Chapter 23
The office lights glowed well past midnight, the only sign that someone still worked at that hour. Arjun stepped cautiously inside, clutching a silver-embossed envelope.
“Ma’am,” he began carefully, “ek invitation aaya hai…”
Aayat didn’t lift her eyes from the laptop. Her fingers moved over the keyboard, crisp and efficient. “Arjun, tum jaante ho mujhe kisi award-shaward mein interest nahi hai. File table par rakh do.”
Arjun shifted uneasily. “But Ma’am… it’s the International Business Excellence Awards. India mein. The committee wants you in person. They’re honoring you for ‘Entrepreneur of the Year.’”
That made her pause. Slowly, she closed the laptop. Her eyes, sharp and unreadable, met his.
“India?” Her tone dripped with disbelief. “Arjun, in 5 saal mein tumne mujhe kabhi india jate dekha h , waha pr jab be kam hota hain, mein ya to baba ko ya phir ayaan ko aur kabhi kabar tumhe bejti hoon. Kabhi tum ne mujhe jate huye dekha hain? Cancel it.”
Before Arjun could respond, a lazy voice chimed in from the doorway.
“Cancel it? Wah, tum toh apni success se bachne ka world record bana rahi ho.”
It was Ayaan. He strolled in, sleeves rolled up, smirk perfectly in place.
Aayat sighed. “Tum phir se a agaye? AK group chal kaise raha hain tumhara, mujhe samj nahi ati..har waqat toh tum mere yaha pade rehte ho?”
“Of course,” he replied, dropping into the chair opposite her desk. “Tumhare bina meri duniya boring ho jaati hai ,meri dragon queen. Aur AK group ,sabko lagta h ye nam tumhare nam par rakha gaya hain .”
“Cut the nonsense, Ayaan. Main India nahi ja rahi. End of discussion.”
He leaned forward, mock serious. “Oh, I see. Queen of New York, who can make CEOs tremble with one glare, dar rahi hai ek stage se?”
Her jaw tightened. “Main dar nahi rahi. Main bas… nahi jana chahti.”
“Bas nahi jana chahti?” He raised a brow. “Excuse me, Miss Hitler, tumhe ye award tumhari saalon ki mehnat ke liye mil raha hai. The whole world wants to see who AK really is. Aur tum keh rahi ho ‘nahi jana chahti’?”
She turned away, voice clipped. “Let them wonder. Mujhe mask ke peeche rehna pasand hai.”
Ayaan studied her quietly for a moment. Beneath the icy tone, he could see the flicker of old scars — the wounds she never allowed to show.
“Aayat,” he said softly, “tum sirf mask ke peeche nahi chupi ho… tum apne past se chup rahi ho, bhag rahi ho ek darpok ki tarha.”
That one line hit her like a dagger. Her expression hardened instantly.
“Enough.” Her voice was cold again. “Main koi discussion nahi kar rahi. Arjun, file finalize karo. Aur Ayaan tum, door band karte jana.”
And with that, she opened her laptop, shutting the world out once again.
~
Later that Night – 1:00 AM
The city outside glittered, but inside the Khan penthouse, silence hung heavy. The clock struck one.
The elevator chimed, and Aayat walked in, exhausted, heels clicking against the marble floor. She expected darkness. Instead, she froze.
In the living room, the lights were on. Sameer, Sonia, and Ayaan were sitting together — waiting.
Her brows knitted. “It’s 1 a.m. Ap sab jag rahe ho… mera intezar kar rahe the?”
Sonia stood first, eyes soft with both pride and worry. “Haan,aayat. Hume tumse ek baat karni hai.”
Aayat frowned. “Mama, please, kal office ke liye mujhe—”
Sameer’s firm voice cut her off. “No, Aayat. Abhi. Ye zaroori hai.”
She sighed and set her bag aside, sinking reluctantly onto the couch. “Fine. Kya hai?”
