ARSHI FF - A SKY OF MY OWN - Chapter 1 & 2 - Updated on Page 2 - Page 2

He learned too late what she was trying to tell him. Now he has only himself to blame.

Khushi is already on the path to live for herself. She should find her new rhythm, her confidence. Build her life to the level that she can live on her own terms.

This is exactly the kind of Arshi FF I have been craving to read since long! Thanks for starting to write this story! Seems like lots of angst are loading already ….! It’s really well-written. Waiting eagerly to read the next part.

I had posted a reply today but now I can’t find my comment I dunno why! Hope this comment stays. It’s so beautifully written! Keep it up 👍 It’s exactly the kind of Arshi story I have been waiting for since long! Lots of angst loading it seems! And I am waiting for it 💕

Firstly thank you all who have read and commented on my story. I'll reply to your comments and here is the first Chapter. I'll try not to take a big break between the Chapters. I had written some parts months ago then got busy and now I have started fresh again so hope you guys love it. Please leave your feedback I'll really appreciate it,

Chapter 1 – The Silence She Left Behind

The room was too quiet.
Not the kind of silence that comes with peace, but the kind that howls through empty spaces, loud, aching, and unbearable.

Arnav stood at the threshold of their room, the door still slightly ajar. The room was dark. He knew Khushi was scared of the dark. His fingers hovered over the switch, but he didn’t turn on the lights. Darkness felt more honest; it didn’t pretend.

He stepped in, his gait slow and uncertain, as if the room might shatter if he moved too quickly.

And maybe it already had.

He called her name once softly, then again louder, his voice cracking somewhere between disbelief and denial. He went toward the dark poolside, visible only thanks to the reflection of the water from the moonlight. She wasn’t there either.

His heart lurched. A strange dread coiled in his stomach as he looked around, taking in the emptiness. Her sandals by the doorway, gone. Her dupatta, gone.

No answer.

And then it hit him, not like a thought, but like a physical blow.

He couldn’t feel her presence, the special connection they had long before they realized their feelings.

He felt hollow, as if life had been sucked out of him. He realized she was gone. Truly gone.

And the stars, the ones she had lovingly stuck on the wall above the bed, glowing soft amber in the night, whispering to her of her parents, were gone too. Stripped clean.
Just pale patches of adhesive residue remained where the stars used to be. A hollow sky.

She had taken them with her.

Of course, she had.

How could he not realize that the girl who used to talk to the stars would leave them behind?
Now, even her Salman Khan poster, creased, silly, annoyingly persistent, looked like it was mourning her.

His throat burned. He didn’t cry. Couldn’t. But something inside him was collapsing in slow motion.

There were traces of her still, not enough to hold onto, but far too much to forget.

A lone earring nestled beside the dresser. The scent of jasmine in the folds of the pillow she used was faint, but there.

He moved toward the bed and sat down slowly, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers gripping his hair like he could somehow stop the thoughts from spiraling.

How did it come to this?

Her laughter was gone. Her warmth was gone. Her presence was erased, as if she had never belonged here. And yet, the emptiness screamed of her absence in every crevice.

Arnav Singh Raizada, ruthless, composed, in control, was unraveling.
Because the woman who had brought light into his life had walked away with all of it.
And he had no idea how to find her in the dark she left behind.

His gaze flicked to the door, as if expecting it to open, as if some part of him still hoped this was a nightmare and she’d return, eyes blazing, voice trembling, arms crossed in stubborn defiance.

But the door stayed shut.

And reality settled like dust in his chest, heavy, suffocating.

The door creaked as a breeze slipped in through the balcony, rustling the curtains like a whisper from the past.

Arnav’s gaze drifted toward the small table near the window. It was bare now, wiped clean of the little things she used to keep there. But the drawer beneath sat half open. On impulse, he knelt before it and pulled it out.

A letter, folded crisply. No name on the front. No flourish in the handwriting. Just stark ink on plain paper.
He stared at it like it might burn him. His breath caught in his throat. Every instinct told him not to open it, that whatever was written might shatter what little was left of him.

But his fingers moved before his mind could stop them.
Inside was a single page, her handwriting steady, deliberate, painfully familiar.

Arnav,

I spent years bending until I broke, forgiving until I disappeared, carrying the weight of everyone else’s happiness, yours, your sister’s, even when betrayal burned through me, even when humiliation became my shadow.

I placed your peace above my pain, your family’s smiles above my dignity. That was my mistake, loving so selflessly that I forgot myself. And for that, I alone have paid the price.

I believed too deeply in Devi Maiya. She was my solace when silence crushed me, my confidante when no one else cared to listen. Even when the world demanded I endure, I spoke to her, the only one who heard the truth in my tears.

You took that away too, my faith, my refuge, my only sacred thing.

Yet again, only for you, I turned back to her because she’s the only one I have ever had.

The only thing that you truly ever meant was that I didn’t matter.

Mere hone ya na hone se tumhe koi farak nahi padta. Mere kuch kehne se ya karne se tumhe ko farak nahi padta.

So please, don’t try to find me. Not now. Not ever, unless it is by her will.

If Devi Maiya wishes, perhaps our paths will cross again. But I will not be waiting. Not this time.

