Vihaan sat still, his phone resting in his palm, screen dim. The message stared back at him.

“I never stopped missing you both.”

Delivered.
But no reply.
Maybe blocked.

He didn't expect one. Not really. But hope had a way of bleeding into the cracks, even after all this time.

A low sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back in his chair, gaze drifting to the window. The rain had turned heavy now, streaking the glass like tears — echoing a night he'd never forgotten.

The night she left.

And the reason… she thought she had.

He stood slowly, moving through the dim corridors like a ghost in his own home. The palace was grand, still beautiful — but everything inside it felt hollow. Echoes of a past he couldn’t reclaim.

Then — soft footsteps behind him.

He paused.

"Vihaan”

He turned.

Kriti.

Tiny. Barefoot. Hair tangled from sleep, one hand rubbing her eyes, the other gripping a worn-out bunny by the ear.

She looked up at him with sleepy innocence, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I had a bad dream…”

Without a word, Vihaan knelt and scooped her into his arms. She nestled into his shoulder like she belonged there — and maybe she did.

Maybe that was the problem.

He walked her down the hallway, passing the tall arched mirrors, chandeliers reflecting dim golden light. The weight of her in his arms was both comforting and damning.

From the far end of the hall — she stood.

Shanaya.

Framed in the shadows. Wearing black silk. Barefoot. Watching.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

Vihaan didn’t look at her. He didn’t stop. He just walked past — steady, cold — carrying the child that bound them in silence.

Kriti’s fingers curled into his shirt. “Will you stay with me?”

His voice was a quiet thread. “Of course.”

He laid her in bed, pulling the blanket over her gently. Her face softened in sleep, unaware of the storm wrapped around her name.

He stepped back into the hallway. Empty now.

Shanaya was gone.

But her presence lingered — like perfume that clung too long to skin.

He walked back to the study. Closed the door. Exhaled.

The palace outside his room was quiet again.

But inside —
A war.

Not of swords or shouting. But of memory. And guilt.
And the look in Siya’s eyes the day she walked away, her arms around their son, her voice steady even though her world was falling apart.

He picked up his phone again.

No reply.

Just silence.

And somewhere out there, Siya was still hurting.

Still believing what the world saw.

And Vihaan… had never said otherwise.

The rain had eased by dawn, trading its thunderous sobs for a soft, constant drizzle. It tapped against the palace windows like a lullaby for ghosts — persistent, gentle, and mournful.

Vihaan hadn’t moved from the study.

The candle beside him had melted into a pool of wax. The untouched cup of coffee sat cold, a skin forming over it like the crust of time. The room smelled of old paper, rain-soaked stone, and something else — something heavier. Regret, maybe.

On the desk before him lay an old photograph, its edges frayed from too many hands, too many nights like this. It was a moment frozen in time: the beach, the laughter, the wind catching Siya’s hair. Ahaan had been on his shoulders, grinning, arms stretched like wings.

Vihaan’s thumb hovered over Siya’s face. He didn’t touch it.
His eyes stayed fixed on the photograph, as if by staring long enough, he could step back into it — before everything broke, before he broke it all.

“I loved you, Siya,” he whispered into the hush, the words catching in his throat like thorns. “God, I loved you so much.”

It wasn’t just love, he realized. It was worship. Reverence. She had been sunlight in human form — warm, blinding, impossible not to follow. She laughed like the world hadn’t hurt her, even when it had, and she loved like she had never been betrayed.

And he had shattered that. Torn the sky from her eyes. Put silence where laughter used to live.

“I should’ve fought harder,” Vihaan said, his voice cracking. “For you. For us. For Ahaan.”

His chest ached, a hollow space where her voice used to echo. He remembered the way her hand fit into his, how she always tugged him forward when he hesitated, how her eyes searched his not for answers, but for truth. And he’d hidden it from her. Hidden behind pride, fear… and mistakes he couldn't take back.

“I don’t even know when I started losing you,” he admitted to the empty room. “Maybe the day I chose silence over honesty. Maybe the moment I let her believe she wasn't enough. But she was — she was.”

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the desk. He remembered the last time they argued — how Siya’s eyes had glistened, not with anger, but with disbelief. The pain of someone realizing they were no longer safe in the arms that once promised forever.

Outside, the drizzle turned to mist, as if even the sky couldn’t bear to cry anymore. Ahaan would be waking soon, small feet pattering down the marble corridor, asking for stories, for laughter, for the warmth of a home that had cracked at its foundation.

Vihaan pressed the photograph to his chest, clutching it like a relic. His voice dropped to a whisper, soft and shivering.

“I still love you. Every day. In every breath I take without you.”

But Siya wasn’t there to hear it.

Only the rain remained, and the ghost of what they used to be.

Guys Vote
Another update is ready
Also comment
Cyaa till then;)