Dil ki Dilli

Sabotage Escalates

As the days passed, Nisha’s sabotage intensified, spreading like wildfire and targeting not just my online presence but also Rohan's beloved café, The Cozy Cup. Whispers of discontent echoed around us, as she began spreading malicious rumors about the café’s hygiene and service.

Rohan's usual warm smile faltered as he surveyed the dwindling number of customers. Anxiety etched deeper lines on his brow, and I could see the worry mounting in his eyes.

"Avni, I don't know what to do," he admitted one evening, frustration radiating from him like heat. "Nisha's determined to ruin me."

I hugged him tightly, wanting to shield him from the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. "We'll get through this together," I promised, hoping to instil some strength in him.

That night, we sat on his café's patio, overlooking the quiet street that was usually filled with laughter and chatter. We devised a plan to counter Nisha's toxic rumours. Rohan decided to invite food critics and influencers for a complimentary tasting experience, showcasing The Cozy Cup’s true essence.

“I’ll handle the invites, and you can document the event,” he suggested, his resolve reigniting.

With a spark of hope, we sprang into action. The day of the tasting arrived, and as the critics and influencers gathered, I felt the atmosphere shift. The air buzzed with anticipation, and I could see Rohan’s passion for his craft shining through every detail.

As I documented the event, capturing the smiles of delighted guests and the artistry of Rohan’s culinary creations, I felt a rush of excitement. This was more than just a café; it was a labour of love, and it deserved to be celebrated.

However, Nisha wouldn’t back down. It was only a few days later when disaster struck again. She created a fake social media account, impersonating me with a chilling accuracy.

“Avni Chawla exposed!” the account screeched in a viral post. “She’s using Rohan Sharma for fame and fortune.”

My heart sank as I scrolled through the comments, my breath hitching at the vitriol directed at me. My reputation hung in the balance, the very foundation I had built crumbling beneath my feet.

Rohan's eyes blazed with anger when I shared the news. “Avni, we’ll take down that account and expose Nisha. We won’t let her ruin everything we’ve worked for,” he vowed, a fierce determination igniting in his voice.

Together, we reported the fake account, gathering evidence and screenshots. But Nisha’s next move caught us off guard, hitting us harder than we could have anticipated. She hacked into my Instagram account, deleting all of my posts—years of hard work and memories vanished in an instant.

I felt devastated, as though a part of my identity had been stripped away. Tears pooled in my eyes, blurring my vision. “Rohan, my content… everything I built is gone,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

He wrapped his arms around me, offering solace in the storm. “Avni, we’ll rebuild. We won’t let Nisha win,” he promised his warmth a beacon of hope amidst the chaos.

With renewed determination, we began anew. Together, we recreated my content, piece by piece, sharing stories of Delhi’s hidden gems and the charm of The Cozy Cup. As we worked side by side, the hours turned into a blur of laughter and late-night brainstorming sessions, solidifying our bond even further.

Gradually, Rohan’s business began to recover as satisfied customers returned, drawn in by our authentic love for the city and its flavours. But despite our progress, Nisha’s relentless sabotage had taken a toll.

Tensions crept into our relationship, testing us in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The stress of the situation weighed heavily on us, moments of frustration creeping in, threatening to fracture our once effortless connection.

One evening, as we sat in his café, the glow of fairy lights twinkling around us, Rohan broke the silence. “Avni, I know this has been tough on us. I don’t want Nisha to drive a wedge between us,” he said, his voice low and serious.

I reached for his hand, intertwining my fingers with his. “I don’t want that either. We’ve come so far together, Rohan. I believe in us,” I reassured him, my heart pounding with sincerity.

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the weight of our troubles seemed to lift. “Let’s promise to always communicate, no matter how hard things get. I want to fight through this together,” he said, his eyes searching mine for understanding.

“I promise,” I whispered, leaning in to rest my forehead against his. At that moment, amidst the lingering shadows of Nisha’s cruelty, we found a flicker of light—a reminder of why we had come together in the first place.

As the night deepened, we sat side by side, fortified by our shared determination to rise above the chaos. Together, we were ready to face whatever came our way, united against the world, our love shining brighter than any shadow that dared to encroach upon it.