Chapter 1
Mumbai Airport, Twelve years ago
Rain pelts the departure hall’s tall glass walls, turning Mumbai’s cityscape into a blur of gray silhouettes. Inside Gate 4, the fluorescent lights and the echoing announcements feel too bright, too loud—almost mocking the quiet heartbreak unfolding.
Maya stands near the gate, gripping the strap of her carry-on. She clutches her boarding pass so tightly that the ink smudges under her sweating palm.
A few feet away, Vivan watches her with a tense, unblinking gaze. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his jaw set in that stubborn way Maya has always known..
Water streams behind him, the downpour outside mirroring the inner storm raging between them. She draws in a shaky breath, adjusting her bag’s strap just to occupy her trembling hands.
He’s furious—she can see it in the line of his mouth—but he’s also wounded. In her mind, she replays how everything unraveled so quickly. Just two weeks ago, she had mustered the courage to tell Vivan she was leaving for New York—finishing her degree at NYU on a scholarship she’d applied for in secret. He’d been stunned, first with excitement for her, then hurt when he realized she’d been hiding it for months. Every day since, he’d grown more distant, as though he couldn’t decide whether to be proud or hurt.
Vivan narrows his eyes at the movement, sensing the ripple of fear beneath her calm facade. Finally, he speaks, voice cutting through the relentless patter of rain. “This is really happening.” His tone sounds flat, almost resigned—more a statement than a question.
Maya nods, throat too tight to manage a fuller response. She had spent months preparing for this moment—secretly gathering documents, planning how to break the news about NYU. Yet it feels unreal, like she’s watching someone else’s life unravel. She hates how hollow she feels, as though she’s not about to tear her entire world apart.
Outside, sheets of rain batter the tarmac, and Vivan draws a sharp breath, raking a hand through his damp hair. He can’t believe she’s truly leaving. The realization sinks in with an almost physical weight. “You’re really leaving,” he says, softer this time, not an accusation but a sad confirmation.
Maya’s fingers tighten on the strap of her carry-on. “I have to,” she murmurs.
She can’t bring herself to explain every detail—that it’s not just about chasing ambition, but about a future she feels she owes herself and her parents. A chance to stand on her own, to prove she’s worthy of a better life. She’d wanted to share that with him, but the weight of her insecurities kept her silent.
Vivan studies her face, searching for some glimpse of uncertainty or regret. Why won’t she just tell me the truth? he wonders. Why won’t she let me in, tell me if she’s scared or unsure? But he sees only her resolution—or maybe her fear wrapped in a stiff mask of courage. Unsure what else to do, he exhales, gaze dropping to the floor. Inside his pockets, his fingers curl into fists.
His jaw tightens as he dares to voice the words that have been circling his thoughts for weeks. “I can’t keep waiting for you, Maya.”
Her heart twists when she hears his quiet, steady declaration. Not because the words are unexpected, but because they are so certain. There is no anger, no desperate plea—just an unyielding resignation that makes it hurt more.
She thinks back to the argument they had two weeks ago, when she finally admitted the truth: “I’m going to NYU, and I leave in two weeks.” The way his eyes darkened, the way he’d asked, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She had no good answer, only the feeble excuse of wanting to spare him the pain of her eventual departure.
For months, Maya had clung to the silent hope that somehow, one day, they might find a way to be together again. But this? This is final, she thinks, her chest tightening. Her boarding pass creases beneath her grip.
Over the speakers, the final call for her flight echoes. The sound pounds in her ears. One last chance, she tells herself. One last chance to tell him she is scared of leaving, that she wants him to ask her to stay, that she cannot imagine a world without him in reach.
Across from her, Vivan’s mind reels with an equally desperate swirl of thoughts. Ask her to stay, a voice inside him urges. Beg, demand—do anything. Yet he stands still. She has already chosen, he thinks, bitterness laced with heartbreak. She’s leaving no matter what I say. The memory of her telling him about leaving at the last minute still stings, cutting deeper than any rejection could.
He can’t shake the image of them sitting in his dorm just a few months ago, casually discussing future plans—marriage, traveling the world, maybe settling in a bigger apartment—only to have her drop the news of NYU out of nowhere. It was like a rug pulled from under him, revealing that the foundation he thought they’d built together was shakier than he realized.
For months, she’d apparently been preparing to leave, researching programs and visa requirements, all without telling him. That betrayal of trust still burns in the back of his mind, feeding the hollow ache in his chest.
