Happy Readingđ đ
First vote and commentsđŹ then read..
It's free to vote and comment there is nothing in charge. So please
More than 7.2k+ words
ďżź
Author's POV
The palace was silent.
Not the peaceful kind of silence -
but the kind that presses against the chest, where thoughts become louder than voices.
They sat on the bed, side by side.
Isha leaned back against the headboard, knees drawn up, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of the bedsheet. Shivansh sat rigid, elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped together so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
He was calm on the outside.
Too calm.
But she could see it -
the way his jaw clenched every few seconds,
the way his breath wasn't steady,
the way his eyes refused to meet hers.
She turned toward him slowly.
"Shivansh..." her voice was soft, cautious, "why did you have a panic attack today?"
He didn't answer.
"I'm fine," he said quickly, too quickly. "It was nothing. You're tired. Sleep."
She didn't move.
She simply looked at him.
The silence stretched.
"Please," she whispered. "Don't do this. Not with me."
He exhaled shakily.
"I don't want you to know," he muttered.
"Why?"
Because if I open this door, everything will come out.
Because if I tell you, I'll break.
He finally turned to her.
"Because it starts from the day I lost you."
Her heart is still.
He swallowed hard.
"You asked... why did I panic today?"
A hollow smile touched his lips.
"That wasn't the first time."
Her breath caught.
"The first panic attack," he said slowly, "was five years ago."
"The day you left... I didn't even know you left me."
He laughed bitterly.
"That day when I said many hurtful things to you, I thought you would go to the palace and the next day I and juhi after killing every rival of mine, I came to palace and got to know that."
His voice cracked.
"That.."
He shut his eyes.
" you died in the plane crash."
Isha's fingers trembled.
"They said it was a plane crash," he continued. "That there were no survivors."
His breathing grew unevenly.
"I went completely numb. I remember crying. I remember screaming."
He looked at her.
"I remember collapsing."
Tears welled up in her eyes.
"I stopped believing in God long before that," he said quietly. "After my sister died."
She froze.
"I... never told you about your sister."
She nodded slowly.
"Because it happened on my birthday."
Her lips parted in shock.
"She wanted to come with me. Just for a drive. We were laughing."
His fists tightened.
"A truck hit our car. It wasn't an accident."
Isha's breath hitched.
"It was Rathod's father. Business rivalry with my father. He wanted revenge."
His voice went cold.
"My sister died on the spot."
Silence swallowed the room.
"I killed him," Shivansh said flatly.
"In front of his son."
Isha's tears spilled freely now.
"After that, I stopped celebrating my birthday. I stopped living."
He turned to her again.
"And then you died."
His voice broke completely.
"I was already dead... losing you just buried me."
"I went to every temple, gurudware, majid and church." he whispered.
"Begged. Cried. Screamed."
A bitter laugh escaped him.
"The irony? I didn't believe in God - but the only thing I had left was your faith."
Isha covered her mouth, sobbing silently.
"When I returned to the palace, Dadaji took my title. Threw me out."
He shrugged.
"I didn't fight. I didn't care."
He stared at the floor.
"I slept in the penthouse that night. I took a few of your things... just to survive."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"I lived in a penthouse. Alone. With your memories."
She reached for his hand.
He let her.
"When I shifted back again to the palace, that was after my accident which happens when I finally find that you are alive, but"
He looked at her.
"I never entered our room again. I stayed in ranveer room. Because our room still smelled like you."
Her chest ached.
"I stopped birthdays. Stopped celebrations. Stopped smiling."
A tear slid down his cheek.
"And then... the day you engaged with the Luka. "
His breathing turned shallow.
"That broke me again."
He looked at her desperately.
"I panicked today because when you disappeared... my body remembered losing you."
His voice shook.
"My mind didn't wait for logic."
"I never cheated," he said suddenly, urgently.
"Never."
She nodded through tears.
"She was my sister. But the world turned against me. My family stopped talking. Juhu and I broke apart."
He laughed bitterly.
"Even Aviyansh stopped talking to me that stopped, of course he should stop because I took his sister, his best friend, his partner in crime and of course his bhabhi sa, it was just ranveer talk to me."
He looked exhausted.
"I had no one. No family. No friends. No you."
He finally met her eyes.
"All I had was the hope that maybe... you were alive."
Silence followed.
Then-
Her voice.
Soft. Broken.
"I am here, Now."
Shivansh just look at her.
"I survived," she said, voice trembling.
"But I wasn't living."
She cupped his face gently.
"We both died... in different ways."
He pulled her into his arms, forehead resting against hers.
"I don't want us to hide anymore," he whispered.
