•| FORTY |•
You walked aimlessly down the dimly lit streets, your steps uneven, your saree brushing against the wet pavement as the night air wrapped around you like an unwelcome reminder of how alone you suddenly felt.
Your mind was a chaotic storm—hate mixing with betrayal, shattered trust colliding with the false hopes you had once clung to so tightly.
Every memory of him replayed in cruel flashes: his smiles, his promises, the way he held your hand in front of everyone as if you were his entire world.
And now? That same man was in another woman’s arms. Your breathing grew heavier with each step until it felt suffocating, like your chest would explode from the pressure of holding everything in.
You suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, your body refusing to move any further as the weight of it all crushed down on you.
“Ahhh—” a broken sob tore out of your throat, raw and painful, your hands clutching at your hair as tears streamed uncontrollably down your face.
“E-everything was false… everything…” you choked out, your voice cracking under the strain of disbelief and heartbreak.
The strength in your legs finally gave out, and you collapsed onto the cold ground, palms scraping lightly against the rough surface as you cried openly, no longer caring who might see.
As if the universe itself wanted to mirror your shattered state, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance and rain began to pour—slow at first, then heavier—soaking your saree, your hair, your skin, washing over you but doing nothing to ease the ache inside your chest.
Not far away, Krish was running through those same streets like a man who had lost everything—because in his mind, he had. His shoes splashed through puddles, his breaths coming out in desperate gasps as he called your name again and again, voice cracking with panic.
“S-Samira!” The rain drenched him within seconds, his hair plastered to his forehead, his clothes heavy against his skin, but he didn’t slow down.
The tears streaming from his eyes blended with the rain, making it impossible to tell where the sky ended and his pain began.
He turned a corner, heart hammering violently, and that’s when he saw it—a familiar figure sitting motionless on a bench near the streetlight, shoulders slumped, completely soaked.
He froze for a split second, relief crashing into him so powerfully it almost made his knees buckle.
You were there. You were still there. He exhaled shakily, like he had been holding his breath for hours, and then slowly—almost cautiously—he began walking toward you, afraid that if he moved too fast you might disappear again.
Each step felt heavy with guilt, fear, and desperation.
Soon, he was standing right in front of you. Up close, he could see the emptiness in your eyes, the redness from crying, the way your hands trembled slightly in your lap.
His heart clenched painfully at the sight. Without caring about the rain soaking into his bones, he crouched down to your level, lowering himself so he wouldn’t tower over you, so he wouldn’t seem threatening or imposing.
His fingers twitched at his sides, wanting to reach out but not daring to touch you without permission. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely above a whisper—fragile, broken, nothing like the confident tone he once carried.
“S-Samira…” Hearing your name in that shattered voice made something inside you tighten, but you didn’t react immediately. Slowly—almost mechanically—you lifted your gaze to meet his. His eyes were red, swollen, as if he had cried endlessly.
The arrogance that once defined him was gone, replaced by raw regret and fear. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The rain fell steadily around you, the streetlight casting a dull glow over the silent standoff between two hearts on the verge of completely breaking.
Then, without saying a single word, you pushed yourself up from the bench.
Your movements were stiff, distant, as if you had already built a wall between you and him.
You didn’t look at him again—you simply stood there, soaked and trembling, your silence louder than any accusation you could have screamed.
He looked at you like a lost puppy standing in the rain—eyes swollen, lips trembling, completely stripped of ego and pride—and for a brief second something inside you flickered, but the image of him kissing her burned brighter in your mind.
You turned to walk away, unable to bear another second in his presence, when suddenly his fingers wrapped around your wrist, not forcefully but desperately, like a drowning man clinging to the only thing keeping him afloat.
“S-Samira… please,” his voice cracked, barely audible over the rain, “please listen to me. I-I can explain.” You slowly looked down at his hand on your wrist before meeting his eyes again, your expression hollow, shattered.
“There’s nothing to explain,” you whispered, your voice trembling yet painfully calm.
“I saw it with my own eyes… y-you were kissing her.” Your words broke at the end, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself.
“NO!” he shook his head violently. “Samira, look at me—please—it’s not like what you think. S-she’s my ex-wife.” You froze.
The rain continued to pour around you, but for a moment everything felt silent.
Your brows furrowed before a bitter scoff escaped your lips.
“S-so you still love your ex-wife?” you laughed weakly through your tears.
“You should have told me… I wouldn’t have—” “NO!” he interrupted again, stepping closer but stopping himself midway.
“Samira, I love you.” “Stop it!!” you cried, your voice rising as your composure completely shattered.
“You never loved me! E-everything was fake… every smile… every promise… e-everything!” Your shoulders shook violently as sobs wracked your body, and the sight made panic flood his face.
“S-Samira, please, we’ll talk this out, okay?
Hush… d-don’t cry like this,” he pleaded, reaching out to hold your hand, but you yanked it away as if his touch burned you.
“D-don’t touch me,” you stuttered, stepping back, putting physical distance between your broken heart and the man who broke it.
“Samira, don’t do this… please,” he whispered hoarsely.
“I can’t imagine my—” “Stop it!” you cut him off sharply.
“Please… if you ever loved me, you couldn’t have kissed her back.
