others.

He learned so many things from her — not just academics, but resilience and humility. Even as teenagers, he often found himself gazing at her , drawn to her dedication rather than her beauty . Perhaps she had never treated him differently because he was wealthy . Sometimes, she would challenge his opinions not like others who always agree with him.

Yet neither crossed the border on friendship. It wasn't until when they were in class eleven that Siddharth felt a strange mix of fear and longing — not loneliness, but noticed that her absence affected him. Even seeing another boy talking to her made him annoyed.

Siddharth chose to pursue accountancy, while Ishita opted for Science. They met only during recess. After completing higher secondary education , before leaving for abroad, he met Ishita at their secret spot— a tranquil park. In the quiet moment, he found a flicker of pain in her eyes , something that reflected beyond friendship. Nevertheless, she remained silently reserved .

“All the best " She wished him softly, then asked “ Will you call me if you get the time?"

Siddharth asked , among her startled" Will you wait for me ?”

Ishita didn't respond because she didn't know what to say. Her heart swelled with

on the mere idea that he cared about her waiting for him . However, her innocent eyes looked on to him , gradually stung with unspoken words..

Gradually, almost hesitantly, Siddharth lifted his hand—first tentative, then gently resting on her cheek. He paused, stared at her for long then something flicker in her eyes .

Then slowly, they shared their first kiss — a brief, raw moment , not fueled by passion but tender budding emotions.

They promised to stay connected, exchanging at least one email each week despite the distance.

As Siddharth set off for the USA to pursue his bachelor degree, Ishita qualified for her medical exam, both carrying the hope and memories of that bittersweet farewell.

They promised to stay in touch through emails whenever their schedules allowed, though they both tried their best to write at least once a week. On rare occasions, Siddharth would call the hostel landline, and hearing his voice for even a few minutes was enough to brighten Ishita's day.

On rare occasions, if Siddharth called , The hostel warden shouts down the corridor:

"Ishita Deshmukh ! International call!"

All the girls in her hostel started teasing her "America se phone aaya hai!"

She runs downstairs wearing slippers. The call lasts barely three minutes because international calls are expensive.

Her breathing hitched at the first note of his tone ,

"I only wanted to hear your voice."

Ishita closed her eyes momentarily as absorbing his presence nearby her. She smiled the entire evening for the next day.

He would often send photographs he had taken around the US via postcard since social media wasn't still available like nowadays.

As she unfolded the envelope as if she was glimpse into his world.

Boston, October

Dear Ishu,

Today the maple trees turned crimson. Everyone around me stopped to admire them, but my first thought was that you would probably spend half an hour collecting fallen leaves instead of attending class. I clicked this photograph because I wanted you to see what I saw. Tell me honestly ; is the composition better than the last one?

On the back of the photograph were written:

Photographer: Siddharth Singhaniya. Harshest Critic: Dr. Ishita (future).

At times, her heart fluttered with joy; other moments,fear gnawed at her—what if Siddharth chose someone else over her ?

Whenever that thought arose, she quickly dismissed it , telling herself that even if he did , she would still pray for his happiness. Her feelings weren't born of obsessive love but respect for either choice.

Because , they came from different castes ; Siddharth Singhaniya's Ishita was from a strict middle class family.

Yet, whenever a letter arrived , she carefully unfolded it, smoothing out the creases. Earlier she used to place those photographs inside her diary but later she brought a small wooden box , where she kept them safely .

Sometimes she reads the same letter umpteen times after exhausting her days .

One rainy evening, her roommate asked,

"You're reading the same letter again?"

Ishita only replied with a smiling face "It's not just a letter. It's like hearing him talk."

On their side, after attending lectures, Siddharth took small adventures outside. He captured the moments in his alltime companion : his camera.

One return to his hostel, his heart beat quickened to discover a familiar blue inland letter peeked out .

The sender read:

Dr. (Future) Ishita Deshmukh

His face lit up immediately , as he took the letter . His roommate glanced over , almost in teasing gesture "Good news, Mr. Singhaniya?"

Siddharth chuckled,” Yes" he nodded like a goat "The best kind."

He didn't rush upstairs, instead, he sat on a wooden bench under an old maple tree. With very gentle care as he opened the envelope, making sure not to tear it .

Inside were three pages neatly folded . The faint fragrance of old paper and ink greeted him. He immediately recognized her handwriting, slightly slanted and neat . As he began reading …

Dear Sid,

How are you ? Have you been eating properly? Have you made any friends there yet, or are you still hiding behind your camera?

Today I witnessed a newborn open its eyes to the world for the very first time. It was such an incredible feeling that I wanted to tell you immediately. But between lectures and word posting , I haven't had time to visit the cyber café. So here's an old-fashioned letter instead.

