Chapter 55
Author's POV:
Ayaan had been restless the entire meeting, as if every second away from Aayat was a personal betrayal.
The past five months had carved a hollow ache inside him-a void shaped exactly like her.
And now that she was back in his life, fragile and unpredictable, he couldn't bear to let her out of his sight.
He wrapped up the meeting, shook hands with Danish Qureshi-his old school friend-and gave a polite nod. His mind was already halfway out the door.
Just as he turned to leave, he heard raised voices.
Ayaan frowned. That's Aayat's voice...
He walked briskly toward the sound, turning the corner-only to freeze.
Aayat stood in the corridor, breathing unevenly, her hands trembling.
And Aaliya was on the floor, crying , holding her wrist as if in pain.
Danish rushed past Ayaan. "Aaliya! Kya hua?!"
Ayaan's brows knitted. "Yaha kya ho raha hai?"
Aayat turned instantly-her eyes already glassy, her expression wounded and defensive. Aaliya, seeing Ayaan, burst into louder sobs.
"Dani Bhai... ye ladki..." Aaliya pointed directly at Aayat, voice laced with accusation. "Pagal hai ye ladki! Mujhe dhakka diya isne!"
Ayaan's eyes flicked to Aayat.
Confusion.
Worry.
A spike of fear.
He stepped toward her instinctively, placing a steady hand on her shoulder.
"Tum theek ho na?"
Before Aayat could respond, Aaliya cut in loudly, "Ayaan, tumne suna nahi, maine kya kaha! Is ne mujhe Dhaka diya aur toh aur apne cabin ki taraf dekho, kya hal kiya hain isne! Sab kuch phenk diya!"
Ayaan's head snapped toward the glass wall of his cabin. Papers scattered, files open, books fallen... utter chaos.
He turned back to her, gripping her shoulders gently. "Aayat... yeh sab kya hain? Kya hua hain yaha?"
The question-simple, harmless-hit her like a slap.
Aayat jerked his hand off, eyes flaring, voice trembling with rage and hurt.
"Tum be mujhse sawal kar rahe ho?!" Tears poured instantly, uncontrollably. "Tumhein lagta hai ye ladki sahi keh rahi hai? Tum iski side le rahe ho?!"
Ayaan stepped closer, trying to calm her, "Aayat, aisa nahi-"
But she backed away, shaking her head violently, breath breaking.
"Nahi! Aisa hi hain....Tum bhi isi ki side ho. Mujhse sawal kar rahay ho... hamesha mujhse hi kyu? Sab mujhse hi karte hain sawal! Jaise main hi ghalat hoon!"
Her voice cracked-raw, unbearable.
She was trembling heavily now... the same uncontrollable shaking he had seen only once before.
Ayaan froze.
Mama was right... she's not okay.
His mother's voice echoed in his head:
"In paanch mahino mein Aayat puri badal gayi hai, Ayaan... kabhi gussa, kabhi Khamosh, kabhi roti hain aur kabhi normal ho jati hain... office ka kaam bhi nahi sambhalti."
"Apni maa ko bhi dhakka de diya tha..."
Aayat's voice yanked him back:
"Ayaan! Tumhe be Mein hi galat lagti hoon na?! Toh theek hai!" Her breaths came short, panic-stricken. "Mein hi chali jaati hoon! Hamesha ke liye yaha se! Kabhi nahi aungi tum logon ke saamne! Tum karo yakeen is Aaliya par!"
She turned sharply to leave.
But Ayaan reacted faster-grabbing her wrist, pulling her back, and without a second thought-pulling her into his chest.
Aayat hit against him, stiff and shocked.
He wrapped both arms tightly around her trembling body, pulling her closer, pressing her head to his shoulder.
"Shhh..." His voice dropped low, soft, breaking. "Bas... bas. Kuch nahi hua. Sab theek hai."
Aayat pushed weakly, breath hitching, but he held her firmer.
"Shhh, Aayat... meri baat suno. Please."
Slowly... painfully... her body sagged against him.
Her sobs muffled against his shirt.
Aaliya's mouth fell open in disbelief. Rage burned in her eyes.
"Ayaan! Tumhe nazar nahi aa raha?! Isne-"
Ayaan snapped.
His voice turned ice.
"Bas."
Aaliya froze. Danish stiffened.
Ayaan's jaw clenched as he turned cold, hard eyes on her.
"Aayat bina wajah tumhe dhakka nahi degi. Aur jahan tak mere cabin ki baat hai-har cheez par uska poora haq hai. Toh us ki tension tum mat lo..... Samjhi tum?"
Aaliya's lips parted in shock. "Ayaan, lekin-"
"Bas.....Ek lafz aur bola na... toh dosti toh dur ki baat hain , yeh bhi bhool jau ga ke tum ek ladki ho."
Aaliya stumbled back, tears forgotten, completely stunned.
Ayaan turned back to Aayat-who still stood shaking, tears streaking her face.
He cupped her face gently, thumb brushing her cheeks.
" Aur Main ne tumse sirf sawal kiya tha, Aayat... shak nahi kiya. Sawal uss se kiya jata hai jiss par bharosa hota hai, kay jawab mein wo sach kahay ga...."
His tone broke into a whisper.
" Aur Main janta hoon... meri Aayat jhoot nahi bolti."
Before anyone could speak, he bent, scooped her up into his arms-bridal style.
Aayat gasped softly but didn't resist. Her head fell against his shoulder.
Danish stared, stunned.
Aaliya looked like someone had slapped her soul out of her.
Ayaan turned his cold gaze at them once more.
"Yeh baat abhi khatam nahi hui."
