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เคšเคฒเฅ‚เค เคฎเฅ‡เค‚ เคคเฅ‡เคฐเฅ€ เคชเฅ€เค›เฅ‡ เคชเฅ€เค›เฅ‡
เคฌเคพเค•เคฟ เคธเคพเคฐเฅ‡ เคฌเค‚เคงเคจ เคคเฅ‹เฅœ เคฆเฅ‚เค
เคœเฅ‹ เคคเฅ‡เคฐเฅ‡ เคคเค• เคจ เคœเคพเคฏเฅ‡
เค‰เคธ เคฐเคธเฅเคคเฅ‡ เค•เฅ‹ เค›เฅ‹เฅœ เคฆเฅ‚เค

เคนเคฐ เค–เฅเคตเคพเคฌ เคฎเฅ‡เคฐเคพ เค‰เคฎเฅเคฎเฅ€เคฆ เคฎเฅ‡เคฐเฅ€
เคฎเฅ‡เค‚ เคคเฅเคเฅ‡ เคœเฅ‹เฅœ เคฆเฅ‚เค
เคธเคฌ เคฐเคฟเคถเฅเคคเฅ‡ เคจเคพเคคเฅ‡ เคนเคธเฅเค•เฅ‡ เคคเฅ‹เฅœ เคฆเฅ‚เค
เคฌเคธ เคคเฅเคเคธเฅ‡ เคฆเคฟเคฒ เค•เคพ เคฐเคฟเคถเฅเคคเคพ เคœเฅ‹เฅœ เคฆเฅ‚เคโœจ

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A/N- Bhaii mujhe smjh nhi aa raha hai yaar ๐Ÿฅฒ. On one hand, some people say that I only focus on Siya and Shashwat's scenes. Then, there are others who claim that I don't show Siya and Shashwat's scenes at all. Some say I ignore other couples, while others say I give them too much importance. For example, during Ritika and Arav's wedding, some people said they weren't getting enough attention, and at the same time, others said I was giving them way too much focus. Like, what?? Obviously, it was their wedding, so they were supposed to get importance.

Will you all at least give me a chance to write according to my own plot and storyline? I have said this not once, but a thousand times, every couple has their own fixed storyline, and everything will unfold accordingly. I always include scenes of different couples, but sometimes, due to the storyline, certain scenes might not be there in a particular chapter. But my chapters are usually more than 18k words, so you can always find scenes of your favorite couples in there. The word limit of those scenes is often more than 5k, which is equal to a normal chapter length, so I don't understand why this issue keeps coming up.

And yes, I agree that Ritika and Arav's wedding plot was stretched, but I had reasons for it. It was necessary for Darsh and Divya's storyline, and I also didn't want to look back and regret missing out on important moments. I wrote it as if I were actually present at the wedding and enjoying it. I even warned everyone in advance that things would be slow and told you all not to read it. I'm not saying I don't accept feedback I do. I understand that some of you found it stretched and boring, and that's completely fine. But at the same time, reading so many conflicting opinions about who is getting too much or too little importance is just frustrating.

So please, please let me write my story the way I planned. Not every couple is going to be present in every single chapter from now on because that would just drag the story unnecessarily. And as for weddings, from now on, I will only describe them in detail for siya shashwat, because they are the main leads.

I love and appreciate your feedback, but I also need the space to write according to my own vision. If I keep changing things based on every single opinion, it will ruin the original essence of the story.

Thanking you,

Yours obediently,

Deewanixwriters ๐ŸŽ€

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"Reyansh... w-what are you saying?" she asked, even though deep down, she already knew what was coming.

He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "Are you seriously going to continue your act?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the thick tension between them.

Arushi swallowed hard, gripping the fabric of her shirt in her fist as if trying to anchor herself. "I...I thought..." she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Thought?? What??" He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "Tell me, Arushi, what the hell did you think before doing this? Yahi ki iss bechare pe ehsaan kar deti hun?" His voice cracked at the end, the weight of his words breaking him.

"No! You are getting me wrong, Reyansh. I... I was just... I wanted to help you." Her words tumbled out in desperation, her hands reaching toward him, but he stepped back as if her touch would burn him.