Hostel life is exactly as chaotic as I imagined. My roommates think I'm too serious because I'm always buried in books. They might be right.

By the way, don't skip your meals just because you're busy with assignments. And wear warm clothes, I know how careless you can be.

Write back whenever you get time. I'd love to hear about your photography, your classes, and whether you've finally learned to eat outside food without making that horrible face.

Take care.

Ishu

Siddharth smiled unconsciously while reading the letter. There wasn't a single line saying "I miss you," yet every sentence carried quiet concern. His chest grew heavy. Even from thousands of miles away, Ishita remembered to remind him to eat, wear warm clothes, and take care of himself. He only wished she showed the same concern for her own health.

In another letter it was written:

Dear Sid,

Today was my first day in the medicine posting ward, and I was so nervous that I almost wrote the patient name on the address space and noticed until asked me to dictate and he roasted me sarcastically.

He laughed aloud .

Further down…

She had mentioned that :

Hostel food is still trying its best to kill us. I miss Aai's cooking.

He smiled and said internally "Still dramatic..."

Near the end.. she'd written: Sometimes I wonder what you're seeing from the other side of the world.

Siddharth's face softened, as he looked up , the autumn leaves danced above him . For a moment he wished she were sitting beside him.

In the last line mentioned:

Don't forget to keep clicking the world for me..

In the below written:

Yours Ishu .

As he folded the letter slowly, he held it against his chest . His eyes shut down as he whispered quietly — I won't.

Every time Siddharth received one of Ishita's letters, he wrote the date of arrival in ink on the back of the envelope before storing it in a rectangular box. Years later when the box was full but not with expensive gifts rather of pages carrying warm memories written in ink that spoke emotions, and a love that had crossed oceans one letter at a time even a million of treasure would fall short to afford them .

Gradually Ishita dissolved in her studies, leaving little time to share her inner thoughts. Despite having stupid arguments, they still understood each other.

Siddharth once came to India to visit his family but didn't inform Ishita of his plans. He secretly visited her college, hoping to surprise her . Because he was worried if he told her she might skip her posting to meet him. He waited outside in the OPD, then surprised her during lunch.

When he saw her talking to patients at the hospital, he stood awestruck.

She appeared tired , having lost weight from exhaustive work , yet her spirit remained resilient. They shared words and fleeting moments , and she felt a pang of regret for being unable to spend more time with him. He had mentioned he'd be staying in a hotel nearby for three days and he was eager to meet her whenever possible.

Ishita hugged him tightly when they got a rare moment of privacy. Together , they explored various heritages in Agra. As they marvelled at the breathtaking views of the Taj Mahal, Siddharth gently held Ishita's hand , while she rested her head on his shoulder. They eagerly clicked photos in his favourite camera , capturing the memories . As the sun was dipping below the horizon, they stood by the lake , pouring all the days counting on meeting into an affectionate kiss.

Siddharth broke the silence , his voice filled with grief “ Ishita, I'll be back by the end of this year. Since my four years have been completed and I'll joining the family business"

Ishita's eyes beamed brightly with pride as she congratulated him.." Then you definitely deserve a treat from me!”

Siddharth smiled back.They were sitting, swinging their legs in harmony over the lake , their hands intertwined . Suddenly, his breathing grew tense. “ Ishita, I want to tell you something!” he sounded apprehensive.

She looked at him searching for his gaze “ What's wrong?" She asked gently

He hesitated before saying “ Papa ,wants me to go pursue an MBA !"

“ So, what's the problem? Go for it,” She encouraged.

He leaned closer, bringing her hand close, searching for clarity “ I don't know if this is my dream or my father's."

Ishita's gaze softened as she listened, filled with empathy. " "Then figure it out before you make the decision.” she advised softly.

Siddharth stared at Ishita with a mixture of pain and longing, painfully , feeling a strange comfort of understanding—at least she recognised what her heart truly desired unlike him . His dream of becoming a photographer had always stayed suppressed within him. Because he knew it was doomed to remain unfulfilled, buried deep inside as the weight of family duty pressed heavily on him. His elder brother Samarth was now managing the office with their father, but very soon that responsibility would also fall on Siddharth’s shoulders

After a long silence, Ishita whispered quietly and firmly . " I know what your heart screams for , but sometimes life has something bigger in store for us. Why accept the aftermath of choices that even happen? Even with an MBA , you can still pursue your passion. " She suggested calmly, a glimmer of hope flickering in her eyes .“ Who's to say you can't be both an entrepreneur and an excellent photographer ?"

Siddharth remained silent, however trying to form a tentative , weak smile lingered in his lips .

