Falling Destiny

Episode 17: "The Aftermath"

(Sanchit’s POV)

I stayed on my knees long after she left.

The ring slipped from my trembling hand and landed on the marble floor with a dull thud. A sound so soft, so fragile, it didn’t match the storm tearing me apart inside.

That tiny sound kept echoing in my head. Over and over.

The sound of something breaking. Something ending.

She said no.

The words replayed in my ears, sharp as glass.

She said no.

And it wasn’t just a no to a question. It was a no to a future I had built in my mind, brick by brick, dream by dream.

She said she loved me. I had felt it in her touches, her glances, her silences. And still… she said no.

I wasn’t angry. Anger was too alive, too sharp.

I was… numb.

Like someone had paused the reel of my life mid-scene, leaving me stranded in a moment that refused to move forward. Everything around me became muted—the fairy lights flickering in rhythmic patterns, the music still playing faintly in the background, the soft rustle of petals as they touched the ground. The world continued, unbothered. But inside me, something had collapsed.

My fingers trembled as I stared at the ring lying on the floor, the diamond catching the light mockingly. My knees ached, stiff from kneeling too long, but I couldn’t feel them. My body was there, but my soul—it was stuck in the memory of her eyes when she whispered those words.

“I’m sorry, Sanchit… I can’t say yes.”

A part of me had been waiting for joy, for laughter, for the rush of relief when she said yes. Instead, those words had come like a quiet earthquake, silent but devastating.

Slowly, I forced myself to stand. My movements felt mechanical, as if I wasn’t controlling my body anymore. As if I were a puppet, strings pulled by a cruel master.

The lights still glowed. The music still played. The petals still floated lazily. All of it—the dreamscape I had worked so hard to create—was still alive. And yet, the moment it was meant for had already died.

She had left.

And she had taken a part of me with her.

---

(Neha’s POV)

I watched from the shadows.

I shouldn’t have.

But I did.

And now, I wished more than anything that I hadn’t.

I had planned this night. I had poured every ounce of my heart into it. I wanted to see magic bloom, to watch love win. But what I saw instead… was heartbreak unravel in real time.

When Disha’s lips formed that word—no—I felt it stab through me as if it were my own rejection. I wanted to scream, to cry, to run up and shake her shoulders. Why, Disha? Why? Don’t you see how much he loves you? Don’t you see what you’ve just broken?

But I couldn’t move. My feet felt cemented to the floor, my chest too heavy to let me breathe.

I saw Sanchit freeze. His expression—God, it was unbearable. I had never seen a person shatter so silently. It was like watching glass crack in slow motion. One fracture. Then another. And another. Until there was nothing left but pieces too sharp to put back together.

This was the same boy who had spent weeks perfecting every single detail of tonight. Who had rehearsed every word with trembling hands. Who had confessed to me that this proposal wasn’t just for her, but for himself—a promise to never let her feel alone again.

And now, he stood there in the middle of what was supposed to be his dream turned reality… only for it to twist into a nightmare.

He didn’t say a word. Not even a sound escaped his lips. No cry, no curse, no desperate plea. Just silence. A silence so loud, it drowned out the music and crushed my chest.

I watched as he bent down, his fingers brushing against the ring Disha had left behind. He picked it up slowly, almost reverently, as if it were not just a ring, but a piece of his heart he couldn’t leave lying there.

Then, without looking back at the lights, without sparing the decorations a second glance, he walked off the terrace.

Slow. Silent. Broken.

And all I could do was follow with my eyes, my hands trembling, my throat burning with unshed tears.

When he passed by me in the hallway, my body moved before my mind could stop it.

“Sanchit…” I whispered, reaching for his arm.

He stopped.

For a moment, I thought he would collapse against me, let himself break down. But he didn’t. He didn’t even meet my eyes. His face was calm, too calm, the calmness of someone who had slipped back into the mask he once wore years ago—the mask that hid pain so no one else could see it.

“I don’t blame her,” he said quietly, his voice rough, each word carrying the weight of heartbreak. “But I wish she’d just told me earlier. Instead of giving me hope.”

There was no anger in his tone. No bitterness. No accusation.

Only heartbreak.

The kind that lingers. The kind that never really heals.

“I’m so sorry…” I whispered, my throat tight with guilt. I had planned all of this. I had made the lie, chosen the dress, crafted the stage for a love story… only to watch it all collapse. A part of me felt like I had failed him.

He finally glanced at me. And then, he forced a smile. One of those empty, broken smiles that doesn’t touch the eyes.

“Thanks for trying, Neha. You did everything perfectly.”

Then he walked away.

And I stood there, frozen in the hallway.

For years, I had been the one who found the light in every dark corner, who carried hope like a torch even in the blackest nights. But tonight… I couldn’t find it. The light was gone. The hallway felt colder, darker. And so did my heart.

Because tonight, love didn’t win.

Tonight, love lost.

And the silence it left behind… was unbearable.