SAMAIRA

I stood in the middle of my room, chest heaving as I looked around at the mess I’d made. Broken pieces of the vase were scattered across the floor, pillows and other things thrown haphazardly, as if that could somehow calm the storm inside me. But it didn’t. Nothing could.

I felt the weight of everything crushing me, suffocating me. The pressure of expectations, the looming marriage, Shubman’s return into my life—it was all too much. I couldn’t even tell what I was feeling anymore. Anger? Frustration? Confusion? It was all tangled up, swirling inside me like a tornado, ripping apart any sense of control I had left.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

I didn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all my parents. But when I saw my mom’s name on the screen, I hesitated. There was no escaping this conversation, no matter how much I wanted to delay it.

“Haan, beta, sab theek hai na? Tumne packing shuru kar di?” Her cheerful tone felt like a punch to the gut. She had no idea what was going on inside me.

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. Packing? She wanted me to pack for a wedding I didn’t even want to happen. The thought of it made my stomach twist, and before I could stop myself, the words just spilled out.

“Mom… mujhe shaadi nahi karni.”

There was silence on the other end, the cheerful tone of my mother gone, replaced by confusion.

“Kya? Tum yeh kya keh rahi ho, Samaira? Kya hua hai?”

I clenched my fists, trying to gather my thoughts. Why couldn’t I just pretend everything was fine? Why did I say anything? But it was too late now. “Main kisi aur se pyaar karti hoon,” I blurted out, the lie slipping out before I could even think about it.

“Kis se pyaar karti ho tum?” she asked, her voice now laced with concern.

Before I could respond, I heard rustling on the other side, and then my dad’s voice boomed through the phone.

“Samaira! What garbage are you saying?”

My throat tightened, fear and anxiety creeping in. There was no turning back now. I had to keep going. “Papa, main Shubman se pyaar karti hoon,” I said, my voice trembling.

There was a deafening silence. And then, the explosion.

“Shubman? Shubman Gill? Wohi ladka jiske wajah se tumhari zindagi barbaad ho gayi thi? Tumhara bright career khatam ho gaya aur tumhe desh chhod kar jaana pada for further studies! Tum yeh sab bhool gayi ho, Samaira?”

I felt like I had been slapped. His words cut deep, reminding me of all the pain, the fallout from my past with Shubman. But right now, none of that seemed to matter. It wasn’t about love—it was about avoiding a fate I couldn’t bear. Marrying a stranger.

“Mainu sab yaad hai, Papa… lekin… main kisi aur se shaadi nahi kar sakti,” I said, my voice breaking. Tears streamed down my face as I clutched the phone tightly. “Main ussi se shaadi karungi.”

My dad's voice was sharp, full of frustration and disbelief. “Aur hamari izzat ka kya? Tum kabhi pehle batati toh hum kuch samajh paate. Tum apne maa-baap ki izzat ko mitti mein mila rahi ho.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the weight of his words. “Papa, main bas yeh keh rahi hoon ke main kisi aur se shaadi nahi karungi,” I repeated weakly.

There was a pause, and then he spoke again, cold and stern. “Samaira, tumhara rishta Abhishek Sharma se fix ho chuka hai. Ek izzatdar family friend ka beta, he's a damn celebrity! Tumhari shaadi usi se hogi.”

Abhishek Sharma. I barely knew him. A stranger I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with? The thought made my stomach churn. How could I live like that?

“Mujhe koi faraq nahi padta, Papa,” I said, the defiance rising in my voice despite the tears. “Main kisi Sharma ji ke bete se shaadi nahi karungi.”

The silence that followed felt suffocating. And then, my dad’s voice came through again, but this time, it was low, threatening.

“Samaira, agar tum yeh faisla leti ho, toh hum tumhe apne ghar se nikal denge. Tum hamari beti nahi rahogi. Soch lo.”

My heart stopped. Disown me? They would actually disown me?

“Papa… please…” I whispered, but the line went dead.

The phone fell from my hand as I stood there, frozen. His words echoed in my mind, over and over, like a drumbeat.

Tum hamari beti nahi rahogi.

I sank down onto the bed, my body trembling. What had I just done? I hadn’t even thought it through. I didn’t really love Shubman—at least not like that anymore. Then why had I said it? Why had I dragged his name into this mess?

I buried my face in my hands, sobbing harder. I didn’t want to marry Abhishek. He was a stranger. I couldn’t imagine spending my life with someone I barely knew. But was choosing Shubman any better? I had said his name in a moment of panic, just to avoid this marriage my parents were forcing on me.

But now, what was I supposed to do? Had I just tied myself to Shubman for all the wrong reasons?

I felt lost, completely and utterly lost. And the worst part was, I didn’t even know if what I had just done was the right thing

SHUBMAN

I leaned back on the couch, trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the last few hours. Samaira—her name echoed in my mind. That conversation had left me more confused than I’d like to admit. It wasn’t just about what she had said; it was how she had said it, how she had looked at me, like she was fighting something bigger than either of us.

