•| FORTY ONE |•
Soon the glass doors of the venue burst open again as Aarav stepped out hurriedly with his wife Ishika and little Kiaan clinging to her hand, his sobs still hiccupping through the night air. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the storm inside all of them was far from over.
Ishika's eyes immediately landed on the heartbreaking sight ahead-Krish on his knees in the middle of the street, clutching Pratik like a child who had lost everything.
"Aarav... where's Samira? Why is Krish crying like that?
" she asked anxiously, tightening her hold on Kiaan, who was already restless and teary.
Aarav's jaw tightened as he shook his head grimly.
"I don't know... but it's not good. Let's go.
" Before they could even move properly, Kiaan pulled his hand free and ran ahead a few steps, his tiny voice trembling, "Papa!
" Aarav quickly caught up and lifted him before he could slip on the wet pavement.
All four of them approached the two brothers, Pratik still holding Krish steady as he tried to calm him down.
"Bhai, please... get up, people are staring," Pratik murmured softly, but Krish seemed lost, his shoulders shaking.
Aarav stepped forward, his voice firm but laced with concern.
"Tell me clearly what happ-" "Krish, where's Samira?
" he interrupted himself, cutting straight to what mattered most. The name alone made Krish stiffen.
Slowly, he broke the hug and looked up at Aarav, his red, swollen eyes reflecting guilt, regret, and unbearable pain. For a second, he couldn't even speak.
His lips parted, but his voice refused to cooperate.
Kiaan squirmed in Aarav's arms, trying to reach him.
"Papa... where's mumma? I want mumma," he cried again, and that innocent question sliced through Krish like a blade.
He forced himself to look at his son, and his chest tightened painfully.
"Take Kiaan with you," Aarav said quietly but firmly to Ishika, understanding that whatever was about to be said shouldn't be heard by the child.
Ishika nodded immediately, her face pale with worry.
She gently adjusted Kiaan in her arms as he resisted.
"No! I want to stay! Papa!" he sobbed, stretching his hands toward Krish.
Ishika kissed his hair, trying to soothe him.
"Shh... baby, let papa talk. We'll go inside, okay?
" she whispered, though her own voice trembled.
Aarav placed a reassuring hand on Kiaan's back.
"Go with Ishika, champ. Papa will come." Reluctantly, and still crying, Kiaan allowed himself to be carried back toward the building, his small fingers clutching Ishika's dupatta tightly.
As they disappeared inside, the silence outside grew heavier.
Aarav turned back to Krish, his expression now serious, almost demanding.
"Now tell me, Krish... where is Samira?" And standing there under the dim streetlights, drenched and broken, Krish looked like a man who had just watched his entire world walk away.
"Tell me everything, Krish," Aarav said firmly, his voice losing its earlier panic and turning strict, grounded-like an elder brother demanding the truth, not excuses.
Krish dragged a trembling hand down his face, inhaling shakily as if preparing to relive the worst moment of his life.
Pratik stood beside him silently, arms crossed but eyes soft with worry.
"She... she saw me with Sara," Krish began, his voice hoarse.
"Sara kissed me. I swear I didn't even realize what was happening properly.
.. my head was spinning. I think she mixed something in my drink.
Before I could push her away, Samira opened the door.
" His voice cracked. "And the look in her eyes.
.. Aarav, I've never seen that look before.
It was like I died right there for her." Aarav's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt.
"She thinks I kissed Sara back intentionally.
She thinks I still love her." Krish laughed bitterly through his tears.
"Ex-wife... what a joke. I don't feel anything for Sara.
Nothing. But how do I prove that now?" He exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping as he sank down onto the nearby bench, defeated.
"She said she needs time. She went to her house. "
There was a long silence before Aarav finally spoke, calmer now.
"I think she's right, Krish. You should give her some time.
She's hurt. Deeply hurt." Krish nodded weakly.
"I know... that's why I didn't stop her.
I wanted to. God knows I wanted to run after that taxi and bring her back.
But I couldn't. And... Kiaan hates me too.
" His voice dropped to a whisper at the last sentence.
Pratik immediately shook his head and stepped closer, placing a firm hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Bhai, stop thinking like that. He's a kid.
He was scared. That doesn't mean he hates you.
" Krish didn't respond. He just stared blankly ahead.
Pratik squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
"And Samira bhabhi... I know her. She loves you too much to stay mad forever.
She's emotional right now. Hurt. But she won't let this break everything.
I know she will forgive you." Aarav gave a small nod in agreement.
"But you have to give her space. Don't chase her.
Don't pressure her. Let her think." Krish swallowed hard and nodded again, clinging to that tiny thread of hope Pratik offered, even though guilt still weighed heavily on his chest.
Meanwhile, miles away, you stood in front of your childhood home, your finger hovering for a moment before finally pressing the doorbell. The familiar chime echoed inside, and your heart clenched at how safe it used to make you feel.
After a few seconds, the door swung open, and your mother appeared, her face lighting up instantly. "Samira? Oh my God! What a pleasant surprise!" she exclaimed warmly before her smile faltered slightly as she noticed your drenched state.
"Why are you soaked like this? It's raining so heavily.
Where's Kiaan? And Krish? Didn't you all come together?
" Her questions came one after another, fast and worried, but you stood there silently, eyes glossy, lips trembling.
The joy on her face slowly faded. "Samira?
" she asked softly now, scanning your face.
"Is everything okay?" The concern in her voice broke the fragile wall you were holding up.
"I... I missed you, mom," you whispered-and suddenly you burst into tears, your body shaking violently as you collapsed into her arms. She immediately wrapped you tightly against her chest.
"S-Samira, don't scare me like this," she murmured anxiously, stroking your wet hair, her own heartbeat quickening. "Tell me what happened. Did you and Krish fight? Hmm?" Her voice grew more worried with every second you didn't answer.
Hearing the commotion, your father stepped out of his room, adjusting his glasses before stopping in his tracks at the sight of you crying like a little girl in your mother's arms. His expression softened instantly.
"Beta..." he walked over and gently patted your head.
"What happened?" You couldn't speak for several minutes, just clinging to your mother as if the world outside that house didn't exist.
Eventually, your sobs subsided into quiet sniffles.
Your mother cupped your face gently. "Go change your clothes first, hmm?
You'll catch a cold. Then we'll talk calmly.
" You nodded silently, unable to trust your voice, and slowly made your way toward your old room.
The moment you disappeared down the hallway, your parents exchanged a heavy, worried glance. Your mother sighed deeply.
"Something serious happened." Your father placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We should give them some time," he said gently. "Let her breathe first. When she's ready, she'll tell us." But both of them knew-the storm that had followed you into their home was far from over.