CHAPTER 253: CHAPTER-253.

But then he looked at me, with those eyes that could break me, and said words that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

He said, "I know you’re not perfect. And I don’t want perfect. I just want you."

Even writing this, my chest feels so tight. My heart skipped and stumbled when I heard it, and it still does now.

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I wonder if fate is just playing games with me. If I hadn’t stormed out that day, so angry, and if he hadn’t followed me like the stubborn fool he is... he wouldn’t have gotten into that car accident while saving me. The guilt still claws at my chest. But now... now that he’s better, I made up my mind. I’m going to marry him.

Haha. Haha. Hahaha.

See? I’m such a generous person, right?

But when kaya looked back down at the page, she saw that the handwriting was slightly messy, and the words came softer, almost whispering out of it.

Dear Diary, I finally understood one thing—when you love someone, you don’t just love. You fight.

I don’t know how long this love will last. After all, we are two people from two different worlds. But seeing him in that hospital bed, where so many lives have been lost before, I realized—I don’t care anymore. I don’t care what his family thinks. I don’t care about the world. Call me a gold digger, call me a bitch, call me anything you want... I only want to stay by this man’s side for as long as I can.

Maybe one day he’ll regret marrying me. Maybe he’ll forget me. Maybe he’ll stop loving me. Maybe we’ll fight until we’re both tired. And that’s okay. Because falling in love is like falling into a volcano—there’s no way out once you’ve fallen. And I... I fell straight into the lava.

The lava’s name is Arjun. And I know it’s going to consume me, but I don’t care. I want to be his. We’ve decided—we’re getting married soon. The last time, everything fell apart. But this time... nothing, nothing will stop us.

As Kaya kept reading, she slowly turned the next page. But then she stopped.

Her eyes lingered on the top corner of the paper, where the dates were written. The one she had just finished reading... and the one that followed after.

There was a gap.

Two whole days.

And then she turned to the next page, the one that continued again, as if nothing had been missing.

Dear Diary,

It’s been two days since I last wrote to you. So much happened, I don’t even know if my hand is trembling from joy or shock.

Just yesterday... we were in the office, sitting side by side, talking about meetings, sipping coffee like always. And then... that idiot. That unbearable idiot. He suddenly looked at me and said, "Let’s get married."

I thought he was joking. Of course I did. So I joked back—"Okay, let’s do it right now."

But Diary... he wasn’t joking. He dragged me—literally rushed me—straight to the marriage license office. And today... today, in my hands, I’m holding two bright marriage certificates.

We’re married. Really married.

And even as I write this, I feel like I’m dreaming.

.

.

When kaya turn turn page this time her breath caught in her throat.

There was a picture.

The image itself was blurred, its corner so badly folded it seemed someone had opened and folded it over and over, as if unable to let go.

Kaya’s eyes froze on it. Her breath caught when she noticed the faint marking at the back— a date, written clearly.

15th September 2022.

She was stunned. Until now, she had believed Gracia Siddiqui must have belonged to a time at least five or six years before her own. But this changed everything. This picture wasn’t even old. It had only been three years since Gracia last took it.

Which meant—if this picture was truly from Kaya’s own world—Gracia Siddiqui had crossed into this world just three years ago.

Her mind staggered to a single thought.

Veer.

It couldn’t be possible... Yet the photograph screamed otherwise.

And the man beside Gracia—Kaya knew him. She blinked, almost disbelieving her own memory.

It was Arjun Viyan. One of the top-ranking CEOs of the USA, a name that echoed across industries. Known for his groundbreaking construction work and visionary architecture, his firm was often hailed as a genius architect team. His face had graced the covers of countless magazines.

But it wasn’t just Arjun.

Kaya’s eyes trailed to the woman in the photograph—Gracia Siddiqui herself. The resemblance to Veer was undeniable, only softened by differences in hair and eye color. She was beautiful. Striking. And Kaya knew her too. Gracia had appeared in magazines many times.

A sharp memory returned to Kaya—those sensational headlines.

The CEO of Earthcon desperately searching for his missing wife.

Rumors that he had even placed a bounty.

Whispers that the great Arjun Viyan had lost his sanity chasing her.

Kaya sat heavily on the bed, her whole body trembling with shock. The diary she had dismissed earlier suddenly carried the weight of truth.

Looking at the two radiant faces in the faded picture, she could no longer doubt it.

Gracia Siddiqui was real.

And she was none other than the wife of Arjun Viyan.

Kaya turned the page in a hurry.

The neat cursive she had seen earlier was gone. This time, the writing was jagged, rushed—letters uneven, as though the pen itself shook in trembling hands. Fear leaked from every stroke of ink.

What the hell? What the hell is this place?

Her eyes darted across the frantic lines.

Where am I? I... I was just in my car. I was going to meet him at the restaurant—we had planned to dine together. But then... suddenly... I was still in my car and—when I opened my eyes—I was here. In this strange place.

The words dipped into panic.