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Updated in happiness because 150 followers are completed♥︎

Thank yuhh very much for this much support☆

Chapter is little messy might change some things after..

background song: dard

SHRAVYA'S POV

"Dard mera tu hai dil tuje chahta kyu hai?"

SIDHAANT'S POV

"Yu hi behtar tha na tanha kiya kyu aakar?"

♥*♡∞:｡.｡　　｡.｡:∞♡*♥

"Chachiiiii!!!" Kushaant ran and hugged shravya tightly as soon as he saw her entering the mansion

Shravy hissed in pain because of his tight but still hugged him back

"Hey..chachi will get hurt kush" Siddhant said,his voice loud as a scolding tone

"Like you never hugged her!" He said rolling her eyes

Shravya giggled and slowly pinched kushant's nose

"Don't worry bachha..chachu have kinderjoy in his pocket" shravya whispered it into kushant's ears,knowing very well that Siddhant bought them for himself

"Chachu you bought me kinderjoy!" Kushaant jumped in happiness clinging over Siddhant

With a sad pout Sidhaant handed him the two kinderjoys he bought for himself,soon he looked at shravya

"Shravya ki bachhi" as soon as he said that shravya started running while laughing and he started chasing her

Finally she came to a area where there were no door to go and hide but just wall three side, while smirking Sidhaant slowly took large steps towards her and lean closer to her face as her back hit the wall

"Siddhant ji..ye cheating hai" she uttered the words in a low tone but he remained quiet

"There is no way to escape" she said before gulping hard ,she tried to escape from right side bit he placed his right hand on the wall ,she tried to leave from the left side but again he blocked her way placing his left hand on the wall

Now she was completely trapped into his trap

"Everyone must be waiting..kushaant had told them that we had came" Shravya whispered looking away

"Look at me" he ordered but she ignored his command

"Look at me shravii" this time his voice was soft,and that name..when did she allowed him to give her this name?

She was in deep thoughts that's when he called her again

"Mat dekhiye..bohot buri hai aap" he complained

Still she was in deep thoughts,even though she didn't wanted to

She hated the way her heart screamed that he loves her again because of the actions he did later..but now she realised that it was not the love but the guilt

She was scared.

Her love for him was raising day by day and he?

For him ,loving her was like an act,because after sometime he would again claim to hate her

Really mans are the best to manipulate! She thought to herself

The chain of her thoughts broke when he slowly made her look into his eyes by raising her chin firmly

She took a shaky breath, her fingers trembling as she clenched them into fists, as if grounding herself. Her eyes, dark pools of unshed tears, locked onto his, and she felt herself slipping into that familiar abyss.

"If I look into your eyes... I will get lost in them like I always did, Sid," she whispered, her voice a fragile thread weaving between them.

The words seemed to catch him off guard. He stiffened, his hands curling into tight fists by his sides. His expression was unreadable, a carefully constructed mask of indifference, but she could see the flicker of something beneath it—something raw, something real.

"You always did?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. There was an edge to it, a challenge, but also a reluctance, as if he was afraid of the answer.

His eyes, the ones she had once memorized in all their shades of warmth and coldness, now held something different—something she couldn't quite place. He had claimed to hate her, thrown words like daggers, built walls so high she could no longer see the boy she had once known.

Yet, here he was, questioning, searching.

She exhaled, her lips curving into a sad, wistful smile. "Hmm... more than you can imagine," she whispered again, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

Sid swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His fingers twitched as if they ached to reach out, to grasp something that had already slipped through time. But he didn’t move. He stood there, frozen, battling a war within himself.

She took a step closer, her scent—warm, familiar, heartbreakingly nostalgic—wrapping around him like a ghost of the past. "Even now," she added softly, "if I stare too long, I might never find my way back."

Sid let out a breath, his jaw tightening. He wanted to scoff, to dismiss her words with a careless remark, but he couldn’t. Because deep down, in a place he refused to acknowledge, he knew—he had always known.

She had never truly been lost.

He was the one who had been running.

And now, standing here, trapped between his pride and the truth in her eyes, he wasn’t sure if he could keep running anymore.