And he walked out.
Carrying Aayat out of the office.
Carrying her as if letting go would destroy something inside him.
By the time Ayaan reached the parking lot, Aayat had fallen asleep in his arms-heavy breaths, swollen eyes, her fingers still trembling even in unconsciousness.
He opened the car door carefully and placed her inside, adjusting the seat so she could rest comfortably. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her sleeping face.
So fragile.
So broken.
And he hadn't seen it...
He hadn't seen anything.
A low breath escaped him, almost a silent curse at himself.
"Tumhe kya ho gaya hai, Aayat..." he whispered, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. "Mujhe kyun nahi bataya..."
He drove slowly-afraid even the vibration of the road might disturb her.
~
Ayaan parked the car and stepped out. He moved to the passenger side, opened the door and saw her still sleeping, lashes wet, brows slightly drawn.
He sighed softly.
Then, without waking her, he picked her up again-one arm under her knees, the other around her back.
She unconsciously shifted closer to him, gripping his shirt lightly, seeking comfort even in her sleep.
His chest tightened painfully.
"Aayat..." he murmured, voice small, " mein hoon tumhare pass...."
He carried her inside the penthouse, kicked the door shut gently, and walked straight into her room. He laid her carefully on the bed, removing her shoes and covering her with the blanket.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring.
The girl who once laughed loudly.
Who talked for hours without stopping.
Who filled every silence with warmth.
Now sat in front of him-silent, shaking, and hurting.
Because of him.
Because he left.
Because he wasn't there when she broke.
He pushed his hand through his hair, swallowed tightly, and left the room quietly.
~
Ayaan sat on the couch and leaned his head back, closing his eyes with a deep breath.
But the images kept replaying:
Her shaking hands.
Her choked voice.
Her terrified eyes.
Her saying: " hamesha Aisa hi hota hain ... sabko main hi galat lagti hoon..."
Something inside him cracked sharply.
He opened his eyes suddenly and pulled out his phone.
"Arjun," he said as soon as the call connected. "Aayat ke office behaviour ke baare mein batao."
There was hesitation on the other end.
"Sir... woh thodi distracted rehti hain. Meetings attend nahi karti... concentrate nahi karti... aur-"
Ayaan closed his eyes.
His heart sank further.
"Okay. Thanks."
He ended the call.
Got up.
And walked straight to her room.
~
The door creaked softly as he pushed it open.
Aayat stirred on the bed, eyes opening slowly. For a moment, she looked lost... confused... like she didn't know where she was.
Then her gaze fell on him.
"Uh... tum uth gayi," he said quietly.
Aayat sat up slowly, her hair messy, eyes swollen. She didn't speak.
Ayaan stood, walked to the bedside drawer, took out the first aid box, and sat beside her.
Without asking, he held her injured hand gently.
Aayat flinched.
"Dard ho raha hai?" he asked softly.
She didn't reply.
He cleaned the wound carefully... slowly... and when she hissed in pain, he leaned forward and blew softly on it.
Aayat stared at him-speechless.
Ayaan wrapped the bandage and finally looked up.
Their faces were close... too close.
He could feel her breath, warm, uneven.
For a moment-just a moment-neither looked away.
Then Ayaan cleared his throat, moved her hair behind her ear, and said quietly:
"Ao neeche. Dinner karte hain saath mein ... "
Aayat didn't argue. She didn't speak either.
She just nodded and got up.
~
They ate quietly.
Ayaan kept glancing at her-her shaking hands, her blank face, the way she forced every bite.
She wasn't okay.
And he couldn't ignore it anymore.
~
After Aayat went upstairs, Ayaan remained in the living room alone, sitting in the dim light.
He pulled his phone out and dialed a number he hadn't used in years.
A familiar female voice answered.
"Hello? Ayaan? Kaise yaad kiya aj?" a soft laugh came. "I thought you forgot I exist."
Ayaan didn't waste time.
"Anjali..." he exhaled. "I need help."
Dr. Anjali-London's best cardiologist and an old friend-immediately went serious.
"What happened? Everything okay?"
Ayaan rubbed his forehead. His voice shook slightly when he spoke:
"It's Aayat... She's not okay."
Silence. Then Anjali's calm voice:
"Tell me everything."
Ayaan swallowed, staring at the floor.
"She gets angry... Small things trigger her. Kabhi gussa hona, kabhi bilkul silent ho jana. Kabhi Rona... aur panic hona... she's not sleeping properly. Barely eating. Overthink karti hain.... Usse Humesha lagta hai sab usse ghalat samajhte hain. Aj office mein she..."
His voice broke.
"She lost control."
Anjali exhaled sharply. " ye sab kab se chal raha hain ? "
Ayaan nodded even though she couldn't see.
" five months..."
"Ayaan," she said softly, "this isn't normal stress. She needs help... urgently."
"I know," he whispered. "Isliye tumhe call ki. Give me someone trustworthy. Someone who will treat her carefully."
Anjali paused.
Then said, "I'm sending you Dr. Eleanor's number. She's the best psychiatrist I know. Gentle, professional, and safe."
Ayaan closed his eyes.
"Thank you, Anjali yaar."
"Ayaan..." her tone softened, "Take care of her. Trauma doesn't heal alone."
He swallowed.
"I will. Always."
He ended the call.
And for the first time in history life-Ayaan Khan felt fear.
Fear of losing her.
Fear of failing her again.
But what he didn't know was this: not every pain is a punishment.
Some wounds are the doorway to the very happiness fate has been saving for you.
And Aayat... she was about to walk through that doorway-right into his life.
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