Chapter 27 Manav #3
Kiara turned to me then, her teary eyes pleading for something—anything—but my gaze remained glued to the floor. I couldn’t look at her. Not now. Not after everything I had been a part of.
Dadi’s soft, trembling voice filled the room with a quiet devastation, her eyes still closed. “You could have told me, sweetie,” she murmured, her tone a mixture of hurt and love. “I made a promise to your mom. I promised I’d find a suitable match for you. And now… I failed her, too.”
Kiara’s lips quivered as she tried to speak, but no words came out. Her fingers tightened around Dadi’s hand, desperate to reassure her, but Dadi gently withdrew her hand, raising it in a soft plea. “I need to be alone for some time.”
“Dadi, please,” Kiara protested, tears glistening in her eyes, but Dadi shook her head lightly, her expression resolute yet weary.
“Beta, just give me a little while. I’ll be okay,” she insisted, with a broken voice.
Kiara hesitated, her emotions swirling in her teary gaze as she searched Dadi’s face for any sign of reassurance. But Dadi kept her eyes closed, leaning back against the chair.
Reluctantly, Kiara let go of Dadi’s hand and stood, her movements slow and hesitant. I followed, my steps heavy as I trailed behind her out of the room, my own heart sinking under the weight of everything that had transpired.
The door clicked shut behind us, and Kiara leaned against the wall, her face buried in her hands. I wanted to comfort her, to say something—anything—but the lump in my throat wouldn’t let me.
I felt like a failure. An absolute failure.
“Kiara…” My voice trembled, barely audible as I tried to bridge the gap between us.
She shook her head slowly, her eyes brimming with tears that cut through me like shards of glass. “I think you should leave, Mr. Oberoi. Thank you for your patience and… service.”
Her words hit me like a sledgehammer, and my heart stopped beating. “Kiara… let me explain.”
She looked away, her lips pressed into a thin line as she held back a sob. “I should have known better…”
“Please, just listen to me,” I pleaded, my voice shaking. I took a step forward, desperate to close the distance between us, but she immediately stepped back.
“Don’t… Please don’t touch me.” Her voice broke, and it shattered something inside me.
“Don’t break my heart, baby…” I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them.
Her laughter was bitter, laced with pain. “Oh no, Mr. Oberoi,” she said, wiping her tears harshly. “You don’t have a heart to get broken.”
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening as I tried to reach out again, but her gaze was ice, stopping me in my tracks. “Please leave,” she said firmly, her tone final.
I stood frozen for a moment, my emotions tangled in a storm of regret, guilt, and love.
Every instinct screamed at me to stay, to fight for her, to tell her that she was my entire world.
But I couldn’t. The flood of my tears was threatening to betray me, and I knew if I stayed any longer, I might crumble completely.
Without another word, I turned and left, my heart feeling like it had been ripped out of my chest. And for the first time in years, I let myself break.
As I walked out of that house, my chest felt like it was caving in. Each step away from her was like tearing pieces of myself apart. The silence of the night offered no solace—only the deafening echoes of her words ringing in my ears. You don’t have a heart to get broken.
I wasn’t just walking away from Kiara; I was walking away from the only thing that had ever made my life feel full—her.
My thoughts raced, colliding into each other like waves in a storm. I had gone into this pretending, telling myself I could handle it, that I could keep my emotions out of it. But it was a lie. A lie that had unraveled so completely it left nothing behind but destruction.
Her tears. God, her tears. They weren’t just tears—they were shards of my failures reflected at me. I had never felt so powerless. She had given me her vulnerability, and instead of protecting it, I became the reason for her pain.
What hurt most wasn’t even her anger. It was the disappointment in her eyes, the way she looked at me like I was no better than the others who had let her down. And maybe I wasn’t. Maybe she was right. Maybe I didn’t deserve her.
But I loved her. Oh, how I loved her.
It wasn’t a slow realization. It had hit me like lightning the moment she laughed at something ridiculous, the moment she teased me about my suits, the moment she stood next to me like she was the missing half of my existence.
And now? That love was a weight I couldn’t bear because it had no place to go, no one to hold it.
I was supposed to protect her, to be her haven, and instead, I became her storm.
I sank into the driver’s seat of my car, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. My heart felt like it was fighting against my ribcage, trying to break free and run back to her. But what could I say? That I was sorry? That I never meant for any of this to happen?
Would she even believe me? Would she even care?
I leaned my head against the wheel, my mind flooding with memories—her laughter, her sarcasm, the way she looked at me like I was the only man in the world. And now, all of that is gone. I had ruined it.
I let out a shuddering breath, tears blurring my vision. There was no mask, no facade of control. Just raw, unfiltered guilt and love and pain.
And the worst part? I wasn’t sure I could ever fix this. But one thing was clear—I couldn’t lose her. Not without a fight. Because if I did, there would be nothing left of me worth saving.
One part of me wants to storm into her house, throw her over my shoulder, and make her listen to every single thing I need to say. But the other part knows better. She needs space, and I owe her that, no matter how much it kills me.
I picked up the phone and dialed. Myra picked up after two rings, her tone groggy but instantly concerned.
“Manav?” She asked, the sleep evident in her voice.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, my voice barely steady. “Kiara needs you…”
There was a beat of silence on the other end. I could hear her shift, the sound of sheets rustling, and then her voice came, sharper now, more alert. “What did you do?”
“I think I’ve lost her.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. “She can’t be alone right now.”
Myra sighed heavily, and I could picture her pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll be there.”