Vedansh ran through the hospital corridors, his coat clutched tightly in one hand, the fabric crumpled where his fingers gripped it. His usually immaculate hair was disheveled, the careful composure he carried everywhere completely gone.
The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air, cold and sterile, as the sound of his footsteps echoed against the polished floors.
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Five years ago, she kissed him... said she loved him... and disappeared from his life. No explanation. No goodbye. Just silence. The next morning he heard the only thing that mattered... she had left the city and married someone else. That was the day his love turned into hatred. Now, five years later, she walks back into his life as an employee in the very company he owns... carrying secrets he was never meant to know. And a child he believes belongs to another man. But the truth is far more complicated. Because the girl he thought betrayed him was actually fighting battles he never saw... and loving him from a distance she believed he deserved. Just when fate finally gives them a second chance, she walks away again. This time on the very day he was waiting for her at the altar. Because some goodbyes are meant to protect the people we love. And some love stories refuse to end... no matter how many times fate tries to break them.
She hadn’t meant to be noticed. Delhi was supposed to be simple, a new college, a rented room, and a life that finally felt like her own. No relatives asking questions. No expectations wrapped in concern. Just space. And then there was Advay Arora. The boy who moved through life with quiet precision, composed, disciplined, always a step ahead. The kind who didn’t get distracted. The kind who didn’t look twice. She wasn’t supposed to cross his path. He wasn’t supposed to matter. But some connections don’t arrive loudly. They happen in libraries. In accidental conversations. In shared silences that feel a little too comfortable. And sometimes… they follow you home. Because somewhere between restraint and unspoken curiosity, something begins to grow. Not in grand confessions. Not in dramatic declarations. But in glances. In pauses. In everything they don’t say.
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