That night, she dreamed.

She was sixteen again, lost in the chaos of the school hallway—the sharp clang of lockers, the echo of sneakers, the blur of faces rushing past. Her palms were damp, clutching her books too tight against her chest. And then she saw him.

Aarav.

Tall. Golden. The boy seemed to carry sunlight in his stride, laughter spilling from his lips as his friends orbited him like he was the center of their world.

Her heart stumbled. She took a step forward, lips parting, his name burning in her throat. Aarav…

But nothing came out. No sound. Not even a whisper.

He glanced her way—or maybe she only imagined it. His eyes slid past her as though she were a shadow on the wall, as though she had never existed.

And then, without warning, he vanished into the crowd, swallowed whole by it. Leaving her standing alone. Silent. Invisible.

She woke up with a start, throat tight. The sunlight that spilled through the windows the next morning was cruel. Too bright. Too normal.

Mrunal sat at the dining table in silence, spooning half-warm upma into her mouth, though it tasted like dust. Her mother watched her, concern etched in every line of her face.

“You didn’t sleep last night,” Ma said gently, pouring tea into a cup.“Your eyes are swollen.”

Mrunal looked up. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Her mother placed the cup down and sat beside her. “What happened, beta?”

She didn’t want to say it. Saying it made it real.

But her voice broke anyway. “He broke up with me.”

The silence that followed was heavier than grief. Her father, who was reading the newspaper across the table, looked up slowly.

“What?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Mrunal forced a bitter smile. “He said we’re not a good match.”

Her mother’s eyes instantly welled up. “But he loved you… He came for dinner last week; he touched our feet. I—” She stopped, visibly shaken.

Her father placed the newspaper down, folding his arms. “Did you fight with him?”

“No, Papa. He just... changed his mind.”

Her mother touched her hand. “He’s a fool.”

Mrunal laughed softly, eyes wet. “No, Ma. He just found someone better.”

Later that afternoon,

She got the message from her college friend Shruti. “Are you okay? I heard about Aarav’s engagement…”

Mrunal’s breath stilled. Engagement?

“What? Who?” she typed back.

Within seconds, Shruti replied.

“Her name’s Samaira Mehta. You know, that model-turned-entrepreneur? I saw their pre-engagement pics on Insta. She's… well… gorgeous.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. Hands trembling, she opened her browser. Typed his name. Clicked the first link. There he was. Aarav. In a sherwani. Smiling. Happy. Standing beside a woman who looked like a dream.

Samaira Mehta. Long legs. Flawless skin. Glass-cut jawline. Million-dollar smile. The kind of beauty that made heads turn and hearts race. She scrolled through the photos, breath growing shallow. Samaira in a crimson lehenga, one hand on Aarav’s chest.
Their eyes locked. Laughing. In love.

The article headline read, “Power Couple: Rising Tech CEO Aarav Saxena to marry former supermodel Samaira Mehta.”

And beneath it: “Sources say the families had been in talks for months…”

Months.

So he had been preparing this… while still with Mrunal.

She shut her laptop, chest hollow.

Everything made sense now. Why he never committed. Why did he always say, “We have time”?
Why did he let her hold on while he was already slipping away?

Because love isn’t blind. Love sees. And it chooses the beautiful. The perfect. The flawless.

Not women like her. With thick thighs and rounded arms. With glasses and stretch marks and soft bellies. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips were still smudged from yesterday’s lipstick. Her curls were tied in a limp ponytail. Nothing about her screamed “worth fighting for.”

She wasn’t angry. Just... tired.