AUTHOR'S POV:

They reached Rishikesh around 7 p.m.

The car slowed in front of Jhanvi's house—the familiar gate, the quiet street, the dim yellow porch light. 

Aahan got down first, opened the door for her.

"Take care," Arushi said softly.

Jhanvi nodded, stepping out.

Before closing the door, she turned back.

Aryan sat inside, toy in his lap, eyes calm, unreadable. She lifted her hand and gave a small wave.

He waved back.

The car pulled away.

Jhanvi stood there for a few seconds longer than necessary, eyes fixed on the road... as if something precious had just slipped out of reach.

She sighed and finally turned toward the house.

The moment she pushed the gate open, she stopped.

Her brows knitted together.

The courtyard was filled with gift boxes. Big ones. Small ones. Baskets covered in red chunari. Fresh flowers. Packets stacked neatly near the wall.

Her stomach tightened.

"MAA?" she called out. "Maa—?"

Mrs. Bisht hurried out from inside, wiping her hands on her dupatta, voice a little too quick.

"Aa gayi? Ja, fresh ho ja. Main khana lagati hoon."

Jhanvi nodded slowly but kept looking around.

"Papa kahan hain?"

"Voh phool wale ke paas gaye hain. Aate hi honge," Mrs. Bisht replied, avoiding her eyes.

Jhanvi walked further in, half amused, half confused.

"Arey waah," she chuckled nervously, "itni saari cheezein... kisi ki shaadi ho rahi hai kya?"

Mrs. Bisht fidgeted with her fingers.

"Haan."

Jhanvi's laugh died mid-breath.

"Haan?" she repeated slowly.

"Shaadi... kiski?"

Mrs. Bisht straightened, forcing steadiness into her voice.

"Tumhari."

The word hit her like a slap.

Jhanvi shook her head, a hollow smile on her lips.

"Maa... mazaak mat karo."

"Koi mazaak nahi hai," Mrs. Bisht said sharply.

Something inside Jhanvi snapped.

"Nahi," she said, voice low but shaking.

"Yeh nahi ho sakta."

Mrs. Bisht frowned.

"Ye kya kah rahi ho janu"

"Nahi maa," Jhanvi said louder, stepping back. "Yeh shaadi nahi hogi."

Mrs. Bisht's heart skipped.

"Jhanvi mazak nhi hai ye rishta fix ho chuka hai"

jhanvi stepped back and said "Maa koi mazak nhi hai ye..maine ye shadi nhi karungi"

"Kyu?" Mrs. Bisht asked sharply. "Kyu nahi kar sakti?"

Jhanvi's chest felt like it was being crushed.

She didn't know why—she didn't even understand it fully—but her heart was screaming.

"No... no..." she kept whispering, hands trembling.

Mrs. Bisht grabbed her shoulders.

"Tu kisi ko pasand karti hai?"

Then louder, more forceful—

"Bol! Tu kisi ko pasand karti hai?"

Jhanvi broke.

"Haan," she cried. "Haan karti hoon!"

Mrs. Bisht went still.

"Kisko?" she asked, barely breathing.

Jhanvi swallowed hard.

"A–Aryan..Aryan taneja ko."

The floor seemed to shake beneath Mrs. Bisht's feet.

Her mind screamed—

Ye nhi ho sakta.

"Maa, please," Jhanvi sobbed,"main yeh shaadi nahi—"

SLAP.

The sound echoed in the room.

Jhanvi stumbled back, stunned, cheek burning.

"T–tu..." Mrs. Bisht's voice trembled with rage, "tu us PAGAL se pyaar karti hai?!"

Jhanvi stared at her, tears streaming.

"Usse pagal mat bolo," she shouted, her voice shaking.

"Pagal nahi toh kya kahu?" Mrs. Bisht snapped.

"Bachche jaisa rehta hai! Apni zindagi sambhaal nahi sakta! Tumhari zindagi barbaad kar dega!"

"Bas!" Jhanvi yelled. "Aapko nahi pata woh kaisa hai!"