Sameer leaned forward, his gaze steady. “Tumhe is bar india jana hoga, aur waha sab kam b dekho gy tum ab se, ab se mein aur ayaan tumhara koi kam nahi kare gay, aayat tum KHANS GROUP sambhalo gy ur tum ayaan AK GROUP.”
Her spine stiffened instantly. “Baba, maine already decide kar liya hai. I’m not going.”
Sonia moved closer, cupping her daughter’s cheek. “Beta, ye award tumhari zindagi ki mehnat ka nateeja hai. Tumne jo empire khada kiya hai, uska phal hain ye ... Sabko pata chal chahiye AK aayat khan hain. Aur tum keh rahi ho ki tum nahi jaogi?”
Aayat looked away, voice tight. “Mujhe applause ya claps ki zaroorat nahi. Mujhe bas kaam karna pasand hain.”
Ayaan snorted from the side. “Translation: Madam ko spotlight pasand nahi hai kyunki usse khud bhi pata hai ke spotlight mein mask utarna padega. Aur madam k andr itni himat nahi h kay past ka samna kar sake.”
“Ayaan,” she warned, glare sharp.
He raised his hands innocently. “Bas sach keh raha hoon.”
Sameer’s tone softened. “Beta… kab tak tum past se chhupogi? Duniya ko sach pata chalna chahiye. AK sirf ek word nahi… AK tum ho. Aayat Khan.”
Her throat tightened. “Baba, please—”
Sonia interrupted gently. “Aayat, ye award tumhara haq hai. Tum ne bohut Kam waqat pr apna nam banaya hain , wo be samne aye bina. Kitne log tumhare kam ko pasand krte h. Aur socho tumhe award mile ga , tum sab k samne ao gy, hum proudly sabko bata paye gay , ye hain hamari aayat.”
Her eyes burned, but she swallowed hard. “Aur mera past? Agar sabko… sabko pata chal gaya mere past k bare mein toh? Waha bohut log mujhe jante hain."
Sameer’s expression softened, but his voice carried steel. “Past ko bhool jao apne . Tum meri beti ho sirf itna yaad rakho.”
Ayaan finally stood, sliding his hands in his pockets.
His voice, for once, serious. “Suno, Aayat. Main tumhara mazaak udaata hoon, tumhari taang kheechta hoon, but even I know… tum jaisi aurat duniya mein ek hi hai. Tumhe stage par dekh kar… main bhi proudly kehna chahta hoon ke haan, that’s my Aayat. "
Her chest tightened painfully. She blinked rapidly, trying to hide the moisture in her eyes.
Sonia touched her hand. “Beta, kab tak tum apne naam ko chhupati rahogi? Jao india, award lo apna. Aur dhikao sabko k tum aayat khan ho..”
Silence fell. The ticking of the clock grew louder.
Finally, Aayat whispered, voice trembling despite her stubbornness, “Aap log chahte ho main wapas chali jau india.”
Sameer’s eyes glistened with pride. “Haan, beti. Hum chahte hain duniya ko asli Aayat Khan dikhe.”
And in that moment, the ruthless queen of the boardroom… felt like a little girl again. Torn between fear and the love of the family who believed in her more than she did herself.
~
The penthouse had gone quiet again. Sameer and Sonia retreated to their room, Ayaan disappeared to his own, but Aayat… she lingered.
Her heels clicked against the marble as she made her way slowly down the hall. She paused outside her room, hand resting on the knob, chest heavy as though carrying weights no one else could see.
When the door closed behind her, the silence inside was deafening.
She leaned against the wall, eyes shut. For the first time in years, the mask slipped — not in front of her employees, not in front of rivals, not even in front of Ayaan — but here, alone.
Flashback – 8 years ago
Rayyan’s laughter, his eyes filled with softness as he held her hand. “Tum meri mangi Hui dua ho, Aayat. Kabhi mujhe chhod kar mat jana.”
