𓂃
Three months later...
The Oberoi mansion had never been this quiet.
Not even during the late hours of the night.
The same house that was usually filled with laughter, teasing voices and the sound of music now stood strangely still.
The wedding decorations were still hanging from the ceilings.
Flowers covered the entrance.
The diyas were still burning.
But nobody was celebrating anymore.
A glass shattered somewhere inside.
Everyone turned.
"Bas."
One word.
Yet it was enough to silence the entire room.
Someone stood near the staircase, eyes red, hands trembling.
"Tumne mujhse jhoot bola."
A sharp silence followed.
"I had no choice."
"No choice?" A bitter laugh escaped them. "Tumhare paas choice thi. Tumne bas mujhe choose nahi kiya."
Across the room, someone lowered their gaze.
Someone else quietly walked away.
And somewhere between all those broken expressions, an old grandmother whispered-
"Yeh sab hona hi tha..."
Her husband looked at her.
"Tumhe pehle se pata tha?"
She didn't answer.
Because sometimes, silence says more than words ever could.
A phone buzzed on the table.
Everyone looked at it.
One message.
WE NEED TO TALK. ALONE.
The person who read it went pale.
"Who was that?"
"No one."
"Don't lie to me."
Another voice interrupted.
"Enough!"
The entire room fell silent again.
Outside, rain began pouring against the windows.
The same rain that had witnessed the first meeting.
The same rain that had once carried laughter through these walls.
Tonight, it carried something else.
Regret.
Secrets.
And consequences.
Someone picked up the wedding photograph lying on the table.
Eight smiling faces.
Eight different stories.
Eight hearts that had once believed they knew where their lives were going.
The photograph was slowly folded in half.
And a whisper escaped:
"Hum sabko laga tha hum apni zindagi khud likh rahe hain..."
A pause.
"...par kahani toh pehle hi likhi ja chuki th
i."
Th
e diya near the photograph flickered.
Once.
Twice.
And then-
darkness.
Five months earlier...
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