Bhavika POV

As I listened to him speak, I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone around me was searching for answers in my expression. A wave of pressure and concern washed over me—what could I say to help them understand what I was going through?

"I just don’t understand why she thinks I could ever like her. Has she even looked at herself? When I rejected her back in school, I didn’t realize it would have such long-lasting effects. I can’t believe she still considered marrying me after everything. It’s heartbreaking to see someone lack self-respect like this. Because of her, I feel trapped, unable to be with the person I truly care about, and you know all of this, Kian. You were there for it all,” he expressed, his words overflowing with frustration and pent-up anger.

As I slightly lifted my head, I could see the shock on everyone’s faces at the dining table. Their expressions revealed a profound surprise at his revelation.

I clenched my fists, desperately trying to hold back my own tumultuous emotions. I didn’t want to break down in front of everyone; this was a truth I felt they weren’t meant to witness.

“Why did you call, by the way?” Aksh asked Kian Bhai, concern evident in his voice.

“Oh, it was nothing really. I just stopped by your house, but you weren’t there. I’ll call you later. Take care,” Kian Bhai replied and ended the call quickly, his tone tinged with worry as he glanced at me, seemingly grasping the weight of what had transpired.

The intensity of everyone’s gaze felt almost suffocating, and I could sense the stress building inside me as I pressed my nails into my skin, trying to contain my overwhelming emotions.

With a deep breath, I slowly stood up, leaning on the table for support. I turned away, feeling an urgent need to escape the heavy tension that enveloped me.

I knew that leaving in the middle of everything wasn’t ideal. I could hear Papa encouraging Ma to give me some space, sensing that I required time to sort through my feelings. But at that moment, I couldn’t bear to stay any longer. I hurried to my room, nearly stumbling in my rush, desperately seeking a refuge.

As I reached my room, I quickly opened the door and shut it behind me. I ran toward the bed but tripped over a saree and fell down. I didn’t bother to get up; instead, I curled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, creating a protective cage that felt safe.

I could no longer hold back my emotions. Tears began to stream down my cheeks, and I found myself crying quietly, the weight in my throat growing heavier as my breaths became quick and uneven. My eyes started to burn and ache.

I wasn’t crying because I still had feelings for him—I'd moved on from that long ago. I was crying because he continued to tarnish the one thing that mattered most to me: my self-respect.

I felt a deep sense of disappointment in myself for allowing him to affect me in this way. I hadn’t married him because I wanted to; I was forced to, and there was no way I would sacrifice my studies for someone like him.

He still believes I have unresolved feelings for him, but that's not true. I had moved on the moment he chose to insult me.

In the depths of my crying and overthinking, I didn’t notice when my eyelids became heavier, and before I knew it, I slipped into a deep sleep, finally finding some peace in the stillness.

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