Dons of Punjab: Fluke of Reality✔️

Chapter 21

Prabhneet Kaur

Leaning against the window frame, I let out a heavy sigh, watching the streets of London come alive with people going about their daily lives. The city was beautiful, no doubt—red buses moved along the roads, people walked with hurried steps, and the scent of fresh pastries from the nearby bakery filled the air. But despite all its charm, London wasn't home.

Home was thousands of miles away, in New York City.

I closed my eyes, picturing the familiar streets of my neighborhood. The towering skyscrapers, the rush of yellow taxis, the way the city never truly slept. New York had always been my safe place. It was where my family was, where my childhood memories were made, where I truly belonged. A lump formed in my throat as I thought about how far away I was from everything and everyone I loved.

And all because of Aman.

Ever since I came to London, things between Aman and me had changed. We had drifted apart. It wasn't like before, when I could talk to him about anything, when I could trust him without question. Now, there was only silence. A heavy, unbearable silence that filled the space between us, turning what was once a strong friendship into something unfamiliar.

I didn't know when exactly things had started to fall apart. Maybe it was the way he had begun acting like he owned me, like my choices weren't my own anymore. Or maybe it was when I realized that love—real love—wasn't supposed to feel like being trapped. Whatever it was, I knew one thing for sure: I couldn't marry Aman.

My phone buzzed in my hand, snapping me out of my thoughts. When I saw the caller ID, a genuine smile spread across my face. My sister.

"Hi didi!" I answered quickly, my voice filled with excitement.

"Prabh," she said, and just from the way she spoke my name, I knew I was in trouble. "You went back to England, didn't you?" Her voice was a mix of concern and anger.

My stomach twisted with guilt. I had expected this conversation sooner or later, but that didn't make it any easier. "Didi, I had to," I said softly, my grip tightening around the phone.

"You should have talked to me first! Do you even realize how worried we've all been?!" she snapped. I could hear the frustration in her voice, and it only made the guilt worse.

I swallowed hard. "Our brothers know. So do Dadi and Dadu," I said, trying to reassure her, though I knew it wouldn't be enough.

"What about your sisters?!" she demanded. "Did you forget we exist?"

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She was right—I should have told them. I should have trusted them enough to share my plans. But fear had clouded my judgment, and I had chosen to run without looking back.

"I'm sorry, didi," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I just couldn't do it. I just can't marry Aman."

There was a brief silence before she spoke again, her tone softer but still firm. "I know, and I was going to talk to your jija about it. But before I could, you left. Aman's been searching for you for weeks, Prabh."

My breath caught in my throat. My fingers trembled slightly as I gripped the phone tighter. "Didi, make sure he doesn't find me," I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice.

"I promise," she said, and there was determination in her voice. "I'll do my best to keep you safe. But you have to be careful."

"I will," I assured her.

We talked for a little while longer, the warmth of her voice easing some of the fear gripping my heart. She asked if I was okay, if I had a safe place to stay. I told her I was fine, even though the truth was far more complicated.