39. When the Applause Fades

A/N: Fun fact: Every time I plan to keep a chapter short and fast-paced, I somehow end up writing even more! This one is no exception  but it was especially fun to write, and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much.

Keep the comments coming, and don’t forget to hit the ⭐ button if you liked it!

Happy Reading ❣️

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Within a few hours, #WeStandWithAbhir had taken over social media.

Fan clubs, influencers, and celebrities flooded the internet with unwavering support, drowning out the negativity.

Kiara's strategic online campaign, combined with Abhira’s well-placed industry contacts, ensured that musicians and public figures spoke up for Abhir.

The more voices joined in, the harder it became for the industry to ignore him—or worse, blacklist him.

Meanwhile, Charu’s team worked relentlessly behind the scenes, gathering solid proof of media manipulation.

If they could expose Mishra’s involvement in orchestrating the smear campaign, they’d have the leverage to take him down for good.

Now, all they could do was wait.

Kiara let out an excited gasp as she refreshed the trending page. “Di, we’re doing it! The trend is climbing!” she nearly shouted, her eyes sparkling with triumph.

Charu, who had been watching the situation unfold with bated breath, exhaled sharply. It wasn’t over yet, but for the first time that night, she felt a flicker of hope.

Abhira, who had been silently observing, checked her phone one last time before stretching her stiff shoulders. “Let’s call it a day,” she said, rubbing her temples.

“Bhai is getting discharged tomorrow. Thankfully  everything got better before he got back home, the media frenzy will settle, and the ban talks should die down. Once that happens, his music contracts will eventually be revived on its own.”

Kiara nodded eagerly, but Charu remained tense.

“I hope you’re right,” she murmured.

Abhira looked at them both, gratitude softening her voice. “You guys have done enough for today. Go get some rest.”

Kiara stretched her arms above her head, suddenly realizing how stiff she had gotten from hours of screen time. “Yeah, I think my fingers are about to fall off from all the typing.”

Seeing Charu still in her own bubble.

Abhira placed a firm hand on Charu’s shoulder. “We did our part, Charu. The rest… we handle it as it comes.”

Charu didn’t protest for once. She simply nodded, rubbing her temples. “Fine. I also need a fresh mind to tear Mishra apart in the morning.”

Abhira let out a small, tired chuckle. “That’s the spirit.”

As Kiara shut her laptop and Charu gathered her files, she leaned against the desk, her gaze lingering on the screen one last time.

They had fought back.

And now, it was time for Abhir to reclaim his place.

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Next Morning

A black SUV rolled into the grand Goenka mansion, its tires crunching against the gravel. As the car came to a stop, Sira hopped out first, hurrying to open the door for Abhir.

"Easy," she murmured, placing a firm hand on his shoulder as he shifted onto the wheelchair.

Abhir huffed. "I swear, if one more time you tell me to 'take it easy,' I'm throwing myself out of this chair."

Sira rolled her eyes but didn't respond, knowing full well he wouldn't actually do it-not with the way he winced every time he moved.

As soon as they approached the entrance, the doors swung open, revealing the entire Goenka family waiting for him.

His Dadi, Swarna, had her palms pressed together in prayer, her eyes misty with relief. Manish stood beside her, his usual stern expression softened into something deeply affectionate.

Surekha looked on warmly, and in the center of it all stood his sisters Ruhi and Abhira, holding an aarti thali together.

"Billa boy!" Ruhi beamed, her eyes shining as she stepped forward. "Welcome home!"

Abhir sighed, rubbing his temple. "Y'all are acting like I came back from war."

Ruhi snorted . "Knowing you, this probably felt worse than a war."

Abhira, though calmer, had a similar warmth in her gaze. "Well, my AB is no less than a warrior."

Abhir groaned. "You guys are too dramatic."

Ruhi scoffed. Ruhi smirked. "Says the one making a grand comeback... in a wheelchair."

"I like to keep life interesting," Abhir shot back, winking.

Abhira shook her head. "Enough of your antics now. Let's do this properly."

She and Ruhi performed the aarti, their voices in sync as they chanted the prayers.

As the diya flame flickered in front of his face, Abhir felt an unexpected tightness in his throat.

He felt finally at home today.

Just as the ritual ended, Ruhi smirked and extended her hand. "Okay, Bhai. Now pay up."

Abhir frowned. "Pay up for what?"

"For the aarti! You think we did this for free?" Ruhi crossed her arms, feigning offense.

Abhira backed her up. "Exactly. A welcome aarti means a welcome gift. Give us something-cash, an expensive gift, or a song dedicated to us, whatever."

Abhir gave them both an exaggerated look of disbelief. "Unbelievable. You two gang up on me the second I step into the house."

Ruhi shrugged. "Sister privileges."

"Then I should be charging rent for my presence," Abhir cut in. "Seems only fair."

