Falling Destiny

Episode 30: "Shadows of Care and Buried Truths"

(Rohit’s POV)

Every time I walk into that little bakery, I feel peace — and pain.

Neha’s smile has that rare kind of warmth. The kind that doesn’t burn, just gently thaws what’s frozen inside you. I didn’t plan on feeling this way about her. I never do. My world is too twisted, my reality too stained for someone like her. But somehow, Neha makes it seem like I’m just a man having coffee, not a man carrying sins I can’t speak of.

I always come dressed in casual clothes — hoodies, caps, plain sneakers — all to avoid attention. No one should know Rohit Mehra, CEO of Mehra Holdings, comes here to breathe. To feel something real.

She laughs freely here. Not like the girl I first met. That one had walls. This Neha, she still has them, but I’ve found a way to sit beside them without forcing entry.

And yet, I hold back.

I don’t ask her about Disha. I know they live together. I’ve seen the little baby clothes once, folded on a couch when I dropped by unannounced. She didn’t know I noticed. But I never asked. Because Disha never volunteered. I respect that.

There’s something in Neha’s eyes. Like she’s carrying someone else’s sorrow too. I want to ask. I want to hold her and promise her safety. But how do you offer light when your own world is made of shadows?

If she knew the truth about me… would she still smile?

So I stay silent. Stay close. Let her come to me, if she ever wants to. I’ll wait. Because even if I can’t give her forever… I want her to have days that feel like it.

---

(Disha’s POV)

Neha has changed.

Ever since she started working at that mansion, I’ve seen it in the way her smile tightens. She comes home tired — not just physically, but emotionally. Like she’s watching herself more carefully now. Like someone’s eyes are on her even when she’s alone.

I asked her once, “Is everything okay there?”

She smiled. “Ruhani is sweet.”

That wasn’t what I was asking.

It’s not just the girl. It’s Veer. The name slipped out once, accidentally, when she mentioned someone bringing her mango juice after rehearsals.

I searched his name. Veer Singh Roy.

Powerful. Rich. Dangerous.

I saw his photo.

My heart sank.

There’s something in his eyes — a storm barely held back. And the way Neha speaks about him, with polite detachment, tells me enough. She’s being careful.

Then there’s Rohit.

I like him. He’s kind. Simple in the way he talks to Neha, even though I know he’s not. The world knows Rohit Mehra. But the man sitting in our bakery, waiting for a chocolate muffin and watching Neha with silent admiration — that’s someone else.

He never asked me about Sanchit. Never brought it up, even when I knew he could sense the pain in the air. I respect that.

Still, I watch Neha.

I’m afraid she’s standing in the middle of two storms. One watching her from the shadows. The other walking beside her, holding an umbrella but never asking if she wants one.

I wanted to ask her directly today. As she folded laundry and hummed under her breath, I took a seat beside her.

“So… do you like working there?” I asked casually.

“It’s fine. Ruhani’s learning fast,” she replied.

“And her brother?”

She looked up. Met my eyes. “He’s… polite.”

That told me everything and nothing.

“Do you trust him?”

A beat passed. “I don’t know yet.”

And I knew. Neha was in a place where her heart hadn’t decided whether to fear or forgive. She doesn’t talk about the past anymore — not Sanchit, not the threats, not even the pain. She only focuses on my baby. Her eyes light up when I fold little socks or tell her about the flutter I felt last night.

She’s living for two now — herself, and me.

But I see her unraveling slowly. Not breaking — just loosening the grip on all the pain she kept folded inside.

And I worry.

Because one of them — Veer or Rohit — will catch her heart. And I don’t know which one she can survive.

---

Later That Evening: (Rohit’s POV)

I sat in my car longer than I should have. The engine idled while I watched the bakery close down. Through the window, I saw her wiping the counter, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, laughing softly with the owner as she handed over the last box.

I should leave.

But I didn’t.

I got out, walked across the road, pushed the door open.

She looked up.

“Late night sweet tooth?” she teased.

“Maybe I just missed your terrible baking,” I smirked.

She laughed.

God, I love that sound.

“Can I walk you home?” I asked, surprising myself.

She paused. “Sure.”

We walked in silence for most of the way. At her door, I handed her a tiny paper bag.

She raised a brow. “What’s this?”

“Chamomile tea. Helps with stress. You seem like you haven’t slept well in weeks.”

Her eyes softened. “Thank you.”

I smiled. “Goodnight, Neha.”

And as I turned away, I told myself again — stay in the shadows. Protect her. But don’t pull her into your fire.

---

(Disha’s POV – Midnight)

I woke up to find Neha sitting by the window, sipping the tea Rohit gave her. Her eyes were wet, though she wasn’t crying.

I sat beside her. “Want to talk?”

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” she whispered. “I just… want him back.”

“You will,” I said. “And until then, we’ll keep going.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder.

And together, we stared into the night — where two men watched over Neha, neither knowing how deeply they were falling, and neither realizing — the girl they were falling for… was the only one keeping herself from shattering completely.