She nodded.
"No more past between us."
His voice broke softly.
"If I panic... don't disappear."
She pressed her forehead to his.
"I won't. Ever again."
And for the first time in five years -
the past finally loosened its grip.
The room had fallen silent after Shivansh's confession.
The weight of his past still lingered in the air-his pain, his panic, his broken years clinging to every breath he took. His eyes were red, voice hoarse, hands trembling even now as if the memories refused to loosen their grip.
Isha had been quiet all this while.
Too quiet.
She sat beside him on the bed, fingers clenched into the bedsheet, nails biting into her skin as if pain was the only thing anchoring her to reality. Her chest felt tight, throat burning, heart pounding with memories she had buried so deep that even breathing felt like betrayal.
Shivansh finally looked at her.
Not the king. Not the ruthless man the world feared.
Just a broken man looking at the woman he loved.
"Now..." his voice cracked, softer than a whisper.
"Now you tell me."
Isha swallowed.
He turned fully toward her.
"Isha... I lived those five years like a ghost. Breathing, yes. Living? No."
He paused, then gently asked, "Will you tell me now?"
She froze.
"Will you tell me what you went through?" he asked softly. "Where you went. How you survived. Who held you when I couldn't."
She looked at him like she was afraid he'd disappear if she blinked.
Then she nodded.
Slowly.
"I didn't die," she began, voice shaking. "But a part of me... did."
She hugged herself tighter.
He leaned closer, instinctively.
Her eyes shimmered, but she didn't cry yet.
"You asked me... what I went through," she said quietly.
"So listen... and please don't stop me."
Shivansh nodded, fear flashing in his eyes.
She took a deep breath.
"The day I left..." she began slowly, "I didn't leave alone."
Shivansh stiffened.
"That day... Aarya took me with him. I was broken, numb, barely breathing. Dhruv bhaiyu followed us. He never left me alone, not even for a second."
Her lips curved into a faint, painful smile.
"But Aarya..." she paused.
"Aarya disappeared."
Shivansh frowned. "Disappeared?"
"Yes," she nodded. "Just vanished. After leaving me with dhruv bhaiyu at the airport."
She looked down at her hands.
"I was scared. Confused. I didn't know where to go, what to do... so I asked Dhruv bhaiyu to send me away. Far away. From you. From this place. From everything."
Shivansh's jaw clenched.
"I thought of London," she continued. "I had a conference there. Youngest CA, successful firm... it was supposed to be my biggest achievement."
Her voice trembled.
"Dhruv bhaiyu arranged everything... secretly. Within half an hour. Tickets, documents, bags-everything."
She laughed bitterly.
"He didn't even ask twice."
Then her eyes darkened.
"But when I was going through the boarding check..."
Her breath hitched.
"I fainted."
Shivansh's hand tightened around hers.
"Dhruv bhaiyu came running," she whispered. "I don't remember much... just darkness."
She looked up at him.
"When I woke up an hour later... the doctor was standing there."
Her voice broke.
"And he said... I was pregnant."
The world seemed to stop.
Shivansh's eyes widened in shock, breath leaving his lungs.
"Pregnant...?" he whispered.
She nodded slowly.
"Yes. Pregnant."
Tears finally slipped down her cheeks.
"I remembered that night... before I left for Delhi. Before everything shattered. We were together. You remember, right?"
Shivansh closed his eyes.
"I was happy," she said softly. "So happy... for a moment, I forgot everything."
Then her expression changed-pain slicing through her words.
"But then... I remembered your betrayal. Or what I thought was your betrayal."
She pressed her palm to her chest.
"Something broke inside me that day. Completely."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"But I couldn't kill an innocent life. That baby... was my last reason to live."
Shivansh's breath trembled.
"Dhruv bhaiyu said I wasn't going anywhere," she continued.
"He said, 'You're coming home. You'll stay in Delhi. Away from him.'"
She shook her head.
"But I couldn't. If I stayed... I would keep looking for you. And I knew-I'd die like that."
She wiped her tears.
"So I begged him. I cried. I gave him my swear."
Shivansh's eyes filled.
"He finally agreed," she said. "But not to London. He didn't want me leaving the country."
She looked at him.
"So he chose Italy."
"Dhruv bhaiyu had a friend there," she explained. "Marcus. He had connections. Power. Protection."
Shivansh nodded slowly. "I know him."
She smiled faintly. "Yes... Dhruv told me."
Her smile vanished.
"Dhruv bhaiyu wanted to come with me," she said softly.
"But I made him promise. He had to stay. To protect my family. My friends."
Her voice trembled.
"So I went alone. In his private jet."
