The Rathore mansion had never looked so alive — gold lights wrapping every pillar, chandeliers glowing like captured suns, and guests arriving in diamonds and whispers.

But somewhere beneath all that glitter, a storm waited — quiet, unseen, and ready to tear through hearts.

Aarohi stood outside the grand gates, clutching the invitation that wasn’t meant for her. It had arrived at her studio by “mistake,” wrapped in a cream envelope that carried his company’s seal.

She had told herself a hundred times not to come.
And yet, her feet had betrayed her.

Inside, violins sang softly, laughter filled the air — and there he was.

Arnav Rathore.
Dressed in black sherwani, poised, perfect, every inch the empire’s heir. But his eyes… they weren’t the same.

They searched the room as if looking for something — or someone.

“Aarohi?” a voice called behind her.

It was Dadi, smiling faintly. “You came, beta.”

Aarohi folded her hands respectfully. “I shouldn’t have, Dadi. This isn’t my place.”

Dadi’s eyes softened. “Maybe it is, and you just don’t know it yet.”

Before Aarohi could answer, the hall lights dimmed, and the announcer’s voice echoed —

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the soon-to-be-engaged couple — Mr. Arnav Rathore and Ms. Rhea Kapoor!”

Applause erupted. Rhea walked in, elegant and graceful, her golden lehenga shimmering like sunlight. She slipped her hand into Arnav’s — and the cameras flashed.

Aarohi’s world blurred. The sound of applause turned into thunder in her ears.

Arnav’s hand tightened in Rhea’s. His jaw clenched. From the corner of his eye, he saw her — standing near the pillars, eyes bright with unshed tears she tried to hide.

He forgot how to breathe for a second.

“Arnav,” Rhea whispered, smiling for the cameras, “say something.”

He looked at the crowd, then at his father’s brother, Vikram, who stood proudly near the stage.
He knew the script — smile, speak, play the perfect heir.
But something in him snapped.

“I’m not sure words mean much anymore,” he said finally, voice low but clear.
“Sometimes, silence says everything.”

A hush fell over the hall. Rhea blinked, confused but smiling anyway. She thought it was charm. But Aarohi knew — it was pain.

Aarohi couldn’t stay. She turned, slipping out through the side corridor, her heels echoing in the marble hall.

The rain had started again.
It always did when her heart broke.

She stopped near the fountain, clutching her dupatta tight, the tears finally spilling.

“You fool,” she whispered to herself, “you promised you wouldn’t fall.”

“Then why did you?”

She froze. His voice.

Arnav stood behind her, soaked, breath uneven. He had followed her — leaving behind his engagement, his guests, his world.

“Go back inside,” she said, without turning.
“Your fiancée is waiting.”

“She can wait,” he said simply.

She turned sharply, anger flashing through her tears.

“Don’t do this, Arnav! Don’t stand here and pretend you care. You made your choice — the deal, the ring, the name!”

“And you think I wanted any of it?” he shot back, stepping closer. “You think I enjoy watching you walk away every time I look at you?”

“Then why do it?” she demanded. “Why let them control you? You’re not made of stone, Arnav — you feel everything and hide it like it’s a sin!”

For a moment, they just stood there — rain pouring, breaths colliding.

He reached out, his hand trembling as it brushed her cheek.

“Because if I don’t hide it, Aarohi… I’ll destroy everything that keeps you safe.”

She stared at him, the fight leaving her voice.

“Safe from what?”

“From me,” he said, eyes breaking.
“From the world I belong to. The people who’ll ruin you just to see me fall.”

The thunder cracked behind them, but the silence between them was louder.

“Then ruin me,” she whispered. “Because I’m already breaking without you.”

For a heartbeat, time stopped. His fingers lingered against her skin, his lips parted as if to answer — but footsteps echoed from inside.

“Arnav!” Vikram’s voice boomed, cold and furious. “Enough of this drama. The guests are waiting.”

Arnav stepped back, his hand dropping. His mask slid back on — the heir, the Rathore, the man of duty.

“I have to go,” he said quietly.
“Not because I want to. But because I have to.”

Aarohi didn’t stop him this time. She just watched him walk away, his figure fading into the gold-lit hall like a ghost of her almost-love.

That night, the engagement went on. Rings exchanged. Cameras flashed. Smiles forced.

But if anyone looked closely, they would’ve seen it —
the faint tremor in his hand when he held Rhea’s.
the emptiness in her eyes when she looked at him.
the shadow that never left the doorway — where a girl once stood and walked away without looking back.

In her small apartment, Aarohi placed the unfinished sculpture on her desk — the goddess with half a smile.

“Looks like you’re incomplete too,” she whispered.
“Just like me.”

She picked up the chisel again, but her hand shook too much to carve.

Outside, the storm continued — relentless, loud, and wild.
The kind that didn’t destroy everything, but washed it clean for something new.

And somewhere between thunder and silence, both hearts whispered the same truth —
It wasn’t over. It had just begun.