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“You promised,” she said quietly. “Not again. You promised.”

That promotion had nearly broken them. They recovered through therapy and a conscious decision to choose each other over career. But the scar remained.

He looked up at her. “That’s the question, isn’t it? How much of yourself do you burn to keep others warm? And what do you do when the person you love most is standing in the fire with you?” The next morning, Meera called in sick. She walked to the park near their apartment. An old man was feeding pigeons. She sat beside him.

Then came the first “emergency client call” at 9 PM. Then the weekend working brunch. Then the business trip to Bangalore that stretched from three days to ten.

He stood at the door, laptop bag still on his shoulder. For a long moment, he didn’t defend himself. He just looked tired—not the exhaustion of late nights, but the deeper fatigue of a man who had forgotten why he wanted success in the first place.

“You’re awake?” he asked, surprised.

Meera found herself eating dinner alone again, watching the same spoon, the same silence.

He had two movie tickets in his hand. Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2 —a silly comedy she’d wanted to see for weeks.