She closed her eyes.
"When we landed... Marcus was already waiting."
Her lips shook.
"He came alone. No security. Because of me. Because I was terrified."
Shivansh's heart sank.
"And then..." her voice cracked completely.
"There was an attack."
His grip tightened.
"They shot him," she whispered.
"Right in front of me."
Shivansh sucked in a sharp breath.
"They were after me," she said, panic returning to her eyes.
"I ran. I don't even remember how."
Her shoulders trembled.
"And that's when I met Luka."
"He saved me," she said. "Killed them. Carried me."
Her hand went to her arm.
"I was shot. I lost consciousness."
She paused, gathering herself.
"When I woke up... two or three days later... Luka was there."
Her voice softened slightly.
"And he was not alone there was meher bhabhi with him."
She smiled weakly.
"I was scared. Alone. But Meher bhabhiheld my hand and told me I was safe."
Shivansh listened silently, heart shattering with every word.
"They knew everything about me," she continued.
"I don't know how... but they did."
She looked down.
"I lost contact with Dhruv bhaiyu. They didn't give me my phone. For safety. But after some months we came in contact again and he told me he was scared that I didn't contact him but after telling him about the Luka family, he was okayy. "
Her voice grew heavier.
"I moved into Meher's bhabhi house. She refused to let me live alone."
She smiled sadly.
"She knew about my pregnancy. They all did."
Her eyes darkened.
"But I never forgot your words," she whispered.
"That you cheated me."
Her voice hollowed.
"I fell into depression."
She hugged her knees.
"I stopped talking. Just sat near the window... watching the sky."
Her voice broke.
"The doctor said if I didn't speak... didn't respond... it would harm me and my baby. And I will die in a few months. "
She swallowed hard.
"Meher bhabhi saved me," she said.
"She forced me back into life."
A pause.
"Then one day..." her voice shattered.
"I slipped from the stairs."
Shivansh froze.
"I was seven months pregnant."
Silence screamed between them.
"I lost my baby," she whispered.
Her body shook violently now.
"That day... I died."
Shivansh pulled her into his arms, trembling.
Her voice collapsed.
"I lost everything."
She cried openly now.
"I stopped eating. Stopped speaking. Stopped living."
Shivansh held her tightly, tears falling silently.
"I was alive... but not living."
She looked at him through tears.
"And that's how... I survived."
Her voice barely audible.
"Without you. Without hope."
She rested her forehead against his chest.
"I lost our child, Shivansh."
His breath broke.
"And I lost myself."
The room had gone unnaturally silent.
Not the calm kind.
The kind where even breathing felt loud.
Shivansh didn't interrupt her. He didn't move. He didn't even blink much. He just sat there, one arm resting behind her on the bed, the other clenched into a fist he didn't realize he was making-because if he loosened it, he knew something inside him would fall apart.
Isha swallowed.
Her throat burned, but her voice didn't shake anymore. She had crossed that stage long ago-this wasn't fresh pain. This was old blood, reopened willingly.
"You know..." she said quietly, eyes fixed somewhere far away, "after I lost my baby... I thought that was it. I thought God had taken everything from me. I thought maybe I wasn't meant to be a mother, or happy, or loved... maybe I was only meant to survive."
Her fingers twisted together on her lap.
"And then," she continued, softer now, "we found out that Meher bhabhi was pregnant."
Shivansh's jaw tightened.
"I thought," she let out a breathless laugh that held no humor, "I really thought she would distance herself from me. That she would become careful around me. That she would protect herself... from me."
She turned her head slightly, finally looking at him.
"But she didn't."
Her lips trembled for the first time.
"She included me in everything, Shivansh. Everything. She asked me what nursery color we should choose. She asked me what toys to buy. She asked me what kind of cradle I liked. She asked me what the name felt right."
Her voice cracked.
"As if I hadn't just buried my own child inside my body."
Shivansh inhaled sharply, pain slicing through his chest.
"When the gender reveal happened," Isha whispered, tears finally spilling, "and we found out it was a boy... I don't know why, but I cried like it was my child. And she held my hand so tightly, like she was afraid I'd disappear."
She wiped her tears impatiently and kept going-because stopping would break her.
"It didn't feel like I wasn't the pregnant one," she said. "It felt like... I was pregnant with her. Like we were doing this together."
Shivansh's eyes burned.
"And when Riyan was born..." her voice softened, reverent, "that was the moment my heart started beating again."
She smiled-small, broken, but real.
"He becomes my hope. My reason. My anchor. I was alive because of him, Shivansh. Alive."
Her voice dropped.