He clenches his fists in his pockets, remembering how excited he’d been about building a life with her: a shared future where they’d support each other’s ambitions, navigate family expectations, and eventually get married.
Now, all of that seems like a naïve dream—she’s walking away, and she hasn’t said a word about when or if she’ll come back. She hasn’t even asked him to wait, as if the very idea of including him in her new life never crossed her mind.
Why didn’t she trust me enough to share this from the start? The question pounds in his head, the answer always just out of reach. Did she think he wouldn’t be proud of her? That he’d be jealous or hold her back? It hurts more than he wants to admit—that she kept him in the dark about something so life-altering. He’d have celebrated her scholarship, shouted his support from the rooftops if she’d only given him the chance.
A flicker of desperation ignites in him—Should I run after her? Should I demand an explanation?—but he stays rooted in place, weighed down by a sense of defeat he’s never felt before. She’s leaving no matter what, he repeats to himself, though each time, the words feel more hollow.
The final boarding call rings out overhead, and the knowledge that she won’t be returning cuts into him like a dull knife.
He’d always pictured them together, forging a future as partners—never imagining she’d plan to finish her education an ocean away, leaving him to wonder if he was ever truly part of her plan. The suddenness of it all, the secrecy, the refusal to talk about what comes next—it’s not just heartbreak, it’s betrayal. And he can’t decide whether he’s more furious or hurt.
Maya’s pulse thunders as she forces her legs to move: one step, then another. She gives him a final hug and turns toward security, gripping her bag as if it is her last anchor.
A flicker of indecision catches in Maya’s stride—her foot pauses mid-step. Is he going to speak? she wonders wildly, clinging to an impossible hope. Is he going to stop me? If she walks away now, will fate ever bring them back together again?
But he does not say a word. He lets her walk on.
In that tiny hesitation, everything could have changed—but it does not. Maya tightens her grip, sets her jaw, and continues forward without looking back.
Vivan’s chest constricts as he feels the moment slip away. Rain continues to slam the glass, drowning the distant roar of airplanes.
Then she is gone, swallowed by the crowd and the long corridors leading to security.
His eyes track Maya’s fading figure until she’s lost in the crowd. Why didn’t she say anything about us? The thought hammers at him. If she loved him, she’d have tried to reassure him that they could find a way—long-distance, visits, something. But her silence about the future, about their future, is a final stab of pain.
Mouth set in a grim line, he exhales a shuddering breath. The sound of final boarding resonates over the loudspeaker, and he glances up, almost expecting her to turn around, to come running back with an apology or a promise. But she doesn’t. She’s gone.
In that moment, the life he’d envisioned—a shared apartment, a wedding, lazy Sunday mornings together—shatters like glass against the reality that she’s chosen her own path without him. He presses his palms to his eyes, willing himself not to break down in the middle of the departure hall. Passersby hustle around him, oblivious to the personal cataclysm unfolding at Gate 4.
If she needed me, she would have let me in, he tells himself, forcing logic into the churning sea of his emotions. Yet another voice inside him, raw and despairing, whispers that maybe she did need him—and he let her go anyway. He shakes his head, trying to dispel the thought. She made her decision. She kept me in the dark. There’s nothing I could’ve done.
The gate attendant’s announcement echoes once more, confirming the plane is about to depart. Vivan lifts his gaze to the glass beyond which the runway lies blurred by rain. In that haze, he imagines the aircraft carrying Maya away—away from him, from Mumbai, from the life they almost built. He wonders if she feels even half the anguish he does right now.
His fists remain locked in his jacket pockets as he stands there, silent, replaying the sight of her final wave, her hunched shoulders as she disappeared down the corridor. He thinks of all the times they’d dreamed aloud, only to see those dreams crumble in the wake of her unspoken plan.
Outside, the city’s skyline is a smudge against the storm, and he can’t help but feel that the city itself is mourning with him.
Eventually, the overhead speaker goes quiet, and Vivan knows the plane is gone. She’s on it, flying toward a future that no longer seems to include him. Swallowing hard, he forces himself to turn away from Gate 4. His heart feels heavier than ever, but a spark of anger still flares, fueling the ache in his chest. It’s a betrayal he never saw coming—and a wound he doesn’t know how to heal.
If we ever see each other again, he thinks, will she have the answers she couldn’t give me today? He doesn’t know. All he does know is that the storm outside has nothing on the tempest raging inside him. And as he takes a slow, solitary walk toward the exit, the rain continues to hammer the airport’s glass walls, drowning out any hope that he’ll wake up from this nightmare of a farewell.
