WHEN LOVE TURNS TO HATE

The photo session had barely ended when guests began lining up, eager to take pictures with us.

I forced myself to smile.

Not because I was happy.

But because I had to.

For my parents.

For the people watching.

For the sake of appearances.

Then—

I saw them.

And my entire body tensed.

"What are they doing here?"

I hadn't invited them.

Who invited them?

My breath hitched as my gaze locked onto the familiar figures standing at a distance.

Nagesh Pa.

And with him—his wife, his daughter, and his son-in-law.

But it wasn't just their presence that sent a chill down my spine.

It was his expression.

Nagesh Pa.

The man who once treated me like his own son. The man who once looked at me with nothing but warmth and pride.

But now—

His eyes carried no grief.

No mourning.

No sadness for the daughter he had lost.

Instead—

His eyes carried only love for me.

And nothing for her.

A terrible thought formed at the back of my mind—one so disturbing that I nearly shook my head to push it away.

But the truth was undeniable.

He looked like a man who had lost nothing.

A father who still had his son.

And had forgotten his daughter.

I swallowed hard.

And then—

He started walking toward me.

Step by step.

Slow.

Steady.

Like he wasn't just closing the physical distance between us—

But something else.

Something deeper.

Something that made my stomach twist.

He stopped in front of me, his gaze unwavering.

Then—

"Why do you look so surprised, son?"

That word.

Son.

I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat.

I forced myself to breathe.

But no matter how much I tried to keep my composure—

Something inside me cracked.

I opened my mouth, but my voice betrayed me.

Barely above a whisper, I managed to say—

"Pa… what are you doing here?"

Nagesh didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he just looked at me.

His gaze held nothing.

Not warmth.

Not pain.

Just emptiness.

Then—

He stepped forward.

And pulled me into a hug.

Yuvaa's POV

My body went rigid.

I wasn't expecting this.

His arms wrapped around me—strong, steady, warm.

And yet—

Something felt off.

For a moment—just a single, fleeting moment—

It felt like nothing had changed.

Like I was still the young man sitting in his house, sipping coffee, laughing, listening to his advice, calling him Pa.

Like the last five years hadn't happened.

Like today wasn't my wedding day.

But then—

Reality came crashing back.

I wasn't marrying her.

She wasn't here.

She would never be here again.

And he wasn't the same.

I could feel it.

Even in the way he held me—his grip firm, comforting.

Not cold.

Not angry.

It was as if I was still his son.

Before I could stop myself—

A single tear slipped down my cheek.

Nagesh pulled back slightly.

He saw the tear.

And he did something that stunned me.

He reached out—

And gently wiped it away.

"Shhh," He murmured, just like before. His voice was soft, soothing.

"Don't cry, son. We're here, okay? We're still your family."

My chest tightened.

Because he meant it.

I could hear the genuine love in his voice.

I could feel it in his embrace.

I was still his son.

But then—why?

Why wasn't there any sadness in his eyes?

Why did it seem like he had never lost anything?

I clenched my jaw, struggling to find my voice.

But all I could manage was a whisper—

"Pa… I didn't think you'd come."

He smiled faintly.

And in a voice filled with warmth, he said—

"How could I not? I had to bless my son."

I stilled.

My breath caught in my throat.

Lowering my head, I felt the weight of his presence.

Of his words.

Of everything we had lost.

Then, breaking the silence, Nagesh Pa finally stepped back.

He glanced at me with a bittersweet smile.

"Come on, son. Let's take a family photo."

Family.

That word again.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat.

Before I could say anything, my father nodded to the photographer.

"Yes," He said softly. "Let's take one."

I said nothing.

I just stood there as Nagesh Pa walked forward, standing near me.

And for the first time in five years—

We took a photo together.

A photo where we were smiling.

Where we looked like a family.

But inside—

I felt empty.

Because the one person I had once dreamed of—

Wasn't in it.

.

.

.

A Few Hours Later…

As the guests started leaving, I turned toward Nagesh Pa and his family.

I don't know why I did it.

I don't know what made me say it.

But the words left my lips before I could stop them—

"Pa, Ma, Akka, Anne… Can you come with me? To my house?"

They all stared at me.

Even my parents turned to look at me in surprise.

I didn't know what I was thinking.

I didn't know why I wanted them there.

But I just—

I needed them.

Even if it made no sense.

Even if it hurt.

I just needed them near me.

A silence stretched between us.

Then—

Nagesh Pa exchanged glances with his wife and daughter.

And finally—

"Okay, son," He said softly. "We'll come."

I exhaled.

I hadn't even realized I was holding my breath.

I nodded and turned away.

But my eyes—

They kept searching.

Not for Nagesh Pa.

Not for Chitra Ka.

Not for Vicky Anne.

But for the one person.

The one person who belonged to me and Yadhana.

.

.

.

AT HOME

The house was filled with voices.

Family members talking.

Guests chattering.

Laughter here and there.

But I felt detached from it all.

I moved like a ghost through my own home.

Then—

I noticed Nagesh Pa still wearing the same attire.

"Pa, why didn't you change?"

He gave a faint smile.

