The birthday party was in full swing, the music and laughter filling the air, but for Ram, the scene felt suffocating. He sat at the edge of the room with his plate in hand, but the food in front of him was untouched. His eyes were fixed on Priya, and with each passing second, something inside him stirred—a knot tightening in his chest. He couldn't bear the sight of her laughing, of her happiness shared with Aryan. It triggered a sharp, overwhelming feeling deep within him that he couldn't explain.

Mrs. Mehra noticed his tense demeanor and tried to lighten the mood. "Ram, have your food first. We need to leave soon," she said softly. But Ram didn't respond, his gaze still glued to Priya.

Suddenly, the moment that would unravel everything happened. A waiter, in a flurry of haste, spilled juice all over Priya's dress. Aryan immediately reached for a tissue, leaning forward to wipe the stain away, his proximity to Priya only amplifying the tension in Ram's chest.

It was too much.

Without warning, Ram stood up, his chair scraping violently against the floor. His heart raced, and he strode toward Aryan, a dark rage clouding his thoughts. Mrs. Mehra looked up, alarmed. "Ram! Where are you going?" she called after him, but he didn't stop.

The next moment, he was standing before Aryan, his hands grabbing hold of his collar. The room went silent, the festive atmosphere suddenly replaced by tension. Ram's voice was low but edged with fury. "I don't want you near her," he growled, his hand tightening on Aryan's shirt. Before anyone could react, Ram shoved Aryan with such force that he stumbled backward, falling to the floor.

The guests stared in stunned silence, trying to process what had just happened. Priya, eyes wide with shock, stood frozen. "Ram!" she called out, but he didn't hear her. His mind was consumed with the image of Aryan near her, and his actions were driven by something primal, something he couldn't control.

Without warning, he lunged forward, grabbing Aryan again, this time landing punches on him. Priya rushed forward, her heart racing, trying to stop him. "Ram, stop!" she cried, reaching out to hold his arm. But Ram was lost in his rage, and in a moment of panic, he shoved her away.

The force of his push sent Priya stumbling back, her hand hitting the edge of the table. A sharp pain shot through her, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her heart. Ram had hurt her, and it wasn't just physical. It was the hurt of seeing him so out of control, so consumed by something he couldn't understand.

The room stood still, the air thick with tension. Priya's chest tightened, and she slowly stepped back, holding her side where the impact had stung. The laughter and music from moments ago seemed like a distant memory as Ram stood over Aryan, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with anger.

Priya glanced at Mrs. Mehra, who was just as stunned, unsure of how to intervene. No one knew what had happened to Ram, but they all felt the shift—his actions were no longer just a sign of confusion; they were a cry for something deeper, something he was struggling to confront.

And as Priya stood there, watching Ram, the confusion and fear in her heart only deepened. What had happened to the man she knew? And why did his anger seem to burn so brightly when it came to her?

The air was thick with the weight of the moment, and Priya's heart felt heavy, like a stone pressing against her chest. She stood there, watching Ram's actions unfold, the anger in his eyes, the hurt in her own. The room had fallen silent, save for the distant sounds of the party that now felt so distant, so foreign.

Priya could barely stomach the sight of it. Every part of her wanted to escape, to get away from the chaos, from the overwhelming flood of emotions that crashed over her. She didn't belong there anymore—not in that moment, not with him. She had failed again, and she couldn't bear the weight of it.

With a swift motion, she looked at her mother, her gaze searching for something—anything—that could help her make sense of this mess. But Shipra's face said it all: a deep, resigned sigh, one that spoke of disappointment, of the heavy burden of expectations that had never been met.

Priya's heart shattered in that instant. She had failed as a wife once, but this? As a doctor? As someone who was supposed to care for people—heal them—what had happened now? She couldn't protect herself, let alone him. And the very person who needed her the most was the one who had hurt her the most.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She felt weak. So weak. As though her knees might give way, as though everything in her had just crumbled. And in the next heartbeat, she turned, not wanting to see anyone, not wanting anyone to see the vulnerability in her.

