Chapter 36: Chapter 32

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A U T H O R

Nikshant placed the cup back on the table, his fingers lingering on the rim as if the warmth of the tea could somehow soothe the chill of regret gnawing at his heart. His gaze drifted toward the window, where the rain still poured relentlessly, mirroring the storm inside him.

His chest felt heavy, burdened by memories that refused to fade. The echoes of harsh words, of moments he could have held her but chose to push her away, played like a cruel symphony in his mind.

I regret everything.

The thought came unbidden, raw and unfiltered.

He let out a deep breath and ran a hand down his face, his fingers pressing into his temples as if he could physically force the ache away. But there was no escape from the truth.

"I regret everything I did to her," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the silence of the room. "I regret causing her so much pain. I regret all the things I said to her, and as for forgiveness, Nikshant Roy Kapoor will get down on his knees to get Aaravi Roy Kapoor back."

His throat tightened, and for the first time in years, he felt something foreign claw at his soul—helplessness.

Nikshant Roy Kapoor had always been a man of control, of power. He was someone who dictated terms, someone who never bent. But for her, for his Cherry, he would shatter every principle he had lived by.

He exhaled sharply and stood up, pacing toward the window. The city lights flickered in the distance, a stark contrast to the darkness within him.

He closed his eyes, and murmured under his breath,"Idhar main tumhe wapis lene aaya hoon, Aaravi Roy Kapoor… aur main tumko leke hi jaunga. Chahe mujhe tumhare samne hazaaro baar maafi maangni padhe," His voice dropped, filled with a quiet, dangerous determination. "Aur main khushi khushi tumse hazaaro baar jhukne ko taiyaar… sirf tumhare liye, sirf aur sirf."

( I have come here to take you back, Aaravi Roy Kapoor,  and I will take you with me, no matter what. Even if I have to apologize to you a thousand times. And I am more than willing to bow before you a thousand times… only for you, only and only for you )

"Chahe mujhe kitna hi intezaar karna padhe tumhari maafi ke liye, main taiyar hoon uske liye bhi," Nikshant murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a vow only the walls of the silent room bore witness to.

No matter how long I have to wait for your forgiveness, I am ready for it )

He let out a heavy sigh, turning away from the window, his gaze wandering in search of something—anything—that could help him express what his lips failed to convey. His eyes landed on the wooden bookshelf in the corner of the guest room, its dark finish gleaming under the soft yellow light.

Slowly, he walked toward it, his fingers tracing the spines of books until they halted on a plain, leather-bound copy. He pulled it out and flipped through the crisp, empty pages.

It was perfect.

He sat down at the small desk, gripping a pen firmly between his fingers. The weight of his emotions felt too vast, too overwhelming, yet he forced himself to channel them onto paper.

He took a deep breath and wrote:

Day - 1

Cherry,

I don’t know where to begin. Maybe because there’s no beginning to the mistakes I made when it came to you. Maybe because every moment I pushed you away, every time I let my anger speak louder than my love, is something I wish I could erase.

I know an apology isn’t enough. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I also know that I’ll do everything in my power to earn it. Even if it takes a lifetime.

You were my brightest light, yet I dimmed you with my shadows. You gave me love, and I gave you wounds. I was a fool to think I could hold you with pain, when all you ever needed was love.

And now, I’m here, miles away from the place we once called home, standing in the wreckage of what I destroyed, trying to build something from the ruins.

Until the day comes when you might look at me without pain in your eyes. Until the day you might allow yourself to believe that I was always yours, even when I failed to show it. Until the day you might consider coming back to me.

Yours,

Nikshant ji

He stopped writing, his fingers trembling over the ink-stained page.

His heart pounded as he reread the words, feeling the weight of his regrets bleed onto the paper. This was only the first step.

"I hope maybe you will read this when I will give you this, maybe," Nikshant murmured, his fingers brushing over the closed journal, his words barely audible in the silence of the dimly lit room.

He exhaled sharply, shutting his eyes as he leaned back against the headboard. The exhaustion of the past few days should have weighed him down, should have dragged him into sleep. But sleep remained a stranger to him tonight—just as it had been for so many nights before.

His thoughts refused to quiet. Her face. Her voice. Her absence. It was all-consuming, a fire burning within him that refused to die down.

He turned on his side, staring at the ceiling, his fists clenching the blanket. The sound of the ticking clock echoed in the room, a cruel reminder of every second he was away from her, of every moment that passed without her beside him.

Somewhere across the penthouse, in another room, Aaravi lay awake, mirroring his restlessness.

Her fingers clutched the bedsheet, her breathing uneven as her heart pounded against her ribcage. She turned to her side, gripping the pillow tightly. No matter how much she willed herself to push the thoughts away, they refused to leave her mind.

"Is he fine?" she murmured under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper.

But before she could allow herself to think any further, another voice—sharp and taunting—echoed in her mind.

"Why does it bother you if he's fine or not?"

Her subconscious was merciless, forcing her to face the truth she was desperately trying to ignore.

Her grip on the pillow tightened. Why did it bother her? Why, after everything, did she still feel this aching worry clawing at her chest?

She shut her eyes tightly.

"It was for humanity. I'm still a human, and I care for everyone," Aaravi whispered to herself, gripping the edge of the blanket tightly.

The room was dark, the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows on the walls. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, as if her body was protesting against the words she had just spoken.

"Everyone? Or just him?"

The voice inside her head—the one she had been desperately trying to silence—came back, sharper than before.

"Everyone… but you only care about him more."

Aaravi's breath hitched, her fingers curling into a fist.

"No," she muttered, shaking her head as if that would drive away the thoughts clawing at her mind. "I don't care for him more."

But her subconscious refused to let go.

"Then why are you still thinking about him?"

Her lips parted, but no answer came.

