The dining table was unusually quiet. The clinking of spoons and forks echoed in the large space, but there was no usual morning chatter. Shubman sat with his head down, absently pushing his food around the plate, while Shahneel sipped her tea in silence.

Their parents, Keart and Lakhwinder, exchanged a glance before Keart finally spoke up.

"Shubman, puttar, kuch toh bolo. Kya kaha Kinjal ke parents ne?" (Son, say something. What did Kinjal’s parents say?)

Shubman didn’t respond. He kept his gaze fixed on his plate, his jaw clenching slightly.

"Pata nahi, Ma," Shahneel answered instead. "Kinjal ne kuch nahi bataya. Kal raat se uska phone bhi off hai." (We don’t know, Mom. Kinjal hasn’t said anything. Her phone has been off since last night.)

Lakhwinder frowned. "Ajeeb baat hai. Uska silence accha nahi lag raha mujhe." (This silence doesn’t feel right to me.)

Keart sighed, her voice softer. "Beta, tune baat karne ki koshish ki?" (Did you try talking to her?)

Shubman finally let out a slow breath, putting his fork down. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "Maine kitni baar call kiya, messages kiye. Even Shahneel ne text kiya, but usne kuch nahi kaha. Bas ek text bheja ki 'don’t come over' aur uske baad phone band kar diya." (I called so many times, sent messages. Even Shahneel texted, but she didn’t say anything. She just sent one text saying 'don’t come over,' and after that, her phone was switched off.)

Shahneel crossed her arms. "Mujhe lagta hai kuch gadbad hai. Agar Kinjal kaafi sure thi ki uske parents shaadi approve nahi karenge, toh bhi woh itni chup nahi rehti. Uska reaction thoda… alag hai iss baar." (I feel like something’s wrong. Even if Kinjal was sure that her parents wouldn’t approve, she wouldn’t stay this silent. Her reaction is different this time.)

Lakhwinder looked at Shubman seriously. "Aur tu chup kyun baitha hai? Agar uska phone off hai toh seedha uske ghar jaa aur baat kar usse!" (And why are you sitting here quietly? If her phone is off, go directly to her house and talk to her!)

Shubman shook his head. "Nahi, Dad. Agar usko baat karni hoti, toh woh karti. Usne clearly kaha hai ki main uske ghar na jaun." (No, Dad. If she wanted to talk, she would have. She clearly told me not to come over.)

Keart narrowed her eyes. "Aur tu bas yeh maan gaya?" (And you just accepted that?)

Shubman looked up, his eyes flashing. "Toh kya karun, Ma? Zabardasti uske ghar ghus jaun?" (So what should I do, Mom? Force my way into her house?)

Shahneel sighed. "Uska reason genuine ho sakta hai, Shubman. Par tu usse baat kiye bina kaise decide kar sakta hai ki sab thik hai ya nahi?" (Her reason might be genuine, but how can you decide that everything is fine without talking to her?)

Lakhwinder nodded in agreement. "Beta, jab kisi ladki ke maa-baap itna react karte hain, toh ladki akeli kaise handle karegi? Tu uske saath hai na? Toh jaa, usse baat kar." (Son, when a girl’s parents react this way, how will she handle it alone? You are with her, right? So go and talk to her.)

Shubman ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. His heart was already heavy with worry, and his parents' words only intensified it. He hated not knowing what was going on with Kinjal.

He took a deep breath and stood up from the table.

"Theek hai. Main jaa raha hoon." (Fine. I’m going.)

Shahneel smirked slightly. "Good boy."

Keart smiled. "Agar koi problem ho toh call karna. Aur haan, shaant rehna, aggression mat dikhana." (If there’s any problem, call us. And yes, stay calm, don’t show aggression.)

Shubman sighed. "Main bas usse dekhna chahta hoon, usse sunna chahta hoon. Yeh bas mujhe aur bechain kar raha hai." (I just want to see her, hear her. This is making me even more restless.)

With that, he grabbed his car keys and left, his mind racing with thoughts of Kinjal.

---------

Shubman at Kinjal’s Apartment

Shubman knocked on the door of Kinjal and Vayra’s shared apartment, his impatience growing by the second. The door swung open, revealing Vayra standing there, her arms crossed and an unreadable expression on her face.

"Oh, great. You’re here," Vayra said, her tone neutral but firm.

Shubman, without bothering with pleasantries, tried to step inside, but Vayra moved in front of him, blocking his way.

"Where is she?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Sleeping," Vayra replied shortly.

Shubman frowned. "It’s almost 10 AM. Uska phone bhi band hai. Main usse baat karna chahta hoon, Vayra. Side ho." (It’s almost 10 AM. Her phone is switched off. I want to talk to her, Vayra. Move aside.)

Vayra didn’t budge. Instead, she stared at him, her lips pressed together in frustration. "Shubman, tumhe samajhna padega ki kal raat kaafi rough thi uske liye. Tum baitho, main dekhti hoon agar woh uth gayi hai." (Shubman, you need to understand that last night was really rough for her. Sit down, I’ll check if she’s awake.)

Shubman narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening. He could see the tension in Vayra’s stance, the way she was unusually serious. That was enough to tell him that something was very wrong.