"I hate you, Mr. Siddhant Malhotra," she spat, her voice trembling, but her eyes burned with an intensity that even she didn’t know she possessed.

The name felt like poison on her tongue, thick and bitter, laced with every ounce of resentment that had been building inside her for far too long. It wasn’t just hatred—it was agony, betrayal, and the shattered remains of everything she once believed in.

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the storm raging inside her. She wanted to scream, to hurl every ounce of suffering back at him, to make him feel even a fraction of what she had endured. But she knew better. Siddhant Malhotra was untouchable, unreachable, a man who stood above the wreckage he created without a second thought.

And she?

She was just another casualty.

Her breath came fast, uneven. She could hear the thudding of her own heart, the way it pounded against her ribcage, almost as if it were fighting to escape, as if it too couldn’t bear the sight of the man standing before her.

His dark brown eyes studied her, cold and indifferent, as if her words meant nothing. As if she meant nothing.

Of course.

Why would he care?

He never cared. Not when he kissed her. Not when he whispered promises in the chat. Not when he stripped her of everything she once was, leaving her bare, broken, and gasping for air.

And now, standing there, towering over her with that same infuriating calmness, he had the audacity to act as though she were the one overreacting.

Her throat tightened, her vision blurred, but she refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

"I hate you," she repeated, her voice quieter this time, but no less venomous.

Still, nothing. No reaction. No remorse.

The silence between them stretched, suffocating, a chasm that could never be crossed.

She wanted to run, but her feet wouldn’t move. She wanted to strike him, but what was the point? He was already gone, had been gone long before she even realized she had lost him.

But she had to say it. She had to let it out before it consumed her.

"I hate you for what you did to me. For what you made me feel. For making me believe you were different."

Her voice broke.

A flicker of something—almost too quick to catch—passed through his expression. But then it was gone, and he was the same, distant, untouchable Siddhant Malhotra.

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "But most of all, I hate myself for ever loving you."

And with that, she turned, forcing her feet to move, even as every step away from him felt like walking through fire.

"Remember Siddhant!" She turned around again facing him

He raised his eyebrows as he studied the expressions on her face

"If you will claim to hate me and do such actions as if you love me..I will for sure start hating you" she said and stormed towards the way she had came here from

"You can never hate me shravya..and so does I..I claim to hate you but only I know I can't..just like that you always make yourself believe that you don't love me that hard but somewhere in your heart you know..you can never unlove me" he whispered as he also started going towards her direction

...

This was not love.

It was guilt.

She thought to herself as she lay there, staring at the ceiling, her mind drowning in the weight of everything that had happened. The past, the present, the pain—it all blurred into one unbearable storm inside her chest.

Sid had always claimed to hate her. He had thrown cruel words at her like daggers, looked at her with ice in his gaze, as if her mere presence was a stain on his life. He had pushed her away over and over again, making sure she knew that she meant nothing to him.

And yet, now, after the accident, everything had changed.

Suddenly, he was there.

Suddenly, he cared.

He had taken her back to the mansion, his hands careful as he helped her into the car, his voice softer than she had ever heard before. He had asked if she was in pain, if she needed anything, if she was cold. He had looked at her—really looked at her—not with indifference or anger, but something that almost resembled concern.

But she wasn’t a fool.

She knew better.

She knew it was all an act.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t care. It was guilt—guilt for whatever it was that he had done, guilt for the things he had said, guilt for the way he had treated her. And now that she had nearly slipped away, now that she had almost been taken from this world, he couldn’t escape the weight of what he had done.

And so, he was pretending.

Pretending that he cared.

Pretending that she mattered.

But she knew the truth.

She knew that once the guilt faded, once the reality of her survival settled in, he would go back to being the same Sid—the Sid who couldn’t stand the sight of her, the Sid who would rather burn in hell than admit that he ever felt anything for her.

Now, she sat in their bedroom, laying on the large bed that once felt foreign but was now the only place she could rest. The room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains blocking out most of the outside world. The silence stretched between them, suffocating.

