!!Story Time!!
Sahil P.O.V
The car slowed near the edge of the city, where the lights faded and silence took over. I glanced sideways at Ishika, who hadn't said much since the news broadcast ended. Her face was calm—but the kind of calm that hid something.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice light but curious.
She just smiled and said, "You'll see."
After everything that had happened—Sakshi's downfall, the emotional weight, the unspoken healing—this detour felt unexpected. But her hand in mine was steady. And I trusted that more than any explanation.
We stopped outside a small, private estate. Secluded. Gated. Wrapped in vines and soft golden light. The entrance path was lined with candles—dozens of them—flickering in perfect stillness.
"Ishika…?" I asked, my brows slightly raised.
She just squeezed my hand and led me in.
The pathway opened into a garden—breathtaking in its beauty. Lanterns floated above like suspended stars, their soft glow dancing across petals and silk drapes. White jasmine filled the air with a fragrance so calming, it almost made me forget the chaos we'd walked through to get here.
At the center was a small arch wrapped in ivory roses, fairy lights twined around it like constellations caught in motion.
And under that arch... stood a table with a single box.
I turned to look at her.
And she was already kneeling.
On one knee.
Holding the ring box open.
For me.
"Ishika…"
She looked up, eyes shining, voice quiet but clear.
"Sahil, I've loved you at your best… and stood quietly when you couldn't be your best. I've fought battles beside you, and when I had to, I fought them alone—for us. But through it all, one thing's never changed—I want a life with *you.* No matter how hard, no matter how messy, no matter how long it takes to heal from everything."
She paused, and a playful smile tugged at her lips. "So, I figured, after saving each other from psychotic ex-supermodels and emotional damage… we've earned this."
She lifted the ring a little higher.
"Will you marry me, Sahil?"
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
This woman—fiery, relentless, full of contradictions—was kneeling in front of me with more grace and power than I'd ever seen.
I laughed—half in disbelief, half in awe—and dropped to my knees, too.
"I was going to ask you next week," I whispered, touching her face gently. "You just beat me to it."
"Good," she whispered back. "Now say yes."
I leaned in, pressed my forehead to hers.
"Yes," I breathed. "A thousand times yes."
She slipped the ring on my finger—silver, sleek, with a tiny engraving inside I'd read later. We held each other there under the lights
---
We held each other there under the lights, the world falling away until it was just the two of us, wrapped in the hum of jasmine-scented air and the soft crackle of candle flames. My heart beat so loudly I was sure she could hear it. Or maybe… maybe she felt it, pressed so close, like a silent drum syncing with hers.
Ishika pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me properly. Her hands slid up to cup my face, her thumbs brushing away something I hadn't realized had spilled down—tears. I smiled, caught off guard by my own emotion.
"I didn't mean to make you cry," she whispered, eyes full of warmth.
"I didn't know I had it in me to cry like this," I admitted with a laugh. "You keep surprising me."
She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that had power—the kind that healed, promised, remembered. "Good. I plan on surprising you for a long time."
The garden shimmered around us like something out of a dream. The lanterns above swayed gently in the breeze, casting soft ripples of light across her features. I traced the curve of her cheek with the back of my fingers, memorizing her like I hadn't already done it a hundred times before.
"You made this place…" I said, looking around. "For this?"
She nodded. "I wanted it to feel like peace. After everything… we deserved peace. Just for a night."
I took her hand again and led her to the bench near the arch. We sat, still holding on like we were afraid the moment would slip through our fingers. She leaned her head on my shoulder, her hair spilling over my arm like silk.
For a long while, we just sat in silence. No need to fill it. No rush. The kind of quiet that comes only after a storm has passed—the safe kind.
"Ishika," I said softly, "thank you… for not giving up on me."
She looked up. "Even when I was angry, or scared, I never stopped believing in you. I just… forgot how to show it sometimes."
"You showed it tonight."
She reached into her dress pocket—yes, somehow she'd hidden something else there—and pulled out a tiny folded note. "Read it later," she said with a smirk. "When I'm not around to see you cry again."
I laughed and tucked it into my jacket.
Then she reached for my hand again, running her thumb over the new ring. "Fits perfectly," she murmured.
"It's already my favorite thing I own."
"You're not supposed to out-charm the proposer, you know."
"Says who?"
She nudged my shoulder gently, then curled into me again, both of us quiet as the stars blinked above, the air cooling slightly, but never enough to make us move apart.
I didn't know what came next—what storms might still wait, what shadows might return—but in this moment, none of it mattered.
Because in a garden built from hope and fairy lights, beneath an arch of ivory roses, I said yes to the one person who saw me completely.
And she said yes… to all that I was still becoming.
And that, I knew, was the beginning of everything.
_________________________
Radhika P.O.V
Since returning from Gulafsha 's wedding, I've barely left my room. Last night bled into today in a haze of silence and overthinking.
