'Ishan Oberoi' - The name that echoes success, power, and resilience. A rising billionaire who carved his empire with his own hands, refusing to ride on his father's wealth. Yet, he never turned his back on his responsibilities as a son. Balancing h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ISHAN'S POV :
I stood in front of the mirror, dressed in a pastel sherwani that looked almost too perfect for the storm inside me. The soft hue of the fabric whispered elegance, calm, and serenity everything my heart was not. My hair, slicked back neatly with gel, sat in place like it belonged to someone whose life was not teetering on the edge of uncertainty.
I adjusted the collar absentmindedly, my fingers trembling just slightly. Then came the final touch, I wrapped the watch around my wrist, the familiar click grounding me for a fleeting second.
But before the moment could settle, the door creaked open. I didn’t turn. I didn’t need to.
Bhai crossed the room in two purposeful strides and stood beside me, his presence heavy with knowing.
“Did you talk to her?” His voice was calm, but there was an urgency laced beneath the surface. It should’ve been obvious who he meant but some foolish, stubborn part of me wanted to pretend otherwise.
“What? To whom?” I deflected, eyes still fixed on the reflection that didn’t look like me anymore.
“Don’t act, Ishan,” he said, his tone hardening just enough to cut through my denial. “Not in front of me, at least.”
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, saying nothing. What could I say? I hadn’t spoken to her. Not because I didn’t want to but because I didn’t know what I would say if I did. My silence wasn’t a choice anymore, it had become a confession.
Bhai sighed, and then his hand came to rest on my shoulder. A small gesture, but it cracked something inside me. I turned to him slowly, my eyes searching his for something... answers, comfort, maybe even forgiveness.
“I know you're confused,” he said softly. “You're hurt. And maybe you're waiting for her to come and explain everything. To make it easier for you. To tell you why.”
He paused, watching me carefully.
“And maybe she won’t. Maybe she can’t. But Ishan… that doesn't mean you don’t need to make peace with it.”
My jaw clenched. There was so much I wanted to say, so many questions, fears, regrets all colliding in my chest. But they tangled with the chaos swirling in me, and all I could manage was a nod. Weak. Wordless. But real.
For the first time, I wished my sherwani didn’t fit so perfectly because nothing else about today did.