She could hear the faint sound of water running in the bathroom—he was there, no doubt washing away his thoughts, trying to piece together whatever he was feeling. She almost wanted to laugh. Was this hard for him? Was guilt really so unbearable?

She shifted slightly, wincing as a dull pain shot through her ribs. The accident had left bruises, scratches, but the real pain was not in her body—it was in her heart.

She wanted to get up, to walk away, to leave this mansion and the memories that haunted its walls. But she couldn’t. She was trapped. Not by her injuries, not by the doctors who had told her to rest, but by him.

By Sid.

By the way he had looked at her when she had opened her eyes in the hospital.

By the way he had carried her into the car, as if she were something precious, something breakable.

By the way he had sat beside her in silence, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

She hated it.

She hated the way he was making her feel, hated the way her heart still wanted to believe that there was something real in his touch, his voice, his gaze.

But she wouldn’t fall for it. Not again.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

And then, she heard the bathroom door open.

The sound of his footsteps echoed in the room, slow, hesitant. She could feel his presence, standing near the bed, watching her.

Waiting.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Because if she did, she was afraid she might say something she would regret.

Afraid that she might ask him why.

Why he was here.

Why he was acting like he cared.

Why he had let her break over and over again, only to come running now, when it was already too late.

"Shravya," he whispered.

The sound of her name from his lips sent a shiver down her spine. She blinked, slowly opening her eyes as if she hadn't just heard the voice that had haunted her dreams for years.

She sat up, her movements sluggish, her body still weak from the accident. Her gaze met his dark brown eyes, and for a moment, she was lost.

Lost in the depth of his stare.

Lost in the memories of love, of pain, of everything they once were.

Her heart skipped a beat—just like it always did.

And she hated it.

She hated the way he still had this hold over her, the way her heart betrayed her every single time. How, despite all the pain, all the hatred, all the scars he had left on her soul, she still fell for him all over again.

"Come down for lunch," he said, his voice steady, neutral—devoid of any emotion.

He turned to leave, but the sound of her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"I have no appetite," she murmured, her tone dry, laced with exhaustion and sadness.

She laid back down, her back to him, as if closing herself off from him completely.

Sid’s hands clenched into fists.

Only he knew how bad he felt right now.

Only he knew how much it tore him apart to see her like this, to see her slipping away—not just physically, but emotionally, mentally.

He wished he could comfort her.

He wished he could take away her pain.

He wished he could hold her and tell her that everything would be okay.

But he couldn't.

Because somewhere deep inside, something held him back.

Something stopped him from letting go of the anger, the pain, the past.

And that something… was Mishti.

He inhaled sharply, recalling the phone call from just a few minutes ago.

Mishti's voice had been choked with tears, her sobs echoing in his ears even now.

She had told him—no, begged him—to remember.

She had accused Shravya.

She had cried, telling him how much she had loved Vidyut, how Shravya had stolen him away, how she had played cruel games to take him away from her.

And then, the words that had cut through him like a blade—

"She rejected Vidyut when he proposed, Sid. She broke him so badly that he took his own life!"

A sharp pain shot through his chest as Vidyut’s face flashed in his mind.

His younger brother.

The one who had always been full of life, always laughing, always making him smile until his stomach hurt.

The one who was no longer here.

The one who had left this world carrying the weight of heartbreak.

And the person Mishti had blamed for it?

Shravya.

The woman who now lay on the bed in front of him, fragile, wounded.

The woman he had told himself he hated.

No.

He claimed to hate her.

Because the unspoken truth was—

He had always loved her.

Even when he had pushed her away.

Even when he had lashed out at her with cruel words.

Even when she had left him for five years, leaving for London, leaving him in a void of emptiness.

Even now, when every part of him wanted to hate her, he couldn’t.

Because she was his pain.

But without her, his life felt incomplete.

Just like it had for the past five years.

"Come downstairs, Shravya," he said again, his voice quieter this time.

And then, he walked away.

Shravya didn’t move.

Didn’t turn around.

But as the door closed behind him, a silent tear slipped from her eye, soaking into the pillow beneath her.