In the ruins....I found you ❤️-A Prashiv ss - Page 6

I always knew that written words meant much more than spoken words. that feeling when you read someone else's thoughts that someone wrote in their own handwriting is much more significant than having someone say them. and for the first time he sees her. the most important thing in a relationship is that they see each other. they don't look with their eyes, they see.

https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/fan-fictions/5368716/when-is-the-right-time

I am so in love 🥰 with letters, haldi & their vows. Really moving and inspiring to read about them.

His turmoil, anguish I was in 😢

Thanks for tagging and sharing your 🪄 thoughts. Masterpiece ♥️

Take care do write more the show has become a major letdown now.

Sorry to say i am wishing it should end then hopefully we see Namik in a better projects.

Maybe with Jennifer Winget🤩☺️

Originally posted by: SilverBell

The Story Is More Interesting Then The Series It Self

I Don't Watch It

Too Much Drama

Now I am obsessed with its bitter sweet taste

It's like poison yet I just can't let it go because of my loyalty to Namik 😭😭😩

I shouldn't have started watching in the first place

Originally posted by: asmitamohanty

Chapter 11: The Night They Stopped Pretending

It had rained that evening—hard and unrelenting, as though the sky had lost its temper.

The storm outside was a mirror of the one simmering within the Randhawa mansion’s marble walls. The house, too, seemed on edge. The air was thick with tension, the sort that presses down on your chest and refuses to let you breathe.

They had just finished dinner.

Shivansh was helping Prarthana clear the table, an unspoken rhythm now built between them. He’d started doing little things—cutting vegetables without being asked, wiping the counter when he thought she wasn’t looking. And though he never said it aloud, each act whispered, I’m trying. For you.

Prarthana saw it. Felt it.

But that fragile thread of peace was about to snap.

The doorbell rang. Loud. Urgent. Insistent.

Shivansh froze.

Prarthana felt it immediately—how his hand tensed around the water jug, how the warmth in his eyes evaporated, replaced with an old stormcloud of unease.

Then came the voice.

"Shivansh? Beta, please open the door. It’s your mother."

The jug slipped from his hands.

It crashed to the floor and shattered, water and glass bleeding across the tiles like something sacred had been ruined.

Prarthana stepped forward instinctively, but Shivansh held up a hand—silent, trembling.

He walked to the door and opened it.

She stood there, dressed in pearls and piety, holding a designer umbrella and a face full of curated regret.

Smita Zaveri.,.His mother..

Prarthana had never seen him like this before—so visibly undone. The armor fell away in jagged fragments, replaced not by vulnerability, but by something colder: emotional frostbite.

"What do you want?" Shivansh asked, voice low.

Smita stepped in as if she belonged, ignoring the broken pieces of glass at her feet.

“I know it's your birthday,” she said with a tight smile. “I thought maybe this time, I could at least try.”

Shivansh laughed—a harsh, hollow sound. “Try what? To stitch together twenty five years of abandonment with one visit and a gift bag?”

She flinched.

Prarthana hovered near the dining table, uncertain whether to step in or stay out. Every cell in her body screamed to go to him. But this was not her fight to lead.

Smita looked at Prarthana briefly, then turned back to her son.

“Look, I made mistakes. But I—”

“You left me,” he said, his voice cracking now. “You chose to walk away from me. You let him send me away like I was a burden you could finally rid yourself of.”

“I was powerless—”

“No,” he snapped, stepping closer. “You were spineless. And then you played the grieving mother at Page 3 parties while I spent nights wondering why I wasn’t enough.”

Prarthana couldn’t take it anymore.

She walked up to him and gently placed her hand on his back.

He didn’t look at her.

But he didn’t pull away either.

Smita’s voice trembled. “I know I cannot change the past, Shivansh. But at least allow me to be part of your present.”

He stared at her.

Long.

Hard.

Then, in a voice so cold it could’ve frozen time, he said, “There is no place for you in my present. My mother died the day she turned her back on me.”