Aayat smiled, tilting her head slightly, her eyes sparkling.
“Abhi toh hamari shaadi ko sirf do din huye hain… aur tum chhod kar jaane wali baatein karne lage. Bhala main tumhe chhod kar kyu jaungi?”
She raised her eyebrow in a cute way, making Rayyan chuckle. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently.
“Tum meri zindagi ho…”
He pulled her closer, pressing his lips to hers in a deep, passionate kiss.
Aayat’s fingers tangled into his hair, holding him with equal intensity.
When Rayyan leaned back, breathless, Aayat whispered with a playful smile:
“Ab chalo neeche chalte hain… nashtay ke liye sab wait kar rahe honge.”
Rayyan shook his head stubbornly.
“Nahi… mujhe toh bas yahi tumhare paas rehna hai.”
Aayat giggled and stood up quickly to run, but before she could escape, Rayyan grabbed her arm, pulling her back and tumbling her onto the bed. He pinned her playfully and started tickling her stomach.
Aayat burst into laughter, trying to push him away. Rayyan laughed along, both of them lost in the warmth of their love.
Flashback ends.
But then the betrayal, the shouting voices, the accusations that tore through her heart. Her parents’ cruel words, Ramsha’s venom, Rayyan’s silence.
The night she had walked away — abandoned by blood, misunderstood by love.
“No…” she whispered, almost angrily to herself. “I will not break. Not again.”
Her reflection in the mirror caught her gaze — a woman in a perfectly tailored suit, cold eyes, flawless posture. AK.
“Yahi toh tum sab chahte thai na?” she murmured bitterly at her own reflection. “ kay mein in yaadon k saath usi ghar m dafan ho jau, pr dekho mein zinda hoon . Aayat ki mohabbat ko tum logo ne mar Diya bas ab AK bachi hain.”
But then, her parents’ voices from earlier echoed in her head.
“mein be proudly kehna chahta hoon kay tum ho meri aayat."
“is award pr tumhara haq hain.”
“Hume tum par fakhr hai.”
For years she had told herself she didn’t need anyone’s pride. But tonight… it mattered. It pierced her walls in ways she hadn’t expected.
She sat on the edge of her bed, head buried in her hands. The duality inside her was suffocating.
One side whispered:
“You don’t need them. You don’t need applause. Stay hidden. Stay safe.”
The other side screamed:
“Eight years of struggle. Eight years of building yourself from ashes. Isn’t it time the world knows your name?”
Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. Tears welled, but she refused to let them fall.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. She didn’t know.
Finally, she stood, walking again to the mirror. This time, she looked deeper — not at AK, not at the ruthless mask, but at the faint glimpse of Aayat Khan hidden beneath.
Her lips trembled. “Can I really face them? Can I really face… him?”
Because deep down she knew:
Going back to India didn’t just mean an award.
It meant facing her parents who had declared her dead.
It meant facing siblings.
It meant facing Rayyan — the man whose love had been her greatest sanctuary and her greatest ruin.
A knock at the door broke her spiral.
It was Ayaan’s voice, unusually gentle. “Aayat… tum so rahi ho?”
She didn’t answer.
After a pause, his words filtered through the wood.
“Main jaanta hoon tumhe darr lag raha hai. But remember this — tumhari zindagi sirf tumhari nahi hai. Ye un sab logon ki bhi hai jo tumse inspire hote hain, jo tumhe follow karte hain. Tumhe award lena hai ya nahi… woh tum decide karogi. But main itna kehna chahta hoon: main tumhare saath hoon. Har waqt. Har kadam. Har jagah.”
Silence. His footsteps faded away.
~
Aayat pressed her forehead against the cool mirror, closing her eyes.
For the first time in years, she felt torn in ways AK could not control.
And in the quiet of her room, as the city slept outside, she whispered to herself — half promise, half fear:
“Maybe… it’s time.”
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