1.

YASHVI POV :

I woke up to the sharp sound of knocking on my door. When I opened it, I found my mother standing there, her arms filled with jewellery and neatly folded clothes.

“What is this, Maa?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep and confusion.

“Go and get ready,” she said, placing everything in my hands. “The Shergill family is coming to ask for your hand… for Devansh.”

My heart skipped. “No, Maa. I’ve said so many times that I’m not interested in marriage at all.”

Her face hardened. “It’s an order from your Dadi. If you have a problem, go and speak to her.”

In that moment, I realised there was no way out of this decision anymore.

I stared at the clothes in my hands for a long moment, my pulse thudding in my ears. Of all the names in this world… Devansh Shergill.

Fate had a dark sense of humour.

Mechanically, I shut the door and began getting ready. I stand in front of the mirror, staring at a version of myself I don’t recognize anymore. My eyes look hollow, like someone scooped the life out of them and left the shell behind. My hands rest on my stomach without thinking.

Nothing.

No heartbeat.
No future.
No us.

The world thinks I’m strong. A Rathore. A businesswoman. A queen made of steel. But they don’t know how fragile steel becomes when it’s been cracked from the inside.

They especially don’t know that I used to be soft with one person.

Devansh Shergill.

My Devansh.

The memory of his voice follows me like a ghost. Low. Possessive. Warm. He used to look at me like I was the only sin he’d ever willingly commit. Now I can’t even remember the last time he touched my hand without hesitation.

Everything broke the day I lost our child.

And then we broke.

A knock sounds at my door, sharp and impatient.

“Yashvi,” my mother called, “come downstairs.”

 Each step felt heavier than the last. When I reached the living room, my gaze fell on the Shergills… and then him.

Devansh…. the boy who once shared his chocolates with me when we were six, the boy who climbed the same mango tree and scraped his knee, the boy who had disappeared from my world and grown into a man I no longer recognized.

 “So,” I broke the silence, my voice calm but sharp, “is this another business deal for you, Mr. Shergill? Or did you just run out of ways to control your world?”

A flicker of something crossed his face—anger, pain… or was it relief?

“This wasn’t my idea either, Yashvi,” he replied coolly. “But if our families want to turn us into a contract… I won’t back down.”

“Neither will I.”

The elders spoke in the background—alliances, power, reputation, respect. But none of it mattered. All I could hear was the echo of things left unsaid between us.

And then his voice, softer—but only for me.

“Tell me one thing,” he murmured, stepping closer, just enough that no one else could hear. “Do you still hate me… or is it just easier than admitting the truth?”

I looked up at him, a bitter smile forming on my lips.

“I don’t hate you, Devansh,” I whispered. “That would be simple. I’m afraid it’s much worse than that.”

His jaw tightened. His hand curled into a fist.

And at that moment, the engagement was announced.

Applause filled the room.

But all I heard was the distant sound of something breaking… or beginning again.