A week had passed since the engagement, and Aryan and Shruti found themselves at an upscale jewelry shop, surrounded by glittering diamonds and precious gems. The atmosphere was opulent, with soft music playing in the background and the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. Shruti's enthusiasm, however, was palpable only in its absence, her eyes half-heartedly scanning the array of shimmering diamonds laid out before her.
As they sat at the counter, the door swung open, and a tall, handsome figure strode in, commanding attention. Aryan and Shruti's heads turned in unison, their eyes locking onto the newcomer. Shruti's heart skipped a beat as she took in Siddharth's chiseled features, his piercing eyes seeming to bore into her very soul. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. But she quickly composed herself, averting her gaze, and attempting to mask the turmoil brewing inside.
Siddharth's eyes flickered towards them, his expression unreadable, a mask of indifference firmly in place. For an instant, their gazes met, and Shruti felt a jolt of electricity run through her veins. Then, Siddharth turned away, his attention shifting to the manager, who was eager to attend to the new customer. "Oh, Mr. Rai, please come with me," the manager said, his voice dripping with obsequiousness.
As the manager escorted Siddharth to the couch opposite the counter, Shruti's attention returned to the jewelry in front of her. She sighed, picking up a piece, her voice flat, devoid of enthusiasm. "Let's get this over with. Please pack this."
The staff member busied themselves packing the jewelry box, their hands moving with precision, while Aryan noticed Shruti wince. "What happened?" he asked, concern etched on his face, his brow furrowed in worry.
Shruti's voice was laced with a hint of irritation, her patience wearing thin. "I think there's something in my eye."
Aryan's hands gently cradled Shruti's face, his eyes scanning hers, searching for any sign of discomfort. Siddharth's gaze, however, narrowed, his grip on the pen tightening as he watched the intimate moment unfold before him. Unaware of his actions, he snapped the pen in his hand, the sound echoing through the silence like a shot.
As the staff handed Shruti the bag of jewelry, she stood up, preparing to leave. But her foot slipped, and she stumbled, her body tilting precariously, her arms flailing wildly as she struggled to regain her balance. Aryan's quick reflexes saved her from falling, his hands grasping her waist, holding her tight.
Siddharth's eyes blazed with a fierce intensity as he witnessed the close proximity of their bodies. His jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together in a vain attempt to rein in his emotions. In a flash, he was on his feet, striding purposefully towards Shruti, his long legs eating up the distance. His hand closed around her wrist, pulling her towards him, his other arm wrapping around her waist, holding her tight.
Shruti's eyes widened in shock as Siddharth's lips claimed hers, his kiss passionate and all-consuming. Before she could react, her senses were overwhelmed, her mind reeling from the sudden assault. The world around her melted away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the vortex of their emotions.
As reality dawned on her, Shruti's hands flew up, pushing Siddharth away. Her palm connected with his cheek, the slap echoing through the silence like a crack of thunder. The sound seemed to shake Siddharth out of his trance, his eyes locking onto Shruti's, a mixture of shock, anger, and hurt swirling in their depths.
Shruti's face was still burning from the slap she had delivered to Siddharth's cheek. Her heart was racing, and her mind was reeling from the sudden and passionate kiss. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of emotions, and she needed to escape.
Without a word, Shruti reached out and grabbed Aryan's hand, her grip tight with urgency. Aryan, sensing her distress, didn't hesitate. Together, they turned and hastily left the jewelry shop, leaving Siddharth standing alone, his eyes fixed on the spot where Shruti had last been.
As they emerged onto the bustling streets, Shruti felt a sense of relief wash over her. The cool breeze on her face and the sounds of the city helped to calm her racing thoughts. She didn't look back, didn't dare to, fearing what she might see.
Aryan, sensing her tension, gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.
Shruti took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aryan looked at her skeptically, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he called the driver and helped Shruti inside. As they drove away from the shop, Shruti couldn't shake the feeling that she was leaving a part of herself behind.
Siddharth stormed into the grand main hall of the Rai estate, his footsteps echoing off the marble floor. His father, Dhanaraj Rai, sat on a plush sofa, a warm smile spreading across his face as he saw his son approach.
Siddharth halted abruptly, his eyes fixed on his father. "Dad..." he began, his voice trailing off.