"I was terrified. Terrified that after he was born, Meher bhabhi would pull him away from me. That she'd realize I was broken, damaged, dangerous. I thought she'd tell me to step back."
She shook her head.
"But no."
Her lips curved through tears.
"She was the one who placed him in my arms."
Shivansh's breath hitched.
"And he looked at me," Isha whispered, eyes shining now, "and the first word he ever called me wasn't my name."
She swallowed.
"He called me Mama."
Her shoulders shook.
"I cried for hours. I cried like something had finally come back to me. Meher bhabhi had to hold me. Alessandro bhaiya didn't question it. Not once. No one asked why. No one corrected him."
Her hand pressed against her chest.
"And from that moment... Riyan became mine. Not by blood. But by soul."
Shivansh's face had gone pale.
"He saved me," she said simply. "I was so deep in depression, Shivansh. I had stopped eating. Stopped speaking. Stopped wanting to exist. And then there was this tiny human... who would crawl to me, hug me, wipe my tears with his small hands, and say-"
Her voice shattered completely.
"'Mama, don't cry. I love you.'"
She broke.
Shivansh reached out instinctively, pulling her into his chest, holding her as if she might disappear again. She cried into him, years of grief soaking into his shirt.
"He's four now," she whispered against him. "Four years old... and that child holds my entire heart. Everything I am today exists because of him."
She pulled back just enough to look at him.
"That's why," she said firmly, "when I woke up after the shouting... when I asked Luka to call riyan in-do you know why I did that?"
Shivansh shook his head slowly, throat tight.
"Because if I had seen you then," she admitted, "I would have broken beyond repair. And Riyan held me, didn't let me cry."
Her voice softened again.
"When he left, when he hugged me and said 'Mama, I love you,' I knew I was making the right decision. Because if he wasn't there... I wouldn't be here either."
Silence swallowed them.
She rested her forehead against Shivansh's chest.
"You think I didn't forgive you because you cheated," she murmured. "No. I went through hell, Shivansh. I lost a child. I wanted to die. I almost did."
She exhaled slowly.
"And that plane crash news?" she added bitterly. "It wasn't just a cover story. It was real. Someone else boarded my name. I still carry that guilt. Someone died... because my life was already considered dead."
Shivansh's arms tightened around her.
He was shaking now.
"Isha..." his voice broke. "Our child..."
She nodded, tears sliding silently.
"I never told you," she whispered. "Because I didn't want your pain to become my burden. I survived because I had to. Because Riyan needed me. Because Meher bhabhi, Luka, Alessandro bhaiya-they gave me a life when I had none."
She looked at him then-fully, bravely.
"And now I'm here. Not because I forgot. But because I chose to live."
Shivansh pressed his forehead to hers, voice barely audible.
"I died every day without knowing this," he whispered. "And I would die a thousand more if it means protecting you now."
She closed her eyes.
"This time," she said softly, "we don't survive."
"We live."
The room had finally gone quiet.
Not the comforting kind of quiet-
but the kind that comes after storms, when the air still smells of rain and loss.
Isha slept curled against his chest, her breath soft, uneven at first and then slowly settling. One of her hands rested over his heart, as if she was subconsciously checking whether it was still beating. Shivansh hadn't moved for a long time. He hadn't dared to.
Because if he moved-
he knew he would break.
Her eyelashes rested against her cheeks, damp from the tears she had cried earlier while telling him everything. Every word she spoke was still echoing inside him.
Pregnant.
Lost the baby.
Seven months.
His jaw clenched.
He gently adjusted the blanket around her, carefully-so carefully-as if even the slightest disturbance might take her away from him again. When her breathing deepened, when he was sure she was asleep... only then did he move.
Slowly.
Silently.
He slipped out of her hold, replacing his warmth with a pillow so she wouldn't wake. The moment her hand searched for him and then relaxed again, his chest tightened painfully.
"She still looks for me," he whispered to himself, voice shaking.
"Even in sleep... she still looks for me."
He walked toward the window, barefoot, every step heavy like he was carrying five years of grief on his back.
The palace lights outside were dim. Jaipur slept peacefully.
But Shivansh didn't.
He placed one hand on the glass, the other covering his mouth as his breath started coming out unevenly.
"My child..." he whispered.
That was it.
That single word broke him.
His shoulders began to shake violently.
He slid down against the wall, sitting on the floor like a man who had lost everything-and had only just realized it.
"My child," he said again, louder this time, voice cracking.
"I didn't even know you existed... and you were already gone."
The images wouldn't stop now - Isha alone, pregnant, terrified, betrayed. Losing her baby. Losing hope. Losing him.
And him?
