Talab - Chapter 15: Chapter 15

For days now, Samarth's men had been searching for Raj.
Every alley.
Every contact.
Every whisper in the underworld.
But it was like he had vanished into thin air.
The ghost of her past had disappeared.
But not from Samarth's mind.
Or Fanaa's.
⸻
Yet amidst the shadows, a garden of love was blooming.
Fanaa had begun to smile again.
And Samarth—he didn't miss a single moment to make her feel cherished.
He now made her hair every morning, his fingers brushing through her locks like a painter caressing his favorite canvas.
Sometimes, he cooked her breakfast—burnt toast and all—and she laughed, finally... laughed.
And every evening, hand in hand, they walked barefoot on the terrace under the moonlight, no words needed.
Their souls spoke through silence.
Love was growing—delicate, healing, and new.
⸻
One such morning...
He was fixing her braid, gently tucking a pin behind her ear when he kissed her forehead.
"Umm... Biwi ji," he said, with those soft puppy eyes,
"There's a party tonight—my business client's. Will you come with me?"
She giggled. "Ji."
"Saree. Wear that blue one. You'll look like a princess."
He hugged her tight and exhaled in peace.
⸻
She wore a light blue net saree, almost like the sky wrapped itself around her.
Her skin glowed beneath the soft shimmer, and when Samarth saw her, his jaw dropped.
"Main toh gaya... am dead."
Fanaa blushed hard. "Samarth ji..."
⸻
The party venue was elegance itself—white lilies, soft music, warm lights.
People whispered behind glasses of champagne:
"They're made for each other."
"Look how protective he is."
"Lucky girl."
And Fanaa felt it too—
That safety, that presence.
He never left her side. Not for a second.
Until...
"Umm... Samarth ji," she whispered in his ear. "Washroom..."
He turned to her seriously. "Come, I'll come with you."
She gave him a look. "Are you serious?"
He gave in reluctantly.
"Okay... but don't take long. Promise?"
"Promise," she smiled and touched his cheek.
⸻
10 minutes passed.
He checked his watch.
His heart began to beat faster.
15 minutes.
Still no sign.
He rushed toward the restroom.
Empty.
Panic.
Then... the backdoor—open.
Cold air. Wind.
His chest clenched.
He ran.
⸻
And then—he saw her.
Fanaa.
Standing at the very edge of the rooftop.
The world 60 floors below her feet.
"Fanaa!!"
He screamed at the top of his lungs.
She turned around slowly, the wind brushing her pallu as if even the sky was trying to pull her back.
She smiled softly.
"Are you mad, biwi? Come forward! Please—you'll fall!"
His voice cracked, tears blurring his vision.
"Why are you doing this?!"
She looked down once, then back at him.
"No, Samarth ji... I don't deserve you."
Her voice broke.
"I'm used. You deserve someone pure. Whole. Not me."
He dropped to his knees.
"Shut up! Shut up, you woman," he cried. "You don't get to decide what I deserve!"
"I love you, Fanaa! I love you—not your past, not your body. You!
Just come forward, please..."
For a moment—just a flicker—her eyes softened.
There was hope.
A small glint of light.
She took a breath.
Opened her lips.
Was about to say something.
And then—
Boom.
Her heel slipped.
The edge gave way.
The world stilled.
"FANAA!!"