"We didn't bring any extra clothes, son. When you asked us to come, we just came straight here. We didn't think about anything else."

I sighed softly, running a hand through my hair before offering—

"Alright then, wait here for a while. Let me make some coffee for you all—I'm sure you've missed my coffee, right?"

Their smiles were small, but real.

So I just nodded and walked toward the kitchen.

Nagesh's POV

As I watched Yuvaa head toward the kitchen, I couldn't help but think—

"You still can't let go of her, can you, son?"

Even though I had buried her memory a long time ago—our family never did.

They still held on.

Still remembered.

Still mourned.

But him—

He was the only one who loved her as much as they did.

So, of course, he wouldn't be able to move on.

I inhaled deeply, my fingers curling against my palm.

But he doesn't know the truth.

He doesn't know what she did.

And maybe…

Maybe he never should.

FLASHBACK...

AT NAGESH'S HOUSE

The living room of Nagesh's house was filled with an unusual silence. The wedding invitation of Yuvaanesh lay on the table, its golden embellishments gleaming under the warm light. Chitra, seated beside her mother, traced the edges of the card absentmindedly. Her husband, Vicky, sat with his arms crossed, watching Nagesh, who was lost in thought.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"We are attending Yuvaanesh's wedding."

Kumari fingers flinched. Vicky's jaw tightened.

But Chitra—Chitra shot up from her seat, disbelief flashing across her face.

"Appa!" She nearly yelled.

"You're going? After everything? After what happened—after what you said—"

"Yes."

Chitra's chest heaved.

"But why?"

"You cut her off!" She snapped, her voice shaking.

"You refused to even say her name! You didn't even—"

"Because Yuvaa is still my son."

Silence.

Kumari sucked in a quiet breath.

Vicky tensed.

Chitra's lips parted, but no words came out.

Nagesh's expression remained unmoved.

"I lost a daughter," He said without hesitation.

"But I still have my son."

Chitra took a shaky step back, her heart pounding.

"Lost?"

Her father made it sound like Yadhana had disappeared—not that she had died.

"You lost a daughter… or did you throw her away?" She whispered, searching his face.

For the first time, Nagesh's eyes darkened.

"You still call her that?" His voice was dangerously low.

"You still see her as your sister?"

Chitra's chin lifted.

"She was my sister," She whispered.

"And always will be my sister."

A cold, bitter laugh slipped from Nagesh's lips.

"Your sister?" He scoffed.

"The same sister who shamed this family? Who ruined everything?"

Chitra's head shook in confusion.

"What—what are you saying, Appa?" She breathed, eyes flickering with unease.

"How did sh—she betrayed us."

The words were sharp. Final.

Chitra felt the blood drain from her face.

Betrayed?

How?

"What… what do you mean?" She whispered, her pulse racing. "Betrayed… how?"

Nagesh's fingers clenched around the armrest of his chair, his knuckles turning white.

Chitra took a step forward.

"Appa… tell me. What did she do?"

But Nagesh didn't answer.

He just stared.

At the floor. At the wall. Anywhere but at his daughter.

Chitra's stomach twisted violently.

He wasn't going to tell her.

But why?

"Appa," Her voice wavered, her frustration growing.

"Why are you talking like this? Why are you acting like you hate her?"

Hate.

Nagesh's jaw ticked.

The word tasted bitter, but it was the truth.

He did hate her.

He hated her for what she did.

He hated her for ruining everything.

He hated her for making him feel this way.

But he wouldn't say it.

Not to Chitra.

Not to anyone.

His gaze flickered to her face—her wide, desperate eyes, still clinging to hope.

And just for a second… something inside him almost softened.

Almost.

Then, in a voice that left no room for argument, he said—

"It doesn't matter."

Chitra stiffened.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

His voice was flat. Unfeeling.

"She's gone."

Chitra's throat tightened.

Her hands curled into fists.

No.

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

But her father wouldn't tell her.

And that realization made her feel sick.

Her gaze flickered to Vicky, who remained silent.

His fingers still twitched slightly.

His jaw clenched.

And for the first time…

Chitra wondered if he already knew.

.

.

.

YADHANA'S ROOM

Nagesh stood outside Yadhana's room, the wedding card gripped tightly in his hand. His knuckles had turned white from the pressure, but he barely noticed.

He hadn't stepped into this room in years. He had convinced himself that it didn't matter, that she didn't matter anymore. But now, as he stood at the threshold, a strange uneasiness settled over him. The weight of memories pressed against his chest like an unbearable burden.

With a deep inhale, he pushed the door open.

The air inside felt different—warmer, heavier, almost as if it had trapped the essence of the girl who once lived here. His eyes swept across the room. Everything was as she had left it. The bookshelf, still lined with neatly arranged books. The study table, still scattered with old notes and half-used pens. The bed, still made, as if waiting for its owner to return.

She was gone, but the room still breathed her presence.

For a long moment, Nagesh just stood there, staring at the space that once belonged to her.

And then, slowly, his gaze dropped to the wedding card in his hand.

He unfolded it with shaking fingers, his eyes scanning the gold-embossed letters.

"Yuvaanesh weds Agatha."

