ISHQ IBAADAT 💗

11. Reunion 💗

Author POV

After 6 Months

IN AMERICA

“Toh aakhirkaar tumhe apni BIWI ki yaad aa hi gayi…”

MR. AGASTYA RAISINGHANIA…
(A firm, sarcastic voice echoed in the dimly lit penthouse.)

The large and lavish penthouse stood drenched in darkness, the only flicker of light coming from a weak, flickering lamp in the far end of the study. Shadows danced on the walls—cold, hollow, and heavy like the silence that loomed over the space.

Agastya was sitting in a grand black leather chair, hunched forward, elbows on knees, his fingers clutched into his scalp as if trying to rip out the thoughts that refused to leave him.

He hadn’t slept in days. His beard had grown rugged, his eyes bloodshot, veins prominent near his temples—clearly showing the firestorm brewing inside him.

Suddenly—
Click!
The lamp sparked again.
A silhouette appeared in the doorway.

Vikram Khurana, his closest friend and the only one who dared speak freely with him, leaned on the doorframe with a smirk.

“Toh tum kal jaa rahe ho… apni BIWI ke paas,”
Vikram said, his tone playful, yet layered with truth.

At that, Agastya slowly stood up from the chair, his expression unreadable. But in a second—rage exploded.

He charged toward Vikram and grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the wall.

“MAINE KITNI BAAR KAHA HAI…”
His voice trembled with fury,
“…WO MERI BIWI NAHI HAI!”

His chest heaved violently. His fingers tightened around Vikram's shirt.

Vikram didn’t resist.
He smirked—deliberately provoking him more.

“Zara yeh baat… achhe se soch kar… phir se bolna…”
he whispered, tilting his head in challenge.

Agastya’s grip loosened for a second… then he let go with a frustrated groan.

He stormed back to the desk, picked up the heavy crystal ashtray and hurled it across the room.
CRASH!
It shattered into a hundred sharp pieces—like his thoughts.

Then he slammed his fists on the wooden table. Again.
And again.

“Nahi… nahi… nahi… NAHII… NAHIIII!
Woh meri BIWI hai…”
He screamed, each word more broken than the last.

The walls trembled with the weight of the truth he had been denying for 6 long months.

Vikram’s smirk faded.
He stepped forward and asked softly, yet with steel beneath the words—

“Toh phir, Agastya… 6 mahine se kyun sirf usi ke baare mein soch rahe ho?”
He paused, narrowing his eyes.
“Mr. Agastya Raisinghania…”

Agastya looked away, his jaw clenched, eyes moist but stubborn. He hated admitting what Vikram already knew.

Vikram crossed his arms and stepped closer, his voice now sharper.