Episode 15
1046 Words
Chapter 15: The Goodbye He Never HeardPihu's POV
5:10 AM.
The mansion was silent.
No footsteps.
No meetings.
No distant voices from security.
Just stillness.
The kind that somehow made leaving feel heavier.
My suitcase stood quietly near the door.
Packed.
Ready.
Unlike me.
Leo sat directly in front of it—
Massive.
Unmoving.
An emotional roadblock in white fur.
I sighed softly.
"Leo..."
He blinked.
Didn't move.
"Baby..."
Nothing.
I crouched slowly in front of him, placing my hands on either side of his face.
"You are making this dramatically harder."
A low sound rumbled in his throat.
Not anger.
Sadness.
And somehow—
That nearly shattered me.
Because Leo knew.
Maybe not about London.
Maybe not about misunderstandings.
But he knew I was leaving.
And he didn't like it.
My forehead rested gently against his.
"I need this."
My voice cracked slightly.
"Just for a few days."
His golden eyes remained fixed on mine.
Accusing.
Protective.
Hurt.
God.
"You're really his child."
That earned the softest huff.
And despite everything—
I smiled through tears.
Then hugged him tightly.
"Take care of Ansh for me."
For one painful second—
My own words hurt.
Because somewhere deep down—
It felt wrong leaving without telling him.
Wrong.
Cowardly.
But every time I imagined seeing Elena near him again...
Every time I remembered that quiet ache—
My courage disappeared.
So instead—
I chose distance.
Even if imperfectly.
Departure
I left one sealed envelope with the head maid.
Simple.
Practical.
For Rudransh.
Nothing emotional.
Just necessary details:
"Medical workshop. London. 10 days. Please don't worry."
No accusations.
No explanations.
No heartbreak.
Because if I wrote honestly—
I might never leave.
And perhaps...
Right now...
Leaving was the only way to breathe.
Rudransh's POV
7:15 AM.
Something was wrong.
I felt it immediately.
Not through logic.
Not through schedules.
Through absence.
The mansion felt...
Quiet.
Too quiet.
No Leo chaos.
No sleepy arguments.
No coffee complaints.
No Pihu.
I looked toward her usual seat at breakfast.
Empty.
My jaw tightened slightly.
"Where is Pihu?"
The maid hesitated.
Never a good sign.
"She left early, sir."
Every instinct sharpened instantly.
"Left?"
"Yes, sir."
A pause.
"For London."
Silence.
Absolute.
The newspaper in my hand lowered slowly.
"What."
The maid quickly handed me the envelope.
I opened it immediately.
"Medical workshop. London. 10 days. Please don't worry."
That was it.
No "Ansh."
No teasing.
No warmth.
Just polite distance.
And for reasons I refused to examine too deeply—
That hurt.
Far more than it should have.
Leo entered the dining hall moments later.
Restless.
Agitated.
Looking behind me.
Searching.
Then—
He understood.
And his low growl said everything.
"She didn't tell me."
The realization sat bitterly in my chest.
Because Pihu had always told me everything.
Even the smallest things.
And now—
She left countries away with a letter.
Not a conversation.
Not a goodbye.
A letter.
My fingers tightened unconsciously.
Not in anger.
In something worse.
Loss.
Rudransh's POV – Emotional Conflict
I should let her go.
That was the rational response.
She needed space.
Career growth.
Distance.
But rationality had always been fragile where Pihu was concerned.
Because every part of me was screaming one truth:
She left hurting.
And I was the reason.
Not enemies.
Not danger.
Me.
That thought was intolerable.
Childhood Memory
Suddenly—
Another memory surfaced.
Pihu.
Age 11.
Her first day at a new school after moving permanently into my home.
She had been terrified.
Nervous.
Clinging to my sleeve.
"Ansh... what if no one likes me?"
I had adjusted her backpack myself.
Fixed her messy hair.
Then placed a chocolate in her hand.
"Then they're stupid."
She laughed.
Softly.
Still uncertain.
"And if I get scared?"
I had bent slightly, looking her directly in the eyes.
"Call me."
Simple.
Absolute.
"I'll always come."
And I had.
Every time.
So why—
Why did it now feel like she no longer believed that?
Present
My chest tightened painfully.
Because perhaps—
This wasn't about London.
Or distance.
Or work.
Perhaps this was about something far more dangerous:
She was learning not to need me the same way.
And God—
That realization felt unbearable.
London – Pihu's POV
The city was beautiful.
Elegant.
Historic.
Alive.
And under any other circumstance—
I would've fully enjoyed it immediately.
But even standing in one of the world's greatest medical symposiums...
Part of me still felt strangely hollow.
Because habit is cruel.
Every achievement.
Every milestone.
Every important moment—
Had always somehow involved him.
I checked my phone more than I should have.
No message.
Of course not.
Why would there be?
I hadn't even told him properly.
Still—
A small, painful part of me waited.
And that alone irritated me.
"Focus, Pihu."
I whispered firmly.
"This is your dream."
Not your heartbreak.
Rudransh's POV
By evening—
I had already:
Reviewed her flight details
Confirmed security coverage
Assigned private surveillance
Ensured workshop accommodations were secure
Because emotional devastation or not—
Protecting her remained instinctive.
But none of that solved the deeper issue.
The silence.
So at exactly 9:30 PM London time—
I sent one message.
"Did you eat?"
Simple.
Safe.
Familiar.
No confrontation.
No pressure.
Just...
Us.
Or what remained of it.
Pihu's POV
My phone buzzed.
And the moment I saw his name—
My heartbeat betrayed me instantly.
Ansh:
Did you eat?
That was it.
No accusations.
No anger.
No "Why didn't you tell me?"
Just him.
The same him.
Steady.
Protective.
Present.
My eyes stung unexpectedly.
Because maybe—
No matter how complicated we became—
Some things between us remained unshaken.
I smiled softly.
And replied:
"Yes. Did you?"
His response came instantly.
"Don't avoid the question with another question."
A laugh escaped me.
Quiet.
Real.
And for the first time since leaving—
The distance didn't feel quite so unbearable.
Chapter Ending
Thousands of miles apart—
They still found each other in the smallest ways.
Not through confessions.
Not through clarity.
But through habit.
Care.
And love too deeply rooted to disappear easily.
Because perhaps—
No matter how far Pihu ran...
And no matter how fiercely Rudransh held back...
Some connections were never truly built to break.
- Writer