Living. Breathing. Ruling. Pretending survival meant strength.
"I failed you," he whispered, not knowing whether he was speaking to the child, to Isha, or to himself. "I failed both of you."
His fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms.
"I was supposed to be your shield," he said hoarsely. "I was supposed to be the man who stood between you and the pain. Instead... I was the reason you had to survive it."
His fists clenched into the carpet.
"I should have been there," he muttered, anger and guilt colliding.
"I should have protected you. I should have protected her."
Tears fell freely now-silent, uncontrollable.
"I was fighting enemies... planning revenge... playing the king..." he laughed bitterly through tears.
"And you... you were growing inside her. Alone. While she was breaking."
He pressed his forehead to the floor.
"I failed you," he whispered, voice shaking violently.
"I failed as a husband. I failed as a man. I failed as a father-before I even became one."
His chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside.
"She carried you while hating me," he continued softly, pain dripping from every word.
"She chose life-for you-even when I had already destroyed hers."
His breath hitched.
"And then... when she finally found a reason to live..."
"...you were taken too."
His hand trembled as he covered his face.
"How much more was she supposed to lose?" he asked the empty room.
"How much pain was enough for one woman?"
He stayed there, crying silently, shoulders shaking, for a long time.
Not once did he make a sound loud enough to wake her.
Because he refused to let her see this version of him.
The broken one.
The guilty one.
The man who had lost a child he never held.
"I won't tell you," he whispered, wiping his tears roughly.
"I won't burden you with my pain... not now."
He lifted his head slowly, eyes red, jaw tight - something changing in him.
"This is not punishment," he said quietly, as if making a vow to the night itself. "This is devotion."
He wiped his face roughly, inhaled deeply, forcing himself to breathe again.
"I will not ask you to forget," he murmured. "I will not ask you to forgive faster. I will not ask you to pretend."
His gaze softened.
"I will earn every smile you give me now. I will earn every night you sleep peacefully. I will earn the life you are choosing to rebuild with me."
He looked toward the bed.
Isha had shifted slightly, murmuring something softly in her sleep-his name.
That shattered him all over again.
"You're giving me a chance," he said hoarsely.
"You're letting me forgive myself... when I don't even know if I deserve it."
He stood up slowly, legs weak, and walked back to the bed.
Before returning, he paused, resting his hand over his heart.
"For the child I never held," he whispered.
"For the woman who still chose me."
Then, softer -
"For the life I get to protect now."
He sat beside her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
"I lost our child," he whispered.
"But I won't lose you again."
His voice hardened-not with anger, but with resolve.
"I swear on every tear you cried without me..."
"...I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never cry alone again."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead-long, lingering, reverent.
Right where her pain had once lived.
He immediately knelt beside the bed, brushing her hair back gently, reverently.
"I'm here," he whispered, kissing her forehead where her warmth lived. "I'm not going anywhere."
...but as someone who had decided, with every broken piece of himself,
that loving her was no longer a feeling.
It was a promise.
Then he lay beside her again, pulling her gently into his arms, holding her tighter this time.
He lay down beside her again, pulling her close - this time holding her not as someone afraid of losing her...
Not possessive.
Protective.
As she slept peacefully against his chest, unaware of the storm he had just survived alone-
Shivansh stared into the darkness, eyes open, heart shattered but determined.
Because some grief is not meant to be shared.
Some grief is meant to be carried.
Alone.
For love.
Morning didn't arrive with sunlight that day.
It came quietly-like it was afraid to disturb what the night had unearthed.
The palace was still asleep when the sky outside the tall glass windows began changing colors-deep indigo dissolving into pale grey, then slowly, almost apologetically, into gold. The air inside the room was heavy, not with heat, but with memories that hadn't yet settled.
Isha stirred first.
Not suddenly.
Not peacefully.
She woke the way people wake after crying themselves to sleep-her lashes damp, her chest tight, her body still holding onto pain it didn't know how to release. For a moment, she didn't move. She simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of breathing beside her.
Shivansh.
His arm was still around her, protective even in sleep, like letting go was something he was no longer capable of. His forehead rested lightly against her hair, his breaths uneven-too shallow for a man who claimed he was fine.
She turned her head slightly, careful not to wake him.
He looked... tired.
Not physically-emotionally.
The lines on his forehead hadn't softened even in sleep. His jaw was clenched, as if he was still holding himself together, even now. Isha swallowed, her throat tightening again.
We survived last night, she thought.
But surviving doesn't mean it stopped hurting.
She shifted just a little, and Shivansh reacted instantly.
His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer-not possessively, but desperately. Like someone afraid that if they loosened their grip even a little, the world would take everything away again.