Why was she thinking about him? Why was her heart still aching at the thought of him standing outside in the rain, drenched, vulnerable, his voice breaking as he called out for her?

Why did it still feel like his pain was her pain?

Aaravi pressed a hand to her chest, her fingers trembling slightly.

"No," she repeated, this time more forcefully. "I don’t care for him more."

"Then why do you feel this way?"

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, frustration bubbling inside her. She felt trapped, like she was fighting a war she had no hope of winning.

"Please," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Just leave me alone."

The night had finally surrendered to exhaustion, and sleep had claimed Aaravi in its silent embrace. But even in her dreams, a restlessness lingered, as if her heart and mind were still at war.

Morning arrived with a golden hue, the sun casting its warm glow into the grand penthouse. Aaravi sat in the hall, her expression calm yet unreadable, as she absentmindedly sipped her tea. She had woken up early, unable to sleep for long, and had spent the morning convincing herself that she would not let his presence shake her.

And then, as if the universe enjoyed testing her resolve, he came.

Nikshant entered the hall, his eyes immediately finding her. The moment he saw her, a spark of life returned to his face, his lips curling slightly as if he had found a missing piece of himself. Without a second thought, he walked towards her, his voice laced with hope and hesitation.

"Good morni…ng, Cherry," he stammered, his voice breaking at the end, unsure if she would acknowledge him.

Aaravi lifted her eyes to him briefly. There was a time when his voice in the morning would be the first thing she wanted to hear, a time when his presence was all she needed. But that time was gone.

Without a word, she rose from the couch, her movements poised, elegant, and distant. She walked past him as if he were invisible, as if his presence meant nothing.

Nikshant frowned. His lips curled downward in a soft pout, his brows knitting together as confusion and hurt flickered across his face.

She was ignoring him.

Not arguing. Not throwing sharp words at him. Just… ignoring him.

And somehow, that hurt worse than anything else.

Not one to give up easily, he followed her. His fingers brushed against the hem of her pallu, the delicate fabric slipping between his fingertips as if trying to escape him, much like she was.

Aaravi stiffened, pausing mid-step. Slowly, she turned to glare at him, her sharp gaze burning into him. Without a word, she yanked the pallu from his grip and draped it properly over her shoulder again, as if his touch had contaminated it, but he again held the hem of her pallu.

Nikshant sighed heavily, his eyes softening as he took a small step closer. "I'm sorry, Cherry… please talk to me. It hurts, you know?" His voice was laced with genuine regret, his dark eyes pleading as he tried to reach her heart, the heart he had once held so close.

But Aaravi was not the same woman anymore. She had learned to build walls, and right now, those walls were standing tall and unbreakable.

Without responding, she turned on her heel and walked away.

But Nikshant was nothing if not persistent.

He followed her, step by step, refusing to let her silence win. "Aaravi… please," he whispered, trailing behind her.

She walked into the kitchen. He followed.

She went to the dining area. He followed.

She climbed the stairs. He followed.

Everywhere she went, he was there, his voice filling the spaces she was trying to escape into.

"Cherry, I'm really sorry."

"Just once, talk to me."

"I know I was wrong, but please don't punish me like this."

"Ignoring me is crueler than fighting with me. At least yell at me!"

"Aaravi… please, please, please…"

For every second that passed, Nikshant's apologies poured out like an endless river, but she gave him nothing in return.

Nikshant's breath hitched the moment Aaravi stopped in her tracks. His words had reached her, but the way she turned to look at him made his heart clench painfully. It wasn't the softness he had hoped for, nor the warmth he had once been accustomed to. Instead, her gaze was empty—void of the emotions he had so desperately yearned for.

"I really love you, and I meant it," he repeated, his voice slightly trembling, but unwavering in its sincerity.

Aaravi's lips parted, and for a moment, he thought she might say something—anything—that would give him hope. But the words that left her mouth shattered him into pieces.

"Aap humse pyaar nahi karte, Nikshant ji," she said, her voice eerily calm, yet each syllable cut through him like a blade. "Kyunki aapke aankho mein bas ek ehsaas hai ke aapke wajah se mujhe itni takleef jhelni padi. Isliye, pyaar ka naam mat lijiye, kyunki— is pavitra shabd ka aisa sasta sauda kiya nahi jaata."

( You don't love me, Nikshant ji, because all I see in your eyes is the guilt of the pain I've endured because of you. So, don't call it love, because this sacred word is not meant to be traded so cheaply )

Nikshant felt his entire world tilt as her words registered. His throat dried up, his body tensed, and for the first time in his life, he truly felt powerless.

"No... Aaravi, no," he whispered, taking a step forward, but she took two steps back, putting distance between them that felt more like a lifetime rather than mere inches.

Her eyes, once filled with love for him, now held nothing but an eerie void. He had seen her pain, disappointment before. But this—this emptiness—was something he wasn't prepared for.

"Aaravi, please," he tried again, his voice breaking. "You don't understand. I know I hurt you. I know I destroyed everything we had. But my love—"

"Stop." She cut him off, her tone colder than the winds that howled outside. "Don’t say it. Don't reduce love to just words, Nikshant ji. Love isn’t about guilt or regret. It isn’t about fixing things after breaking them beyond repair. And most of all, love isn’t about you deciding when it’s real."

Nikshant's chest tightened, his hands curled into fists at his sides. He had never begged anyone in his life, never needed to. But for her, he would. For her, he would drop every last ounce of his pride.

"But it is real!" he nearly shouted, his emotions spiraling beyond his control. "It was always real, Aaravi! Maybe I was blind, maybe I was an arrogant fool, but the love I feel for you—it isn't something I just discovered now. It was always there! I just—" he exhaled sharply, his voice lowering to a whisper, "—I just didn't know how to show it."