Ishq Mein Marjawan ~ Dil Ki Khubsoorti ~ Chap 16 on pg 2 - Page 5

Ravindra himself cut ties with them. He didn't quite understand back then what it would do.

Even Tara has been part of his story for long. She saw him through his stages of grief.

Tara has cast her curse. But He still remembered her name. How much will Arohi remember?

Chapter 17 (When Memory Refused to Die)

Singhania Mansion – Deep’s Room – Early Morning

The curtains fluttered as dawn crept in, pale and cold.

Deep sat on the edge of his bed, eyes vacant. The sand timer still lay on his desk—its grains unmoving, like time itself had paused to catch its breath.

He rubbed his forehead, as if trying to dig something out.

A feeling.
A name.
A memory.

“…Rooh,” he murmured again.

The word felt unfamiliar now, like trying to hold onto fog. It stirred something in him—something buried too deep.

He stood abruptly and walked to the mirror.

A face stared back. Handsome. Sculpted. Recognizable.

But in his eyes—

nothing.

A flash.

A treehouse under stars.
Laughter echoing through gully lanes.
A girl in pigtails throwing guava seeds from a terrace.

The image flickered—then vanished.

He gripped the mirror’s edge.

“What the hell is happening to me?”

Later – Gym, Mumbai Suburbs

The music pounded. Trainers shouted over beats. Deep ran on the treadmill, faster, harder, as if he could outrun the ache crawling up his chest.

His manager walked in, phone in hand. “Deep, you’re late for the campaign shoot. That A-list brand—”

“I’m not doing it,” Deep muttered, his breath ragged.

“What?”

He slowed down. His hands shook.

“I said I’m not doing it. Cancel it. I need—” He trailed off.
What did he need?

The manager blinked. “Are you okay?”

No.
He wasn’t.
Because somewhere between the glitter and the cameras, something had gone missing.
And he didn’t even know what.

Montage – Restlessness Growing

• Deep flipping through his old journals—nothing. Pages empty where they should’ve been full.
• Scrolling through social media—likes, followers, fake smiles.
• Watching rain hit the windowpane. Feeling it should remind him of someone—but it didn’t.

Then one night—

He dreamed.

Dream Sequence – Unknown Memoryscape

A field of stars.
A crooked tree platform.
A rusted box.
A girl’s voice, soft and urgent:

“Promise me you won’t forget.”

Deep turned. He couldn’t see her face—only the outline.
Her eyes shimmered like broken reflections in a well.

“I don’t know who you are,” he whispered.

She stepped back.

The stars went out.
The tree splintered.
The voice faded.

“You already have…”

Deep’s Apartment – Middle of the Night

He gasped awake, drenched in sweat.

This time, he didn’t reach for the sand timer.

He reached for his phone.

His fingers typed a name into the search bar:

“Rooh.”

No results.

He frowned. Tried again. “R… A… R…O…”
Nothing made sense.

But the ache inside him pulsed louder than ever.

Somewhere out there was a song he didn’t remember writing, a girl he didn’t remember loving, and a promise he couldn’t recall breaking.

And it was driving him mad.

Singhania Mansion – Study – Same Morning

Ravindra walked in to find Deep rifling through drawers.

“Beta?”

Deep looked up, eyes wild. “Where are the old photographs, Papa?”

“What photographs?”

“Of… of when I was a kid. With that other family. The Kashyaps.”

Ravindra froze.

“There are no such photos, Deep.”

“Yes, there are. I remember…”

His voice trailed off.

Did he?

He turned away.

“I just… I don’t feel like myself lately.”

Ravindra placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes forgetting is a blessing.”

But Deep didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t believe it.

Closing Shot – Tara’s Celestial Watchpoint

Tara watched through her starglass, the Mirror Mist swirling beside her.

She whispered to herself:

“Forget her. Fall for me. That’s how it was meant to be.”

But even she could feel it now—

The heart jar’s light… was dimming.

And the boy she tried to rewrite was beginning to remember on his own.

Present Day – Singhania Mansion – Ravindra’s Study

The morning sun filtered through the sheer blinds, casting golden lines across mahogany walls and leather-bound books.

Deep stood by the glass cabinet, the sand timer gripped in his palm. Its grains still hadn’t moved.

He turned to face Ravindra, seated behind his desk.

“I need to ask you something,” Deep said, voice tight.

Ravindra looked up from his files, already sensing the storm.

“Did we… ever live near Kashyap Gully?”

A pause.
Too long.

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me, Papa.” His voice cracked. “I’ve been dreaming about that place. Smelling tamarind in my sleep. Seeing… her.”

Ravindra exhaled, measured. “You’re exhausted. Your mind is playing tricks—”

“She had pigtails,” Deep interrupted. “And she called me a liar when I aimed at mangoes.”

Ravindra froze.

“I don’t know her name,” Deep continued, voice rising, “but I remember her guava slices. Her sketchpad. The way she looked at me like I wasn’t cursed. Who was she?”

“Stop,” Ravindra said sharply, standing up now. “This is dangerous, Deep. You were broken. I watched you fade away after your mother died. I did everything to bring you back.”

Deep’s hand tightened around the timer. “Even if it meant erasing my memories?”

“She was just a girl.”

