The sound of breaking glass echoed through the house. Jiya flinched, her heart pounding as she rushed into the living room. Atharv stood by the coffee table, his face ashen, his hand frozen midair, staring down at his phone that lay shattered on the floor.
“Atharv?” she whispered, her voice trembling as she stepped closer. She had never seen him like this before—so utterly broken. His usual composed, confident demeanour was gone, replaced with a raw, exposed pain that made her chest tighten.
He didn't respond at first, his breathing heavy as he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. His eyes, usually so warm, were clouded with anger, betrayal, and despair.
"Atharv," she tried again, reaching out to touch his arm, but he flinched away, stepping back as if her touch burned him.
"They've destroyed everything," he finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with rage. "Everything I've built… gone."
Jiya's heart sank, dread pooling in her stomach. She had no idea what had happened, but the gravity of it was written all over his face. "What do you mean? What happened?"
Atharv let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he looked at her. His eyes bore into hers, searching for answers she couldn’t give. "Someone leaked confidential information about one of my biggest deals. The contract’s been pulled, and now the investors are pulling out. It’s all collapsing, Jiya."
Her breath caught in her throat. She knew her family wanted to hurt Atharv, but she had never imagined it would be like this. Her attempts to sabotage him had been feeble, reluctant, but this—this was a fatal blow. And she had no idea it was coming.
"I don’t understand," she whispered, her voice shaking. "How could this happen?"
"I don’t know," Atharv said, his voice raw. "But someone I trusted has betrayed me. They had access to everything—the accounts, the contracts… It was all so perfectly timed, Jiya. They knew exactly what to do to ruin me."
His words hit her like a punch to the gut. Could it be that one of her brothers had acted behind her back? Had they gone further than she ever intended? The realization hit her with a suffocating weight, and she could barely stand under it.
Atharv’s phone buzzed on the floor, a reminder of the chaos he was now in. He ignored it, his eyes fixed on Jiya. "I don’t know who to trust anymore."
The guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave. She wanted to tell him the truth, to confess everything, but the words stuck in her throat, choking her. How could she admit that she was part of the very betrayal that had brought him to his knees?
Before she could say anything, Atharv’s voice broke the silence, softer now, laced with vulnerability. "You’ve been the only constant in my life lately, Jiya. The one person I thought I could lean on."
His words pierced her heart. She felt the tears prickling at the back of her eyes, but she couldn’t let them fall. She couldn’t show him her weakness, not now, not when she was barely holding it together.
"I’m here for you," she whispered, hating how hollow the words felt. She wasn’t here for him. She was the reason his world was crumbling, and yet, he was turning to her for solace.
Atharv moved closer, his eyes softening as they met hers. "I don’t know what I’d do without you right now," he murmured, his hand reaching out to cup her face gently. "I’ve been through tough times before, but this… I’ve never felt so lost."
Jiya’s heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the pain etched into every line of his face. She had never seen him like this—so exposed, so… broken. And it was her fault.
"I’ll figure this out," Atharv continued, his voice firmer now, though there was a deep sadness underneath. "But I just need you with me, Jiya. I need to know I can trust you."
Her breath hitched at his words. Trust. How could he ask that of her when she was the one betraying him? She blinked back the tears threatening to spill over and nodded, forcing herself to hold his gaze.
"I’m with you," she lied, her voice barely a whisper. She hated herself for it. Every word felt like a stab in her chest, but she couldn’t say anything else. Not now. Not when he needed her.
He pulled her into his arms then, holding her tightly against him. The warmth of his body should have comforted her, but instead, it only heightened her guilt. How could she let herself be held by him when her family had caused him pain?
They stood like that for what felt like hours, wrapped in a silence that was both comforting and suffocating. Jiya rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. She wanted so desperately to believe that she could make things right, but the truth was, the damage had already been done.
Atharv finally pulled back, looking down at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. "I don’t want to burden you with this," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "But I need you, Jiya. I need to know that you’re with me, that we can face this together."
His words nearly broke her. How could he say that when she was the reason he was falling apart? The weight of her guilt was unbearable, but she couldn’t bring herself to confess. Not yet.
"I’m here," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her own lie. "I’ll always be here."
Atharv’s gaze softened as he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was both tender and filled with desperation. Jiya melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed him back with all the emotion she had been holding in. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and for a few fleeting seconds, she let herself forget everything—her family’s betrayal, her own guilt, the web of lies she was tangled in.
When they finally pulled apart, Atharv rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "I don’t know what I’d do without you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.
Jiya swallowed hard, her throat tightening with unshed tears. She wanted to tell him the truth, to come clean, but she couldn’t. Not now. Not when he was so vulnerable, so hurt.
But as she stood there in his arms, she knew one thing for certain: she couldn’t keep lying to him. The weight of her deceit was suffocating, and sooner or later, it would crush her.
And when that day came, she knew there would be no going back.
