The festive chaos had melted into silence. The resort lights were now memories, the laughter replaced by domestic murmurs.

Back at Ira's house, the aroma of fresh sweets lingered in the air, and trays of leftover wedding snacks cluttered the living room table. But the conversations had already moved to the next big thing—Ira’s marriage.

Mansi, now glowing with her new bride aura, sat excitedly on the sofa beside Ira’s grandmother , aunt and other family members.

"Ab toh Ira ki shaadi ki baari hai!" her grandmother chirped with a grin.

(Now it's Ira’s turn to get married!)

"Haan haan, shaadi jaldi karni chahiye. Ladki ki umar bhi toh ho rahi hai," the aunt added, sipping tea, throwing the sentence like it was just casual conversation.

(Yes, yes. The marriage should be done soon. The girl is also growing older.)

Mansi clapped lightly, giggling. “I can't wait to call Ira dii as my bhabi,”

Everyone laughed. Except Ira.

Her smile was tight, her jaw clenched behind it. Her fingers dug into her dupatta without her noticing.

And then finally— firmly—she said it.

> “Mujhe time chahiye.”

(I need time.)

The room fell quiet. Her words didn’t sit well, but before anyone could press further, her mother quickly jumped in.

> “Woh… Ira ka ek project chal raha hai na, usi pe kaam kar rahi hai. Thoda stress mein hai… pehle woh khatam ho jaane do, fir baat karenge.”

(She’s working on a project right now, and it’s stressing her out a bit. Let that finish first, then we’ll talk.)

Mansi’s smile faded a little, sensing the shift. Ira didn’t wait for more discussion. She got up and quietly left for her room.

Inside her room…

She shut the door. Her breath caught as she stared at the silent walls—walls that had heard her cry more than laugh.

And finally, she broke again.

Sitting down by the edge of the bed, she whispered to herself, shaky and raw:

> “Kab jaayenge yeh sab cheezein meri zindagi se? Kab milegi mujhe sukoon? Apni marzi se jee bhi nahi sakti kya? Main koi insaan nahi hoon kya? Kya main pyar bhi deserve nehi karti? Kya meri life ka yeh faisla bhi main nahi le sakti?”

(When will all this leave my life? When will I get peace? Can’t I even live by my own choice? Am I not a human being? Don’t I deserve love? Can’t I even take this one big decision of my life?)

She didn’t cry loudly. The tears just ran quietly, like they were used to it by now.

---

Meanwhile… at Reyansh’s house (Varun’s family home)

In the quiet drawing room, Varun’s mother sipped her coffee while chatting with Reyansh’s mother.

> “Tujhe aana hi hoga Varun ki shaadi Main miss nehi kar sakti bilkul,” she smiled, her voice sweet and hopeful.

(You have to come in Varun's marriage, you can't miss that! )

The word shaadi rang in Reyansh’s ears like an alarm.

His fists clenched tightly in his lap, jaw stiff, but he said nothing.

Then Varun’s mother turned to him.

> “Reyansh, tumhe aana hi padega. Chahe jo kaam ho, Varun tumhara bachpan ka dost hai. Uski shaadi miss karne ka sawaal hi nahi hota.”

(Reyansh, you have to come. No matter what work you have—she’s your childhood friend. You can’t miss her wedding.)

He forced a polite smile.

> “l’ll be there.”

But the moment passed, and the smile faded as soon as she left the room.

He turned to his mother and quietly said, “Please pack our bags. We’re leaving for Delhi tonight.”

---

Later that night – Delhi

In her quiet room , Ira zipped up her last bag and let out a deep breath. The city lights twinkled outside her window, but her heart was dim with restlessness.

She texted her team:

> “I’ll be joining tomorrow. Hope everything’s on track for the Khanna Industries meeting.”

Her eyes paused at the name.

Khanna Industries.

His company.

She sighed.

> “Phir se uska saamna hoga… pata nahi iss baar kya hoga.”

(Once again I’ll have to face him… I don’t know what will happen this time.)

—

On the other side of the city – Reyansh’s House

Reyansh sat in silence, overlooking the skyline. A phone call made him come to reality.

“Sir, we have a meeting scheduled tomorrow with ITA Industries,” his assistant said from the other side of the call.”

He closed his eyes.

ITA.

Ira.

> “Toh phir milna hoga usse… ek baar aur.”

(So I’ll have to meet her again… one more time.)

That night, sleep avoided him like a cruel joke. He turned in his bed restlessly. But all he could see—were her dark brown eyes.

Not her lehenga, not her jewelry, not even her words.

Just… her eyes. The ones that held unspoken pain.

And then… his chest tightened.

He blinked slowly—and realized—a single tear had escaped his eyes.

He sat up, suddenly angry with himself.

> “Yeh jo ho raha hai mere andar… yeh theek nahi hai. Yeh sirf khatarnaak nahi, barbaad kar dene waala hai.Agar yeh pyaar hain toh nai use jane nhi de sakta . Kam se kam is baar… nahi.”

(This thing growing inside me… it’s not just dangerous, it’ll destroy everything.If this is love then I can’t let her go. At least… not this time.)

He didn’t sleep after that.

And neither did she.

Because sometimes the storm isn’t in the world around you.

It’s in the things you feel—but can never say.