"Isha?" he murmured, voice hoarse, eyes still closed.
"I'm here," she whispered immediately, instinctively placing her hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Fast. Uneven.
Only then did he open his eyes.
For a few seconds, they just looked at each other.
No smiles.
No teasing.
No words trying to fix what couldn't be fixed.
Just acknowledgment.
"You didn't sleep properly," she said softly.
He exhaled, long and slow. "Neither did you."
She nodded. "I kept waking up... thinking I'd dreamed it all. That if I closed my eyes again, I'd wake up alone."
He lifted his hand, cupping her face gently, thumb brushing under her eye where tears had dried hours ago. "I was afraid to sleep," he admitted quietly. "I thought if I did... I'd lose you again."
Her breath hitched-but she didn't cry this time.
Instead, she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. Not to comfort him alone. Not to seek comfort alone. But to share it.
"We're still here," she said. "Both of us."
He nodded slowly. "And that's enough for today."
That was all either of them could manage.
They stayed like that for a while-no urgency to get up, no desire to pretend everything was suddenly okay. The room felt sacred in its silence, like it was holding space for them.
After some time, Shivansh spoke again, his voice quieter than before.
"I don't want to rush today."
Isha understood immediately. "Neither do I."
"No celebrations. No pretending. No explanations to anyone."
She traced small circles on his arm. "We don't owe the world our healing timeline."
A faint, sad smile touched his lips. "I'm glad you're still the same woman."
"And I'm glad you're finally letting yourself feel," she replied.
He closed his eyes briefly at that-not in pain, but in acceptance.
Eventually, she shifted carefully, sitting up while still holding his hand. The weight in her chest hadn't disappeared-but it wasn't crushing anymore. Just... present.
"I'll make some balco coffee for you," she said. "Not because we have to get up. Just... because it might help."
He nodded. "I'll come in a bit."
Before she moved away, he pulled her back gently, resting his forehead against her shoulder.
"Isha... thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"For not demanding strength from me today."
Her voice softened. "You don't need to be strong with me. You just need to be real."
That was when his grip tightened-not breaking, not desperate-but grateful.
She left the bed quietly, moving toward the window first, letting fresh air in. The morning light touched her face, slow and kind, like it wasn't in a hurry either.
Behind her, Shivansh watched her-not like a man watching his wife, but like a man watching a second chance he never thought he deserved.
Last night was about loss.
This morning...
was about choosing to stay.
Together.
The palace woke up slowly that day-like it was afraid to disturb something fragile.
No announcements were made.
No grand declarations followed the night that had cracked open years of silence.
And yet... everything was different.
The change was not loud.
It didn't scream we are healed.
It breathed.
At breakfast, no one asked questions.
Shivansh sat at his place, quiet as always, but there was a softness in the way his eyes kept drifting-unconsciously, instinctively-toward Isha. Not possessive. Not anxious. Just... present. As if his soul had finally returned to his body after wandering for five years.
Isha ate slowly. Thoughtfully. She wasn't smiling too much, wasn't pretending either. She looked like someone who had cried all night, not because she was weak-but because she had finally allowed herself to grieve. Her face held peace the way a battlefield holds silence after war: heavy, sacred, earned.
Shivansh stood up after breakfast.
"I have an office," he said casually.
Isha looked up. Her eyes searched his face-not suspicious, not fearful-just checking.
He gave her the smallest nod. I'll be fine.
And kiss her on her forehead.
And yet... he didn't go to the office.
Instead, the car turned toward the temple.
The marble steps were cool under his bare feet.
Shivansh had been here many times before-sometimes angry, sometimes desperate, sometimes begging God for answers that never came. But today... today was different.
He wasn't asking why.
He wasn't begging for miracles.
He was just tired.
He folded his hands, closed his eyes, and for the first time in years, his breath shook-not from panic, but from surrender.
The temple was quiet in a way that didn't scare him.
It wasn't empty-
it was holding its breath.
Shivansh sat on the cold marble floor, palms resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the faint flame trembling before the idol. The bell had stopped ringing long ago. The incense had almost burned out. Even the air felt still, as if it knew today wasn't a day for noise.
He hadn't come here to ask for anything.
For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to ask for.
The Guruji watched him from a distance. He had seen this boy grow-first as a prince, then as a king, then as a man broken beyond repair. Today, he looked different. Not strong. Not weak. Just... bare.
"You came back," Guruji finally said softly, breaking the silence.
"Usually people come here to ask God to fix something."
Shivansh smiled faintly. It didn't reach his eyes.
"I came to understand what cannot be fixed," he replied.