Roohi, who had been lounging on the sofa beside their father, sprang to her feet. "Dad just returned from his business trip," she announced, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Siddharth's gaze shifted to Roohi for a moment before he walked over to his father and sat down beside him. "How are you?" he asked, his voice softer now.
Dhanaraj Rai smiled warmly at his son. "I'm fine, but I guess you have a lot on your mind," he observed, his eyes piercing with insight.
Siddharth's gaze flicked to Roohi, who was watching the exchange with interest. "I told him because he asked," she said, hiding behind their father with a mischievous grin.
Siddharth sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Do you like Miss Singh?" his father asked, his tone gentle but probing.
Siddharth felt a flush rise to his cheeks, and he looked away, trying to compose himself. Roohi, however, was quick to pounce on the opportunity. "Look, Dad, bhaiya's cheeks turned red!" she exclaimed, pointing at Siddharth's face.
Siddharth's eyes narrowed, and he shot Roohi a mock-threatening glance. "You little..." he began, but Roohi just giggled and dodged behind their father.
Dhanaraj Rai chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, I guess I had my answer," he said, his voice dripping with dry humor.
He turned to Roohi, who was still hiding behind him. "Roohi, go bring some tea for us," he instructed, his tone firm but gentle.
Roohi pouted, her face appearing from behind their father's shoulder. "But Dad, I want to hear too," she protested.
Dhanaraj Rai's expression turned firm. "Roohi."
With a huff, Roohi stomped her foot and flounced out of the room, leaving Siddharth and his father alone.
"Tell me exactly what happened," Dhanaraj Rai said, his voice gentle but probing, as he placed a reassuring hand on Siddharth's shoulder.
Siddharth took a deep breath, recounting every detail, from the trip to the misunderstanding between him and Shruti. He spoke of the pain and the regret that had been festering inside him, and his father listened intently, his expression empathetic.
As Siddharth finished his story, his father asked, "So, did you try to talk to Miss Singh after that?"
Siddharth shook his head, feeling a pang of regret. "No."
His father sighed, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "You really took after me," he said, a wistful smile spreading across his face.
Siddharth looked at him curiously, and his father began to tell a story, one that Siddharth had never heard before. "Your mother was a really supportive life partner," he said, his eyes misting over with memories. "She did all she could to support me. I didn't have my own house when we fell in love."
Siddharth listened, entranced, as his father spoke of his mother's unwavering support and love. "Her father was against our marriage, but she left everything for me," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "She supported me in making this empire."
As his father finished speaking, Siddharth felt a deep sense of connection to his family's past. He realized that his father's experiences had shaped him into the person he was today.
His father turned to him, his eyes serious. "You know what I regret the most in my life?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Siddharth's curiosity was piqued. "What is it?" he asked.
His father's gaze drifted upwards, as if searching for answers in the ceiling. "We had this same kind of misunderstanding between us," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "And she was angry. But instead of clearing the misunderstanding, I also got angry. We didn't talk for a week."
Siddharth's eyes widened as his father continued. "She was pregnant with Roohi at that time. I was very happy that she gave birth to a girl. I rushed to the hospital to apologize to her, to hug her, and to tell her how much I love her, but..."
Siddharth's heart was racing with anticipation. "But?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
His father's gaze dropped, and he paused, collecting his thoughts. "When I reached the hospital, she was no more," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "She died giving birth to Roohi."
Siddharth felt like he had been punched in the gut. He had never known the circumstances of his mother's death, and the revelation left him reeling.
"Why didn't I say sorry to her?" his father asked, his voice filled with regret. "Why didn't I clear up the misunderstanding sooner? This is the regret that will live with me forever."
Siddharth's heart went out to his father, and he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Dad, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
His father took a deep breath, composing himself. "I'm fine," he said, his voice stronger now. "But I hope you understood everything I said."
Siddharth nodded, his mind reeling with the weight of his father's words. "I know what I have to do now," he said, a sense of determination rising within him.
His father patted his shoulder, a warm smile spreading across his face. "That's my son."
Just then, Roohi emerged from the kitchen, a tray of tea in her hands. She placed the tray on the table and sat down between them, a mischievous glint in her eye. "What? Did you finish already? But I didn't hear anything," she pouted.
Siddharth playfully hit her head, and she giggled. "It's all her fault, Dad," he said, teasingly. "She's really a little troublemaker."
Roohi playfully hit him back, and the three of them bickered good-naturedly, the tension in the room dissipating.