He scoffed bitterly. "Help? This is your help? By showing me how incapable I am? By making me realize what a failure I am?" His fists clenched at his sides, his entire body shaking with suppressed emotions. "That I will never achieve anything on my own? That I..." He exhaled sharply, running a trembling hand over his face, wiping away the tears that refused to stop.

"That I am nothing..." he whispered, his voice so broken, so defeated, that it sent a sharp pain through her chest.

Arushi gasped, shaking her head frantically. "No! That's not true, Reyansh! You mean everything to me!"

"Really?" He laughed humorlessly. "Then why, Arushi? Why did you do this? Why did you make me believe that people actually wanted to read my book, that I was achieving something, when in reality, it was all just a favor? A pity purchase?"

"Reyansh..." Arushi whispered, her voice trembling as she reached for his hand. But he jerked away as if her touch burned him.

"Tumhari flight ka time ho gaya na... Just leave." His voice was cold, emotionless, but his eyes betrayed the storm raging inside him.

Arushi sobbed, shaking her head. "Reyansh, please... at least listen to me." Her voice cracked, her tears falling freely.

He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head as he looked away. "Kya sunu ab mai, Arushi? Is there some more favors you did? Kuch aur ehsaan jo mujh par reh gaye hain?" His voice was laced with sarcasm, but the pain underneath was undeniable.

He suddenly pulled out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen. Within seconds, he transferred the exact amount he had received from his book sales back to her account.

"I returned your favors." His voice was sharp, cutting through the thick silence between them. His eyes flickered to the mobile cover on his phone, and he let out a humorless laugh. "And this cover... This was also bought from that money, right? The money your friends so generously donated to this pathetic writer in charity?"

His words stung, each syllable dripping with pain and betrayal. Arushi had never heard him speak like this, never seen him so broken. She gasped as he yanked the cover off his phone, grabbing her hand and slapping it into her palm.

"Thank you so much for showing me my place. For showing me how weak I am, how incapable I am, how much I need to be saved because I can't handle failures on my own." His voice cracked at the end, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Reyansh, please... Just listen to me once!" she begged, desperation lacing her voice.

Her breath hitched as she tried to hold onto any thread of hope left between them. "Tumne bhi toh meri first painting li thi... So why can't I support your dream? Why does it hurt so much if I wanted to help you?"

"Tumhe samjh me nahi aa raha hai kya?" His voice was low, yet it carried the weight of everything he had buried inside for years. "If you had bought my book after telling me, I would have been happy, damn it! But this? Asking your friends to buy my book as if you were doing charity on me?" He shook his head, his voice breaking as he took a step back. "What did you think, huh? That I'm such a loser, that I would die if no one bought my book? That I am so weak that I wouldn't be able to survive rejection?"

Arushi's breath hitched, her eyes widening in horror as she realized the depth of what she had done.

Reyansh ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. "I have been seeing this for three years, Arushi... the way people look at me, the way they whisper when they think I can't hear them. It affects me, of course, it does. But not as much as this... not as much as your betrayal." His voice cracked at the end, and Arushi felt her knees go weak.

"Reyansh..." She tried again, desperation dripping from her voice, but he cut her off.

"I even asked Shashwat, Siya, Akash, and the others not to buy my book. If I had wanted this, I could have asked my whole family to buy it, made sure that every single relative contributed. But I didn't!" His chest rose and fell heavily as he tried to steady himself. "Because even if just one person had bought it because they genuinely loved my writing, that would have meant the world to me. That would have been enough."

His eyes, now glassy with unshed tears, bore into hers. "Even if you had bought it, after telling me, I would have been happy... but this? Arushi, this is what you thought about me? This is how little you think of me?"

Arushi gasped, shaking her head frantically. "No, Reyansh! It wasn't like that! I just-"

"Do you even know what your friends were saying?" His voice rose slightly, his pain now morphing into anger. "They were laughing, Arushi. Laughing at how they wasted their money on a book they didn't even care about, because of you. Because you begged them to buy it! And you expect me to be okay with that?"

Tears streamed down her face, her body trembling. "I didn't mean it that way... I just wanted to help you!"

"Help me?" He let out a dry laugh, his eyes burning. "Do you even know what I'm feeling right now, Arushi? Do you understand what you've done to me?" He placed a trembling hand over his heart, his voice now nothing but a broken whisper. "I trusted you... with my weakness. I let you see the parts of me I never showed anyone. I cried in front of you, not because I wanted you to save me, but because I thought you understood me. I thought you were with me."