"Main jaanti hoon sab!" Mrs. Bisht shouted back.

"Aur ye jisse tum pyaar kah rahi ho, usse daya(Sympathy) kehte hain! Tum galti kar rahi ho!"

"Yeh daya nahi hai!" Jhanvi cried.

"Maine pyaar karti hoon use kab kaise kyu par karti hoon"

Mrs bisht looked at jhanvi as tear of fear was clouding her eyes

"Bahut hogya jhanvi..mujhe majboor mat karo ki maine-"

"KI MAINE KYA"jhanvi shouted.

"Marogi mujhe,maar lo..leking ye shadi nhi hogi"

"Enough!"

Mr. Bisht had entered the house and stopped short, eyes wide at the scene before him.

"Yeh kya ho raha hai?" he demanded.

Jhanvi turned to him, tears streaming.

"Papa... main yeh shaadi nahi karungi. Kisi ke saath bhi nahi."

Mrs. Bisht screamed,

"Yeh shaadi hogi!"

"Nahi hogi!" Jhanvi shouted back.

"Aur jisse bhi rishta fix kiya hai, main khud jaakar mana karungi. Naam batao."

Mrs. Bisht's voice dropped, cold and final.

"Dev Singhania."

Jhanvi's world tilted.

Her chest tightened painfully.

"Mr.singhania...?" she whispered, memories crashing in.

Her fear turned into rage.

"Main yahan ek second bhi nahi rukungi," she said, voice shaking but fierce.

"Yeh shaadi toh door... main us aadmi ka chehra bhi nahi dekhungi."

She stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

Jhanvi's POV

I didn't remember how I reached Le Mont Grand.

My hands were shaking, my chest burning, head buzzing with one single name.

Dev Singhania.

The moment I stepped inside the massive glass doors, the air itself felt heavy—expensive, cold, 

intimidating. People moved aside the second they saw my face, whispers following me like 

shadows.

I didn't care.

I walked straight to the reception.

"I want to meet Dev Singhania," I said, voice firm despite the storm inside me.

The receptionist hesitated.

"Ma'am—"

"NOW."

Something in my tone must have warned her. She made the call. Within seconds, a man in a 

black suit appeared.

"This way, ma'am."

The elevator ride felt endless.

Each floor climbing higher felt like my anger climbing with it.

The doors opened to a floor so quiet it felt unreal.

His floor.

The man knocked once and opened the door.

And there he was.

Dev Singhania stood near the window, hands in his pockets, city stretched beneath him like 

something he owned.

He turned slowly.

And smiled.

That smile—

As if he had been waiting.

"Gulab," he said softly.

"I knew you'd come."

My stomach churned.

"How dare you?" I snapped.

"How DARE you do this?"

He tilted his head, amused.

"Do what?"

"You sent a marriage proposal to my parents without even asking me," I shouted.

"You filled my house with wedding gifts like I'm some object you already own!"

He walked toward me.

Slow.

Unhurried.

Predatory.

"You are mine," he said calmly.

"I was just making it official."

I stepped back instantly.

"Don't come near me."

He stopped.

But his eyes—

God, his eyes never left my face.

"You look beautiful when you're angry," he murmured.

"Your heartbeat... I can almost hear it."

I felt sick.

"This will never happen," I said, voice shaking with rage.

"I will never marry you."

His smile didn't fade.

Instead, it deepened.

"Everyone says that," he replied.

"They all come around eventually."

"I'm not scared of you," I lied.

He chuckled.

"No," he said softly.

"You are."

And he was right.

My body knew it before my mind accepted it.

"You don't like my touch," he continued, stepping closer again.

"Your skin reacts even when you pretend not to."

I clenched my fists.

"Stay away from me."

"You shiver when I'm close," he whispered.

"That's not fear alone, gulab."

My heart pounded violently.

"You make me uncomfortable," I said, tears threatening.

"I hate being near you."

He stopped inches away.

"And yet," he said darkly,

"you're standing in my office."

My breath hitched.

"You think I don't know about Aryan?" he continued casually.

