Wounds of the Heart (दिल के घाव)💔

46

Five years had spun by,

weaving a tapestry of change. Abhimanyu, the carefree college boy, had morphed into a titan of the business world. His name was synonymous with success, his wealth whispered about in hushed tones. Yet, beneath the polished exterior, a hollowness echoed. 

One sunny morning, Abhi sat at the breakfast table, meticulously groomed as always. His ever-efficient secretary, Natasha, droned on about his schedule, her voice a monotonous backdrop to his internal turmoil.

Suddenly, a shrill voice cut through the air. "Abhimanyu!"

It was his mother, Maya, or Mrs. Raizada as he called her with a forced politeness. Her presence always heralded a storm. Today was no different.

"What about those marriage proposals I sent you?" Maya demanded, her perfectly manicured nails tapping impatiently on the table.

Abhimanyu gritted his teeth, the familiar surge of anger threatening to erupt. "Mom," he began, his voice tight with controlled fury, "can we stop this charade already?"

He slammed his fork down, startling Natasha. "Who are you trying to fool with this fake concern? I did what you wanted five years ago. I let go of Kunj, the only man I ever truly loved, because of your manipulation."

His voice rose, echoing in the vast dining room. "And now you want me to marry another one of your 'carefully selected' puppets? So I can become your perfect little puppet on a string? Forget it, Mrs. Raizada. I made a mistake once, but I won't let you control my life anymore."

A flicker of pain crossed Maya's face, quickly masked by steely resolve. "Don't be dramatic, Abhimanyu," she retorted. "Kunj's mother was the enemy, remember? The woman who took your parents away from you!"

Abhimanyu scoffed. The truth, like a bitter pill, lodged itself in his throat. His mother had twisted the narrative, painting Kunj's mother as a villain. The truth, as murky as it was, was far more complex.

"And what about Riya?" Maya pressed, her voice laced with a sharp edge. "Weren't you happy with her?"

Abhimanyu closed his eyes, the memory of Riya, a beautiful but ultimately incompatible socialite, a fading dream. "Happiness wasn't part of the equation, Mom. It was about appearances, about fulfilling your vision of the perfect bahu."

He opened his eyes, his gaze steely. "I broke off that engagement four years ago. I won't be a pawn in your game anymore."

Silence descended upon the room, heavy with unspoken emotions. Maya's lips pursed into a thin line, the carefully constructed facade momentarily crumbling.

Abhimanyu rose from the table, his decision made. "I'm going to the office," he announced, his voice devoid of emotion. "And please, no more unsolicited marriage proposals. I'll find love on my own terms, if at all."

He strode out, leaving Maya alone with the remnants of breakfast and the bitter taste of defeat. Abhimanyu, the playboy, was a carefully crafted persona, a shield against vulnerability. Deep down, a flicker of hope remained. Perhaps, someday, he could find his way back to Kunj, mend the bridges he had so carelessly burned. But for now, he would focus on building his own empire, a monument to his independence, a testament to the man he had become.
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Manik, the lead singer of the chart-topping band Fab5, disembarked from the plane, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. Their world tour had been a whirlwind of sold-out stadiums, pulsating concerts, and jet lag that threatened to knock him off his feet.

As he exited the airport terminal, a swarm of paparazzi descended, their flashes popping like fireflies in the fading light. Questions were thrown his way, a barrage of inquiries about the band's new album, their upcoming tour, and most persistently, his love life.

Manik, ever the charmer, offered a tired smile. He leaned into Rohit, his manager and best friend, seeking solace from the onslaught. Rohit, ever the rock, offered a sturdy shoulder, his presence a familiar comfort. The other Fab5 members, used to the media frenzy, chuckled amongst themselves, watching their frontman play the part of the devoted boyfriend.

A security guard materialized, expertly maneuvering them away from the clamoring crowd and into a waiting car. Manik sank gratefully into the plush leather seat, his head lolling against the headrest with a sigh.

"That was brutal," he mumbled, closing his eyes momentarily.

Rohit, smirking, patted his arm. "You handled it like a champ, superstar."

Manik snorted. "Easy for you to say, Mr. Manager extraordinaire."

A comfortable silence settled between them, a language only they understood. Their relationship, a carefully constructed facade for the public eye, had blossomed into an unshakeable bond. They had promised each other – a vow made years ago – that they would maintain the charade until they found true love.

A mischievous glint entered Rohit's eyes. "Speaking of love," he began, his voice teasing, "any sparks flying during the tour? All those beautiful fans throwing themselves at you..."

Manik scoffed. The thought of a fleeting fling held no appeal. "Nope," he said definitively. "Just the usual. Besides," he added with a wink, "I'm a taken man, remember?"

Rohit chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "Right, the ever-so-in-love Manik Malhotra. Let's hope your fans buy it for a little while longer."

Manik settled back in his seat, a thoughtful expression on his face. Maybe, just maybe, this charade would lead them both to something real. After all, amidst the carefully crafted public image, a genuine affection had blossomed between him and Rohit. Perhaps, someday, the line between pretense and reality would blur, and they would find themselves at the precipice of something extraordinary. Until then, they would continue their performance, two friends playing the part of lovers, waiting for the day when love, true and unexpected, would rewrite the script.

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