'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...
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AADHRITI'S POV :
So many days. So many days have slipped away in silence, thinking, hiding, hesitating. But not anymore. Tonight, I don’t want to delay. Tonight, I want to tell him.
About my past. About why I left India. About my company. About everything I’ve buried inside me.
It’s been almost twenty minutes since Ishita walked me here. Now, I’m waiting in his—our room. The air itself feels heavy, scented with roses. Red petals are scattered everywhere, turning the room into something almost unreal, almost sacred. The clock is nearing nine, and I don’t even know what exactly I’m feeling. What am I supposed to feel?
Nervousness. Excitement. Happiness. Fear. All of it tangled inside me, like someone poured every emotion into a jar and made me drink it whole.
My palms were damp, my heart was racing, every breath felt shallow. I was trembling, restless, overwhelmed.
“I need to distract my mind,” I whispered to myself.
I walked to the wardrobe, pulled out my laptop from my suitcase, and drowned myself in emails. The glow of the screen felt almost jarring against the warmth of the room. My chest loosened a little as I sigh. Work had piled up endlessly because of the wedding, and staring at it feels safer than staring at my own thoughts.
But when I glanced at my phone again, it was already past ten.
“Did he get stuck with something?” “Maybe…” I murmured, though my voice betrays my uncertainty.
I try returning to my laptop, but the distraction no longer works. With a defeated breath, I shut it and place it aside.
My head was pounding, too many pins, too many layers holding me in place.
“I can at least remove them until he comes.”
I stepped in front of the vanity and started pulling out the pins, one by one. The first loosened the weight of my dupatta from my head, and soon my hair fell free, cascading over my shoulders, leaving behind a faint ache at the roots. The release felt almost symbolic, as though I’ve shed a piece of the evening’s suffocating perfection.
The sudden ringtone of my phone sliced through the quiet.
