The sunsets were always like a never-ending love story-setting on one side only to rise again from another. As Ved Mishra stood by the window, eyes fixed on the horizon, he found himself mesmerized by the crimson hues bleeding across the sky. There was something deeply poetic in the way the sun dipped below his view, leaving behind a canvas of golden fire and solemn blues. The sky, in that moment, felt like it was whispering an unspoken truth-the ache of letting go of something you love the most.

It reminded him of her.

The wind rustled against the glass as if trying to echo his thoughts. The silence was loud, deafening. It spoke of separation, of loss, of goodbyes that were never truly said.

Ved's POV

How could I ever tell a structured story, when my own life has been nothing but a spiral of chaos? They say the moon is beautiful, serene, enchanting. That's what people saw in me. But deep inside, I was losing myself, inch by inch. And now, I realize I've already lost.

These past years... I drifted away from everything I once called mine. And because of my own recklessness, I destroyed it all. I walked a lonely road to reach this point, fighting not just the world, but the demons within myself. I know I hurt people, including those I loved. But I couldn't help it. There were moments where I felt like I was dying slowly, piece by piece.

And yet, here I am.

The version of Ved Mishra standing here today is no longer the same man. I've learned that this world doesn't wait, doesn't care. The world is cruel, indifferent. Adulthood isn't about thriving-it's about surviving. About carrying responsibilities alone, even when your heart is shattered.

Today, I am married. Strange, isn't it?

I left everything behind, carrying nothing but my name. Like a bird breaking free from its golden cage, I flew, carrying a trail of memories that refused to let go. And yet, somehow, I felt lighter in the silence. Freer.

But just when I felt I had embraced this new life, the past came rushing back like a tidal wave. A single tear escaped, trailing down my cheek. As my vision blurred, memories played in front of me like a cruel movie on loop. I tried to fight them off, to escape them, but how could I?

Some things never change. And some things... can never be the same again.

The knock on the door startled me out of my daze.

"Sir, your coffee," the staff member said, quietly placing the mug on the table before quickly exiting.

The room was dim, cloaked in shadows that mirrored the darkness within me. I had grown comfortable here-in the silence, in the low light, in the space where memories were easier to bury. The grey and black interiors weren't just an aesthetic choice; they were a reflection of who I'd become. A new Ved Mishra. A man who had risen from the ashes, but left his heart behind in the flames.

I held the coffee mug with both hands, its warmth stark against my cold skin. I stared at the skyline, a jungle of glass and steel. Each building, a symbol of triumph. But none of them could touch the void inside.

Sip by sip, I drank the bitter brew-a pitch-black cup of Robusta, no sugar. Just like me. Dark. Strong. Bitter.

My eyes stung. People say men don't cry. But I was.

Crying not because I was weak, but because I had loved deeply. And lost even more.

A heavy breath escaped me as I wiped away the tears, berating myself.

"Why waste them," I muttered under my breath, "when no one really cares."

The taste of salt lingered on my lips longer than the coffee did.

I stood up, brushed my emotions under the rug like I did every day, and prepared for the day ahead. Today was important. Investors were visiting. And I couldn't afford to look weak. I had built this empire on my own now. Mishra & Sons was more than just a company. It was my armor.

But the truth?

I missed her.

I missed the dreams we once had. The names we whispered for our unborn children. The plans we made while lying under the stars. But all that was dust now. Buried under the weight of mistakes, of betrayals, of silence.

When I stepped out of my office, my aura shifted. Gone was the vulnerable man. In his place walked the CEO-cold, sharp, merciless. Every step I took echoed through the hallway, sending a wave of anxiety through the PR department.

The moment I entered, everyone stiffened.

"Good morning, sir," they chorused. Respect tinged with fear.

I didn't respond. Just a cold glance and the ghost of a smirk.

Someone handed me the daily report. I scanned through it, eyes narrowing.

"What's the market ratio of these companies?" I snapped, eyes darting up.

The room froze.

"Didn't I ask for this earlier? Or was I speaking to the walls?"

Silence.

"If you can't learn from your mistakes," I growled, "then don't bother trying to work here. Pack your things. I don't need incompetence."

I tossed the report onto the desk and stormed out, the air around me crackling with tension.

Back in my office, I collapsed into the chair, massaging my temples. The bitterness of the coffee still lingered, mixing with the sharp sting of regret. I immersed myself in numbers, reports, and analytics, trying to bury everything else. But the past has a funny way of showing up when you least expect it.

A knock broke through my concentration.

My assistant stepped in, a file in hand.

"What is it?" I asked, without looking up.

"There was a call from the Mishra Mansion," she said, voice cautious.

I finally looked at her.

"Your mother said... your wife is back."

The words hit me like a blow to the chest.

Time stopped.

My fingers went numb. The pen slipped from my hand.

"What... did you just say?"

"Your wife. She's back."

An avalanche of emotions surged within me-confusion, fear, disbelief, and something else. Hope.

No. It couldn't be.

Ovi.

My Ovi.

is she Back?

suddenly the voice rang on his ear " sir...its Natasha.....ma'am......daughter of Narang Dixit"