His lips parted slightly, and a bitter chuckle escaped.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

His eyes drifted, and in his mind, the words on the card shifted.

"Yuvaanesh weds Yadhana."

That was how it was supposed to be. That was the name that should have been written there, the name that should have stood beside Yuvaa's for the rest of his life.

His grip on the card tightened. His jaw clenched. A strange ache, something dangerously close to regret, stirred in his chest.

He swallowed hard and exhaled slowly. "This should have been your name," He muttered, barely above a whisper.

His voice was hoarse, strained, as if the words themselves were too painful to say.

He turned, slamming the card onto her table. The sound echoed in the room, breaking the silence. His body tensed as an old anger resurfaced—the same anger he thought he had buried.

"But you threw it all away," He hissed, his voice bitter, sharp. He began pacing, his hands curled into fists.

"You ruined yourself. You ruined me."

His gaze flickered toward the bed. He could almost see her sitting there, like she used to. Her face lowered, lost in thought, those dark, unreadable eyes staring into nothingness. He had always wondered what went on in her mind. Now, he wished he never knew.

"I raised you as my own," He said, voice shaking.

"I gave you everything. And you—" He let out a humourless chuckle, shaking his head.

"You repaid me with betrayal."

The word burned his tongue, but he refused to take it back.

"You had everything, Yadhana," He continued, his voice rising.

"You were given a life, a family. And still, you—" He stopped abruptly, pressing his fingers to his temples.

"I will go to Yuvaa's wedding," He muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"Because he is my son."

The words came out heavy, deliberate.

"I will stand there, in front of everyone, and I will bless him. Because he deserves it." His lips pressed into a thin line.

"Not you."

He turned away from the table, but something made him pause. His eyes landed on a small, faded photograph pinned to the notice board near her study table.

A younger Yadhana. Bright-eyed. Smiling. A time when she was still his daughter.

His fingers twitched at his sides. His breath grew uneven. For just a second, he hesitated.

Was it really all her fault?

A bitter laugh escaped him.

"No," He muttered under his breath.

"I can't think like this. I won't."

Whatever softness had tried to creep in, he crushed it beneath his heel. His hatred was what kept him moving forward. Without it, he would have nothing.

He took a step back. Then another.

With one last lingering glance at the room—the room that still carried her scent, her memories, her ghost—Nagesh turned and walked away.

The door remained closed.

Just like his heart.

END OF FLASHBACK 

A few minutes later, Yuvaa walked into the living room, holding a tray with freshly brewed coffee. 

He placed the cups on the table and handed one to me.

Yuvaa's POV 

I stood in the kitchen, pouring coffee into cups. 

The smell reminded me of something familiar, comforting. 

I remembered the way she used to steal sips from my cup even when she had her own. 

"Baby, stop stealing my coffee." 

"But yours tastes better!" 

I closed my eyes briefly, gripping the counter. 

Focus, Yuvaa. Don't do this. 

I carried the tray back to the living room, placing it on the table, my movements were careful and controlled. I handed a cup to Nagesh Pa, watching as his fingers curled around the handle.

For a brief second, he didn't drink it. He just stared into the cup, watching the steam rise, his face unreadable.

Then, finally, he took a slow, deliberate sip.

A flicker of something crossed his face.

Something almost like… nostalgia.

But it lasted only a moment.

"Mmm…" He let out a small hum, setting the cup back down with a quiet clink.

"I missed this, Yuvaa. You're still an expert at making coffee."

I forced a chuckle.

"You say that like I forgot how to make it, Pa."

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering something.

"You should open a coffee shop," He said casually.

The comment was light-hearted, almost teasing, but there was something missing in his tone.

Something that made my fingers tighten slightly around the edge of the tray.

I laughed—a short, easy sound, but it didn't reach my eyes.

"Pa, you know that's not for me. Teaching is my passion."

He hummed again, a small nod of acknowledgment.

But the warmth in his smile didn't reach his eyes.

And something about that made my stomach twist.

Then—

The air changed.

It was subtle.

The shift in his posture. The way his fingers stopped tapping against the cup.

The way his gaze lifted—locked onto mine.

The warmth that had been there moments ago was gone.

His smile faded.

Something heavier settled in its place.

My chest tightened.

I knew this look.

I had seen it before.

Before life-altering conversations.

Before things I wasn't ready to hear.

He set his cup down. Slowly. Deliberately.

"Son…" His voice was softer now. 

"Follow me to the rooftop."

My body stiffened.

The rooftop.

A place where things were said that couldn't be taken back.

A place where truths were spoken.

Where emotions had no walls to hide behind.

A place where, once, I had sat beside him under the open sky, talking about my future.

But now?

Now, that same place suddenly felt… ominous.

I swallowed, forcing my voice to remain steady.

"The rooftop?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

He simply stood up, adjusting his watch, his movements calm.

He didn't even glance back as he walked toward the stairs.

I looked around the room—Kumari Ma watching us from the corner, her lips pressed into a thin line. Chitra Ka looking down at her coffee, her hands gripping the cup a little too tightly. Vicky Anne sitting beside her, unreadable.

The whole house felt too silent.

I didn't know what I was walking into.

But I followed him anyway.