“She was my world,” Deep whispered.

Ravindra’s face twitched.

Silence stretched—sharp, stifling.

“I don’t need your permission,” Deep said, stepping back. “I’m going.”

“Going where?”

Deep stared at him, defiant.

“Back to where I was real.”

Afternoon – Kashyap Gully – Old Town

The streets hadn't changed.

Rickety balconies leaned too close. Kids ran barefoot through narrow lanes. The air still smelled of incense, frying pakoras, and yesterday’s rain.

Deep walked slowly, hood up, sunglasses on—but his heart beat wildly, like it knew the terrain better than his mind did.

He paused near a tea stall.

A rusted bench.
Two faded initials carved into its side: D + A

His breath caught.

He moved on.

Kashyap House – Courtyard

Aarohi wasn’t home.

But her wall of memories was.

He stepped closer. Old photos fluttered in the breeze. Stick figures on crumpled pages. Scribbled names long faded. A broken slingshot hanging from a nail.

His fingers hovered over a dusty photo—two kids, ice cream smeared on their faces, sitting on a cracked cement bench.

He touched it—

FLASH.

Her laughter.
His voice.
Treehouse. Rain. Guava. The word Rooh whispered like a lullaby.

The memory slammed into him with such force that he staggered back.

Outside – The Courtyard Gate

Aarohi returned from her delivery round, hair tied up in a messy braid, cotton dupatta trailing behind her.

She stopped in her tracks.

Deep stood just beyond the gate.

Looking lost.
Looking shaken.

She didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

She couldn’t read his expression. Not yet. But something about the way he looked at her—

Like she was both a mystery and a home he barely remembered—

Made her heart skip.

Finally, he spoke, hoarse:

“Do we… know each other?”

Cut To – Celestial Watchpoint

Tara felt it like a knife to her ribs.

The connection. The flicker. The beginning of undoing.

She stumbled back from the star mirror, eyes wide.

“No,” she whispered. “No. It’s too soon.”

The Heart Jar pulsed with a warning beat.

And somewhere far beneath the stars—

A boy who’d forgotten everything had begun to remember.

Celestial Watchpoint – Between Memory and Moonlight

The stars had dimmed.

Cracks shimmered across the glass ledge beneath Tara’s feet, pulsing faintly like veins of guilt. The Mirror Mist, once obedient, now twisted violently within its containment sphere—its color no longer soft silver, but streaked with angry red.

The Heart Jar pulsed erratically on her wrist.

Tara’s breath came in sharp bursts as she backed away from the celestial mirror. In its surface, she had seen it: Deep, standing in front of Aarohi’s courtyard. Asking her if they knew each other.

The words wouldn’t stop echoing in her head.

“Do we… know each other?”

Her voice cracked into the void. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

She spun around—only to find Mayank watching her from the arch of the observatory gate, his robes trailing stardust.

“Tara,” he said, voice calm but thunderously disappointed. “What did you do?”

She flinched. “I—I only took fragments. A few scents. A tune. The treehouse. That’s all.”

“You violated the Prime Code.”
His voice was no longer soft.

“You tampered with soul-bound memory, Tara. You erased pieces of a bonded past. And you used the Mirror Mist—a forbidden current.”

Her jaw clenched. “He was drowning. You didn’t see what the curse did to him.”

Mayank stepped closer, the light of dying constellations washing over his face.

“You don’t get to play savior and jailer at once. You stitched his soul only to cage it. You erased Aarohi because she reminded him of the grief you couldn’t fix.”

Tara’s lips trembled. “I gave everything. My energy, my magic—my love. I burned starlight just to hold him together!”

“And now it’s unraveling,” Mayank said grimly. “Because love never forgets. And fate… always finds its anchor.”

A beat.

Tara looked down at the jar strapped to her wrist. The glow inside was flickering—shifting from Deep’s usual warm hue to something paler. It was as if he no longer fully belonged to her.

She shook her head. “If he remembers everything… he’ll never forgive me.”

Mayank’s expression softened for a heartbeat. “Maybe he’s not supposed to.”

That landed like a blow.

Tara staggered back, grief and rage clashing in her eyes. “I was trying to protect him. From the grief. From his father. From the beast inside—”

“No,” Mayank interrupted. “You were trying to protect yourself. From losing the only soul who ever looked at you like you were real.”

Silence.

Then:

“I won’t lose him,” Tara whispered. “Not to a memory. Not to her.”

She turned toward the cosmic scroll shelf—and pulled out a sealed parchment glimmering with golden script.

Mayank’s eyes widened.

“No,” he warned. “That’s a Binding Reversal. That’s meant for timelines where one soul is infected by darkness—”

“He is infected,” Tara snapped. “By her.”

She raised her hand and spoke an incantation.

The scroll unlocked.

The stars above flickered. A chime broke across the silence of time.

And on Earth…
Aarohi suddenly gasped mid-step. Her hands clutched her chest.

Deep, still standing at her gate, stumbled slightly—eyes flickering with disorientation, as if two versions of reality were tugging at his soul.

------

To be continued.

Now that Deep wants to remember, Ravindra wants him to forget. Why is that?

What did Tara do just now? Is she going to harm Arohi? Eliminate her existence?