Aanya’s Diary

“Dear Diary,”

It’s been years… and yet, every time I sit with this pen in my hand,

it feels like I’m reliving every heartbeat of my past.

Sometimes, I still wonder how we survived it all —

the pain, the distance, the silence that felt endless.

Five years without him…

and yet, somehow, my love never forgot how to breathe.

People say “True love never dies, it just waits.”

I believe that now.

Because our love waited — through blood, through tears, through fire —

until time finally decided to be kind to us again.

When I lost Rivan, I thought I lost everything.

There were nights I forgot what peace felt like,

mornings that began with hope and ended in despair.

But when he came back…

it was as if the world finally remembered to move again.

He’s still the same Rivan — intense, possessive, untamed.

But now, when he holds me, it doesn’t hurt.

It heals.

The silence between us speaks louder than a thousand confessions,

and for once, there are no secrets… just love,

soft and unshaken.

Rudra and Ridam are growing up fast.

Rudra has his father’s fire,

and Ridam — my stubbornness, my smile.

Sometimes Rivan laughs and says,

“They’re the proof, baby… that we survived everything.”

And he’s right.

We didn’t just survive — we found life again.

There was a time when I feared this story would never find its ending.

But now I know…

stories like ours don’t end —

they just find peace.

There’s no more revenge left to take,

no fear left to fight —

only the quiet truth that Rivan and I

aren’t just a story anymore.

We’re a legacy.

A reminder that love, no matter how broken,

always finds its way home.

– Aanya Birla 🕊️

The Queen who chose love over fear.

🖤 Rivan’s POV – Final Scene

He stood by the window, the soft Italian breeze brushing against his face.

Aanya’s diary lay open in his hands — her words, her pain, her love…

everything she had lived, everything she had survived.

For a long moment, he didn’t move.

His eyes traced every line, every memory she had written —

each one cutting and healing him at the same time.

He smiled faintly, a quiet whisper escaping his lips —

“You always write too beautifully, Mrs. Birla…

even when your words burn me alive.”

He closed the diary carefully, holding it against his chest —

as if it was her heartbeat he never wanted to let go.

Then, looking out at the setting sun, he murmured—

“Five years of darkness, Aanya…

and you still became my light.”

A soft breeze passed through the room,

and for the first time in years,

King Rivan Birla smiled — not with power, but with peace.

– The End. 🖤✨

Because every King needs a Queen —

not to rule the world, but to heal it. 💫