I still believe Devi Maiya writes our destiny, but we are the ones responsible for the choices born out of our free will. So I do apologize for the damage my silence or I caused.

Now, I understand Devi Maiya always wanted me to fight for myself, to take charge of my own life and seek happiness not in serving others, but in being true to myself.

Today, I surrender to her will completely.

This time, I'd write my story with her blessings, because my life belongs to me.

I owe it to myself to honour the life, she bestowed upon me and to love myself the way I once loved everyone else, the way I truly deserve to be loved.

Goodbye.
— Khushi

The words blurred. He didn’t realize when his knees gave way or when the paper slipped from his hands.
That night, he sat on the floor till dawn, the letter trembling in his hands, every word a blade, every truth a reflection of his own failings. He read it over and over until the ink became as familiar as her voice.

When the morning light broke through, he folded the letter carefully and slipped it into his wallet. It felt like a promise and a punishment.
Days passed. Then weeks. Then months.
The ache didn’t fade; it deepened. The letter became the only piece of her he had left, a confession he was never meant to answer.

Every night, he unfolded it, tracing the words like penance. Every morning, he refolded it, reminding himself why he couldn’t go looking for her, not until he had changed.
Because she didn’t want to be found. Not by the man he was.

Her silence wasn’t anger; it was liberation.
So he waited, for strength, for redemption, for the courage to deserve her forgiveness if it ever came.
He had once told her that he liked silence, only to realize she left behind a silence that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Thank you for your comment. Hope to live up to your expectation.

Originally posted by: BollyBabe75

This promises to be an amazing story. So well written and churning with angst. So looking forward to reading till the end.

Originally posted by: coderlady

He learned too late what she was trying to tell him. Now he has only himself to blame.

Thank you for the comment. He listens selectively

Yes she should. thank you for the comment

Originally posted by: coderlady

Khushi is already on the path to live for herself. She should find her new rhythm, her confidence. Build her life to the level that she can live on her own terms.

Thank you for the comment. Yes it has angst of course

Originally posted by: Arshisarunfan

This is exactly the kind of Arshi FF I have been craving to read since long! Thanks for starting to write this story! Seems like lots of angst are loading already ….! It’s really well-written. Waiting eagerly to read the next part.

Pre Diwali Week so one more Chapter. Please show some encouragement

Chapter 2 – Quiet Triumphs

The city didn’t know her name anymore. She had disappeared from the noise, the headlines, the roles others had boxed her into. Here, in this unfamiliar town where no one knew her, she wasn’t the wife, the daughter-in-law, the unwanted niece, or the misunderstood girl wrapped in scandal. She was just Khushi. Quiet, unremarkable to passersby, and yet, wholly herself.

Her days began not with obligations but with choices. She woke to the sound of her own rhythm: the silence of early mornings, the gentle clink of bangles as she tied her hair, the comfort of solitude. Her scars were still there, but she traced them gently, making peace with them.

Khushi stood on the terrace of her cottage, the cool morning breeze brushing her skin. The house, nestled in the hills, felt like a sanctuary, a place far removed from her past chaos. The stone walls, weathered by time, seemed to whisper stories of resilience, just as she had done in her own silence.

The terrace overlooked a sweeping valley, where forest met sky and distant hills shimmered under soft golden light. She felt the weight of the past lift with every breath of mountain air. This isolated place was where she rebuilt herself.

Each morning she rose to birdsong and the rustle of trees; each evening, stars appeared as if acknowledging her journey. The wind carried distant temple bells, but she didn’t pause. Her deadlines were self-set, small triumphs that stitched the tapestry of her future.

The aroma of freshly brewed adrak chai filled her space. Her fingers were smudged with ink; her notepad was filled with sketches and notes ; raw, unpolished, yet entirely hers. No one knew what she was building and that was how she wanted it. Not yet. Not until it was unshakable, something that could not be taken, misunderstood, or questioned.

Sometimes her breath caught, a shadow of the pain still lingering in her eyes. Yet she moved forward with grace, with intention. The world didn’t owe her understanding, and she no longer begged for it. For the first time, her happiness came not from being selfless, but from creating something that belonged entirely to her.

As evening fell, the stars began to twinkle. Khushi stood by the window, gazing at the constellations, finding comfort in the silent conversation with the souls she missed most, her parents.

“Do you see this, Maa, Paa?” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “This is my dream, my little victory. I’m doing something for myself—what I want, what I need. Not for anyone else, not for approval, not for expectation. Just for me.”

The night answered with only the whisper of wind. She closed her eyes, letting the quiet support of the stars wash over her. Their love, even in absence, was a constant source of strength. Her real parents would have wanted her free, to follow her own path, even if it brought loneliness. And deep down, she knew they were watching.

Khushi sat on the small porch steps, speaking softly to Devi Maiya in her heart, asking for the strength to build her life on her terms.

"Bas itna sa sahaara de dena, Devi Maiya… Is baar, main kisi par bojh na banoon. Apna rasta khud dhoond loon… apni pehchaan, apne dam par bana loon."

"Grant me this much, Devi Maiya… This time, let me not be a burden on anyone. Let me find my own path… and create my identity on my own strength."