MOHABBAT-E-DIWAANGI ( Book 1)

52. Broken but chaotic

Author’s POV

Avantika stormed off to her room, heels clattering against the marble floor with the fury of a woman who was not just hurt—but shattered, frustrated, and boiling with questions that had no answers. And like a ripple effect, the rest of the family followed—silently dispersing like scattered pieces of glass after a storm, each trying to hold themselves together.

But Aadish… he remained.

Frozen. Still. As if someone had whispered "Statue."

His eyes were fixed on the corridor—on that one corner where his wife, his Vani, had disappeared moments ago. A thousand thoughts battled in his mind, crashing over one another like thunderclouds, but none made sense. The only thing that echoed louder than his confusion was his heart pounding in his ears.

And then...

He moved.

With a desperate breath and trembling hands, Aadish took off in the direction she had gone—running, almost stumbling in his haste. He didn’t care who watched. Didn’t care what was right or wrong anymore.

He just ran.

Through the corridor, past the heavy silence of the house, until he halted—right in front of that room.

The room that once was just his. His sanctuary. His space.
But now... it belonged to them.

To her.

His little storm. His unexpected peace. His wife.

She hadn’t just taken over the room. She’d taken over the very air he breathed.

And now, standing before that closed door, he reached for the handle with hesitation wrapped in regret…
His fingers trembled as he tried to open it—
Not knowing whether she was waiting on the other side...
or breaking.

Aadish stared at the locked door. His heart dropped.
Locked.

And just like that, the panic set in.

“Heeyyyy! Mera room lock kiya?!” (You locked my room?!) he almost screamed, pulling at his hair like a madman.
“Hey Bhagwan... in sattais saalon mein maine kisiko kadam rakhne tak nahi diya iss kamre mein…”
(Oh God… In these 27 years, I never let anyone even step inside this room…)

“Aur Vani ji ne toh aate hi—” (And Vani ji, the moment she came—)
He paused mid-rant, pacing back and forth like a caged lion.
“Nahi nahi… jo mera hai woh unka hai… haan… chalta hai…”
(No no… what’s mine is hers… yes, that’s okay…)

He mumbled to himself, mocking his own acceptance, trying to sound calm—
But he wasn’t.

Not even close.

His voice cracked again, louder this time,
“Magar mere room mein kya kar rahi hongi woh…?”
(But what must she be doing in my room…?)

A hundred bizarre imaginations danced in his head.
Crying? Breaking things? Writing a letter? Packing?

“Kya kar rahi hogi Vani?”
(What could Vani be doing?)

He couldn't take it anymore.
Without thinking, without waiting, he banged on the door.

“Vaniii!! Vaniii!! Jaan, please door kholo!”
(Vani!! Vani!! Love, please open the door!)

“Vani bachha, ek baari sun toh lo mujhe!”
(Vani baby, just listen to me once!)

His voice was desperate now—raw, loud, vulnerable.

“Kasam se meri koi galti nahi hai…”
(I swear it’s not my fault…)