You couldn’t have stood there like that.
Your confessions, your love, your words—everything was fake.
Stupid me… I fell for your lies.” You clutched your drenched dress near your chest as if trying to hold your heart together, tears mixing with rain as they streamed endlessly down your face.
Krish bit his lower lip so hard it nearly bled, trying to hold himself together as guilt suffocated him. He took a shaky breath.
“I don’t even know how I kissed her back,” he admitted, voice breaking.
“B-but I didn’t mean to do it… believe me, S-Samira.
” You let out another hollow scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.
“I know you won’t believe me right now,” he continued desperately, his hands trembling at his sides, “but trust me… I didn’t do that intentionally.
She… she mixed something in my drink. My head was spinning…
I couldn’t think properly. She did all this to separate us.
” He stepped closer again, slower this time, like approaching a wounded animal.
“S-Samira… don’t leave me. Don’t leave me and Kiaan like this.
We both need you. I need you. He needs you more than anything.
” At the mention of Kiaan, your heart clenched painfully, his tiny tear-streaked face flashing in your mind.
The thought of your son crying for you made your chest ache even more.
Krish’s eyes filled again, rain and tears indistinguishable as his voice dropped into a whisper full of raw fear.
“Please… I’m not asking as your husband right now… I’m asking as a man who is terrified of losing his family. Don’t walk away from us.” he looked truly broken—just as broken as you felt.
“Finally… when I decided to take one step forward in this relationship… this happens,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, your voice hollow and exhausted, as though your heart no longer had the strength to scream.
The rain continued to pour, soaking both of you to the bone, but neither of you seemed to care anymore.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering—not from the cold, but from the emotional wreckage inside you.
“I… I want to go home,” you mumbled faintly, not looking at him.
For a brief second, hope flickered across his devastated face.
“Y-yes,” he nodded quickly, stepping closer as if afraid you would disappear again, “we’ll go home.
Come… we’ll go home. I can’t lose you like this, Samira.
I won’t.” But you slowly lifted your eyes to meet his, and the distance in them made his breath hitch.
“I want to go to my house.” The emphasis on my was quiet, yet it shattered something deep inside him.
His lips parted, but no sound came out. “I… I need some time,” you added, your voice breaking at the edges.
For a moment, he simply stared at you, rain dripping from his lashes, realization sinking in like a blade twisting into his chest. He understood exactly what you meant.
You weren’t just asking for space—you were stepping away from him.
From them. His throat tightened painfully, but he forced himself to nod.
“O-okay,” he whispered, though every part of him wanted to beg, to fall at your feet and stop you.
But he didn’t. He stood frozen as you turned and began walking away again, your steps slow but determined.
This time, he didn’t reach for your wrist. He didn’t call your name.
He just watched. “T-taxi,” you called weakly, raising your hand as a cab approached.
The vehicle slowed and stopped beside you.
Before getting in, you turned your head slightly, glancing at him one last time.
That single look—filled with pain, love, disappointment, and unspoken words—broke whatever fragile strength he had left.
Then you slipped into the cab, the door shutting with a soft thud that sounded louder than thunder to him.
As the taxi drove away, the tears he had been holding back all night finally spilled over, hot and uncontrollable.
His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, and suddenly his legs gave out beneath him.
He fell to his knees on the wet road, uncaring of the rain or the people staring.
“Ahhhhh!” he screamed into the night, his voice raw and guttural, grabbing his hair in both fists as if trying to rip the pain out of his skull.
“Why… why did I let this happen!” he choked out, his shoulders shaking violently.
“Bhai!” a startled voice cut through the rain. Pratik, who had been riding his bike down the same street, immediately slowed when he recognized the broken figure collapsed on the road.
Without a second thought, he parked haphazardly and ran toward him.
“Bhai, what happened? Why are you sitting here like this?” he asked urgently, crouching down and placing a firm hand on Krish’s shoulder.
Krish slowly looked up, his face pale, eyes red and swollen, rain and tears streaming freely.
The moment he saw his younger brother, whatever little composure he had left crumbled.
He lunged forward and hugged Pratik tightly, clutching him like a lifeline.
“P-Pratik…” he sobbed, his voice barely coherent, “s-she left me… Samira left me.” Pratik stiffened in confusion, trying to process his words over the sound of rain.
“What? Left you? Bhai, what are you saying? You both were fine just this morning!” he said, concern flooding his tone as he held his brother steady.
Krish shook his head violently. “I messed up… I messed everything up,” he cried, his fingers digging into Pratik’s jacket.
“She saw me with Sara… she thinks I betrayed her. She asked for time… she went to her house.” His voice broke again as he whispered, “I saw it in her eyes, Pratik… she doesn’t trust me anymore.
” Pratik’s expression darkened at the mention of Sara, understanding slowly dawning.
He tightened his grip on Krish’s shoulders.
“Bhai, calm down. We’ll fix this. Whatever happened, we’ll fix it. But sitting in the middle of the road like this won’t help.” But Krish only shook his head weakly, his voice hollow with despair.
“You don’t understand… she was finally trying to trust me again. And I destroyed it. I destroyed my own family.” And under the pouring rain, the man who once feared nothing sat broken, clinging to his brother as if he had lost everything that ever mattered.