Ishq Wala Love

Intro:

When fate tears apart a perfect marriage, Shanaya's world collapses after Abhimanyu's tragic disappearance. In her grief, Rohan becomes her strength, leading to a reluctant union bound by duty, not desire. Just as Shanaya begins to feel love again, destiny returns in the form of the man she thought she lost forever.

Chapter 1 (Once More, at St. Teresa’s)

The Silver Reunion

The invitation came in gold — embossed with the crest of St. Teresa's College.
"Silver Jubilee Celebration – Honoring the Class of Legends."

Abhimanyu Singh smiled faintly as he handed it to Shanaya while she fastened her earrings.
"You think Rohan will show up?" he asked casually.

Shanaya glanced at her reflection — graceful, poised, with a quiet maturity fame couldn't buy.
"He hasn't attended any reunion in years," she replied, her tone light, though her eyes flickered with something unreadable.

"Then maybe it's time," Abhi said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. "Let the past finally see how happy we turned out."

She leaned into him, smiling — and he kissed her forehead.
Seven years of marriage, endless flights, fashion shows, late-night boardroom calls — and still, they made time for quiet breakfasts and long drives.
No kids, but no regrets either. Just two people who chose love over ego.

The Return to St. Teresa's

The campus hadn't changed much — the manicured lawns, the red-brick archways, the faint echo of cheers from old tournaments.
The moment Abhi and Shanaya entered, the crowd turned — nostalgia flooded the air.

"Abhi Singh, the legend himself!"
"Shanaya Singhania-Singh, the style queen!"

They smiled, waved, posed for pictures. But amid the laughter and lights, Shanaya's eyes lingered on the doorway — almost expecting someone.

And then he came.

Rohan Nanda.

He arrived late, as usual — but when he did, it felt as though the room paused to breathe.
Tall, still effortlessly charismatic, with the same mischievous eyes that had once held the world's attention.
Only now, there was something else in them — a quiet sadness he'd learned to hide behind charm.

Abhi turned, surprised, then smiled sincerely. "Rohan."

"Abhimanyu," Rohan replied, extending a hand.
For a second, it was the same old energy — rivalry, pride, and beneath it all, a buried brotherhood.

Then Shanaya stepped forward.
Their eyes met. Seven years dissolved in that instant.

"Hi, Rohan," she said softly.

He smiled — the same boyish grin, slightly cracked at the edges. "You look... exactly like I remember."

Her smile wavered. "And you look like you've seen too many cities."

"Maybe I was just looking for one face," he said quietly.

Abhi's hand slipped around Shanaya's waist. The gesture wasn't possessive — just natural. Still, it made Rohan's heart sink.

The Night Walk

The celebration stretched on — laughter, champagne, speeches. But Rohan couldn't join in.
He watched Abhi and Shanaya dance together — their eyes speaking a language that once confused him.

He stepped out onto the old football field, the night air cool and bittersweet.
And soon enough, a familiar voice followed.

"Still avoiding the crowd?" Shanaya asked.

He turned. "Still reading me too well."

They walked in silence for a while, the same ground where they'd once fought over love and pride.
Finally, Rohan said, "I used to think you chose the trophy over me. Then I realized you just chose him."

Shanaya stopped, her voice soft but firm. "I didn't choose him against you, Rohan. I chose the person who made me feel like I was enough — without competition."

He looked at her, eyes glistening. "And he still does, doesn't he?"

She nodded. "Every day."

Rohan chuckled sadly. "Lucky guy. I tried everything — success, travel, distractions. But none of it worked. I still see you in every crowd."

"Then maybe," she whispered, "it's time to stop looking."

He smiled faintly. "Maybe. But tell me one thing, Shanaya — are you happy?"

Her answer came without hesitation. "Completely."

That one word — completely — broke him a little. But it also freed him.

The Farewell

The next morning, Abhi found Rohan sitting alone near the St. Teresa's gate.
"You didn't say goodbye," Abhi said.

Rohan looked up, smirking. "Didn't want to ruin your morning romance walk."