He took a shaky breath, his vision blurring with unshed tears. "But if I had known that you would take my vulnerability as pity, as a reason to do charity on me... I swear to God, Arushi, I would have never let you see that side of me."

Her sobs grew louder as she clutched onto his shirt tightly, her fingers trembling. "I... I am sorry, Reyansh... I just wanted to do something for you."

"Sorry?" He repeated, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "Your sorry won't erase what you made me feel, Arushi. It won't take away the shame, the humiliation, the self-hatred you have left me with." He looked at her with nothing but devastation. "Do you know what I feel when I look at you right now? I hate myself. I hate myself for ever thinking you understood me. For ever thinking that I could trust you with the parts of me I hid from the world."

She sobbed harder, her body shaking uncontrollably as she gripped his shirt tighter, as if holding onto him would undo everything. But he didn't let her.

He removed her hands from his shirt, stepping back as if her touch itself was unbearable.

"So please..." His voice broke, his throat tightening. "Just... leave. Just leave before I start hating myself even more."

"Please... I am sorry... Reyansh, please!" She begged, her voice cracking under the weight of her despair.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his breath coming out ragged. "Jao, Arushi... please. I beg you... just go." His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the pain of a thousand unspoken words.

She bit her lip, her sobs muffled by her trembling hands. But before she could say anything else, he turned around, walked to his bike, and without a second glance, drove away.

Reyansh barely registered anything as he walked into the house, his feet heavy, his heart even heavier.

As he turned towards his room, he collided with Harsh.

"Dekh ke chala kar!" Harsh scolded, furrowing his brows at his son's absentmindedness.

Reyansh didn't say anything. He merely nodded, avoided his father's gaze, and walked away. But Harsh's sharp eyes didn't miss the glint of moisture in his son's eyes, nor the slight tremble in his movements. His heart clenched, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

By the time Harsh turned around, Reyansh had already disappeared into his room.

Inside, Reyansh slammed the door shut, his breath coming out in sharp gasps. He covered his face with his hands, his entire body shaking as the sobs he had been holding back finally broke free. His shoulders trembled, his muffled cries echoing in the silence of the room.

Outside, Harsh stood still, listening.

He could hear the quiet sobs, the way Reyansh's breath hitched between them. He wanted to go in, to place a hand on his son's shoulder and ask him what was wrong. But the distance he had created between himself and his children over the years felt like an unbridgeable gap now.

With a heavy heart, he stepped away and walked toward his own room.

A few minutes later, Tara entered their room, removing her white coat and placing it on the chair. She glanced around and sighed, expecting Harsh's usual stern reminder to keep things in their place. But the silence lingered.

Frowning, she turned towards him and noticed how he was staring at his phone, lost in thought. His expression was tense, his fingers unmoving on the screen. Something was wrong.

She walked over and sat beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Kya hua, Harsh? Sab thik hai?"

Harsh blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He looked at his wife before sighing and placing his phone aside.

"Reyansh was crying." His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

Tara's eyes widened in concern. "Kyun? Kya hua? Koi baat hui usse?"

Harsh shook his head. "I don't know... Shayad uski books se related kuch baat ho."

Tara frowned, her worry deepening. "Did you talk to him?"

Harsh lowered his gaze, his fingers curling into his palm. "Nahi..." His voice was laced with guilt. "Mujhe laga jaake poochu, par... Pata nahi kyun, bas nahi gaya."

Tara's fingers tightened around Harsh's hand as she looked at him with quiet determination. "Then go, Harsh. Ask him what's wrong. Just like you used to when he came home crying in first grade."

Harsh let out a deep breath, shaking his head. "It's not that easy anymore, Tara."

She frowned. "Why not? He's still your son."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Because things have changed. Because I have changed. The distance between us... I created it. I know that." He looked down, his voice heavy with regret. "You know, Ritika was the only one who never let go. No matter how much I distanced myself, no matter how strict I was, she never stopped coming to me. She argued, she fought, but she never left. But the others... they never tried."

Tara shook her head, her voice gentle but firm. "They never tried, Harsh, because you never gave them a reason to. They didn't distance themselves from you, you pushed them away. You made them believe you didn't need them."

