IT'S NOT OVER

The clock ticked, a relentless metronome to Reyansh's growing unease. Fifteen minutes to a preordained disaster. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but trapped. Trapped in a tuxedo that felt more like a straightjacket and a life his father envisioned, not him.

Sure, he looked the part of a billionaire's son on a date. The crisp white shirt hugged his broad shoulders, the black bowtie a stark contrast. The tailored tuxedo, a recent shopping spree "courtesy" of his enthusiastic Mom, fit perfectly. Yet, it felt like a costume.

His fingers, accustomed to the smooth caress of guitar strings, felt alien around the stiff collar. The cologne his Dad insisted on reeked of old money, suffocating the rockstar wannabe simmering beneath the surface.

Six more grueling months of internship and he'd finally be a doctor, the coveted MBBS a badge of honor. Then, the real dream - Cardiac Surgery. But his father, in his infinite business-oriented wisdom, seemed obsessed with him inheriting the empire.

A blind date with his business partner's daughter? The irony was delicious. His heart, the very organ he aspired to heal, belonged to someone else entirely. Shila. His best friend, confidante, the fiery singer to his melody. They were a band, a hidden gem - Shila, Ken the golden-voiced frontman, and Reyansh, the invisible composer pulling the strings.

A knock shattered his introspection. It was Mom, her eyes sparkling with misplaced hope. Avi, his one-year-old niece, the apple of their eye, gurgled in her arms.

"Ready, handsome?" Mom asked, her voice laced with a hope that tugged at him.

"Mom," he sighed, burying his face in Avi's soft hair, "is this really necessary?"

She chuckled. "It's a date, honey. A chance to meet someone special. Your father's pulling out all the stops, swanky rooftop reservation and all."

"But Mom, I'm not looking for someone special," he mumbled, the lie a bitter taste on his tongue. Special was Shila.

"Just be a good boy, meet Kiara, have a decent conversation," she nudged him playfully. "You don't have to marry her tonight, do you?"

Kiara. Another foreign name in this charade.

"Fine," he conceded with a playful sigh, "but don't expect fireworks."

Mom winked. "Just have fun, Rey. Relax. Who knows, maybe this Kiara will surprise you."

Fun. The word felt like a bad joke. This wasn't a date, it was an obligation.

••••

Across the crowded restaurant, Kiara awaited him, her beauty breathtaking in person.

"Hi," she chirped, a dazzling smile lighting up her face.

He managed a return smile, a strange mix of guilt and relief bubbling inside. Kiara was stunning, no doubt, but his heart belonged to Shila. Just as he opened his mouth to confess, his phone buzzed, the familiar ringtone a jarring intrusion.

"Excuse me," he mumbled, fumbling for the device.

Kiara's smile never faltered. "Go ahead," she chirped.

A voice, laced with panic, crackled through the receiver. The world tilted. His breath hitched, the carefully constructed facade crumbling in an instant. The vibrant restaurant faded into a blurry mess. All he could see was the fear etched on his mother's voice, the image of his family fractured and broken.

"I'll be right there," he choked out, the phone clattering against the table as he bolted for the exit.

Kiara watched him go, a puzzled frown creasing her perfect brow.

••••

The screech of burning rubber echoed through the rain-slicked street as Reyansh flung the car into park. He leaped out, the icy downpour a welcome counterpoint to the inferno raging in his gut. The hospital entrance was a chaotic tableau of flashing cameras, frantic reporters, and worried faces. Reyansh pushed through the throng, a single-minded purpose driving him forward.

The sterile scent of disinfectant assaulted his senses, a cold counterpoint to the raw terror clawing at his throat. He spotted a doctor in blue scrubs and barked, "My family! Can I see them? Where are they?"

The doctor's response was a body blow. "I'm terribly sorry, sir. There were no survivors. We were only able to save one – your niece, Avi.”

•••••

Leaving the counter, a disquieting fog settled around him. Why hadn't anyone contacted him about the bills? Where had the money vanished? These questions loomed large as he walked out, Avi safe in his arms, but a new worry blooming in his heart.

•••••

Placing a sleeping Avi on the familiar bed, Reyansh felt a fresh wave of guilt. He should have been there for her. Picking up his phone, he dialed the familiar number for the household manager, Mr. Kapoor. The usually steady voice that answered held a tremor of worry.

"Mr. Kapoor," Reyansh began, his voice rough, "it's Reyansh. I'm back with Avi. Is everything alright?"

A long pause stretched, punctuated by a hesitant cough. "Mr. Reyansh," Mr. Kapoor finally spoke, "there's something you need to know. The Malhotra business…"

"Difficulties?" Reyansh interjected, dread creeping in.

"Bankruptcy, Mr. Reyansh. The company has filed."

The word slammed into Reyansh. "Bankruptcy? But… the money, the house…?"

"Unfortunately, sir," Mr. Kapoor apologized, "the mansion is part of company assets. You'll need to vacate soon."

The phone slipped from Reyansh's numb fingers, clattering onto the marble floor. He stared at the silent mansion, a symbol of a life that had shattered. Now, not only did he grieve his family, but their legacy crumbled around him. He was adrift, holding a sleeping child and a future as uncertain as the empty rooms around him.