The name cut through me like a blade.

My eyes widened.

"Oh yes," Dev smiled slowly.

"I know everything."

My voice trembled.

"You... you had no right."

"I had every right," he snapped suddenly, his calm cracking for the first time.

His chest rose and fell heavily.

"I don't like sharing," he said quietly.

"And I don't lose what I want."

"I don't belong to you," I whispered.

His eyes darkened.

"You don't remember who you belong to," he corrected.

"That doesn't mean you don't."

I shook my head violently.

"You're sick."

He smiled again.

"Love always looks like madness."

I turned toward the door.

"This conversation is over."

Before I could leave—

His voice stopped me.

"You can run," he said calmly.

"But I will still be there."

"In your house."

"In your decisions."

"In every road you take."

I turned back, trembling.

"You can't force me."

He met my gaze, unblinking.

"I can do anything...for what i want," he said softly.

The door opened behind me.

I walked out without looking back.

But one thing was clear—

Dev Singhania wasn't proposing.

He was claiming.

And somewhere deep inside, a terrifying realization settled in my bones:

He wasn't done.

Not even close.

When I left from there, one thing refused to leave my mind.

"You don't remember whom you belong to."

I sat down on a bench, my legs trembling, my heart heavier than my body.

Belong?

Why does everyone keep talking about my past like it's a crime I committed?

I stared at my palms, as if they held answers I had forgotten.

What am I supposed to say when people ask me about something I don't remember?

My chest tightened.

It hurts every time.

Not because I remember something—

But because I don't.

I pressed my hand against my heart, breathing unevenly.

Why does my heart react when my mind stays blank?

Why does my soul flinch like it recognizes pain my head can't name?

Aryan's face flashed in front of my eyes.

The way he looks at me—like he's scared I'll disappear.

The way his silence screams more than words ever could.

I whispered, barely audible,

"Why do you feel so close... when I don't even know myself?"

Tears blurred my vision.

I went to confront Dev because I love Aryan.

Not because I know why—

but because my heart refuses to listen to logic.

And yet Dev's words pierced deeper than his threats.

Not anger.

Not fear.

Just... helplessness.

Because every time someone mentions my past, I'm reminded of what I've lost without ever 

holding it.

I don't know who I was.

But I know this pain doesn't belong to a stranger.

And that scares me.

Aryan's POV:

The hotel room was silent.

Too silent.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my wallet open in my trembling hands.

Her photo stared back at me.

Anjali.

My Anjali.

I traced her face with my thumb, like touching the picture could erase the distance between us.

"Kya kismat payi hai hum dono ne," I whispered, my voice cracking.

"Paas hoke bhi... itne door hai."

A tear slipped down my cheek and fell on the photo.

I didn't wipe it away.

I deserve this pain.

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

"Mujhe nahi pata tum mujhe kab pehchanogi," I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Par itna zaroor jaanta hoon..."

I looked back at her picture.

"Meri mohabbat... tumhe mere paas zaroor layegi."

My voice broke completely.

"Log kehte hain na..."

"Yaadein khatam ho jaati hain..."

A bitter smile curved my lips as another tear escaped.

"Par pyaar..."

"Pyaar kabhi khatam nahi hota."

I closed my eyes tightly.

I was healed the day I saw her alive.

But loving her without being known by her—

That's a pain no illness could ever match.

She is my wife.

And today...

I'm just a stranger 

Dev's POV

I stood by the window, the city lights glowing beneath me.

She came to confront me.

For him.

A slow, dangerous smile touched my lips.

"Gulab..gulab aish bahut masoom ho tum" I murmured to myself.

I tightened my fist.

"Jo karna pade, karunga."

My voice was cold. Certain.

"Saam. Daam. Dand. Bhed."

I turned away from the window, eyes dark with obsession.

"Shaadi toh tumhari mujh se hi hogi, Jhanvi."

Even if I have to burn every truth around you.

Even if I have to erase every man standing between us.

"Tum meri ho," I whispered dangerously.

"Yaadon ke saath... ya yaadon ke bina."