Chapter 51
Ayaan's POV:
The conference room was filled with the low hum of voices, the faint tapping of fingers on keyboards, and the steady flicker of a digital screen displaying figures and projections.
I leaned back slightly in my chair, eyes fixed on the presentation, though my mind wasn't entirely there. Numbers, strategies, deadlines - all blurred together after hours of discussion.
Just then, my phone vibrated against the table - one short buzz, sharp enough to pull me out of my half-focus.
I glanced at the screen.
Baba...
For a moment, I hesitated - my thumb hovering above the screen.
Then, almost automatically, I silenced the call and typed:
"Meeting mein hoon, free ho kar call karta hoon."
I slid the phone face down on the table and forced my attention back to the presentation.
But the image of that missed call stayed in the back of my head - Baba rarely called during work hours unless it was important.
~
Lunch break came with the quiet shuffle of papers and chairs.
I shut my laptop, exhaled, and reached for my phone again - planning to call Baba back - when the door to my cabin opened with a soft creak.
I turned.
Aaliya stood there, her usual bright smile lighting up her face.
"Hey, Mr. CEO," she teased lightly.
I blinked once, then allowed a small smile.
"Aaliya... kaise aana hua?"
"Bas socha, lunch tumhare saath kar loon," she said casually, walking in and sitting across my desk.
She'd been around quite a bit lately - ever since I moved to London again. Her brother, Danish, had been my school friend, so the connection was old. But friendship and familiarity were two very different things.
"Give me two minutes," I said, reaching for my phone. "Baba ko call kar loon pehle."
I dialed. The line rang twice, then went unanswered.
A slight frown touched my face as I lowered the phone.
When I looked up again, Aaliya was twirling one of my pens between her fingers - that pen.
My tone shifted instantly.
"Don't touch that."
She blinked, startled, then laughed softly. "Relax, it's just a pen."
"Not just a pen." I stood and took it gently from her hand, setting it back in place.
"Mujhe nahi pasand, koi meri cheez ko haath lagaye."
A hint of amusement danced in her eyes. "Tum seriously apne cabin ki cheezon ke upar itna control rakhte ho? Even a pen?"
I looked at her flatly. "Main aisa hi hoon."
She smiled, shrugged, and stood up. "Fine. Ab chalo, lunch karte hain."
~
Lunch was routine. Conversation was light, forgettable.
But all through it, a part of me kept circling back to that pen - her pen - the one Aayat had given me years ago, engraved faintly with my initials.
When I returned to the office, I buried myself in work again, letting hours slip by until the sun began to dip.
~
Evening lights glimmered against the glass walls of my penthouse when I finally walked in, tired yet oddly restless.
I slipped my phone from my pocket, ready to call Baba again.
Just then - a faint sound.
From the kitchen.
Something clinked - a soft metallic sound.
I froze.
There shouldn't have been anyone here.
Slowly, I walked toward the kitchen, my heartbeat picking up for reasons I couldn't name.
And the moment I reached the doorway... I stopped.
A woman stood there - her back to me, slender frame wrapped in a pale pastel dress. Her hair was tied loosely, a few strands falling along her neck as she reached for a glass on the counter.
I didn't need to see her face.
My heart recognized her before my mind did.
For a few seconds, I couldn't breathe.
Every sound in the room - the ticking clock, the running tap, even the faint city noise outside - blurred into silence.
She turned slightly, reaching for something on the shelf - and our eyes met.
Her gaze froze.
Time, too.
I felt something in my chest tighten painfully - a thousand memories collapsing into a single moment.
She looked away first. Quietly.
Picked up the glass. Poured water.
Like I didn't exist.
Like I was a stranger standing in her space.
"Asalamualaikum," I said softly, forcing a calm I didn't feel.
She didn't turn fully. Her voice came low, measured.
"Walikum assalam."
I took a step closer.
"Bohot time ke baad dekha tumhe... Tum theek ho na?"
This time she did turn - just enough to give me a small, practiced smile.
"Pehle se zyada theek hoon."
And before I could respond, she turned back to her task - as though the conversation had ended.
Her words were fine. Her tone was steady.
But her smile... that smile didn't reach her eyes.
For the first time, standing right beside her, I felt distance like a wall - invisible yet immovable.
I didn't know if it was guilt, or loss, or just silence stretched too long between us - but it weighed heavy.
"I'll go change," I said finally, stepping back.
She didn't reply.
~
I walked into my room, closed the door, and exhaled slowly.
It had been months since I'd seen her - and yet, one glance had undone everything I'd built to forget her.
