Is everything Normal ?

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The days they have slipped by like ghosts, silent and haunting, as both Aryan and Nandini buried themselves in their worlds. They barely crossed paths; Aryan only emerged from his room when he had to, and even then, his presence was shadowed by exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes grew deeper with each day, a mark of the relentless, sleepless hustle he had plunged into. Nandini noticed, but something held her back from asking—perhaps a fear of reopening wounds they had barely begun to heal, or perhaps a feeling that they were both safer in their separate spaces.

Meals at Mannat turned eerily quiet. Gone were the stolen glances and unspoken conversations at dinner; Aryan would eat alone in his room, and Nandini often did the same. The few times Gauri or Pooja checked in on them, hoping to see sparks fly between them, they were disappointed to find the two drifting further apart.



Under the silence of Mannat, Aryan and Nandini maintained their distance, each wrapped in their own resolve. Occasionally, the phone calls from Chandigarh broke the monotony. Gauri, Pooja, and SRK would call, checking in on both of them individually. Aryan would answer his mother's call with brief updates, his tone clipped and strained, claiming he was just "busy with work." The dark circles and the hint of exhaustion in his voice didn't escape her notice, but she let it slide—for now.

Pooja would call Nandini, her voice warm but concerned. "You're okay, Nishu?" she'd ask, hinting at the quiet tension she could sense even from miles away.

"Of course, Mom," Nandini would reply, brushing off any sign of worry with forced lightness. They were both doing their best to keep up appearances, yet Mannat felt colder and emptier with every passing day. The distance between them grew, even under the same roof, and both were too proud or too afraid to be the first to bridge it.




Feeling a growing sense of unease from Aryan's and Nandini's distant tones, Gauri and Pooja exchanged a concerned glance during one of their phone conversations. Something was off—an invisible strain between the two that neither would speak of openly.

Without hesitation, they agreed: whatever was happening between Aryan and Nandini needed their presence. Plans were quietly set into motion, and they decided to cut their trip short, determined to get back to Mannat and find out what was really going on.



As the family entered Mannat, the silence was unsettling. They had expected Aryan and Nandini to be there to greet them, or at the very least, some sign of life in the grand, usually lively house. But today, the only sound was the soft echo of their footsteps.

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