May Be Not - FF (Chapter 2 updated)

Hi! I'm new here and I just finished watching the show (I know, it's been a long time coming). As bewildered as I am about the arc they chose to go with during the final few episodes, I like Kabir-Pooja and their potential. So, here's an FF that diverges from the hospital scene where Pooja sees her mother with Kabir. Let's see how a love story can be created without messing with the core of the characters too much! 

Chapter 1

Contrary to popular belief, Pooja liked honesty. She would rather have an open enemy than a two-faced friend, rather be shown true dislike than veiled behind a pretense of love. There was an irony here that she understood well enough. 

She wasn't sure what Kabir Mittal understood though. 

He looked harmless beside her mother, sitting on the uncomfortable chair as he spoke to the woman lying on the bed. It was strangely sweet, she thought as she observed them from behind the green curtain. He had always been this way, she remembered from the past, kind and upright to a fault. 

The kidnapping was new. It was odd, how both the Mittal brothers had resorted to the same method to have an upper hand. Dhruv had been crueler though, she remembered with a disturbing clarity of chaffed wrists and bleeding cuts. 

She had never feared Dhruv Mittal before, not when she had shared a bedroom with him or when he had put more worth on the mangalsutra around her neck than she had. He had been sweet. Safe. 

His father's well-mannered son. 

Kabir had been the rebel. The black sheep of the family. A respected one, but still, not the accepted kind. 

"I'll make sure this never happens again," he promised her unconscious mother, an earnest regret in his words, "I'm so sorry for everything I'm putting you through. I know you want to meet your daughters. I promised you I will introduce you to them and - I will, I really will."

She could walk forward and it would all be over. He had married her but she had found his leverage. There was no more game to play here. 

Pooja waited. She had always been good at waiting, despite her anger and thirst for vengeance. It was important to have all the cards read before showing her hand. Besides, she wanted to know why Kabir of all people decided to stoop so low. 

He valued justice more than vengeance, didn't he? He always had. It had been both the most annoying and impressive quality in him. 

"I know what I'm doing is wrong," he continued, shaking his head like he wanted to ward off some thought, "But I don't have any other option. I know Pooja Sharma - your daughter has the right to be mad at my father. I can't find any excuse for what he did. But my family? What did they do? She's punishing them for something they never did and I can't see that anymore. How do I make her stop? What do you tell someone who is so immersed in their hatred that they can't see how they're ruining innocent people?"

Pooja would have felt better if she had been slapped physically. Innocent. The word echoed like a mockery in her brain and she wanted to throw up. 

Is this what Kabir thought? That the others, his family, were innocent? That they hadn't known or done anything and were all simply victims? 

The visuals were stark in her mind - of a well-dressed woman with the ability to help choosing to push away a begging child who was trying to save her family, of a wisened old man standing beside the son he raised as they watched a home burn down. The words were crystal clear - of the respectable older son of a tycoon insulting a dead man wronged by his father, of a loud sister buttering up her brother as she agreed with the murderous greed that would help her children someday. 

In all the time she had played Jahnvi's role, she had respected none of the Mittals. She hadn't cared for their opinion or well-being. 

Except for the one person who had been open about his dislike of their practices. The one person who had chosen to be good in the midst of the bad. She had grudgingly noticed the difference between Kabir and the others. He was their own but wasn't one of them. Not much. Not quite. 

And yet here he was. 

Who are you, she wondered in her silence as his regret fell away from her vision, what sort of innocence are you talking about? 

She watched as he cared for her mother. She heard as he proclaimed his cause to make Pooja Sharma see the error of her ways. She felt her head split between the urge to strangle his naivety out of him and show him the trace of gratitude he deserved for -

For being a decent human being? Was that an achievement? Maybe it was for a Mittal. 

The bitterness warred with unexplained exhaustion and Pooja hated the pity that matched the frustration within her. She pitied this man, she realized. Not for his misfortune, not for his loss, but for his stubborn scale of justice that didn't see beyond a line. She knew that it had cost him his own family before, his father and Dhruv now lost from his life. And now here he was, throwing his own future into the fray by marrying the woman who was trying to not let the anger reignite, to not ruin the entire Mittal clan once and for all. 

He was trying to play a hero. She didn't know who would tell him that this story wasn't going to go the way he wanted it to. 