Across from me, Ishan was lounging on the other couch, fiddling with his phone while Janhavi sat beside him, sipping her coffee. I hadn’t told them much, just enough to hint that things with… her were complicated. They didn’t even know her name, but Ishan had a way of figuring out things I didn’t say.

“So, kya scene hai?” Ishan asked, raising an eyebrow as he put his phone down. “Tere aur mystery girl ke beech kuch toh hua hai. Bata, bhai. Phir se wohi purani kahani start?”

Janhavi smiled sympathetically, but I could tell she was curious too. She always had this nurturing vibe about her, like she wanted to fix things, even if they were way beyond repair.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “Nahi, Ishu. It’s… complicated, yaar. Vo scene thoda alag hai ab. We met after a long time, but things are not the same anymore.” I was trying to be vague, but Ishan wasn’t the type to let things go so easily.

He leaned forward, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Tu kab se complicated baatein karne laga, Shubi? Waise bhi, tu har baar yeh bolta hai aur phir tu wahin phas jaata hai.”

Janhavi chuckled softly, nudging Ishan. “Arre, stop teasing him. Clearly, it’s bothering him.”

I smiled weakly at Janhavi’s attempt to calm the situation, but my mind was still replaying the conversation with Samaira. The way she looked at me, her reluctance, her anger—it all left me on edge.

“I don’t know, guys. Pata nahi usse kya chahiye. Ek taraf woh mujhse baat nahi karna chahti, doosri taraf aisa lagta hai jaise kuch kehna chahti ho,” I muttered, trying to make sense of it myself.

Janhavi asked, "Uski baat chodo, what do you want Shubi?"

"See Janhavi, I like Samaira a lot. Love bolu toh hi behtar hoga... But you know what, the thing that usne mere ko ekbar bhi pucha nahi about what really happened. She just drew a conclusion and tore everything apart. To be very honest, I also mutually hated her for a long period of time, but after meeting her again... I seriously can't!", I told them the scenario breathlessly.

Ishan gave me a long look, clearly picking up on my frustration, and then, as if to shift the mood, he cracked a joke. “Bro, tujhe toh filmon mein hona chahiye. Itna drama toh maine daily soaps mein nahi dekha.”

Janhavi slapped him on the arm. “Ishan! Stop it, seriously.”

"No Janu this is more complicated than the plot of Yeh Rishta kya kehlata hai", he said swatting her hand.

But even I couldn’t help the small smile that crept up at his words. That was Ishan for you—always lightening the mood when things got too heavy. It was why he was one of my closest friends, boyfriend better to say (wink).

As the room fell into a more relaxed atmosphere, I thought about how to bring up Samaira again. But before I could say anything, Ishan suddenly spoke up, completely shifting the conversation.

“Waise, sun na, tune suna? Yeh Abhay ki shaadi ki baat chal rahi hai,” he said casually, taking a sip of his drink.

I frowned. “Abhishek Sharma? Humara Abhay shadi kar raha hai??”

“Haan, wahi. Apparently, uske gharwale kisi family friend ki beti ke saath shaadi fix kar rahe hain,” Ishan continued, completely unaware of the storm his words were about to set off in my mind.

My chest tightened, and I straightened up slightly. “Kis se?”

Ishan scratched his head. “Kya naam tha… Samaira Malhotra, haan. Abhishek ke family friend ki beti hai. Uski photo toh maine nahi dekhi, waise Abhishek ne bhi abhi tak nahi dekha. I think woh weekend pe milne wale hain.”

Samaira.

My heart sank as the name hit me like a ton of bricks. Samaira Malhotra. It couldn’t be. Could it?

The coincidence felt too big to ignore, but then again, I was trying to convince myself it wasn’t real. But the name—there was no mistaking it. She had mentioned some marriage proposal, and now Ishan was talking about the same thing. I stared at him, my mind racing.

“Are you sure it’s Samaira Malhotra?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Ishan nodded. “Haan, pakka. Waise, Abhay ko bhi wo yaad nahi, bachpan mein mile the ek-do baar. Lekin ab shaadi ki baat chal rahi hai.”

My throat felt dry. Samaira… engaged to Abhi? A guy who’s never even seen her properly? The thought twisted my insides in ways I couldn’t describe. Abhishek was a decent guy, sure, but I couldn’t picture her with someone like him. Someone who barely knew her.  When I thought about how she described her would be groom, it fitted perfectly. Someone who travels throughout the world for his job, obviously Abhay does.

I tried to act casual, though my mind was racing. “Kya tumhare paas Samaira ki photo hai?” I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Ishan shook his head. “Nahi, yaar. Abhishek ne bhi nahi dekhi hai, wo bola na direct milenge dono.”

I nodded, feeling more uneasy than ever. The thought of Samaira marrying someone else— Abhishek—was hard to wrap my head around. I had no right to feel this way, not after everything between us. But hearing her name in this context made it all too real.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. The screen lit up with a name that sent a jolt through my body.

Samaira.

I stared at the phone, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel Ishan and Janhavi’s eyes on me, but I didn’t move. My mind was still reeling from everything that had just come up, and now she was calling me.

I didn’t know what she wanted, but one thing was clear—I had to answer this call.

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