Akash Pal In Dark silence

As the days slipped by and the wedding drew closer, Akash Pal found himself drowning in an unsettling silence.

What was once a relationship filled with warmth, stolen glances, and effortless laughter now felt cold and distant. Chitrakshi Sen was right beside him, yet she felt miles away. The conversations they used to share—about everything and nothing at all—had dwindled into mere formalities. She no longer reached for his hand absentmindedly, no longer looked at him the way she once did.

And the worst part?

She didn’t even seem to notice.

Akash had spent sleepless nights trying to convince himself that he was overthinking, that perhaps it was just the usual stress that came with weddings, with families, with expectations. But deep down, he knew better. This was something else.

And every time his mind searched for the root of this shift, one name surfaced—Kiaan Roy.

The so-called best friend.

The man whispered about in speculation. The man she had hugged in front of him, right before all of this began.

Akash found himself tracing back to the moment everything changed. His mind played it over and over like a reel stuck on repeat. It wasn’t just one incident—it was a slow unraveling, one that he had been too blinded by love to see at first.

And then, like a key turning in a lock, it hit him.

The day Bipin Sen—Chitrakshi’s father—had come to his house with his family.

It was supposed to be a joyous occasion. Their families had spoken about the wedding, about the future that awaited them as husband and wife. The elders had exchanged smiles, discussing venues and traditions, blessings and preparations. But now, when Akash thought back to that evening, he saw it differently.

He remembered how Chitrakshi had sat there, quiet but composed, not displaying the usual excitement of a bride-to-be. She had smiled at all the right moments, spoken when spoken to, yet there was something in her eyes that unsettled him—something that he had ignored then, but which now stood out like a glaring truth.

She hadn’t looked happy.

Not the way a woman in love should.

And after that day, things had only gotten worse.

She had started pulling away.

Her responses became shorter, her laughter rarer. She was always occupied—if not with wedding plans, then with her phone. She had started making plans without him, started telling him where to be and when, rather than including him in decisions like she once did.

And then there was Kiaan Roy.

He was always there—always in the background, lingering in unspoken words, in unsent messages, in the flickers of her smile when she was lost in her phone.

Was he the reason for all of this?

Was he the shadow standing between them, the unspoken truth she refused to acknowledge?

Akash exhaled, pressing his fingers to his temple as he sat alone in his car outside his house.

For the first time since their relationship began, a terrifying thought crossed his mind.

Was this marriage a mistake?

And worse—

Was she already slipping away before it had even begun?

The burden of silence was too heavy to carry alone.

Akash Pal had spent days drowning in his own thoughts, the weight of his fiancée’s growing distance pressing down on him like an anchor tied to his heart. He needed to speak to someone, to hear voices that didn’t leave him with unanswered questions.

So, one evening, he found himself sitting with his closest friends in their usual spot—a quiet, dimly lit café that had witnessed their years of friendship, their victories, their heartbreaks.

He told them everything.

From the first spark of suspicion to the hollow emptiness that had replaced what he once thought was love. He spoke about Kiaan Roy, about the unsettling changes in Chitrakshi Sen, about how their wedding, once the happiest thought in his mind, now loomed over him like an impending storm.

One of his friends, leaning back in his chair with an easygoing smirk, offered an unexpected suggestion.

“Why don’t you write a book?” he said, swirling his coffee absentmindedly. “Put everything down—your love, your pain, your confusion. Write it all. And then gift it to her on your wedding day.”

The idea struck Akash like lightning.

A book.

A book dedicated to Chitrakshi Sen. A book where his feelings—unfiltered, raw, and honest—would be immortalized in ink.

For the first time in weeks, a new kind of fire ignited within him.

He cleared his schedule, pushing aside meetings, deadlines, and wedding discussions. For the next seven days, he disappeared into a world of words, pouring his emotions onto pages that would never judge him, never ignore him, never turn away.