The room fell still.

Smita’s eyes welled with tears, but Shivansh stood unmoved. A lifetime of pain had finally found its words.

She left without another word.

And then, the silence descended again. Only now, it was louder than before.

Prarthana cleaned the broken glass as he sat on the couch like a man who’d just survived a battlefield.

When she joined him, she didn’t say anything. Just sat beside him, her shoulder brushing his.

He whispered, “Do you think I was too harsh?”

She shook her head. “No. You were honest. Sometimes, that’s the only kindness we owe.Though I feel that she must have had a reason to leave you but that doesn't take away the " more than two decades" of unbearable pain you went through bcz of her abandonment..and it would take time to heal.”

He looked at her.

Long.

Searching.

And then—softly—he whispered, “You stayed.”

She smiled sadly. “I always will.”

Something broke inside him then—not violently. Not like glass or rage. But like ice finally thawing..His voice trembled, husky with anguish, eyes refusing to meet hers.

“I always thought…” he paused, swallowing hard, “you’re only here because you had no choice. Because I… tied you to me with a ritual I poisoned from the start. A wedding that should’ve been sacred, but I used it as a weapon.”

Prarthana’s brows furrowed, but he continued, as if it had taken him years to admit.

“I thought you stayed because of that chain around your neck... not because of me. That you were just... fulfilling a duty, burdened by vows that were never given to you honestly in the first place.”

He finally looked up, eyes dark and tortured.

“And that… that killed me every single day.”

He turned toward her, his fingers brushing hers. And for the first time, there was no mask between them. No guarded words. No cold silences.

Just Shivansh and Prarthana.

Two bruised hearts that had stopped pretending.

“I thought if I let you love me, I’d ruin you,” he said, voice trembling. “But the truth is… not loving you is what's been killing me.”

She exhaled shakily, and cupped his face.

“I didn’t want perfect,” she whispered. “I just wanted you. All of you. Even the wreckage.”

His breath hitched.

And then she kissed him.

It wasn’t the fiery, desperate kind. It was quiet. Deep. Healing.

Like breathing in warmth after years of winter.

When they pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers.

And he whispered, “I don’t know if I deserve you.”

“You do,” she said. “And I’ll remind you every day until you believe it.”

---

That night, they didn’t fall asleep as strangers on either side of the bed.

They lay tangled in silence and solace. Fingers laced. Heartbeats synced. The space between them finally gone.

Not lovers in passion, not husband and wife in duty—

But two souls who had finally let themselves be seen.

It's as if I could feel his apology , his confession.

💞💞❤️

Originally posted by: Fillowship

Good for you dear

Now I am obsessed with its bitter sweet taste

It's like poison yet I just can't let it go because of my loyalty to Namik 😭😭😩

I shouldn't have started watching in the first place

I Know The Feeling To Watch A Tv Show Because Of A Favorite Actor

It's Ok Just Skip The Rest Of The Unwanted Scenes And Watch The Parts Of Namik Paul

Originally posted by: asmitamohanty

So .....as episodes are going in such a way,that I actually don't know what to feel about it...I am already missing Prashiv...

Hence I am thinking of continuing it... with few more chapters...

Do read it and give your valuable feedback....❤️

Thank you ❤️

Sure I Will Read Your Story Please Continue

These Were Beautiful Stories Even Much Better In The Shows I Watched One Of The Latest Episodes And Quickly Changed It To Another Series

My Shiv Shakti Instead

Episodes Aren't Worth Watching

But Your Stories Are Worth Reading

Originally posted by: SilverBell

These Were Beautiful Stories Even Much Better In The Shows I Watched One Of The Latest Episodes And Quickly Changed It To Another Series

My Shiv Shakti Instead

Episodes Aren't Worth Watching

But Your Stories Are Worth Reading

Thank you so so much...you are always so so kind and generous with your words....❤️

Means a lot...

Thank you for reading and commenting ❤️