Or maybe it could, she thought as the headache cleared a little, maybe that is what it will take. 

Pooja moved away from the hiding spot quietly, letting Kabir stew in his guilt and promises, as she walked out of the room. She had found her mother, she had seen that there wasn't any danger anymore. For all his threats, Kabir wasn't going to let her mother suffer for his plan. He wasn't that far gone and he didn't have that desperation in him. 

Once upon a time, Pooja had been that way too. She had been hesitant to cross lines. She had been kinder, softer, wanting her own beginnings more than somebody else's end. 

She could push Kabir to that limit, she knew she could. She had lost steam with the death of one Mittal and broken heart of another, but she could fan the flames again if there was ever a need. She could show him the consequences of threatening her family ever again. 

She didn't want to. For all his faults, for all his idealism, Kabir Mittal had still done things nobody had thought to do for an enemy. Helping in the factory, saving her from his brother, resigning when he knew that he wouldn't make things easier for a recently traumatized Pooja - he had tried. 

She still didn't know why he had crashed the fashion show but she suspected that it was again because of some righteous reason he hadn't thought to explain in any other way. 

She could destroy Kabir Mittal but Pooja wasn't interested in that. Not when she knew that this would never end, this cycle of them exacting revenge from each other in some misconstrued pattern of balancing things out. There would never be balance between them. 

But there could be clarity. They could see things for what they were and stop the veiled truths. 

As she left the hospital, Pooja made arrangements for her mother to be cared for by personnel who would keep her in the loop. In an afterthought, she penciled in Kabir to be allowed as a visitor. It wouldn't be right to be so abrupt with her mother after he had been the one familiar face for a while. She could take things slow. 

On her way back home, Pooja felt a sense of calm settle over her bones as the new reality sank in. Kabir had played his hand and she had seen it. They were married now but she had her mother back. She owed him nothing and he had gambled everything on this new change. 

It was nice to finally know the truth. Now she could give Kabir Mittal the marriage he signed up for. 

His brother had married the fake Jahnvi. Maybe Kabir could find out what being married to the real Pooja Sharma looked like. 

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Welcome ! Iam a jabir fan and absolutely liked your story !

👏loved it, please continue. Miss them alot. 😭

Well written, enjoyed it alot.

Please continue 

Chapter 2 - 

Kabir had become friends with adrenaline much before he had recognised fear. He had been the kid to slip past the teachers during a field trip, the one to disrupt a college fest when he saw the professor apply an absurd dress code. He was always one with questions, mind running faster than the feet that chased him wherever he went. It made him happy, to think outside the restrictions, to know things. 

The questions running through his brain as he parked the car in the driveway of his home didn't make him the least bit happy. 

His home. Was it still his home? Had she thrown everyone out by the time he got back?

He didn't understand how she had done it but it had taken him one misstep to realise that Pooja Sharma had found her mother. But that wasn't what filled him with dread.

It was the calm with which she had dealt with it that unnerved him. He had got the call about the transfer of Anuradhaji to the care of the physicians hired by Pooja. Sonali had sounded freaked out but they couldn't do anything when the team had come well prepared.

The fact that Kabir was somehow allowed among primary visitors stirred suspicion. This had to be a trap.

He exited the car, putting the keys in his pocket and turned to walk towards the door when he caught sight of the person he was thinking about.

Pooja looked at peace as she sat on the swing of the courtyard. She had changed out of the saree she had been wearing when he had rushed from home in the morning. This one was more subtle, pale lavender with tiny mirrors sewn into the border. It was nothing like the ones she had worn as Jahnvi Mittal.

The reminder was constant in every comparison he saw. It was still raw in his gut, the fact that Jahnvi Mittal didn't exist at all. The idea of a person, an entire life being a lie - it was bigger to accept than he let on. He could only imagine how surreal it must have been for Dhruv.

Pooja looked over at him and the bitter sorrow that followed any thought of his brother solidified in Kabir's lungs. He understood that they could never justify what had happened with the Sharmas. They could never compensate for the life lost or the terrible consequences his father had brought to Pooja's family.

But who would answer for the loss of his family? Jai, Sonali, Dhruv - how would any of them be responsible for what their parents did? And his mother. All those years she had suffered abuse at the hands of his father and then additionally at the whim of a vengeful Pooja. What was justice for her and who drew the line?