Mama and Papa came back from their short trip to Vrindavan earlier this afternoon, beaming with stories and surprised by Bhaiya's sudden arrival. But I stayed where I was—curled in bed, untouched by the sun or the sound of laughter echoing through the house.
And now, once again, it's night.
I'm still in the same position, lying motionless on my bed since morning, caught in a loop of thought I can't escape—about *last night.*
I don't even know why I cried.
I hadn't cried in years. Not real tears. Not like that.
But something about yesterday cracked open a dam I didn't know still existed.
And then there's the time I asked for.
That dreaded, precious, painful thing. *Time.*
I asked for it like a shield… but now I don't know what to do with it.
Because the truth?
I already know my answer.
Love—when it's real—can drive even the sanest heart to madness.
I was staring at the ceiling, lost somewhere between guilt and longing, when the door creaked open gently. I didn't need to turn. I knew it was her.
"Maa," I said softly.
She walked in carrying a quiet smile and a folded shawl.
"Still haven't come down all day?" she asked, placing the shawl at the foot of my bed. Her voice was tender, the kind that makes you feel young and seen all at once.
I shook my head. "Just… didn't feel like it."
She sat down beside me, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead like she used to when I was little.
"You've got that storm-in-the-heart look," she murmured. "Want to talk about it?"
I hesitated. Then: "Maa… does love always hurt this much?"
She paused, her eyes softening with the weight of her own memories.
"No," she said gently. "Not always. But the kind of love that changes you… that makes you confront yourself… that kind *does* ache, beta."
I looked away, ashamed of the tears stinging again.
"I asked him for time. But I think… I already know what I want."
"Then why are you hiding from the answer?" she asked, her tone still calm, never judging.
"Because it feels like once I say it… there's no turning back. No pretending. No escape. And that's terrifying."
Maa smiled, her fingers now clasped gently around mine.
"Love is not supposed to offer escape, Radhika. It offers *truth.* And truth, even when scary, is always a gift."
I turned toward her, feeling my chest tighten.
"But what if I'm not ready?"
"Then take your time," she said simply. "But don't waste it running in circles. You're allowed to feel unsure. You're allowed to be afraid. Just don't forget—you're also allowed to be happy."
Her words settled over me like warmth, quiet and slow.
She pressed a kiss to my temple before rising.
"I'll leave the lights dim. Let your heart speak tonight, hmm?"
And then she was gone, leaving behind the scent of jasmine and an open silence that didn't feel so heavy anymore.
---
I sat in silence for a moment after Maa left those words lingering in the air like soft music.
But something inside me twisted. A knot too tight to ignore.
Before she could reach the door, I called out, almost in a whisper—
"Maa…"
She turned. "Hmm?"
I hesitated, biting down on my lip. Then the words slipped out, raw and trembling.
"The person I… like… he's not just anyone. He's Bhaiya's business enemy."
Her brows rose, but she didn't interrupt. I kept going, faster now, before I lost the nerve.
"They tried to destroy each other, Maa. In boardrooms, in headlines… and once—almost literally. There was a time they might have taken each other's lives if it had gone too far. Bhaiya still has stitches."
I let the silence crash around us.
Maa didn't speak for a moment. She just looked at me—*truly* looked. Not in shock, not in anger. In depth. Like a mother seeing not the surface, but what her child was carrying beneath it.
And then she walked slowly back to me, sat down again, and held my hand.
"Radhika," she said gently, "do you love him… *despite* all that?"
"I don't even know how it happened," I murmured. "It started with hate. Curiosity. Anger. It turned into understanding… and now it just *hurts*. Because every part of this feels impossible."
She nodded slowly, absorbing it all. "Love often shows up like that—where it shouldn't. Where it's most inconvenient. But love is not the crime here, beta. It's the *silence* you'll choose from now on that will hurt the most."
I looked at her, surprised.
"You're… not angry?"
"No," she said softly. "Because you're not the first girl in the world to fall for someone she was supposed to hate. Life isn't as neat as the stories we plan."
She paused, brushing her hand over my cheek.
"But I *am* worried. Because this isn't just about hearts—it's about histories. Your brother… he's been burned badly. And this will feel like betrayal to him, whether you mean it or not."
"I know," I whispered.
"Then if you love this boy, you must ask yourself: Is the love worth the storm? Will it survive the war that may follow?"
I swallowed hard. "I don't know."
She smiled faintly. "Then figure it out, not as a daughter, not as a sister… but as a woman who knows what she wants. And then… when the time comes, speak your truth. Loudly. Without shame."
She stood and kissed my forehead one more time.
"Until then, sleep, Radhika. Hearts don't find clarity when they're this tired."
And with that, she left me—again—with just enough peace to breathe, and just enough truth to ache.
I curled into my pillow, the weight of love and war resting on the same threadbare hope.
Maybe tomorrow… I'd start untangling it.
_____________________________^.^
Thank you....