The sky was quiet that day.
No rain. No wind. Just a stillness—like the world holding its breath for something it knew was coming.
Aarav sat alone in his office, high above the city that once ignored him. The same office where billion-dollar deals were signed on a Tuesday and game-changing ideas were born before breakfast.
He wasn't dressed for war.
Just a charcoal suit, sleeves rolled, a pen in his hand.
And then the door opened.
She walked in without knocking.
Mira.
The girl who once shattered him with words sharper than knives, now stood in front of him with tears that refused to fall. Her once-perfect makeup faded. Her eyes—once confident—were now swimming in regret.
She didn't speak.
She just… walked up to him.
And hugged him.
As if all the years, the pain, the distance could be erased in that one motion.
For a second, Aarav didn't move.
For a second, he almost melted.
But pain remembered.
He gently pushed her away.
His face didn't carry anger.
It carried ache.
Her lips trembled. "I'm leaving him," she whispered. "He… he's not a good man, Aarav. I made a mistake. I should've chosen you—"
Aarav stood still, the silence louder than her words.
"Please," she said, stepping closer. "Let's fix this. We were kids. I was stupid. You've always been the one."
His voice came soft. Steady.
"You didn't choose wrong, Mira. You chose honestly. Back then, I had nothing—and that wasn't enough for you."
He looked her in the eye now.
"But don't come back when I have everything."
Her eyes widened, panic spilling in.
"You don't understand—"
"I do," he said sharply.
And that's when she snapped.
"You think you're better than everyone now? Because you made money? Because people clap for you?"
She raised her voice. Shouted things that no longer had power. Called him names that used to hurt—but now bounced off the armor built by every sleepless night.
He didn't argue.
Didn't yell back.
He simply turned to the intercom.
"Security," he said calmly, "please escort the guest out."
"What?" she gasped. "You can't do this to me!"
Two guards entered. Not rough. Not rude. Just firm. As firm as the reality she had denied for too long.
As they walked her toward the elevator, she twisted back one last time.
"You loved me once, Aarav!"
He looked at her. One last time.
"I still do," he said quietly. "But I love myself more now."
And the doors closed.
Click.
Silence returned.
No music played. No applause rolled.
Just Aarav standing by the window, looking out at the city.
His heart broken once again—
But this time, by choice.
And so the story ends.
Not with a kiss. Not with revenge soaked in blood.
But with dignity, discipline, and a door closing itself.
The boy who begged for love…
Became the man who refused to settle for anything less than respect.
—THE END.