They were an unbreakable couple since school. Still, he cheated on her.
She loved him with all of her. Still, he broke her into millions of pieces.
She has no one except him. He has someone other than her.
She was tolerating bad behavior of his fami...
"Jo mil na saka Uska intezaar kyun hai?, Jo mil raha hai usse Inkar kyun hai?, Bada mushkil hai Samajhna khud ko, Jise fikr hi nhi hamari Uske liye itna pyaar kyun hai?"
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Its been weeks, Mishti had retreated into a world of her own. The door to her room remained closed, and the once vibrant energy she shared with Riya had vanished. Raj tried multiple times to reach out to her, his guilt gnawing at him, but every attempt was met with a cold, impenetrable barrier. Shalini, ever the strategist, supported Mishti's need for space. She didn't want to stir any trouble with Tina's father—at least, not now.
During this time, it wasn't Raj who consistently knocked on Mishti's door. It was Him, her soon to be husband. Every breakfast, lunch, and dinner, without fail, he brought her meals. He never pushed her to talk, never demanded her attention. He'd leave the plate outside her door and, hours later, return to collect it—his silent support a steady comfort. Ansh respected her privacy, and yet, somehow, his presence became a soothing anchor in her stormy life.
At first, Mishti didn't think much of it. She was too wrapped up in her pain, too focused on keeping her heart guarded. But slowly, as the days passed, she found herself noticing the little things—how he never questioned her silence, how he didn't try to pry into her world like everyone else. His quiet understanding, his patience, started to chip away at her walls.
Their friendship was gradual, unforced. He didn't overwhelm her with words or gestures, just simple acts of kindness. And while Mishti's heart was still tangled in the mess left behind by Raj, His presence was becoming something she could lean on. Yet, even with this growing connection, the thought of their upcoming marriage lingered in the back of her mind like an unsolved riddle. Trusting someone again after Raj's betrayal felt like trying to piece together broken glass.
Flashback
One afternoon, a soft knock on the door interrupted Mishti's thoughts. She knew it was Him —he had been coming by like clockwork, not to deliver food this time, but to collect the empty plate from her lunch.
"Ansh, mai le aati hoon, tum rehne do na," (Ansh, I can bring it out myself; you don't need to,) Mishti said, her voice softer than usual. She felt strange letting him serve her like this day after day.
He paused at the door, his hand reaching out for the plate but stopping as he looked at her. His expression remained calm, but there was a gentle insistence in his eyes. "Agar apni hone wali biwi ka itna bhi kaam na kar saku toh, mera wajood kis kaam ka?" (If I can't manage this small task for my soon-to-be wife, then what's the point of my existence?)
She blinked, not expecting such a heartfelt response. "Magar jhutha hai," (But it's used,) she protested, her fingers wrapping around the edge of the plate as if she could somehow relieve him of this task.
