It felt like he’d made Ayush his personal responsibility.
Like he wouldn’t stop until something broke.
And the worst part?
I don’t care about Ayush.
Not even a little.
I am glad he left.
I am glad that the wedding never happened.
Because if it had, I would have spent my life shrinking myself to fit into someone else’s indifference. I would have mistaken tolerance for love. I would have believed that being chosen reluctantly was the best I could hope for.
I would never have known what it feels like to be loved by someone gentle.
Someone protective without being possessive.
Someone who looks at me like I am not an obligation but a choice.
I would never have found a family that treats me like I belong—like my presence isn’t something to be adjusted to or endured, but welcomed. I would never have known what it feels like to be seen without having to perform, without having to apologize for existing.
I would never have known what it feels like to be someone’s center of attention.
Always.
The realization hits me so hard it steals my breath.
I love Dhruv.
Not in the abstract, tentative way I’ve been dancing around in my head. Not in the cautious, “maybe someday” sense. Not as gratitude. Not as comfort.
I love him.
I am not falling.
I have fallen.
Completely.
Irrevocably.
I am in love with Dhruv Singhania—not because he loves me, not because he chose me, not because he protects me—but because there is no man on this planet I would trust with my heart the way I trust him. Because there is no one else whose anger scares me and comforts me at the same time. Because even when he’s angry, he makes me feel safe. Watching him walk away in anger to deal with a man who holds no space in my life, the thought that he might get hurt, that Dhruv may do something in anger, makes me want to protect him.
Because if the world turned its back on me tomorrow, I know exactly where I would stand.
With him.
My chest tightens, breath coming too fast, too shallow. I don’t think. I don’t plan. I don’t weigh consequences the way I usually do.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my feet are moving.
The doors loom ahead, heavy and tall, the same ones Dhruv walked through minutes ago. I don’t care what he’s planning. I don’t care what Bhai-sa or Maharaj Lakshman are doing. I don’t care if this is the worst possible timing.
I push the doors open.
Because whatever happens next—
