The air in Abhinav’s room was thick with frustration. The aftermath of Aarzoo’s rejection lingered like a bitter taste in his mouth. The memory of her walking away, her firm words dismissing him in front of the family, replayed in his mind like a taunt. With a sharp exhale, he grabbed a vase and hurled it across the room, watching it shatter into pieces. One by one, objects on his desk and shelves bore the brunt of his anger, until finally, he caught sight of a small, familiar bottle teetering on the edge of the table—a bottle of Aarzoo’s perfume.
Instinctively, his hand shot out to catch it before it fell. Holding the delicate glass bottle in his trembling hands, his anger crumbled. The scent brought memories flooding back—her laughter, her presence, the warmth she once shared with him as a child. His legs gave way, and he sank to the floor, tears escaping despite his resistance.
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