His feet moved before he could complete the thought and Kabir walked towards his wife, who didn't seem surprised to see him.

He wasn't going to fight, he resolved. He just wanted answers. They could talk. Like civilised people.

Two minutes turned out to be a long stretch to be civilised.

"You saw her yourself, she was fine," he grit out, stinging from the volley of snide remarks he had gotten before five normal words had been spoken, "If anything, she must have been terrified by the sudden change of venue that you arranged for. Sonali told me how it happened. You didn't even meet her yourself, didn't make sure that she was safe. We did. And I promised her I'd bring her to you, which I would have done in time. If only you hadn't ruined everything, nobody would have been in danger."

"In time? In time for what?" his wife sneered and Kabir could feel his ears ringing with the pumping blood in his veins.

"For you to realise what you had done! And make amends. That's what this was always about, that you should -"

"What, that I should apologise for you feeling less of a man?" Pooja shot back, a decibel shy of a yell and her eyes shooting daggers as she held her own, "You got slapped by someone who worked herself dry to make a project successful and whose project you almost wrecked by crashing into her on the stage. You got slapped for ruining it and you decided to take your revenge by marrying someone forcibly. By kidnapping a mentally unstable woman whose husband your father killed. Just because your manhood felt smaller after being humiliated. You want an apology for that? Screw you, you don't get one. You don't get an apology for using my anger as an excuse for being terrible. You don't get one, Kabir, for being a monster of your own choice."

"You want to talk about being a monster?" Kabir had lost all thought, all semblance of decency, "A monster is someone who poisoned a woman till she went crazy. A monster is someone who endangered an innocent Kavya and Arush knowing what would happen if dad hadn't been stopped in time. A monster, Pooja, is someone who ruined the lives of people who had nothing to do with the hurt caused to you. You want to make excuses for how nobody deserves an apology? You're going to have to wipe years worth of consequences for it."

"The way your family did?" Pooja laughed with sharp fury, "You can't talk about consequences when you've faced nothing remotely equal to what we did. Oh, you were thrown out of your home? Faced poverty for a week? Watched your brother feel helpless in the face of something he hadn't done? Try living with that for half your life and you might come closer to what consequences actually feel like. I gave them exactly what they gave me. What else did you think you earned?"

"How about some trust?!" Kabir yelled and Pooja blinked, faltering in her focused anger, "You keep talking about what my family did to you but not once do you talk about what the others did for you. Did I ever say that you didn't deserve justice? That my father was right? I didn't have any proof, any detail apart from what your Amma told me, and I trusted you. You, Pooja or Jahnvi or whatever you were at that time. I trusted you over my father because I knew that he could do it and that you were angry for the right reason. Even after you threw us out, even after my father died in front of me, even after every humiliation you put me through, I trusted your grief. And I stuck by your side like an idiot when I shouldn't have, at the factory and for your project. My brother kidnapped you and I knew he was wrong, so I came again. What do you think I earned for any of it, Pooja? My family's well-being? Peace?"

Pooja didn't speak and Kabir didn't have the clarity to read the changing look in her eyes.

"I don't want your forgiveness or your pity," he said after a pause, the fight draining out of him, "but I damn well did deserve the benefit of doubt for one second."

Without waiting for any rebuttal, he left her to her thoughts and turned on his feet. He needed to be alone again. The darkness of his room was a better companion than the brightness of their terrible truths.

He was sitting on his bed, regretting the way things had played out, when he heard the knock. When he didn't reply, the knob turned and he heard the creak of the door opening.

There was silence for a minute before a soft exhale filled the room.

"I did" Kabir didn't turn around yet he could sense his wife by the entrance of the room even without it, her voice as quiet as the door that shut behind her, "I trusted you."

"No, you didn't," Kabir didn't know why his lips quirked but maybe they were both exhausted, both entrenched in a twisted reality of their making. They weren't friends, didn't like each other, and were the only people still willing to speak with each other without filtering. He didn't know who the worse person in the room was but maybe they were both not keeping scores well.

Pooja didn't speak but he heard her walk in, coming around till he could see her legs. She waited till he looked up and he was sorely tempted to not comply.

He was curious though, as he always was. Lifting his head, he saw her looking down at him with a tiredness that seemed to bind them together.

