Arranged by Destiny

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Rudra's Pov ---

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Every morning comes the same way... A slow, reluctant surrender to the world outside my dreams. But even sleep isn't a refuge. Each time I close my eyes, she comes to me... Riya... Her laughter echoing soft and bright, like the most enchanting melody. Her eyes, shining with the promise of a thousand tomorrows... we never had.

In my dreams, she is always alive. We are always together... sometimes walking around the park in front of our college, sometimes watching a movie in my penthouse and sometimes We're sitting together on the old swing in her parent's garden, her hand curled in mine, soft breeze teasing loose strands of her hair, making her look ethereal. She turns and smiles at me, softly.

"What's on your mind, Rudra ??"

She asks, her voice soft but teasing.

I hesitate, then say.

"Forever..."

She rolls her eyes, nudging me playfully.

"You say that every time I ask what you are thinking. You never tell me what's really in your mind."

I smile at her... But my dream dissolves before I can answer. The echo of her laughter fades, replaced by the weight of silence pressing down on me. The ache in my chest sharpens, constant and unrelenting.

It's been five years... Five long years since I lost her... Since I lost myself... Since I stopped living... I am just surviving, now.

I would have followed her, but I couldn't find the courage in me... to be that cruel to my parents. They are already sore enough by my pain and loneliness.

The least I could do for my parents was... Surviving... That's what I have been doing from last five years.

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The morning sun filters through the curtains as I stare at the ceiling, reluctant to leave the place where my Riya still exists. But the world outside was waiting for me. I have to play the role of the most successful businessmen of Rajasthan. So... I rise, cold and mechanical, moving through my morning chores like a well-rehearsed act. Shower. Dress. Shoes. Watch. Each step precise, calculated, a daily routine... saving me from the chaos bubbling inside me.

When I reached downstairs, the scent of ginger tea and fresh allu parathas (stuffed potato breads) mingles with the hum of everyday life. The dining table is laid out in meticulous order, but none of it touches me. Nothing attracts my taste buds now.

My mother watches with an unspoken worry settling in her eyes, her hands never still. She pulls a chair for me as if inviting me to stay... as if coaxing me back, from the edge of my silence.

"Rudra, Son."

She says quietly,

"You didn't sleep well again, did you ??"

Her voice trembles slightly, disguising the concern beneath.

I meet her eyes, and for a moment, I see the torment she tries to hide. It pinch my gut... I didn't want to see her like this.

"I'm fine, Maa."

I say almost too sharply, feeling the words scrape against the walls of my throat.

She doesn't respond. Instead, my father folds the newspaper and sets it down, his gaze steady but full of exhaustion.

"Son, this... this isn't living. You're here, but you're not really here. You move like a shadow."

I stare at my plate, pushing the food around like I can swallow memories, but the taste isn't there.