The Right Wrong Number✨

♡ Chapter - 18 ♡

"She was crying, Mira. Ghar mein akeli thi... jab papa... unka..." his words gave way to ragged breaths. "Main wahan nahi tha..."

(She was crying, Meera. She was alone at home... when papa... his...)

(I was not there...)

Mira held his face between her hands now, firm and steady. "Arjun, suno... Uncle was so proud of you. Sab kuch... tumhare liye hi toh karte the. Itna pyaar karte the tumse..."

(Arjun, listen... Uncle was so proud of you. He did everything for you. He loved you so much...)

He looked away, guilt flooding his face.

She made him look at her again.

"Jo hona hota hai... wo hota hi hai, Arjun. You didn't cause it. You couldn't have stopped it. Kuch cheezein... bas likhi hoti hain," she said softly, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

(What is meant to happen, happens, Arjun. You didn't cause anything. You couldn't have stopped. Some things are just... written in destiny.)

"You still have people who love you... bohot saara... your mumma... and—"

She hesitated. Her voice wavered for the first time.

"—and me."

Arjun stilled.

Mira took a breath and looked right into his broken, hollowed eyes. "I love you, Arjun."

No theatrics. No embellishment. Just plain, soul-deep sincerity.

And in that moment, in the wreckage of all he had lost, there she was. 

His constant. The unspoken comfort. The only thing steady while everything else crumbled.

He stared at her like she was the only thing real left in the world.

He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed. They weren't enough.

So he simply leaned forward and pulled her into the tightest embrace he could manage, burying his face in her neck.

"I love you too..." he whispered.

She tightened her arms around him. And for a few moments, the storm inside him settled. 

Not disappeared — but softened.

Because amidst all the sorrow, Mira was there.

And Arjun?

He wouldn't recover from it quickly. Maybe not entirely ever. But grief, when held by love, begins to hurt a little less each day.

The breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of night jasmine from the far end of the garden. The swing still creaked under their shared weight, but now there was a thread of comfort in the air — Mira's arms around Arjun, his head against her shoulder, both wrapped in the quiet solace of being understood, loved, and seen.

And just a few feet away... she stood.

Arjun's mother.

Her eyes, still hollow from the days of silent grieving, watched the two of them — her son and the girl who had walked through the storm for him.

They didn't notice her at first.

Until Arjun slowly leaned back, wiping his face with the back of his hand, Mira still gently holding onto his fingers.

Then he saw her.

His spine straightened instinctively. Mira stood too. But neither of them let go of the other's hand.