The next day, Shruti and Siddharth found themselves back at the airport, waiting to board their flight back home. As they sat together in comfortable silence, Shruti suddenly spoke up, her voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness.
"This was the most memorable trip of my life," she said, her eyes gazing off into the distance.
Siddharth nodded in agreement, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Mine too," he replied, his voice low and gentle.
After that, they lapsed into silence, both lost in their own thoughts. The atmosphere between them was palpably charged with a sense of unease, as if they were both struggling to come to terms with the fact that their magical trip was coming to an end.
As they boarded the flight and settled into their seats, the silence between them continued, a sense of awkwardness hanging in the air like an unspoken question.
When they finally arrived back in India, they made their way to the airport exit, where their drivers were waiting to pick them up. As they stood facing each other, Shruti suddenly held out a bag.
"Umm...I brought this dress for Roohi," she said, her voice a little awkward.
Siddharth took the bag from her, his fingers brushing against hers in the process. "Thank you," he said, his voice polite.
For a few moments, they just stood there, looking at each other. Then, Shruti spoke up again, her voice tinged with a hint of formality.
"Well then...see you again, Mr. Rai," she said, her eyes locking onto his for a brief moment.
At the mention of the formal title, Siddharth felt a pang of realization wash over him. Their trip, with all its magic and romance, was finally over. They were back in the real world, with all its responsibilities and obligations waiting for them.
Without another word, they parted ways, each getting into their respective cars and driving off into the night. As they disappeared into the darkness, they both couldn't shake off the feeling that they were leaving something important behind – something that they might never get back.
As Shruti returned to her palace, she was met with an unexpected sight. A large group of photographers and reporters were standing in front of the palace, their cameras and microphones at the ready. The driver, seemingly aware of the commotion, took a detour to the back door of the palace.
Shruti's curiosity was piqued. "What is happening here?" she asked the driver, but he remained silent, his eyes fixed on the road.
As she entered the palace, Shruti was greeted by an unsettling scene. Her father was sitting on the sofa, his head buried in his hands. Her mother was sitting beside him, trying to console him.
Shruti's concern grew. "What happened, Dad?" she asked, approaching him.
At the sound of her voice, her father looked up, his face twisted in anger. He rushed towards her, his movements swift and deliberate. In a split second, he slapped her, leaving Shruti stunned and reeling.
It was the first time her father had ever slapped her, and Shruti couldn't understand why he was so angry. She looked up at him, her hand instinctively rising to her cheek, her hairs disheveled from the sudden impact.
Her mother rushed towards them, trying to intervene. "Please calm down," she pleaded, her voice soothing.
But Shruti's father was beyond consolation. "Is this the kind of fun you were talking about when you said you wanted to go on a trip?" he thundered, his voice dripping with anger and disappointment.
He held out his phone, and Shruti's eyes widened as she saw a post on an anonymous social media account. It was a photograph of her and Siddharth from the dinner, taken at the exact moment when their faces were inches apart, their lips almost touching. The photo was clearly taken out of context, but it was enough to spark outrage and scandal.
"Dad, it's not how it looks," Shruti pleaded, trying to explain the situation, but her father's anger was beyond reason.
"Shut up!" he thundered, his voice echoing through the hall. "Don't try to justify yourself. You've brought shame to our family."
Shruti took a step forward, desperate to make her father understand. "But, Dad..." she began, but he cut her off.
"You don't know how humiliated I'm feeling right now," he spat, his face red with rage. "I'm cursing the day you were born."
Shruti felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She couldn't believe her ears. Her father's words cut deep, and she felt a wave of pain and sadness wash over her.
She watched in shock as her father turned and stormed out of the hall, leaving her standing alone. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the hallway, followed by the slam of his bedroom door.
Shruti's eyes welled up with tears as she turned and ran towards her room, her heart heavy with sorrow. She slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it, letting the tears flow freely.
At Rai Palace, Siddharth was met with a similar scene at his doorstep. Photographers and reporters were swarming the palace gates, eager to get a statement from him. Siddharth managed to evade them by entering the palace through the back door.
As he stepped inside, Roohi came rushing towards him, her eyes wide with excitement and concern. "Bhaiya!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.
Siddharth smiled and hugged her back. "What's happening here, Roohi?" he asked, noticing the commotion outside.
Roohi's face fell, and she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I saw the post about you and Shruti," she said, her voice trembling. "Everyone is saying bad things about Shruti."
She showed him the post. Siddharth's eyes widened in shock as Roohi continued. "They're saying she's not a good girl, that her marriage is fixed with Mr. Doobay, and yet she went alone on a trip with you."
Roohi burst into tears, and Siddharth's face darkened with anger. He gritted his teeth, determination burning within him. He patted Roohi's head and said "Don't worry, Roohi. Whoever took this picture and posted it will pay for their deed. I'll make sure of it."
