I am saying this for my dear readers who listen to me.

Cuties all of you do one thing that you don't read their rants, just like I don't read them, you also shouldn't read them. If you all read their rants then they will talk even more nonsense. You all must have heard a saying that a shop runs as long as it has customers and if there are no customers then the boat of their shop will sink along with itself.

When a fire starts, its waves rise initially but after some time it calms down. And anyway, whatever is happening here regarding Shubman, that too will calm down because you all must be seeing how many people are trusting those fake proofs. What is happening in Shubhman's personal life should not matter to us, we should stay in our boundaries. You must have seen the mentality of those who are accusing Shubhman of being a criminal and a rapist. How they were threatening me to keep quiet. Their mentality is like that of criminals themselves and they blame others.

Yaar matlab sachme Wattpad wale toh already bhadwe hai toh wo toh kuchh karenge hi nahi toh kyu bekaar mein itni mehnat kar rahe ho aap log.

Garam khun hai abhi kyunki bache abhi ande se nikle hi hai toh hero banne ki koshish kar rahe hai ki wo saviour hai jo hume bacha rahe hai Shubman se. Seriously Shubman ko hum support nahi karenge toh usse usko koi fark padega nahi na. Aur waise bhi tum usko hate karo, support Karo uske paas itna paisa hai ki wo apni zindagi sahi se jee sakta hai 🙂. Aur haa ek baar koi money fraud wala bhi case aaya tha Shubman ko lekar maine dhyan nahi diya tha lekin usse bhi Kuchh hua nahi na sab galat sabit ho gaya tha baat aise khatm Hui ki pata bhi nahi chalta hai ki aisa bhi kuchh hua tha 😑🙂

Un chutiyo ka chutiyapa toh dekho zara Shubman ko lekar hate faila rahe hai lekin abhi tak Ishman book ko hataya nahi. Dogle hai isliye toh nahi hata rahe attention seeker hai ek number ke.

I'd meri bhi gayab hogi toh main bhi wapas aa sakti hu isme koi badi baat nahi hai. Un chutiyo ko sirf force karna aata hai aur Kuchh nahi. Hum bharosa kare ya na kare lekin wo bhadwe jaan buchkar force kar rahe hai ki tumhe bharosa karna padega unke proofs par. Ab bhadwe saale aisi jabardasti par aa gye hai ki dhamkiya dene lage hai 🙂 aur mujhe bolte hai ki main galat hu lekin ye saale bhadwe ye kyu bhul gye ki ye khud kya kar rahe 🙂😑. Itna dimag kharab kar rakha hai aa jaate hai hamesha bakchodi karne. Bade dogle log hai matlab kya hi bolu main 🙂. Meri comment section mein aakar bakchodi na kare kyuki maine tumhare opinions nahi mange hai. 🙏 Matlab gazab ke Bhadwe log hai inko hacking ya coding wagera aata hai toh ye iska sahi use kyu nahi kar rahe hai bada shauq hai na inko criminals ko saza dene ka 🙂🙂 to ja na kutta kyu nahi kar raha hai abhi tak kyu nahi ek bhi criminal ko saza dilwai tune. Itne bade bade kaand ho chuke hai desh mein.

Yaar literally tum log aise proof par bharosa kar rahe ho jiska koi matlab hi nahi hai aur abhi toh technology bahot aage badh gayi hai kya sach hai kya jhuth pata hi nahi chalta hai.

I am not saying that the person does not know hacking.

Yesterday I had said that Wattpad had deleted the chapters of my book but nothing like that had happened. I had unpublished my books knowingly. And he was saying that he had done everything, he had deleted the chapters of my book too. He was going and flexing that he had deleted my books. He did what I wanted 🤡 Wo banda fas gya meri baaton mein. If he had to flex by telling lies then he would have done it properly, he doesn't even understand how to lie. But meri I'd real mein delete kar do Kam se kam phir bolna sab ko ki tumne kiya hai.

Even if that idiot does something to me, it will be of no use. Kyuki already meri zindagi toh chaar din ki chandni hai toh duniya toh mujhe bhul bhi jaayegi.

This is for those who have a problem with my abusing. I did not start anything without reason, first I gave my opinion with great love, then he came and started abusing. And he abuses and deletes the messages, then how could I show his SS to all of you. I know that abusing is not a good thing. And I am not so simple that someone abuses me and I keep listening. When nobody knows the whole matter then please do not express your opinion about me. It was fine if they were calling me wrong but there are some people who are saying that my actions are showing illiteracy and bad parenting. Do not comment on my personal life and what my parents have taught me. Main rude nahi hona chahti hu lekin agar koi mere parents ko lekar Kuchh bolega toh main kaisa hi reply de sakti hu.

I am not in the habit of taking anyone's sympathy, still I am telling you that I myself do not know for how long I have been in this world, maybe I should leave this book incomplete and go away. That is why it does not matter to me what people think about me.

