NITYA💔

19:A Symphony of Regret

Scene: Samyak’s Room –

The Rathore mansion was cloaked in silence. The grand chandelier in the hallway cast faint shadows on the marble floor, but the once vibrant house now felt hollow, haunted by the echoes of broken promises and shattered hearts. Inside his room, Samyak sat slouched on the floor by the window, a glass of whiskey clutched in his trembling hand. The drink remained untouched; its amber liquid reflected the storm raging within him.

The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow on his face—eyes bloodshot, hair disheveled, and his usually confident demeanor reduced to that of a broken man. The room around him was in chaos; picture frames were scattered across the floor, papers strewn everywhere. But none of it compared to the wreckage inside him.

For hours, he had been sitting there—thinking, regretting, suffocating in the silence he once sought. Nitya’s face kept flashing before his eyes—the way her eyes had welled up with tears, the way her voice had trembled when she asked him why. Why he had pushed her away, why he had taken her love for granted, and why he had let her slip through his fingers.

Samyak (whispers): "Nitya…"

Her name felt heavy on his tongue now, filled with loss and remorse.

---

His mind replayed every cruel moment like a never-ending loop.

He remembered the day Nitya had overheard him telling his family that if the accident hadn’t happened, Prisha would have been his wife. The look on her face that day—it wasn’t anger or accusation. It was something far worse: acceptance. She had simply accepted his words, as if she had been expecting them all along.

He remembered her silent suffering at the dinner table when Prisha clung to his arm, talking about their future marriage as if Nitya didn’t even exist. And yet, Nitya had smiled. She had served everyone food, played the perfect wife, and never let her mask crack.

And then came the day Prisha fainted, and he had rushed to her side, leaving Nitya standing alone in the corner of the room, invisible in her own marriage.

Each moment was like a dagger carving regret into his chest.

Samyak (inner monologue): "I promised to care for her… to respect her… and yet I failed her at every step. I reduced her to a shadow in her own home. How could I have been so blind?"

---

His mind wandered to the fake wedding plan—a plan that he had crafted in his desperation to keep everyone satisfied, to maintain the facade. But somewhere in the chaos, he had forgotten about her. About Nitya, the woman who had silently carried the weight of his guilt, his mistakes, and his failures.

And now… she was gone.

Samir had taken her away. And Samyak couldn’t even blame him because, deep down, he knew—Samir had done what he never could. Samir had seen Nitya’s worth, had valued her when Samyak had only pushed her away.

The bitter realization made him clench his fists until his knuckles turned white.

Samyak (softly): "You deserved better, Nitya… so much better than me."

But it wasn’t just Samir’s actions that haunted him—it was Prisha. The woman he had once loved, the woman he had sworn to protect, had played him like a pawn. She had manipulated him, orchestrated lies, and driven a wedge between him and Nitya—all while he had stood blind and oblivious.

He slammed the whiskey glass against the floor, the shattering sound echoing through the empty room.

---

Samyak buried his face in his hands, his voice cracking as he whispered to himself.

Samyak: "Why didn’t I see it sooner? Why didn’t I stop her? Why didn’t I fight for Nitya?!"

But no answers came. Only silence.

For years, Nitya had been by his side. Quietly supporting him, enduring every humiliation, every cold shoulder, every indifference. And yet, she had never stopped loving him. Never once had she complained. Never once had she let her pain overshadow her loyalty.

And he had let her go.

He had pushed her away.

A sob escaped his throat as the weight of his mistakes finally bore down on him. The invincible, composed Samyak Rathore was now reduced to a broken man drowning in regret.

Samyak (inner monologue): "Nitya… I should have seen you. I should have fought for you. But instead, I let my past, my guilt, and my weakness destroy the one good thing in my life."

His chest tightened with an unfamiliar ache—an ache he now realized was love. He had loved her in his own way, but it was buried under years of denial and guilt. And now, when he finally realized it, it was too late.

She was gone.

---

A soft knock broke the silence. His mother’s voice came from the other side.

Mrs. Rathore: "Samyak… beta… please eat something. You’ve been in there for hours."

But Samyak couldn’t move. He couldn’t face anyone—not his mother, not his father, and definitely not the empty space where Nitya used to be.

Samyak (softly): "I don’t deserve her… I never did."

As the night stretched on, Samyak remained on the floor, staring into the darkness, haunted by memories of Nitya's tears, her silent smiles, and the love he had thrown away.

For the first time in his life, Samyak Rathore realized the true meaning of regret—not just losing someone, but knowing that you were the reason they walked away.

And the worst part?

There was no going back.