He wrote about their love—the way it had begun, the moments that had made his heart race, the laughter that had once been theirs. But as he wrote, something inside him twisted painfully.

Because the woman he was writing about was no longer the woman he was marrying.

And as much as he wanted to ignore it, a brutal realization took hold of his heart—Chitrakshi Sen didn’t deserve this love.

Not this version of her.

Not the one who had grown distant, who had shut him out, who had left him to question his own worth.

By the end of the week, the book was finished.

Akash stared at the final page, his fingers lingering over the words he had just written. He had enjoyed writing it—more than he had expected. But the joy came with an aching bitterness, the knowledge that he had poured his soul into something for a woman who might not even care.

That evening, he met his friends again. When he told them the book was ready to be launched on his wedding day, they cheered, patting him on the back, calling him a true romantic.

Then one of them, grinning, nudged him playfully. “Well, you took a break, man. She must have missed you badly. I bet your phone ran out of battery with all her missed calls and messages, huh?”

For a moment, Akash froze.

His phone.

He hadn’t ignored her calls. He hadn’t replied to her messages.

Because there had been none.

Not a single missed call. Not a single text.

Chitrakshi Sen hadn’t reached out to him at all.

Something inside him cracked at that realization.

But he forced a smile, swallowing down the truth like a bitter pill.

“Yeah, dude,” he lied, his voice steady despite the weight in his chest. “She did. I didn’t pick up. Didn’t reply. And you know what? I actually enjoyed it.”

His friends laughed, nudging him as if he had just pulled off a playful revenge. But deep inside, Akash wasn’t laughing.

Because the truth was far more painful than the lie he had just told.

Chitrakshi Sen hadn’t even noticed he was gone.

And somehow, that hurt more than anything else.

A week had passed.

Seven long days since Akash Pal had thrown himself into writing, since he had distanced himself from the noise of wedding preparations, since he had waited—perhaps foolishly—for Chitrakshi Sen to reach out to him.

She never did.

The morning sun streamed through the half-drawn curtains of his room, but Akash barely noticed. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at his phone. The silence from Chitrakshi had settled into something heavy, something suffocating. No missed calls. No unread messages.

Just an empty screen.

And then, it rang.

Not his phone—his father’s.

From the hallway, he could hear the deep, familiar voice of Ajay Prakash Pal answering the call. There was a shift in tone, a polite exchange of pleasantries, and then, the name that made Akash’s shoulders stiffen—Bipin Sen.

His future father-in-law had called.

Minutes later, Ajay Prakash Pal appeared at his door, his face carrying the weight of both news and expectation.

“Akash,” his father said, his voice calm, measured. “Bipin Sen called. They’ve confirmed the date and venue of the wedding.”

There was a pause. A moment of silence where, perhaps, his father had expected a smile, a spark of joy, a sign that this news meant something to him.

But Akash Pal remained still.

He nodded slowly, the motion mechanical, void of any real response.

And that was when his father noticed it—the absence of excitement in his son’s eyes. The way his shoulders, instead of straightening with happiness, seemed to sag under an unseen weight.

“Did you hear what I said?” Ajay Prakash Pal asked, studying him closely. “The date is set, Akash. Your wedding is happening.”

“I heard,” Akash murmured, his voice quieter than he had intended.

But he hadn’t been told.

The Sen family had called his father, spoken to his family, made decisions—but not once had Chitrakshi Sen picked up the phone to share the news with him herself.

The joy of the wedding—of what should have been the most beautiful moment of his life—was nowhere to be found.

Instead, an unbearable weight pressed down on his chest.

Because now, every time someone in his house spoke her name—Chitrakshi Sen—his heart clenched a little more. Instead of happiness, it brought only questions, doubts, and a loneliness he had never known before.

Days passed.

Akash Pal withdrew into himself. He stayed home, avoiding the outside world, refusing to pick up the phone to call anyone in the Sen family—including her.

Because a bitter truth had taken root in his heart.

If she had wanted to call, she would have.

And she hadn’t.