Without another word, without another glance, Priya moved quickly toward the elevator. She didn't need anyone to stop her; she didn't care if they did. All she wanted was to escape, to be anywhere but here.

Her fingers pressed repeatedly on the elevator button, her body tense with frustration. The slow, inevitable wait for the lift to arrive felt like an eternity. The seconds stretched, and the more she waited, the more she felt the walls close in around her, the suffocating grip of her emotions growing stronger.

Just as she thought she might collapse from the weight of it all, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Priya stepped inside, the cool metallic walls a welcome barrier between her and the chaos she had just left behind.

She hit the button for the ground floor, her fingers trembling, but before the doors could close completely, she heard a rush of footsteps behind her. Her breath hitched as she turned, and there he was—Ram. His eyes, filled with guilt, met hers. For a brief second, neither of them said anything. The air between them crackled with the tension of the moment, both knowing that something had been broken, but neither knowing how to fix it.

The elevator doors began to slide shut, but before they could, Ram stepped inside, his presence filling the small space. Priya stood still, her body tense, as the door closed behind him with a soft metallic sound. The silence that followed was suffocating, the weight of everything left unspoken pressing down on both of them.

Priya turned her face toward the elevator's mirrored walls, unable to look at him directly. The soft hum of the elevator's ascent was the only sound that filled the space between them, and in that moment, it felt as if the world had paused—waiting for something to give, for something to be said. But neither of them spoke.

The elevator's dim light cast a muted glow over their tense figures. Priya stood with her back to Ram, her arms crossed tightly as if shielding herself from the weight of the emotions surging within her. She didn't want to face him, didn't want to hear the words she knew were coming. But Ram's voice broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," he said, his tone heavy with regret. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I—"

"Don't," Priya interrupted sharply, her voice trembling but firm. She turned around abruptly, her eyes blazing with hurt and fury. "Don't say another word, Ram. I swear, if you do, I won't be responsible for what happens next."

Ram's gaze softened, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his guilt. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Priya. I—"

"Why?" Priya exploded, unable to hold it in any longer. Her voice rose with every word, her pain spilling out like a dam that had finally burst. "Why are you always like this? Why do you always have to ruin everything? Every single time I try to believe in you, every time I think maybe you've changed, you prove me wrong. You let me down, Ram. Again and again." Her voice broke, tears pooling in her eyes but refusing to fall.

Ram flinched as if her words were physical blows, but he didn't interrupt. He stood there, his eyes locked on hers, absorbing every ounce of her pain.

"I hate you for this," Priya continued, her voice trembling with raw emotion. "I hate that you've come back into my life just to ruin it all over again. Why? Why did you have to come back?" Her voice cracked, the anguish in her tone cutting through the thick air between them.

The elevator chimed softly, announcing their arrival at the ground floor. The doors slid open with a quiet whoosh, but neither of them moved. Priya turned abruptly and stepped out, desperate to escape, but Ram wasn't ready to let her go.

Before she could take another step, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. She stumbled slightly, her breath hitching as she found herself mere inches away from him. His eyes, dark and intense, searched hers, demanding answers she wasn't ready to give.

"What did you just say?" he asked, his voice low but unyielding. "I came back into your life? What do you mean by that? We used to know each other, didn't we?"

Priya froze, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She looked away, refusing to meet his gaze, but he tightened his grip slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to hold her in place.

"Priya," he said, his voice more insistent now, "tell me the truth. You know who I am, don't you? You know everything."

Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as she tried to steady herself. Finally, she whispered, her voice barely audible, "You suffocate me, Ram. Let me go."

He hesitated, his grip loosening slightly, but his eyes never left hers. "I can't," he said, his voice breaking. "Not until you tell me the truth."

Priya's hands trembled as she reached up, prying his fingers away from her wrist. "Figure it out on your own," she said, her voice steady now but filled with an unmistakable edge of finality. "I can't help you this time."

And with that, she pulled herself free from his grasp, stepping away as if creating distance between them could somehow ease the ache in her chest. She didn't look back as she walked away, leaving him standing there, his hands limp at his sides and his heart heavier than ever.