The Guruji's brows are knitted together. "Did she leave?"
Shivansh shook his head immediately. "No. She was eating when I left. I didn't want to tell her."
"Then why are you here?"
His throat tightened. He swallowed once. Twice.
"Because yesterday," he said slowly, "I learned that I was a father... and then learned that I lost the child before I even knew they existed."
The words hung heavy in the air.
The Guruji closed his eyes.
Shivansh laughed-a broken, hollow sound.
"I didn't cry in front of her. She cried enough for both of us. I held her, told her it wasn't her fault, told her she survived because she was strong."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"But Guruji... strength doesn't mean the pain disappears. It only means you learn how to breathe while it suffocates you."
He pressed his forehead against the cold floor.
"I keep thinking," he continued, voice muffled, "how she carried that life inside her... alone. How she loved that child... alone. How she lost them... alone. And all this time, I was alive, breathing, existing-without knowing that my child had already died."
His shoulders shook. Silently.
"I don't deserve forgiveness," he whispered.
"She forgave me anyway."
The Guruji stepped closer. "Forgiveness is not given because someone deserves it," he said gently.
"It is given because the one forgiving refuses to carry hatred anymore."
Shivansh looked up, eyes wet but steady.
"She didn't forgive me for me," he realized aloud.
"She forgave me for herself."
The Guruji nodded. "That is why her forgiveness saved you."
Shivansh closed his eyes.
"For five years," he said, "I begged God to give her back to me. I promised temples, charities, and penance. But when God finally returned her... He also returned her pain."
He smiled sadly.
"Maybe this is my punishment. Not losing her. But living every day knowing what she survived without me."
The Guruji placed a hand on his head.
"Then let that guilt become your devotion," he said.
"Not to God. To her."
Shivansh's eyes filled again.
"I don't want redemption," he said quietly.
"I want responsibility."
"Then why are you here, son?"
Shivansh let out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped in his chest for years.
"Because last night," he said, voice low, "I felt five years of her pain... in one night."
He finally looked up-eyes red, but dry.
"I always thought I was the one who lost everything when she died," he continued. "But yesterday... I realized she survived something far worse. She survived living without me. Pregnant. Betrayed. Alone. In a foreign country. And she still chose life."
His hands curled into fists.
"She lost our baby. Our child."
A pause.
"And I wasn't there to hold her hand. I wasn't there to scream with her. I wasn't there to mourn."
Guruji's voice was calm. "Pain shared is lighter. Pain carried alone becomes a lifetime."
Shivansh laughed-a broken, hollow sound.
"She forgave me," he said, disbelief threaded into every word. "She looked at me and forgave me. Not because I deserved it-but because she didn't want to carry hatred anymore."
He swallowed.
"How do I accept that, Guruji? How do I live with the fact that the woman I broke... is the one giving me peace?"
Guruji stood, placing a hand gently on Shivansh's shoulder.
"You don't accept it," he said. "You honor it."
Shivansh's eyes trembled.
"I feel like I'm living here five years now," he confessed. "Every breath hurts. Every thought hurts. I keep seeing her holding pain quietly... and I want to tear myself apart for not being there."
Guruji nodded. "That is not punishment. That is awakening."
Shivansh closed his eyes again.
"For the first time," he whispered, "I don't want to ask God for forgiveness. I want to ask Him to give me strength-to love her in a way that never adds to her pain again."
A tear finally slipped-not dramatic, not loud-just honest.
"I don't want devotion born out of fear anymore," he said. "I want devotion born out of responsibility. Out of love."
Guruji smiled faintly.
"Then go back to her," he said. "Not as a king. Not as a husband trying to redeem himself. But as a man who knows what it means to lose... and chooses to cherish."
Shivansh bowed his head.
When he returned to the palace, the house hadn't changed.
But he had.
Isha was sitting by the window, wrapped in a soft shawl, knees pulled to her chest. She looked peaceful-not happy, not sad. Just present.
She turned when she felt him.
"You came early, today." she said, not as a question.
He nodded.
She didn't ask why.
That was love too.
He sat beside her, close but not touching.
"I won't say sorry again," he said finally.
"Because apologies end. And this... doesn't."
She looked at him then.
"I don't need you to erase the past," she replied softly.
"I need you to walk with me despite it."
He reached for her hand, hesitating-as if afraid even touch might reopen wounds.
She squeezed his fingers first.
And in that moment, something fragile but real settled between them.
Not happiness.
Not closure.
But peace with pain.
And sometimes, that is the bravest kind of love.
That evening, the palace felt unusually quiet.