Harsh let out a bitter chuckle. "And maybe they were right to believe that. My duty always kept me away from them. I missed their childhood moments, their milestones, their little victories. I was so busy being 'Harshvardhan Malhotra, the responsible man,' that I forgot to be a father for them."

His voice broke slightly as he continued, "Do you know, Tara? Siya never even stood up for her dreams. She wanted to, I know she did. But she was too scared... of me. Of what I would say. And I-" He swallowed. "I was on the verge of crushing them myself."

"Reyansh didn't even tell me that he published his book online," Harsh continued. "Divya... she didn't tell me when she secured the first position in CLAT. She didn't even ask me for money for her application fees. She asked you. Because to them, I'm useless in their lives."

Tara squeezed his hand tighter. "That's not true, Harsh."

"Isn't it?" He looked at her with sad eyes. "Then why does it feel like it?"

She inhaled deeply and turned to face him fully. "Harsh, do you know what a plant needs to grow?"

He frowned, caught off guard by the question. "Sunlight, water, soil..."

She nodded. "Exactly. And tell me, does the sun live right next to the plant?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Then why does the plant still grow towards it?" she asked.

Harsh stayed silent as she continued.

"Because the sun is its source of life. Even from far away, it gives the plant warmth, energy, and hope. And just like that, Harsh, you are the sun in their lives. Just because you weren't always right beside them, it doesn't mean you weren't important. In fact, you were so important that Siya gave up on her dreams just because she thought your happiness mattered more. Divya didn't tell you about her achievements because she was afraid to disappoint you. Reyansh didn't share his book because he thought you wouldn't care. They orbit around you, Harsh, whether you see it or not."

He let out a bitter laugh. "It's too late Tara. I can't fix something that's already broken."

She smiled softly. "Do you know what makes something even more beautiful than before?"

"Kintsugi," she said, "It is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with gold. They don't throw away what's broken. They mend it, highlighting the cracks instead of hiding them. And in the end those cracks make the piece even more precious than before."

"Your relationship with them is not beyond repair, Harsh. It just needs patience. It needs effort. If you fix things now, your bond will be even stronger than it was before."

Harsh exhaled slowly, letting her words sink in.

After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Siya... she was forced." His voice was quiet, almost defeated. "That's why she neglected her studies intentionally. I never said anything, but I knew. It was her way of rebelling against me. As if saying, 'If you don't understand my dreams, then why should I get good marks for you?'"

Tara nodded. "Maybe. But even now, it's not too late to show her that you do understand."

He swallowed, his fingers clenching into a fist. "What if I fail again?"

Tara smiled softly and cupped his hand in hers. "Then you try again. That's what love is. That's what being a father is. You don't give up on your children."

Reyansh lay sprawled on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His laptop sat open beside him, untouched, the cursor blinking on an empty document. He was supposed to be working on his next book, but his mind felt dull, his thoughts weighed down by an inexplicable feeling of uselessness.

With a frustrated sigh, he shut his eyes, hoping sleep would bring some relief. But the moment his lids fell shut, a dull ache pulsed through his temples.

A sudden knock at the door broke through the silence. Reyansh exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as he dragged his feet toward the door.

When he pulled it open, he stilled.

His father stood there.

"Ji, Papa?" Reyansh asked, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

"Umm... th-there's something wrong with my phone. Dekh ke bata," Harsh said, holding out his phone. His voice was steady, yet there was a trace of something else-something hesitant, maybe even uncertain.

Reyansh took the phone from him, stepping aside as Harsh entered. It was unusual. His father never really lingered in his space. He glanced around, his gaze landing on the painting hanging on the wall.

"Kisi ne kuch kaha?"

His head snapped up at the question. His father was watching him carefully, his expression unreadable yet familiar.

For a moment, Reyansh was ten years old again-coming home with puffy eyes, trembling lips, and scraped knees. And his father would always ask the same thing, his voice firm but protective. Kisi ne kuch kaha?

Reyansh looked away, shaking his head. "Kuch nahi, Papa..." he mumbled, quickly shifting focus back to the phone. "Isme koi problem nahi hai," he added, handing it back before turning his face away, hoping to escape the conversation.

But Harsh didn't take the phone right away. Instead, he stepped closer and

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