Radhika’s POV
They say the moments before your world falls apart are oddly quiet. I never believed that—until the silence wrapped itself around me like silk, soft but suffocating.
The maroon saree shimmered under the light, each embroidered detail hand-picked by Maa. She’d called it “bridal without being bridal”—perfect for a girl who was about to be engaged, not married. She had fussed over the jasmine and maroon roses gajra, the diamond earrings and bangles, that once belonged to her. I had smiled through it all.
Not because I wanted to impress anyone else.
Because I wanted him to see me.
Reyansh.
I stood before the mirror and smiled at my reflection. The kind of smile that says, finally. After all the years of fighting and falling, of silence and secrets, it was finally happening. We were getting engaged. Two empires would merge. Two families would celebrate.
But more than anything else—I’d be his. Not a rival. Not a classmate. Not a cold business ally. Just... his.
In my hand was a tiny velvet box. A gold-platinum bracelet, engraved with a design of “R&R”. Nothing extravagant, just something intimate. I had chosen it months ago. One I never had the courage to give him.
I remember thinking: He won’t expect this. Maybe... he’ll smile.
With a pounding heart and trembling fingers, I walked to his room. It was just across the hallway. The door was slightly ajar. The light inside golden and warm. Like every dream I ever had about him.
I didn’t knock.
I wish I had.
Because in one careless glance, I watched my forever unravel.
He stood by the window, tall, composed, breathtaking in his black sherwani. And she—one of his old friends from college— were talking something serious and she suddenly smoothed his collar like she belonged in his arms. And then she kissed him.
Not passionately. Not scandalously. But casually. Comfortably. Intimately.
As if I didn’t exist. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My breath left me. The box fell from my hand. No sound. No gasp. Just stillness.
Do you know what it feels like when your heart doesn’t break with a bang, but with a silence so cruel it hums in your ears?
It feels like betrayal, but quieter.
It feels like love, dying with its hands tied behind its back.
Sometimes, the person you love isn’t the villain. But they’re also not the hero you hoped they’d be.
I stepped away. One foot, then another. Like I was walking out of my own body. I didn't run. I didn’t scream. I just left.
Because what else do you do when your dream turns into a lie?
Back in my room, I stared at my reflection again. Same saree. Same girl. But her eyes were no longer hopeful. They were hollow.
I told my sister everything, but even her voice couldn’t reach the place I had disappeared into. She asked me to stay, to fight, to ask him for the truth.
But when the truth walks into your heart wearing someone else’s lipstick, what’s left to ask?
So I did what most broken girls do when they realize they weren’t chosen. I left. Packed my silence and flew to Paris to begin my MBA course—and maybe forget how to love him.
Love left unspoken is still love.
But it can’t build a future if it’s never seen.
But here’s the thing they don’t tell you about walking away.
It doesn’t feel brave.
It doesn’t feel victorious.
It feels like giving up on a version of yourself you fought your whole life to become.
He never called. He never chased. And somehow, that hurt more than the kiss ever could.
Because silence, from someone you once thought of as home, echoes louder than any goodbye.
And the worst kind of betrayal isn’t when someone cheats. It’s when they don’t fight for you to stay.
Appreciation Note:-
Thank you for reaching the end of this chapter. Sometimes, life doesn't give us answers—it gives us people, moments, and choices that shape us in silence. This part of the story was one of those quiet shifts. If it made you feel, even a little, then I’ve done my job. But the storm hasn’t passed yet. The next chapter holds something that could change everything—one that even I hesitated to write. Are you ready to turn the page?
— Annie Roy
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