I sat on the bed, pulled out my phone, and dialed Baba.
The call connected this time.
We spoke briefly - small talk, nothing more - and yet something in Baba's tone felt off. I couldn't place it, but the unease stayed.
After the call, I tossed my phone aside and changed clothes, but my thoughts refused to still.
Her face.
Her silence.
Her voice saying, "Pehle se zyada theek hoon."
No, she wasn't.
Not even close.
There had always been pain in her eyes - but tonight, they were empty. Like someone had quietly taken everything from inside and left nothing behind.
I caught myself thinking too long, and shook my head.
Stop it, Ayaan.
She's fine. You're just overthinking.
I tried to convince myself, but the thought didn't stick.
~
Dinner was quiet. Too quiet.
We sat across the table - me focused on the plate.
I took a bite, then said casually,
"Khana acha banaya hai."
No answer.
I looked up. She wasn't even listening - her mind miles away.
"Aayat..."
No response.
I said her name again, firmer this time.
"Aayat!"
She blinked, as if startled from a dream, and looked at me.
"Kahan kho gayi ho tum?" I asked softly. "Khana kyu nahi kha rahi?"
She opened her mouth to answer - then closed it again.
And then, without a word, she stood up.
"Ruko-" I reached out, holding her wrist gently.
"Kya hua tumhe?"
She pulled her hand free, her tone flat.
"Mujhe bhook nahi hai. Flight mein zyada kha liya tha."
Before I could say anything else, she turned and walked away - up the stairs, quiet and distant.
For a long time, I just sat there, staring at the empty chair across the table.
~
Later, I lay in bed, the room dark except for the soft city light seeping through the curtains.
I'd just closed my eyes when my phone screen lit up - "Mama - Video Call."
It was late. Too late for a casual call.
I sat up instantly, switched on the lamp, and answered.
"Mama... sab theek toh hai na?"
Sonia Khan smiled faintly on the screen.
"Sab theek hai, beta. Tum batao, khana khaya?"
"Haan mama," I said, leaning back. "Abhi khaya."
Her expression shifted, just slightly.
"Aur Aayat ne?"
I hesitated. "Nahi. Wo keh rahi thi flight mein zyada kha liya tha."
Sonia's smile faded completely.
Something flickered in her eyes - worry, maybe fear.
"Mama, kya hua? Ap pareeshan lag rahi hain.." I asked.
Before she could answer, Baba - appeared beside her and took the phone.
"Ayaan."
"Jee, Baba?"
He looked serious. " Aayat ko maloom nahi kya ho gaya hain... Wo yaha be khana peena bohut Kam karti ja rahi thi.. ."
My frown deepened. "Aap kehna kya chahtay hain?"
"Wo tumse jhoot bol rahi hai," he said quietly.
I straightened. "Jhoot? Matlab?"
Sonia's voice came soft but tired. "Arjun ne bataya tha, flight mein usne kuch nahi khaya. Sirf coffee li thi. Humne socha, ghar pohonch kar khaya hoga... lekin agar abhi bhi nahi khaya toh-"
She trailed off, sadness pulling her voice down.
"Mama..." I whispered, unsure what to say.
Sonia looked away from the screen for a moment, then back.
"Maloom nahi, Ayaan, usay kya ho gaya hai... Khana peena bohot kam kar diya hai. Na baat karti hai kisi se. Na soti hai. Pehle kabhi kabhi sleeping pills leti thi, sone k liye ... Lekin ab roz ka ho gaya hain uska...."
Each word felt heavier than the last.
"Office ka kaam bhi sambhal nahi rahi. Har waqt khoi rehti hai. Aur gussa..." she exhaled, shaking her head. "Uska gussa ab asmaan chhoo raha hai."
My grip on the phone tightened.
It was like hearing about a stranger - not the woman I once knew.
"Kab se ye sab chal raha hai?" I asked, my voice low. "Aur aapne mujhe bataya kyun nahi?"
Mama glanced at Baba - and began softly, "Jab se Rayy-"
"sonia.." Baba cut her off sharply.
His eyes met mine through the screen.
"Jab se tum gaye ho, tab se. Aur tumhare jaane ke baad aur bhi bahut kuch hua hai... par wo sab batane ka haq sirf uska hai."
He paused.
Then, quietly -
"Uska... Uska khiyal rakhna."
Before I could say another word, the screen went black.
The call ended.
I sat there in silence - phone heavy in my hand, mind heavier.
The only sound left was the faint ticking of the clock, echoing through the room like a slow heartbeat.
And somewhere inside me, a storm began to rise again - one I thought I'd buried.