Manish chuckled, shaking his head at their antics. "Some things never change."

Abhira and Ruhi their faces softened, the teasing momentarily replaced by warmth.

"Welcome home, Bhai," Abhira and Ruhi whispered as they hugged him, their voice laced with a quiet emotion they rarely showed.

Abhir's smirk faltered for a second as he saw the genuine love in his sister's eyes.

His heart clenched.

"You guys are going to make me emotional," he muttered dramatically, blinking exaggeratedly. "I mean, I know I'm everyone's favorite, but control yourselves."

Ruhi rolled her eyes and promptly smacked the back of his head. "And just like that, the moment is ruined."

The family burst into laughter, the heaviness of the past few days momentarily forgotten in their usual sibling chaos.

Swara and Surekha shared a look, their eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"This is what was missing in the house," Swarna murmured. "Abhir's mischief. The way these three pull each other's legs."

Surekha nodded, folding her hands in silent gratitude. "Bas, ab sab theek ho jaye."

The whole family laughed as Sira took hold of his wheelchair handles. "Alright, enough clowning around. Let's get you to your room before you collapse from exhaustion."

Abhir groaned. "Ugh, you sound like my warden."

Sira snorted. "At this point, I am."

With one last glance at his family, Abhir let Sira wheel him inside. He felt lighter-like, for the first time in a while, everything would be okay.

After getting Abhir settled into his room, Sira stepped out in the hallway for a moment to take a call.

She didn't expect him to follow her.

But Abhir, ever the curious one, had exceptional timing.

The moment he wheeled himself near the slightly open door, he caught the tension in Sira's voice.

"Yes, I've seen the latest news its getting better," she whispered into the phone.

"But the hate comments haven't stopped. Yeah the positive trend is supportive, but some production houses are still hesitant about working with him."

Abhir's grip on the wheelchair's armrest tightened.

"I don't know how much damage control we can do Akash, but we have to make sure Abhir doesn't see any of this until he's fully recovered.We both know his strength is just a facade and how vulnerable he is. His family also wants it that way."

That was it.

Abhir pushed his wheelchair forward and grabbed the phone straight out of Sira's hand before she could react.

His jaw clenched as he scrolled through the messages, reading the online hate, the bans, the betrayal from the music fraternity.

His world spun.

"Abhir, wait-"

Too late.

His eyes scanned the screen, and every word, every comment, every article hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Abhir Sharma: The fall of a star?"

"Unstable, reckless, unprofessional-does he deserve a comeback?"

"Music labels reconsider contracts after Abhir's accident scandal."

His entire body tensed. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

"The hell is all this?" he growled, his voice dangerously low.

Sira swallowed hard. "Abhir, were going to tell you when you were stronger-"

"When I was stronger?" Abhir's voice shook with anger. "You guys think im so weak that hiding this from me you all were doing me a favor?"

Sira reached out cautiously. "Abhir, please-"

He wheeled back sharply, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

A same old sense of betrayal, frustration, the sheer helplessness churned inside him like a storm waiting to explode .

His entire career, everything he had worked for, was being shredded apart.

And no one thought he deserved to know?

His hands clenched into fists.

Too late.

Abhir's blood ran cold. His entire body tensed.

What the hell were they keeping from him?

His music. His career. The very thing he had built from scratch-was slipping through his fingers, and he had been completely blind to it.

Rage, betrayal, and sheer panic surged through him like wildfire.

He wasn't just some fragile patient to be protected.

This was his life.

And hell was about to break loose

His fingers trembled as he turned to Sira. "Who else knows?"

Sira swallowed hard. "Everyone."

Abhir closed his eyes for a moment, processing the betrayal.

When he opened them, they were ablaze with fury.

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Mishra sat frozen in his office chair, his fingers clenching the armrests so tightly his knuckles turned white.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

He had connections-PR teams, journalists, and industry insiders who had all assured him that Abhir Sharma would be finished.

That the media storm would bury him so deep, no amount of damage control would salvage his career.

Yet, somehow, despite all his influence, the tides were shifting.

How?

He yanked his phone off the desk, scrolling through article after article.

His fans mobbed all over the social media in support to him at a frightening pace.

Big names in the music industry-ones who should have stayed neutral-had started backing Abhir publicly.

The narrative was slipping from his grasp, and for the first time, Mishra felt the sting of losing.

He had underestimated her.

Charu Bansal.

His lips twisted into a grimace as he replayed their conversation from this morning in his head.

"You really have some nerve, Ms. Bansal." Mishra's voice darkened, laced with contempt. "You didn't even disclose that you and Abhir were acquaintances-let alone that the Goenkas and Poddars were practically family."

Mishra continued, venom dripping from his words. "And now you expect me to believe you're still acting as my lawyer? You've clearly chosen your side. There's no way in hell I'm letting you handle this anymore. I'll take my case elsewhere-somewhere I can actually trust the firm to do its damn job."