Maine 🙂 socha hai ki main inki bakchodi ko social media par dal du inko bada shauq hai na sach samne laane ka toh main hi thoda inki help kar deti hu phir uske baad bahot maza aayega. Main toh khud dubungi hi lekin saath mein sab ko leke dubungi 🙂 Yaar sachme main pagal ho gayi hu kya 😑

I have received open threats, so I can complain against cybercrime. And I post a lot of cricket related posts on social media, and many cricketers react after seeing my stories. Sebastian also watches my stories whenever it is related to Shubman. I am a manipulator according to some people, so I can do anything. I know that maybe he will not do much, but still, he will take some action regarding whatever is happening on Wattpad. But I am not doing anything because there are innocent authors here, they will also get caught in all this.

Bahot bakwas ho gaya story ko continue karte hai ab

-----

The man across from him-Shubman leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. His expression was unreadable, a strange mixture of sympathy and amusement.

"Why would I go through the trouble of faking something like this?" he asked. His voice was too smooth, too confident. Like he already knew how this would play out.

Ishan's head pounded. He wanted to rip the paper apart, to throw it back in this man's face.

But the seal on the document. The official signatures.

It looked real.

Ishan's breath came in sharp, ragged bursts.

"No. No, this is some kind of trick." His voice was rising, frantic. "You're trying to manipulate me."

Shubman tilted his head. "And why would I do that, Ishan?"

Ishan hated the way he said his name. Like it was something he owned.

"You tell me," he spat. "Because I don't know you."

Shubman sighed. "You do. You just... don't remember."

Ishan's fury spiked. "I'm not crazy!"

Shubman didn't even blink. "I never said you were."

Ishan shoved the certificate back at him. "I don't believe you."

Shubman regarded him carefully, then leaned back with an exhale, running a hand through his hair. "I was afraid this would happen."

Ishan stiffened. "Afraid of what?"

Shubman's gaze flickered to the two-way mirror in the interrogation room. His lips pressed into a thin line before he turned back to Ishan.

"Someone has done something to you."

Ishan's blood ran cold.

"You're lying."

"Am I?" Shubman's eyes were sharp, unrelenting. "If I was lying, how do I know everything about you? How do I know you hate sleeping with the closet door open? That you hum when you're anxious, even when you don't realize it?"

Ishan's throat tightened. He hadn't even noticed, but-

He was humming under his breath.

Shubman leaned forward, voice softer now. "How do I know... about the scar on your left hip?"

Ishan froze.

His breath hitched.

No one knew about that scar.

No one.

It was hidden. Always.

A childhood accident. A deep cut from falling onto broken glass. He'd never even told Abhishek.

His hands clenched into fists.

"You're lying," he whispered. "You're-you're messing with me."

But Shubman wasn't smiling anymore. He wasn't mocking him.

His eyes were darker now, something dangerous lurking beneath.

"I wish I was."

Ishan's chest heaved. He felt trapped.

The walls of the office room seemed to close in, the fluorescent lights suddenly too bright, too harsh.

His own memories felt like they were slipping through his fingers.

Was there something wrong with him? Had he forgotten something so huge?

No.

No.

This wasn't real.

This was a game. A trick.

He slammed his hands on the table, his nails digging into the metal.

"You are not my husband."

Shubman stared at him.

And then-he smiled.

Not amused.

Not cruel.

Something worse.

Something that said: You don't know the half of it.

Ishan's stomach twisted as Shubman's next words shattered the last piece of stability he had left.

"Then tell me, Ishan..." His voice was a whisper, but it cut like a blade.

"If I'm lying, why are you wearing our wedding ring?"

Ishan's world collapsed.

Ishan's breath hitched.

His fingers twitched as his gaze snapped to his left hand.

No.

No, that wasn't possible.

His skin burned as if the ring itself were scorching hot, but it was there-a simple silver band, smooth and unremarkable, yet suffocating.

His pulse pounded in his ears. How had he not noticed it before?

Shubman watched him with a quiet intensity, his dark eyes unreadable. "Go on," he said, voice deceptively gentle. "Take it off, if you don't believe me."

Ishan's fingers shook as he grasped the ring, tugging.

It didn't budge.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

Why-why couldn't he get it off?

His breathing turned shallow, uneven. He twisted, pulled, scratched at his own skin, but it was like the ring had fused to him, as if it had been there for years.

Panic rose like bile in his throat.

Shubman sighed, shaking his head. "Ishan, stop. You're going to hurt yourself."

"Shut up." Ishan's voice came out hoarse, desperate. "This isn't real."

Shubman didn't reply. He simply watched.

Ishan could feel it.

That eerie calmness.

That quiet power.

Like he was waiting for something.

The room swam around him. His head pounded, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

How?

How was this happening?

He clenched his jaw. "This is some kind of trick. You put this on me. You-you're manipulating everything."

