This is a multi couple book
Vansh x Sanvi
Vansh Agarwal doesn't believe in love-only control. When Sanvi Sharma is thrust into his life, their engagement becomes a battlefield. She's everything he didn't want: independent, resilient, and utterly u...
This chapter is very special one. Ayaan is our suffering hero and I absolutely love him.
Please show love
And vote!!!
────୨ৎ────
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
This time of year always hit different. Not in a good way, either. As much as I dreaded it, I also needed it, like some twisted form of self-punishment. The charity gala was a way to give back, to dosomething good in memory of my parents, but it also dragged up all the memories I tried so hard to bury. The accident, the guilt—how it gnawed at me, day in and day out. I hated myself for surviving when they didn’t. And that’s what made this gala so important and so unbearable all at once.
This year was no different. The moment the calendar flipped to the month of the gala, everything in me tightened. My mood grew darker, and the world around me seemed to shrink, becoming a suffocating reminder of what I’d lost. And yet, I kept pushing forward because I had to. It was expected of me. I was Ayaan Agarwal, after all. The guy who never faltered, never showed weakness, who kept it all together no matter what.
But this year, something was different. Something—or rather someone—who threw me off my game.
Ishana Mehta.
Her name alone was enough to make my jaw tighten. We’d been forced to work together on this project, thanks to my Badi Mummy’s insistence. Her café had become the go-to spot for our planning meetings, and somehow, she’d gotten roped into helping coordinate the event. I wasn’t thrilled about it, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much. Maybe it was the way she didn’t seem fazed by my grumpiness, or how she always had a comeback ready whenever I tried to keep her at arm’s length.
Today was no exception.
I stepped into the café, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and something sweet hitting me the moment I entered. It should’ve been comforting, but instead, it felt like a trap, luring me into a situation I had no control over. And then I saw her, standing behind the counter, talking to one of her employees with that damn smile on her face. The same one she always wore, like nothing in the world could ever get to her.
She looked up as I approached, and for a brief second, I was thrown back to Diwali. The way she’d looked that night, her laughter echoing in my head, had been one of the few things that cut through the haze of bitterness I felt around this time of year. She was beautiful—annoyingly so. I hadn’t wanted to notice, but I had. It confused me, made me feel things I didn’t want to feel, especially not now.
But that was then. This was now, and I couldn’t afford to let her get under my skin.
“Ayaan,” she greeted me, that bright tone in her voice like she hadn’t already sensed my mood from a mile away. “Ready to finalize everything for the gala?”