"Nahi, mujhe dekhna hai usse," he insisted, pushing past her before she could stop him.

"Shubman—!" Vayra started, but he was already walking toward Kinjal’s room.

He slowly opened the door, his eyes immediately landing on Kinjal, curled up in bed. She was still in her last night’s clothes, her blanket messily draped over her body. Her face was turned away from the door, but he could see the dried tear stains on her cheeks.

His heart clenched at the sight.

She looked exhausted, like she had barely slept. Like the weight of the entire world was pressing down on her shoulders.

Shubman exhaled slowly, his frustration melting into concern. He turned to Vayra, who had followed him inside. "How bad was it?"

Vayra sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Worse than we thought. Her parents completely lost it. Arguments, yelling, accusations—everything you can imagine. She tried to reason with them, but they shut her down. She knew they wouldn’t approve, but I don’t think she was ready for just how harsh they would be."

Shubman’s hands curled into fists. "Kya bola unhone?" (What did they say?)

Vayra hesitated, then said softly, "They told her if she even thinks about marrying you, they’ll disown her. They said she’s humiliating them by choosing a Punjabi boy over their ‘perfect Gujju groom.’ And worst of all… they made her feel like she was selfish for even considering you."

Shubman inhaled sharply, his chest tightening. He knew Kinjal’s family might oppose their relationship, but he hadn’t expected them to be this cruel.

His gaze shifted back to Kinjal, who was still asleep. She must have been completely drained to not even wake up despite their conversation.

Without thinking, he stepped closer and gently sat beside her on the bed. His fingers reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

"Main isse aise nahi dekh sakta, Vayra," he murmured. (I can’t see her like this, Vayra.)

Vayra softened a little. "I know. But she needs rest right now. Give her some time before you talk to her."

Shubman nodded, but he didn’t move. Instead, he stayed there, watching her, silently promising himself—no matter what it took, he wasn’t going to let Kinjal go through this alone.

As soon as Vayra left the room, closing the door behind her, Shubman sighed deeply and turned his attention back to Kinjal. She was still fast asleep, her breathing slow and steady. The dark circles under her eyes were more prominent now, proof of the emotional exhaustion from last night’s battle with her parents.

Shubman carefully laid down beside her, pulling the blanket over both of them. He didn’t want to wake her up—she deserved this rest after everything. Instead, he just curled up next to her, his arm draping protectively over her waist as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck.

The room was quiet, except for the soft rhythm of Kinjal’s breathing. Every now and then, she stirred slightly, shifting in his embrace, but she didn’t wake up. Shubman didn’t mind—he could stay like this for as long as she needed.

After a while, Kinjal’s breathing changed, becoming lighter. Slowly, she fluttered her eyes open, blinking as her gaze adjusted to the dimly lit room.

The first thing she noticed was warmth. A strong, familiar warmth wrapped around her.

Shubman.

She turned slightly, her body still heavy with sleep, and realized his arm was holding her close. He was awake, watching her quietly.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice deep and soft.

Kinjal blinked, her mind still foggy. "What time is it?"

"Doesn’t matter," he said, brushing his fingers through her messy hair. "How are you feeling?"

Kinjal exhaled, closing her eyes again for a moment. "Like I just ran a marathon while carrying my entire family’s expectations on my back."

Shubman’s grip around her tightened. "You don’t have to do that alone, you know?"

Kinjal didn’t reply. She just buried her face into his chest, letting his steady heartbeat soothe her.

Shubman didn’t ask her anything about last night. He didn’t demand explanations, didn’t push her to talk before she was ready.

Instead, he simply held her.

He let his arms speak the words he couldn’t—“I’m here.”

Kinjal, who had spent the entire night feeling suffocated by reality, suddenly felt like she could breathe again.

Kinjal lay there for a few moments, just letting the warmth of Shubman’s embrace calm the storm inside her. But curiosity finally got the best of her.

She lifted her head slightly, her voice still thick with sleep. "How did you even get inside?"

Shubman smirked slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Vayra let me in. I think she was going to fight me at first, but I guess I convinced her."

Kinjal sighed, shaking her head. "She’s too soft when it comes to you."

"Or maybe she just knew you needed me," he replied, tilting her chin up slightly so she would look at him. His eyes softened as he gazed at her. "Do you?"

Kinjal didn’t answer right away. She just stared at him, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

Then, slowly, she nodded.

Shubman’s smirk faded, replaced by something more serious. He pulled her even closer, wrapping both arms around her as if shielding her from everything outside this room.

And that’s when Kinjal finally let go.

She snuggled into his chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie as quiet sobs escaped her lips.

She wasn’t loud. She wasn’t wailing or screaming. But the way her body trembled against him, the way her breath hitched in small gasps—it broke him.

Shubman rested his chin on top of her head, tightening his arms around her. "It’s okay," he whispered against her hair. "Cry as much as you need to, baby."

Kinjal didn’t correct him for calling her that. She didn’t fight it, didn’t tease him like she usually would.

She just let herself cry.

For everything—her parents, their expectations, her fears, the uncertainty of their future.

And Shubman just held her through it all.