Shubman leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. "Did I?"

Ishan's vision blurred.

His own skin felt foreign.

His own mind felt untrustworthy.

"Shut up," he whispered, voice breaking.

Shubman tilted his head. "What's the last thing you remember, Ishan?"

Ishan's throat closed up.

His thoughts were a mess-fragments, glimpses of a normal life.

The café. The warmth of coffee in his hands. The familiar scent of old books.

But beyond that-

Nothing.

His breath caught.

Shubman saw the shift in his expression. And that damn smirk returned.

"You don't remember, do you?"

Ishan clenched his fists. "That doesn't mean I know you."

Shubman studied him for a long moment before he finally spoke. "You don't have to trust me, Ishan. You just have to trust yourself."

Ishan's chest ached.

Because for the first time in his life-

He wasn't sure if he could.

----

Ishan stormed out of the office, his mind a tangled mess of confusion and denial. The photographs, the hospital records, ring-it all felt like a cruel trick, an elaborate illusion designed to break him.

But why would Shubman go to such lengths?

The cold night air hit him as he stepped onto the sidewalk, his breaths coming in sharp gasps. His hands were shaking. He dug his nails into his palms, trying to ground himself, but the images from the folder wouldn't leave his head.

Shubman's voice echoed in his mind. You need to stop running and start searching.

Searching for what?

He had nothing to search for. His life had always been simple-working at the café, saving money, dreaming of a stable future. No grand romance. No hidden past.

Yet, something deep inside him-the part that he had always ignored-felt like it was waking up.

He pulled out his phone and called Abhishek.

It rang once before his best friend picked up. "I swear to god, if you tell me you're still with that lunatic-"

"I left," Ishan interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper.

A beat of silence. "Are you okay?"

No. He wasn't.

"I don't know."

"Where are you?"

"Outside Gill Enterprises."

"Stay there. I'm coming."

The call ended, and Ishan let out a shaky breath. He stared up at the towering building, its glass walls reflecting the city's neon glow. Somewhere inside, Shubman was still watching him-he knew it.

Ishan turned away.

He didn't want to see Shubman's face ever again.

But even as he told himself that, a dark, gnawing doubt had already taken root in his mind.

What if-just what if-Shubman wasn't lying?

What if Ishan had been living a lie all along?

----

Ishan sat in the passenger seat of Abhishek's car, his fingers drumming restlessly against his thighs. The cool night air seeped through the cracked window, but it did nothing to ease the turmoil brewing inside him.

Abhishek gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw set in a grim line as he navigated the near-empty roads. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Ishan could tell that his friend was holding back a storm of questions.

Finally, Abhishek exhaled sharply and broke the silence.

"You gonna tell me what the hell happened in there?" His voice was controlled, but there was an edge of frustration beneath it.

Ishan closed his eyes, trying to piece together the chaos of the last few hours. "I don't even know where to start." His voice came out hollow, as if he were detached from his own reality.

Abhishek glanced at him before focusing back on the road. "Try."

Ishan swallowed hard. "Shubman... he claims we're married."

Abhishek's grip on the wheel tightened. "I saw the documents."

Ishan turned to him, his heart skipping a beat. "You saw them?"

"Yeah," Abhishek muttered. "Mayank pulled some records before your bail hearing. There's a legal marriage certificate, dated five years ago. With your name. Your signature."

Ishan's breath hitched. He felt sick.

"That's impossible," he whispered, his hands curling into fists.

Abhishek's gaze flickered to him again. "I know. But legally, on paper? It's all there. It looks real."

A chill ran down Ishan's spine. "But it's not."

Abhishek nodded grimly. "Exactly."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The car hummed softly as it rolled down the road, streetlights flashing in and out of view.

Then, Ishan forced out the question that had been gnawing at him since his arrest. "What if-" He hesitated, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. "What if I really don't remember?"

Abhishek slammed the brakes.

The car skidded to a stop at an empty intersection, and Abhishek turned to him sharply, his dark eyes blazing. "No."

Ishan flinched. "What-?"

"You're not crazy, Ishan. You didn't forget. Something's wrong here."

Ishan's breathing was uneven. His hands trembled slightly in his lap.

"I want to believe that," he admitted. "But how do you explain the ring? The documents? The fact that everyone seems so damn convinced?"

Abhishek ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know yet. But I'll tell you this-I trust you. And I know one thing for sure."

Ishan swallowed. "What?"

Abhishek leaned closer, his expression intense.

"Whoever that man is... he's lying."

The words settled deep in Ishan's bones.

Lies. Deception. A truth lurking beneath the surface.

Whatever was happening, it wasn't just some misunderstanding.

And the worst part?

Ishan had a sickening feeling that the real nightmare hadn't even started yet.

-----

What do you think my dear readers, is Ishan right or is Shubhman manipulating Ishan? 🤔

----