Akrati had been busy helping with the wedding preparations when she felt someone's gaze on her.
Arsh had just entered the house.
The moment his eyes found her, the world around him seemed to fade away.
She looked beautiful.
Painfully beautiful.
The soft color of her outfit, the delicate jewelry, the smile she wore while talking to everyone—it was enough to bring back every memory he was trying to bury.
All he could see was Akrati.
As if sensing his presence, she turned around.
For a brief second, her eyes widened in surprise.
Then she stumbled slightly over the edge of her dress.
Arsh instinctively reached out and steadied her.
"Why do you always manage to be this clumsy?" he asked, a faint smile appearing on his lips. "Not complaining though."
His voice was light, teasing.
Akrati rolled her eyes.
But for a moment, both of them smiled.
It felt familiar.
Dangerously familiar.
Behind that smile, Arsh was struggling.
Every emotion he had buried—his love, his obsession, his longing—was threatening to break free again.
"Arsh," Akrati said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like I'm the only person here."
He looked away immediately.
Before he could answer, she crossed her arms.
"By the way, where are my flowers? You need to wish the bride to be with flowers."
Arsh remained silent.
His eyes seemed focused on something else entirely.
"Arsh?"
He finally looked at her.
"Can we talk?"
Akrati hesitated before nodding.
She led him toward a quieter corner of the house.
Shrisha saw this and had a flashback of the conversation she had with Aakrati last night.
Akrati had been sitting quietly on her bed, unusually restless.
"What is happening with you?" Shrisha had finally asked.
Akrati looked up.
"I don't know."
"Are you missing him?"
The question lingered between them.
"What do you feel, Akrati?" Shrisha asked gently. "This time, I really want to listen."
Akrati stared at her hands.
"I don't know what's going on with me. I'm confused."
"Confused about Arsh?"
She nodded slowly.
"I just feel like marrying Krish is the right thing to do. My parents, you, Krish, my family—everyone who has always cared about me wants this."
Shrisha sighed.
"I didn't ask what everyone else wants."
Akrati remained silent.
"I asked what you want."
A bitter smile appeared on her lips.
"That's the problem. I don't know."
Shrisha reached for her hand.
"Maybe you're just nervous."
"Maybe."
But even then, uncertainty remained in Akrati's eyes.
Back in the present, the wedding preparations continued.
Laughter echoed through the house.
People moved around carrying decorations and gifts.
Inside the house Aakrati offered Arsh a glass of juice.
"You look beautiful," he said quietly.
Akrati smiled.
"Thank you."
"You know this is my favorite color."
She laughed.
"Maybe. But it's also the color that looks best on me."
Arsh chuckled.
"You know what? I think this color was made for you."
"Obviously."
For a moment, things felt easy.
Normal.
Then Arsh's expression grew serious.
"Akrati, I don't want to keep beating around the bushes the real question is.."
Her smile faded.
"Okay."
He took a deep breath.
"Are you happy?"
The question caught her off guard.
"Of course I am."
"Really?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
But Arsh wasn't convinced.
Not even a little.
There was something in her eyes.
Something unsettled.
Something uncertain.
And it terrified him.
Because if she wasn't happy, he didn't know whether he could walk away.
And if she was happy, he wasn't sure he could survive hearing it.
Akrati looked away first.
The silence between them stretched.
Finally, she let out a small sigh.
"Arsh..."
"Hm?"
"I think we should stop doing this."
His jaw tightened.
"Doing what?"
"This."
She gestured helplessly between them.
"The questions. The memories. Looking back."
For the first time, uncertainty flashed across Arsh's face.
Akrati lowered her eyes.
"Everything that happened between us... maybe it was wrong."
The words felt heavier than she intended.
Arsh didn't interrupt.
"Maybe it shouldn't have happened at all," she continued quietly. "Maybe we both made mistakes."
A painful smile appeared on her lips.
"And if I ever hurt you, I'm sorry."
For a moment, he simply stared at her.
Then he laughed softly—not because anything was funny, but because hearing her apologize felt absurd.
"You think that's what I came here for?"
"Then why did you come?"
His eyes never left hers.
"To know if you're okay."
Akrati swallowed.
"I'm."
The answer wasn't convincing.
Not to him.
Not even to her.
Arsh looked down at the untouched glass in his hands before speaking again.
"You know, everyone keeps asking what should happen."
She frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Your family. Krish. Your friends."
"And?"
"And nobody asks what you actually want."
Akrati's expression faltered.
Before she could reply, voices echoed from outside.
Someone was calling her name.
The celebrations continued, unaware of the storm hidden in this quiet corner.
Arsh took a step back.
For the first time since the conversation had begun, his voice was calm.
"No matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to make a choice because it's yours."
Akrati looked at him silently.
"And if there's something you want," he continued, "have the courage to say it."
She felt her heart tighten.
"Arsh..."
He shook his head.
"You don't owe me anything. Not an explanation. Not a promise."
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Then he managed a faint smile.
"Just be honest with yourself."
And somehow, those words unsettled her more than anything else he could have said.
After that he leaves.