Neirohi's Family OS

A second chance at forever

Continuation of  without you 🥺

Akshara sat in her room, the soft strumming of her guitar echoing through the air as she sang a melody that used to fill their home with warmth. The notes danced through the room, wrapping her in memories of a happier time. Just as the song reached its crescendo, the door creaked open, and Abhimanyu stepped in, his expression hard and eyes darkened with fatigue.

“Akshara, will you please stop singing?” His voice, though controlled, carried an edge sharp enough to cut through her song.

Akshara's fingers faltered on the strings, and she looked up, her eyes reflecting the hurt that his words carved into her. “You used to love my voice,” she whispered, the disbelief quivering in her tone.

Abhimanyu’s jaw clenched, and he looked away. “Used to, Akshara,” he said flatly. The words hung between them like a chasm, deep and cold.

The silence stretched until Akshara gathered the courage to speak. “You’re the one who taught me to sing confidently in front of everyone. You encouraged me, made me believe in myself. Why are—”

“Enough!” Abhimanyu shouted, his frustration snapping like a whip. “I need to get to the hospital. I don’t have time for this… this drama. Just stop it, Akshara.” He turned on his heel and strode out, leaving her surrounded by silence once more.

Akshara stared at the door that had closed between them, a barrier she had become all too familiar with. She sank down onto the floor, her gaze lost in the distance as she murmured, “It’s been ten years, Abhi, ten years since we last spoke to each other with love. What happened to you, to us?”

Meanwhile, in the hallway outside, Abhimanyu leaned against the wall, exhaling a shuddering breath as he ran a hand through his hair. His eyes fell on the wedding picture hung on the wall—a time when their smiles were real, eyes bright with dreams of a future they couldn’t foresee crumbling.

“If only you had focused on us instead of everyone else’s life ,” he muttered, fingers tracing the frame. “We might have still been the same, Akshara.”

In another wing of the Birla house, shouts pierced the air, laced with anger and resentment. Neil stood with clenched fists as Navya’s voice rang out, sharp and accusing.

“You’re useless, Neil” Navya’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she stormed out, leaving the room heavy with the remnants of their fight.

Neil sank down onto the chair, the weight of her words pressing down on him until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. His mind wandered back to Aarohi, the woman who had been his anchor and the mother of his child, Ruhi. If Aarohi were here, he thought, maybe things would be different. Maybe he wouldn’t feel like he was walking through life alone, burdened by regrets.

He covered his face with his hands, memories flickering through his mind like a cruel movie reel: Aarohi’s laughter, the sparkle in her eyes when she saw Ruhi take her first steps, the way she always believed in him even when he struggled to believe in himself. But he had pushed her away. No, he had driven her away. And now, the hollow space where she once stood in his life felt unbearable.

“I left you, Aarohi,” Neil whispered, voice breaking. “I left you and our daughter, and now... now I’m just a shadow of what I used to be.”

Back in Akshara’s room, the night deepened, draping the world in a quiet that was both comforting and suffocating. She stood up, moving to the small bookshelf that held more than just books—it held memories. Tucked between volumes of music sheets was a small photo album. She opened it, each page revealing moments when she and Abhimanyu were inseparable, when their love had been the strongest part of who they were.

Tears traced down her cheeks as she whispered, “Where did we go so wrong, Abhi? When did we stop being each other’s strength and become each other’s regret?”

.

The Birla house that once echoed with music, laughter, and love now stood shrouded in silence, heavy with unspoken words and unshed tears. And as the moon cast its silver glow on the house, two hearts, so close yet so far, ached for what was lost and hoped, even if only faintly, for a way back.