Years sped past in a blur . Siddharth had completed his MBA and joined the family Business , while Ishita enrolled in Medicine PG . When Siddharth turned twenty-four , Sanjvee began bringing proposals , but Siddharth kept refusing , sometimes he vaguely escaped the matter by stating he wasn't ready or didn't want to get married.

Under mounting pressure he finally told his parents he'd chosen a girl. To Varsha and Sanjeev, it was a shocking turn — love marriages were rarely accepted, especially against the strict rituals and family honour.

Samarth stepped closer, trying to support his brother , and eventually Sanjeev seemed to agree as Siddharth was his beloved youngest son . But everything changed the moment they learned the identity of the girl , and moreover she was from a modest Maharashtrian family.

Marrying her into the Singhaniya family would have been seen as a breach of tradition, an insult to their pride.

Six months had slipped by, but the icy distance only deepened between the father and son. Siddhath refused to meet even when proposals were made , while Samarth , caught up in high-stakes business , gradually tied with the packed schedules , spent less time at home . Meanwhile, Pranali nursed herself to care for their newborn baby girl , Nidhi.

Meanwhile, Sanjeev's health began to deteriorate, and Siddharth found himself caught between duty and love, feeling increasingly trapped. His expensive camera was left untouched in a cupboard. He tried to convince his mother but nothing was resolved. Instead the situation turned worse.

Then , one day, during a meeting, Siddharth said ,"I'm sorry, Ishita .. I can't fight harder."

Ishita stared at him intently. . Instead of disappointment, her eyes reflected empathy . "Don't apologise. I understand"

He looks confused. She smiled through tears. "If I ask you to choose me today, you'll spend the rest of your life hating yourself for abandoning your family." She paused, "And If I ask you to stay, I'll hate myself for asking."

Siddharth stood there, speechless, both standing silently, because somewhere they believed, perhaps someday , if they become successful enough, their family might accept them. But if not, they won't harbor any resentment, just the pain.

Finally , Siddharth mustered the courage to break the silence "Ishu!" He said softly.

Ishita shut her eyes, momentarily absorbing the pain .Her heart ached more than his breaking of this relationship.

Siddharth said in a broken smile “ If life brings you happiness with someone else... don't stop because of me." He suggested

Ishita nodded , as their footsteps fell silently as they walked together, neither daring to speak as though their words were too fragile, afraid they might shatter everything.

On his wedding night as Siddharth stepped inside his bedchamber, he saw Vedhika was sitting gracefully on the bed. He furtively placed his wedding turban on the table and moved to settle on the sofa but Vedhika gently stopped him midway.

" Siddharth, I need to talk to you about something.” She expressed softly

He straightened up and stood, offering all his ears “ haan..” he replied "Bolo.”

" I know our marriage was arranged out of a family alliance, and we barely know each other. But I promise to try to be a good wife . More than that, I want us to be friends .” Vedhika remarked .

“ Don't worry, Vedhika, I've never imposed those patriarchy rules on you . You are my wife now , with equal rights to me and this house.” Siddharth assured her.

Vedhika smiled painfully, her eyes shimmered with both hope and sadness" Sid, “ she whispered softly, " I always believed you're a gentleman. The first time I met you , I understood it. It's very rare for a man to openly confess his past, especially to the girl he's supposed to be betrothed to. And the moment I decided to marry you ."

Siddharth cheeks reddened as he hesitated briefly. " Vedhika, don't worry need to worry about that now… you're my wife and I believe in partnership over outdated societal stereotypes.”

" I know “ she nodded , then added further " but I want to share my truth as well. “ She looked into his eyes." I was in love with Arvind . He was a pilot…but one year ago…" her voice choked “ he …died in a plane crash !” Her eyes shut, swallowing hard her emotions.

Siddharth's heart ached , he stood utterly defenseless, unaware of what to say “ I'm sorry , Vedhika!"

" Ist alright “ she said she continued " I didn't want to get married yet my family insisted. Still, I want to be honest with you .Perhaps our marriage might not start with love , but I believe it can begin with shared pain and trust.”

Siddharth stared at her respecting her thoughts and decision, for a moment his thoughts drifting to Ishita . As quickly as they returned, the memories faded. “ I'll never force you to take Arvind's place " he assured

Vedhika stared at him still , goosebumps sprouted at his vow . "I won't ask you to forget your past . It's a part of who you are—just as Arvind will always remain a part of me. Memories don't vanish ; they simply find a place alongside new ones.”

They shared a silent moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

The night darkened, both immersed in their own contemplation. For a brief instant, his mind wandered to Ishita, their happy days and their sorrows.

But tonight, a decision was made . He was someone's husband , and he was determined to remain true to his domestic duties and vows .