Not the heavy silence of grief, not the awkward silence of distance-but the kind of silence that follows truth. The kind that comes after wounds are opened, cleaned, and stitched, even if they still ache.
Isha was sitting near the balcony doors, knees pulled close, staring at the sky where the sun had already dipped into soft shades of orange and blue. Shivansh stood a little away, watching her-not intruding, not hovering-just being there.
After everything they had spoken about the night before... the words felt heavy today.
Finally, Isha spoke. Her voice was calm, but it carried years inside it.
"Shivansh..."
He turned immediately. "Hmm?"
She hesitated, fingers tightening slightly over the fabric of her dupatta.
"I was thinking... we never named the baby."
The words didn't hit him like a blow.
They settled in him. Deep. Permanent.
"I know," he said quietly. "I was afraid to even think of a name... as if naming would make the loss louder."
She nodded. "But not naming also feels like we erased him/her."
He swallowed.
"I don't want to erase," she continued. "I don't want to forget. I just don't want to keep bleeding either."
Silence fell again.
Then she looked at him. Straight. Honest. Strong in a way only someone who survived hell can be.
"What if we do something in their name?"
His brows furrowed slightly. "Something... how?"
"Something that lives," she said softly.
"Something that helps someone breathe, smile, survive. So wherever our baby is... they know they mattered. That they changed the world, even if quietly."
Shivansh's eyes burned.
"I failed as a father," he whispered.
"No," she said immediately, shaking her head. "You didn't even get the chance. That's not a failure."
He stepped closer, voice breaking despite himself.
"I wasn't there. You carried everything alone. The fear, the hope, the loss."
"And I survived," she said gently.
"And now I'm choosing to live. With you. But I don't want to move forward like nothing happened."
She took his hand and placed it over her heart.
"They were here. Even if for a moment."
Shivansh closed his eyes.
"Then let's do it," he said.
"Not to ease my guilt. Not to prove anything. But because they deserve to exist in the world somehow."
That evening, the family gathered-not because they were called, but because they felt something had shifted.
The elders noticed it first. The quiet. The way Shivansh hadn't raised his voice once all day. The way Isha smiled less, but deeper.
They sat together in the living area. No phones. No interruptions.
Shivansh spoke first.
"I need to tell you something," he said, his voice steady but stripped of pride.
"And I don't want you to hear this from whispers, or guesses."
Everyone fell silent.
He looked at Isha once. She nodded.
"When Isha left five years ago... she wasn't alone."
Confusion flickered across faces.
"She was pregnant."
The room froze.
Isha kept her eyes down. Shivansh continued.
"She lost the child. Alone. In another country. While believing I had betrayed her."
His mother's hand flew to her mouth. His father went rigid. His grandmother closed her eyes slowly, as if absorbing pain centuries old. His chote maa eyes widened in shock. His chote papa sat too silently. And ranveer and aviyansh can't believe what they just hear.
"I didn't know," Shivansh said, voice cracking for the first time.
"And that ignorance doesn't absolve me. It just explains why I failed her."
No one interrupted.
"She survived things no one should survive," he went on.
"And she still chose forgiveness-not because I deserved it, but because she refused to let pain in her future."
Isha finally spoke, voice calm, almost gentle.
"I don't want sympathy," she said.
"I don't want this to define us forever. I just wanted you to know... because silence would have felt like dishonor."
Shivansh's father stood up slowly and walked toward her.
Without a word, he placed his hand on her head.
"You are our daughter," he said firmly.
"And what you carried... was ours too."
His mother and his chote maa hugged her then-tight, wordless, unrestrained.
"We should have protected you," she whispered.
"You did," Isha replied softly. "Just... later."
Later that night, when the room was empty again, Shivansh spoke.
"We'll start something," he said.
"A foundation. For children. For mothers. For people who survive loss and still choose life."
Isha smiled faintly. "Not in sorrow. In hope."
"Yes," he said. "In hope."
He paused.
"And we won't name it after grief."
She looked at him.
"We'll name it after strength."
She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest.
"This is us letting go," she said.
"Not forgetting. Just... not carrying the weight alone anymore."
He kissed her hair gently.
"Our baby will walk with us," he whispered.
"In every good thing we do."
---------------------------------------------------------------
This chapter is the end of sorrow, not because pain disappears, but because it finds meaning.
From the next chapter onward, their story shifts-not into blind happiness, but into earned joy.
They don't forget the past.
They honor it - and then they live.
How was the Chapter??
Aage kya hoga? Hmm?
Share your thoughts and don't forget to click on the star button below.
And follow me on Instagram for spoilers.
đlink in bio.
Love you all, bye
Ishđ