"I trusted you," she repeated and Kabir had seen a million emotions in her eyes before but he didn't know that sadness could look this restrained, "It was why I got angry. I trusted you despite what your brother did and it was bad enough but then you came in, playing the hero in a situation - that show was important to me and all I could think of when you crashed into me, was that you were ruining everything. That you knew what this show meant to me and you did it on purpose. I was angry because I trusted you and I felt wrong."

"I came to the show because I needed to save my brother as much as I wanted to save you," he confessed, "He's my brother. My brother. And he is a good man. Dhruv is a good man, Pooja Sharma, he is and I know it. I know you don't agree and I'm not making excuses for him but, God, how do you not try to save someone who is drowning? How do I not try to save my brother who was nothing like this? He lost dad, lost his wife, lost everything he thought was real - if he had done something irreversible, I needed to be there to stop him. And I can't regret that, I can't apologise for trying to save my family."

"I know," Pooja sat beside him, the mirrors on the border of her saree twinkling in the silver light from the night sky. She didn't offer agreement or platitudes, gave no modicum of comfort to make him feel better, nothing except for those two words. An acknowledgement. She hadn't forgiven him for the things he had done and he couldn't forget the things she had moved past, but she acknowledged his thought. 

How long had it been since he had been allowed this, Kabir wondered as he sat in silence beside the woman who should mean the least to him, when was the last time he had just said something and nobody had challenged, covered up, or corrected his feelings?

"We can't keep doing this," he said finally, letting the words out because there was nothing left, there was no more curtain to hide behind, "We can't keep being - this."

"Horrible people?" Pooja supplied and there was a tired chuckle in her voice that wasn't mocking, "Kabir, it's a little late for that."

"You've found your mother," he pointed out, not rising to the bait, "There's nothing holding you here."

"I know"

"You could whip up the divorce papers tomorrow morning."

"This soon?" Pooja raised a brow, "The media will rip us up."

"You want to stay married to me?" Kabir reminded, wondering how this woman's brain worked, "So that your reputation stays intact?"

"Not mine, the company's," she pointed out, shrugging a shoulder as she turned away from him to stare ahead, moonlight playing across her face, "My reputation went to tatters a long time ago and yours isn't much right now either. We can't do anything about that. But the company? It's still there."

"Pooja -"

"They value you," she cut through his protest and looked over at him without hesitation, blunt in her thoughts as always, "Trust me, I wish they didn't sometimes but the people of this company and the workers in that factory - they value you. I won't ask you to come back but I won't allow you, or this marriage, to throw all of them into the gutter just because it's inconvenient to share a roof over your head."

"How many times can you fake a marriage?" he asked and it came out more curious than accusing. He understood what she said, knew that they had played a gamble staking far more than either of them could handle.

"It's not fake this time, is it?"

"You know what I mean," he pointed out and he could remember Kavya, recall the complicated mess a real fake marriage brought with it.

"Marriage is just two people using a legal provision to get what they want," Pooja exhaled before looking away, down at the floor with a mirthless smile, "It becomes significant if you love someone, Kabir Mittal. And we don't love each other so it shouldn't be a problem."

Well, that was true. It was a clinical way of thinking but emotions had only made a mess of things so far.

They stayed in the moonlight and shadow for a while, just two people who had lost more than they could gain. They were each other's sinner and the only salvation offered. It was as ironic as life could be.

Finally, Pooja stood up to walk back to the guest room where she had shifted. He didn't know why she hadn't thrown him out instead but he would take small mercies when they came.

"Why won't you ask me to come back?" he asked before she could leave, taking one last shot, "Are you that confident I'll say no?"

"No," she replied, shooting him a bemused look over her shoulder, "it's because I never told you to leave. If you can decide when you want to leave, you can make the decision to come back all on your own."

"But you won't make it easy for me," he added the unspoken sentiment and she smiled, a glint in her eyes.

"See?" she commented, "You're finally starting to understand this marriage."

Speechless what a chapter 

👏

This content was originally posted by: Milalal27

Speechless what a chapter 

👏

Thank you so much!

This content was originally posted by: prietyp

Welcome ! Iam a jabir fan and absolutely liked your story !

Thank you for the welcome!

This content was originally posted by: foxi

Superb 

I'm glad you liked it!

Interesting plot.

Pooja' attitude is quite entertaining