Abhi laughed, sitting beside him. "You could've told me you were still in love with her."

Rohan's smile faded. "Would it have changed anything?"

Abhi shook his head. "No. But I'd have understood better."

They sat quietly — two men who once fought for a title, realizing they'd both lost and won in different ways.

"Take care of her," Rohan said finally.

"I always have," Abhi replied softly. "And I always will."

Rohan stood, straightened his jacket, and looked back at the campus one last time.
"Funny," he said. "They called it Student of the Year. But I think it was really just Lesson of a Lifetime."

Abhi smiled. "Guess we all graduated after all."

As Rohan drove away, the morning sun rose over St. Teresa's — bright, forgiving, infinite.
Shanaya watched from afar, her fingers entwined with Abhi's.

The past had finally taken its bow.
And love — in all its imperfect, enduring forms — had found peace.

The Storm Over Farway

The next morning after the reunion, the Singh residence glowed with quiet domestic peace — the kind that comes only after years of understanding.
Abhimanyu sat by the kitchen island, sipping his black coffee while scrolling through his phone.

Shanaya entered in a satin robe, her hair tied loosely, carrying two plates of toast.
"Morning, Mr. Business Tycoon," she teased. "Already conquering the world before breakfast?"

He smiled, looking up. "Not today. Just a small crisis in Farway. The board wants me there for an emergency meet."

Her brow furrowed. "Farway? That's across the coast — you mean you're flying today?"

"In a few hours," he said, setting his phone aside. "I'll take the chopper. Be back by tomorrow evening."

She folded her arms. "Then I'm coming with you."

Abhi chuckled. "Shanaya, it's a business trip, not a vacation."

"I don't care. You've barely been home this week. If I can't travel with you, when do I even get to see you properly?" Her voice softened, vulnerability slipping through.

He rose, came closer, and gently touched her chin. "You will see me — just not in storm clouds and boardrooms."

"Storm clouds?" she repeated.

"Yeah. They said the weather near the Farway coast is rough. I'll manage."

"Then all the more reason I should come."

He shook his head. "No, Shanaya. I need you here — handling the press launch for your new line. And..." He hesitated, a rare crack in his composed tone. "I don't want you anywhere near turbulence."

Her eyes glistened. "You make it sound like goodbye."

He smiled faintly. "It's just a meeting. Twenty-four hours, tops. Then dinner at that Italian place you love, deal?"

She tried to smile but her throat tightened. "You promise?"

He kissed her forehead. "Always."

The Farewell

The helipad atop the Singh Tower was bathed in morning haze. The chopper blades began to spin as Shanaya clutched his hand.

"Call me when you land," she said, raising her voice over the roar.

"Already on my list," he shouted back, smiling.

"Don't forget your vitamins!"

"Bossy as ever," he teased.

She leaned in and hugged him tightly — longer than usual, as if her heart sensed something her mind refused to name.
"Just... be safe, okay?"

He drew back, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Always am."

Then he climbed aboard.
Shanaya stepped back, waving as the helicopter lifted into the sky.

She watched until it became a speck among the clouds.

The Flight

Inside the cabin, Abhimanyu fastened his seatbelt and checked the reports again. The pilot's voice came through the headset.
"Sir, looks like heavy cloud buildup over the western corridor. We might have to divert."

"Whatever you need," Abhi replied calmly.

Outside, the sky thickened — pale blue fading into steel gray. Lightning flickered far ahead.

Ten minutes later, turbulence hit.
The helicopter jolted sharply. Abhi grabbed the seat arm, heart pounding.

"Captain?"

"Just a rough patch, sir. We'll steady out—"

Static filled the line. The instruments began to blink red.

The pilot cursed under his breath. "We're losing direction! The storm's pulled us off course!"

The chopper lurched violently, the horizon spinning in the window.

Abhimanyu's phone slipped from his hand. He looked out — rain slashing across the glass, the world disappearing into white.

And somewhere, back home, Shanaya's phone buzzed once — Abhimanyu Singh: Last seen — 9:47 a.m.

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To be continued.