His Replaced Dhulhan || 18+ ✔

|27.| Change

A new chapter as u wanted make something clear.
I will not be posting any chapters of VijayMani as my Instagram's reach is so low and I hardly get any views ok my reels which means no views on my book too. So once I start going more views I'll resume it.
I want the book to succeed like the 1st book did.
And second, did you checked out my Instagram post for the new book which is going to be the spin off of this book?
I will start uploading that book when I will have plenty of views.

Tab tak HRD enjoy kro.

Kashvi's pov

As I sat in my grandfather's opulent study, surrounded by the rich aroma of old books and the soft glow of lamp lighting, my mind wandered back to the tumultuous events of the past week. The memories of my honeymoon in Costa Brava, once a treasure trove of happiness, now felt like a distant dream, a cruel reminder of the harsh reality that had unfolded.

Vansh, my partner, my confidant, my love, had vanished without a trace, leaving me alone in India, with only my thoughts to keep me company.

The elegant study, with its polished wooden panels and plush furnishings, seemed to mock me, its grandeur a stark contrast to the emptiness that had taken up residence in my heart.

I couldn't help but wonder what had consumed Vansh's attention so completely, what could be so urgent that he couldn't spare a moment to reach out to me, to ease my doubts, to soothe my pain.

The silence was deafening, a constant reminder of his absence, a nagging feeling that refused to subside. I felt like a ship adrift, lost in a sea of uncertainty, with no anchor to hold onto. The waiting was suffocating, the silence a heavy weight that pressed upon my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I felt like a stranger in a strange land, trapped in Vansh's opulent home, where every corner seemed to whisper his name. His family's queries pierced the air, their eyes boring into mine, seeking answers I didn't possess. 'Where is Vansh?' they'd ask, their voices laced with concern, but I could only shrug, my eyes welling up with tears.

Each day was a struggle, a constant charade, as I pretended to know more than I did. The weight of their expectations crushed me, the pressure to produce answers I didn't have suffocating.

I felt like a puppet on strings, forced to dance to the tune of their questions, my mind a jumble of emotions, my heart heavy with the weight of Vansh's absence.

Just then, the door creaked open, and my grandfather's dignified figure filled the frame, his presence commanding attention. His eyes, wise and knowing, scanned the room as if taking in the tumultuous emotions that swirled within me.

Without a word, he strode towards his chair, its leather upholstery creaking softly as he settled into it, his movements exuding a quiet authority.

As he sat behind the table, his hands clasped together, his gaze fixed on me, I felt a sense of calm wash over me, as if the stormy waters of my mind had finally found a anchor. The lines on his face, etched by time and experience, seemed to deepen, as if bearing the weight of my worries, his eyes radiating a warmth that enveloped me like a gentle embrace.

In that moment, the room seemed to shrink, the only reality being the two of us, connected by an unspoken understanding, the silence between us a palpable thing, a reminder that sometimes, words are not needed to convey the depths of human emotion.

Grandfather's eyes, piercing and insightful, bore into mine as if seeking to uncover the truth hidden beneath the surface. His voice, low and gentle, asked the question that had been lingering in the air, "How is your husband treating you?" The words hung suspended, like a delicate leaf on an autumn breeze, waiting for my response.

I hesitated, a fleeting moment of uncertainty, before answering, "Very well, grandpa." The words slipped out, smooth and silky, like honey dripping from a spoon. And in that moment, it wasn't a lie.

Vansh had been attentive, loving, and kind in Costa Brava, our honeymoon, a dreamy blur of happiness. But, the unspoken truth lingered, a nagging ache in my heart. He never returned with me, leaving me alone in this grand house, with only memories to keep me company.

Grandfather's eyes narrowed slightly, as if sensing the hidden pain behind my words, but he didn't press further, his expression a mask of understanding, a reminder that sometimes, the truth is complex, and words are not enough to convey the depths of human emotion.

With a reassuring nod, Grandfather uttered the words that were meant to soothe my frazzled nerves, "Everything will work out." But the gentle tone and the wise gaze that accompanied them couldn't quite dispel the storm clouds gathering in my mind.

As he rose from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate, the room seemed to grow smaller, the shadows cast by the flickering lamps twisting into skeptical grins.

The door creaked shut behind him, a soft click that echoed through the study like a period at the end of a sentence. And I was left alone, surrounded by the musty scent of old books and the faint whisper of uncertainty, wondering if Grandfather's words were a promise or a prayer.

The door creaked open once more, and I spun around, expecting Grandfather's gentle face to reappear.

But instead, it was Anya who stepped into the study, her eyes locking onto mine with a softness I had never seen before. The past came flooding back, memories of her condescending smiles and mocking laughter, the countless times she had made me feel small and insignificant. My defenses instinctively rose, preparing for another round of her disdain.

But something in her gaze gave me pause. A flicker of vulnerability, a hint of uncertainty, a glimmer of...was it empathy? The Anya I knew wouldn't dare show such weakness, yet here it was, written plain across her face. My guard faltered, curiosity getting the better of me.

"You took my side in front of Grandpa?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching mine for answers. The question itself was a surprise, but it was the tone that truly caught me off guard - a tone that suggested she actually cared about my opinion abouts wellbeing my well-being.

The realization was like a crack in the wall, a tiny fissure that let in a sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things were about to change between us.

I shrugged, unsure how to respond, but before I could even form a thought, Anya's words tumbled out like a dam breaking. "I'm sorry." The apology hung in the air, a fragile, precious thing, like a delicate flower blooming in a desert. My eyes widened in shock, my mind reeling with the implications.

Anya's eyes, once cold and distant, now shone with a warmth, a sincerity, a deep regret. "I've always wanted to be the perfect daughter for our parents," she continued, her voice cracking with emotion, "and I didn't even realize when I hurt you in doing so." The words poured out like a confession, a release of all the pent-up guilt and sorrow she'd been carrying.

I felt my defenses crumbling, my heart softening, as I saw my sister in a new light. The regret in her eyes was palpable, a heavy burden she'd been carrying for far too long. "I regret all the times I spent showing you how low you were," she whispered, "when we could have been the sisters to each other we always needed."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I saw the genuine love and remorse in her gaze. For the first time, I saw a glimmer of the sister I had always wanted, the sister I had always needed. And before I could even respond, she turned and disappeared from the study, leaving me stunned, speechless, and heartbroken. The only sound was the echo of her words, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been, and what might still be.

●you will get to know more about the conversation between Kashvi and her granpa in her sister's book which will be a spin off.