'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...
Chapter 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55 & 56 are available on stck.
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AUTHOR'S POV :
Delhi, India.
The Oberoi family gathered around the dining table for dinner. The room was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that pressed down on every breath. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain sounded almost too loud in that stillness.
Sunaina’s eyes, tired yet restless, remained fixed on the two empty chairs across from her. She stared at them as though willing them to be occupied again. Her gaze then shifted, drifting from one face to another around the table. Everyone looked busy eating, pretending, avoiding.
“So? No one is going to talk about it?” her voice broke the silence, carrying both sharpness and hurt.
Everyone froze, eyes lifting from their plates in confusion.
“Ek mahina ho gaya hai dono ko gaye. Aisa bhi kya kaam? Na koi phone aata hai naa kuch?”
(It’s been a month since they left. What kind of work keeps someone so busy? No calls, no messages, nothing?)
Aaradhna’s spoon clinked against her plate. Agastya’s fingers stiffened around his glass. Their faces paled with guilt. They knew the truth, knew why Ishan hadn’t called but it wasn’t theirs to tell. It was his story to explain, his silence to break.
Across the table, Ishita poked absently at her food, oblivious to the tension thickening the air.
Vijeet cleared his throat, trying to soothe the brewing storm. Ever the businessman, he approached emotion like negotiation. “Naina, business is unpredictable,” he said gently. “Sometimes it takes less time than expected… and sometimes, more.”
“Toh business ka matlab yeh toh nahi ke call karna bhi band kar dein!”
(So business means he can’t even make a phone call now?)
Sunaina’s voice rose, sharp with frustration and pain. Her eyes flashed, and Vijeet immediately fell silent, knowing no logic could ease a mother’s worry.
She turned to Agastya then, her voice trembling with something raw and unguarded. “When are they coming back, Agastya?”
For a moment, Agastya couldn’t meet her eyes. He swallowed hard, the weight of guilt pressing against his throat. Gently, he placed an arm around her shoulders and whispered, “Mom… don’t worry so much. I’ll tell him to come back soon, even if it means leaving a few things unfinished.”
Sunaina’s expression shifted instantly, guilt flickering through her eyes. “No,” she said quickly, almost pleading. “Just… just ask him to finish things soon. But if he calls you, let me speak to him.”
