'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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AUTHOR'S POV :
Ishan hadn’t spoken a single word to her. Not when he came to pick her up from Khanna Mansion after her pagphera rasam, not when they entered the glittering reception hall together, not when she quietly sat beside him, nor even when Agastya and Aaradhna surprised them with a honeymoon package as a gift.
His gaze remained nailed to the floor, his face locked in an expressionless mask, as though even the act of looking at her would shatter something inside him.
And then, the night came.
The night that would carve itself into both of their memories as nothing less than a nightmare.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her body trembling in silence, her tears cutting down the curve of her cheekbones like fragile glass shattering with each drop. Her mind was a storm of questions and unspoken pleas. The room was quiet, painfully quiet, until the door creaked open.
He entered.
And he was no better.
His hair was disheveled, sticking messily across his forehead. His eyes—bloodshot, rimmed with raw exhaustion. The trail of dried tears marked his face, betraying the battle he had fought with himself before stepping into the room.
He still wore the same black shirt and trousers from the reception, though now the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His fists bore dried blood at the knuckles anger, regret, something unspeakable had been there before.
He knew she had cried. He could see it in the puffiness around her eyes, the trembling of her lips, the way her shoulders shook every time she breathed. But he wasn’t sure why.
Had she cried because she wanted to give this marriage a chance and he had turned his back on her? Or had she cried because she was chained into a marriage she never wanted, with a man she didn’t love?
But of one thing he was certain, he would never allow her to sacrifice her happiness for anyone, not even for the weight of their families’ expectations.
She deserved what her heart truly wanted. Even if it destroyed him.
The sound of his unsteady steps pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned swiftly, her heart stumbling at the sight of him. Without hesitation, she rushed toward him.
The closer she came, the more her chest constricted. His scent, sharp, burning hit her nostrils. He was drunk.
Not just drunk. Broken.
For the first time, she was seeing him like this. Vulnerable. Shaken. His defenses stripped away. Yet, despite the alcohol, he hadn’t lost the part of him that knew her, that would never hurt her. He wasn’t drunk enough to forget. He wasn’t drunk enough to let her go. And yet, he wasn’t strong enough to hold himself upright either.
