AAROHI

Epilogue

The Birla house is quieter these days. The halls echo more than they ever did. Not because the people are gone — but because the weight of what they never said now fills the rooms. Manjari stands at the mandir every morning, folding her hands tighter than before, eyes closing harder, as if prayer might rewrite the past. Mahima busies herself with hospital files, drowning in meetings, deflecting every reminder of the position she lost. But the chairs at the boardroom feel colder now, and every policy she tries to push through bears the signature of a woman who did what Mahima couldn’t — lead with both strength and soul.

Abhimanyu exists, but doesn’t live. His work is mechanical. His words, fewer. There are days he walks into the surgery wing and hears her name in passing. Doctors quoting her lectures. Interns showing case studies she published. Every time he passes her nameplate near the ethics boardroom, something inside him still flinches. He doesn’t speak of her. But he dreams of the moment she walked past him on the rooftop — steady, silent, untouchable.

Akshara recovers slowly. Her body heals faster than her guilt. She sits in the garden sometimes, journal in hand, writing letters she never sends. Letters that begin with I’m sorry and end with I don’t deserve your forgiveness. She keeps one in her drawer — the one she tried to give Aarohi when she woke in the hospital bed. It remains unread.

The Goenka house isn’t loud anymore. The weddings have long passed, the dances forgotten. Bade Papa reads newspapers with furrowed brows, occasionally looking up at Aarohi’s childhood photo in the hallway. Swarna lights the diya every evening and stares at the door just a second longer, as if still waiting for her to walk in. Kairav visits her social media page secretly, proud and guilty at once. No one speaks her name aloud. As if doing so will echo their failure. As if silence might excuse the fact that they watched her burn and called it a small issue.

And yet, across the city, beyond the gated compound of a quieter life, Aarohi lives.

Not to prove a point.

Not to rub salt.

But to breathe freely.
She wakes before sunrise. She runs. Her steps no longer race the past. They glide into a future she’s building with her own hands. Her home is modern, minimalist, warm. A shelf holds awards and certificates. But beside them sits a tiny clay Ganesha, hand-painted by her niece from a charity school she sponsors. A fridge magnet from London. A snow globe from Zurich. A quiet picture of her and Aryan in surgical scrubs, laughing.

Aryan doesn’t ask about the past often. But when he does, he listens without trying to fix anything. They cook together on weekends. He lets her season things her way. She lets him play old music while washing dishes. On Sundays, they volunteer at a local clinic, not for charity, but to stay grounded.

They aren’t perfect. But they are whole. And that’s better.

Sometimes she walks into her own reflection and smiles. Not because of success. Not because of power. But because she no longer needs either to feel real.
One evening, Aryan returns from a conference with a small box. No grand proposal. No kneeling. Just a quiet moment on the balcony where he says, I know you don’t need anything to feel complete. But if you ever want to share your peace with someone, I’d like it to be me.

She doesn’t cry.

She doesn’t gasp.

She simply rests her head on his shoulder and whispers, This time, it’s my choice.

The mandap that once became her grave now exists only as a memory. One that no longer hurts. One she’s rewritten with every step forward.

And somewhere, in a corner of her soul, the girl who once waited in red smiles too.

Because she was never truly destroyed.

She was just waiting for the right time to become

unforgettable.

No response at all and I am very disappointed.

Posting this for readers who are helping to move on with stories by supporting me .

Ur response itself gives us motivation to write if u r not interested at all it's just waste of time to write nd also wasting ur time .

So I am not going to continue at all.

This is the last update if this story.

Going to post only other stories which are saved in drafts without expectations and not going to write anything at all and I don't want to waste either ur time it mine.

That books also I will update as per the response only . Otherwise I am going to leave all the stories in draft.

May this is sounding rude to all but no . It's our exact feeling because we are alloting some time if ours nd trying to provide u nice stories and improving ourselves daily .

For readers who are supporting consistently and saying where to improve and correcting my mistakes thank you so much for everything.

                           🩵 The End 🩵

Not only this story but this entire book .

                    Good bye and thank you for supporting me from start to till now .