When love lasts - Still with you (Shubman × Ishan)

19. SHATTERED BONDS

Yo everyone! How are y'all doing??? Ik I'm pretty irregular with my updates but I'm kinda preoccupied rn.. anyways I'll be publishing another story that I have been working on this Sunday....one of my followers @rizzwicked wanted me to write that plot and now I have made the plot and I'm ready to present it to y'all....they wanted an Ishman story so please support me once I publish it....
_________
Mr. Gill sat in his dimly lit study, the quiet ticking of the antique clock on the wall the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. His hands trembled slightly as he flipped through the pages of the report on his desk. The private investigator he had hired had left no stone unturned, and the evidence was laid out in brutal clarity—photographs of Shubman, his son, with another man. The images showed them laughing together, walking through the streets hand-in-hand, and sharing intimate moments that left no room for doubt.

He felt a knot of fury and disbelief twist in his stomach. His chest tightened with a mix of emotions—anger, shame, and a deep-seated fear. This was not how he had imagined his son’s future, the legacy of the Gill family. How could Shubman do this? How could he betray everything the family stood for, everything Mr. Gill had worked so hard to build? His thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and rage. For a moment, he considered burning the report, pretending none of this had ever come to light. But the thought of what society would say, the whispers, the judgment, made his blood boil even more. 

"No," he muttered to himself, his voice low and dangerous. "This cannot stand."

With a steely resolve, Mr. Gill made up his mind. He couldn’t let this... abomination continue. He grabbed his phone and booked the first flight to Italy, determined to confront Shubman and put an end to this madness once and for all.

Shubman hummed a soft tune to himself as he unlocked the door to his apartment. The evening had been perfect—a quiet dinner with Ishan, followed by a leisurely walk through Rome’s historic streets, their hands intertwined as they talked about everything and nothing. His heart felt light, his mind at peace. But the moment he stepped inside, the warmth of the evening evaporated.

“Dad?” Shubman’s voice wavered, his hand still on the doorknob as he froze in place. Mr. Gill was standing in the middle of the living room, his posture rigid, his expression a mask of fury. The tension in the room was palpable, and Shubman could feel his stomach drop. 

"What are you doing here? How did you even get in?" Shubman’s voice was barely above a whisper, laced with a growing sense of dread. 

Mr. Gill’s eyes were like daggers, cutting through the fragile calm Shubman had felt only moments before. “What am I doing here? What the hell have you been doing here, Shubman? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Mr. Gill’s voice was cold, venomous, as he flung a handful of photographs onto the floor between them. 

Shubman’s heart sank as he glanced down at the scattered images—photos of him and Ishan, moments of their life together now twisted into something ugly and accusatory. His breath hitched as realization dawned. His father knew. The confrontation he had dreaded for so long was happening, right here, in the place that had been his sanctuary.

"I hired someone to find out why you were ignoring your family, why you were so busy," Mr. Gill continued, his voice hardening with every word. "I thought maybe there was some girl you were too ashamed to introduce. But this? A man? Are you out of your mind?"

Shubman’s initial shock gave way to a cold, simmering anger. He lifted his head, meeting his father’s furious gaze with a steady one of his own. “I’m not ashamed, Dad. I’m just tired of living a lie. I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Mr. Gill’s expression darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. “You think this is something to be proud of?” His voice rose, each word a lash. “You’ve destroyed everything I’ve built, everything our family stands for!”