Charu's pulse roared in her ears, but she didn't falter.

Instead, she let out a low, humorless laugh.

"Perfect," she spat, steel laced in her tone. "Because that makes my job easier."

Mishra went silent.

"I know every single loophole in this case," she continued, her voice unwavering.

"Every weak link, every thread that will unravel your claims in court.

And if you hand this to another firm? Good for me. Because now, I am officially free to fight for Abhir without a conflict of interest."

The silence stretched.

For the first time, Mishra had nothing to say.

Charu's chest rose and fell, her breath sharp, her resolve unshakable.

"You wanted a fight?" she said, voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

"Now, you have one."

The weight of her words settled heavily between them.

Mishra swallowed, but his pride wouldn't let him back down. "You can’t do this to me…" His voice was quieter now, weaker.

Charu arched a brow. "Try me."

Then, after a brief pause, her tone shifted—colder, calculated. "Here’s my last legal advice for you,  absolutely free of charge. "

"Instead of dragging yourself through this and ruining your own credibility, withdraw this baseless case. If you turn around and support Abhir instead, you might salvage your label’s reputation."

Mishra narrowed his eyes he asked hesitantly. "what is the deal?"

A slow smirk curled Charu's lips. "Frankly, after what you pulled, I don’t think you deserve a penny. But I’ll make you a deal—I'll negotiate a fraction of what you’re demanding. Just enough to cover your cancellation costs. Take it, or risk losing everything in litigation."

His breath hitched.

She had him cornered, and they both knew it.

If he went to court, he had no guarantee of winning—not now, not with the Poddar firm and Charu who knew the case inside out were working against him instead of for him.

And if he lost?

His reputation would be in shambles. His label?

Blacklisted.

Abhir’s fans?

They’d paint him as the villain and boycott his entire brand.

Damn it.

"Fine," he snapped. "I’m done with this mess."

Charu’s smirk deepened. "But I’m not."

Mishra stiffened.

"You’re also going to issue a public apology to Abhir," she added smoothly, though there was no mistaking the underlying threat in her voice. "Consider it the price of walking away with what little dignity you have left."

Mishra groaned but, seeing no other way out, gave a reluctant nod.

Charu had won.

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Back at the Goenka mansion, Abhir sat in his dimly lit bedroom, the glow of the phone screen illuminating his face.

His fingers hovered over the screen, scrolling through article after article.

He knew he should stop.

He knew it would only make the fire inside him burn hotter.

But he couldn't.

He had spent years crafting his career, pouring every ounce of his soul into his music.

And now, overnight, they were tearing him apart.

"Abhir Sharma: The industry's biggest disappointment?"

"From star to liability-production houses reconsider contracts."

"Can he recover, or is this the end?"

Abhir's grip tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white.

His vision blurred with rage.

It wasn't just about the rumors.

It was about the betrayal.

The fact that his family-his own sisters-had known and kept it from him.

Sira, who claimed to be his friend and have his back, had hidden it too.

And Charu she tops the list, she was... waa she just pretending to care for him?

while fighting against him behind his back?

His entire body buzzed with restless energy.

His breathing turned ragged as he scrolled down further.

The worst part wasn't even the posts.

It was the comments.

"He was never that talented anyway. Just another industry brat who got lucky."

"This is karma. He thought he was untouchable-now look at him."

"Labels should cut him off completely. No one wants an unstable artist."

His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

His skin felt too tight.

A sharp knock at the door broke through his haze.

"Abhir?" Ruhi's voice was cautious.

"Bhai" Abhira's voice was soft and vulnerable.

But he didn't answer.

The door creaked open, and they stepped inside, immediately noticing the look on his face.

Their eyes darted to the phone still clenched in his hand.

"Abhir-"

"Bhai"

"Don't." His voice was hoarse, raw with barely contained fury.

Abhira took a hesitant step forward. "I was going to tell you-"

Abhir let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. "When? When it was too late for me to fight back?"

Ruhi sighed. "We were trying to protect you. You needed to recover-"

"I don't need protection!" he snapped, the words echoing through the room.

Abhira and Ruhi both flinched but held their ground. "You needed time."

"Well, congrats, guys. I'm all caught up now."

Abhir's jaw clenched as he shoved the phone onto the bedside table with a thud.

His entire body vibrated with barely contained rage, his mind drowning in the flood of cruel words and accusations from the internet.

"Leave me alone," he muttered, his voice cold, decisive.

Abhira's stomach twisted. "Bhai, please-"

"Please... Go."

The finality in his tone shattered her.

He turned his back on them, shoulders tense, shutting them out completely.

Ruhi swallowed against the lump in her throat and gently took Abhira's hand, her unshed tears glistening.

"Let's give him some time," she whispered.

With heavy hearts, they stepped out, leaving Abhir alone with his storm of self-loathing.