Dons of Punjab: Fluke of Reality✔️

Chapter 12

Amandeep Singh Aulakh

The moment I saw her, my heart skipped a beat. She was finally back. Back home, where she belonged. But something felt different. There was a distance between us now, a gap I didn't know how to cross. She was here, but she felt far away, as if she had built an invisible wall around herself, keeping me out.

Every time we were in the same room, I could feel her presence like a warmth I longed to hold onto. But just as quickly as she appeared, she would slip away. She barely spoke to me. Whenever I looked at her, she looked away. If I tried to stand near her, she would find an excuse to leave. It was as if she was avoiding me on purpose. And it hurt more than I could admit.

One evening, I walked into the grand living room and saw her dancing with our nephews. My breath caught in my throat. The soft light of the chandeliers reflected off her glowing skin. She twirled with grace, her laughter filling the room like the sweetest melody. The children giggled, holding onto her hands as they spun in circles.

I leaned against the doorway, watching her with a mix of admiration and longing. She was beautiful, like a dream I never wanted to wake up from. For a moment, I allowed myself to believe everything was okay. That maybe she would look at me the way she used to. That maybe she still cared.

Then, her eyes met mine.

The joy on her face faded instantly. Her body stiffened, and the room suddenly felt colder. The music still played, but it felt distant, as if the entire house was holding its breath. Without a word, she turned and rushed out of the room, leaving me standing there with nothing but the memory of her laughter.

"Chachu, why did Massi leave?" little Harbir asked, tugging at my sleeve. His innocent eyes were full of confusion.

I forced a smile and patted his head. "It's okay, Harbi. Go play, alright? Massi is just tired."

But we both knew that wasn't the truth.

My feet moved on their own, following the path she had taken. My heart pounded with every step as I approached her room. I hesitated for a moment before raising my hand and knocking softly. "Can we talk? Please?"

Silence.

I swallowed hard and tried again. "I just... I just want to know what's wrong. Did I do something? If I did, tell me. I'll fix it. Just... don't shut me out."

Still, no answer.

I rested my forehead against the door, sighing heavily. "You know I can't stand this, right? Being near you but feeling like I don't exist in your world anymore?"

Nothing. No movement. No response.

I reached for the doorknob and, hesitating only for a second, gently pushed the door open.

She stood by the window, her back to me. The moonlight cast a soft glow around her, making her look even more untouchable. The room was a mess—books scattered on the floor, blankets tossed carelessly on the bed, and pillows marked with faint traces of tears. She had been crying.

"Why won't you talk to me?" My voice was barely above a whisper.

She didn't turn around.

I took a slow step closer. "Please, just tell me what's wrong. You don't have to go through this alone. I—"

"Just leave," she interrupted, her voice quiet but firm.

Her words hit me like a slap. My chest tightened. "Is that really what you want? For me to walk away?"

She exhaled shakily, still not facing me. "I don't know what I want anymore."

I took another step, closing the distance between us. "Then let me help you figure it out."

She shook her head. "No one can help me. Not with this."

"I can try," I insisted. "You don't have to push me away."

Finally, she turned, and the look in her eyes nearly shattered me. There was pain there—deep, raw pain that I didn't understand. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

I reached for her hand, desperate to hold onto her, to bring her back to me. "Let me be here for you."

She pulled away.

The rejection stung, but I refused to give up. "I know something is wrong. I know you're hurting. And I know you think you have to carry it alone. But you don't. Not with me."

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. "I just... I need time."

I nodded slowly, even though it killed me inside. "Okay. I'll give you time. But I won't stop caring about you. And I won't stop waiting for the day you finally let me in."

I turned and walked away, my heart heavy. As I reached the door, I glanced back one last time, hoping she would stop me. Hoping she would say something, anything to make me stay.

But she didn't.

And as I stepped out of the room, I knew that the fight for her heart was far from over.