The show's final episodes aired on a bright Sunday evening, pulling in TRP numbers so big even the production heads couldn't believe it. Social media flooded with hashtags — #RoopKiShaadi, #KabirBrokenHeart, and thousands of edits pairing sad Punjabi songs with clips of Sidharth as Kabir looking on at the wedding.
The most replayed moment on TV?
Kabir, standing half in shadow, forcing a small smile while Roop placed the varmala around Ishika. The camera caught the minute tremble in his jaw, the subtle mist in his eyes. That silent heartbreak spoke louder than any dialogue could.
Next morning, Sidharth's phone practically exploded.
Dimple had posted a reel on Instagram — a split screen with the heartbreak scene on one side and her literally bawling on the other.
Caption:
"Who gave my brother the right to break OUR hearts like this? 😭 #ProudButDestroyed"
Nischay wasn't far behind. He'd shared a meme:
📸 Kabir looking devastated
Text overlay:
"When she says 'Bhaiya' after you've already planned your future kids' names."
Even Abhishek sent a voice note on the family group, chuckling.
"Acting toh kamaal hai bhai… bas real life mein mat itna sad ho jana, warna mummy ki tabiyat kharab ho jayegi."
Their mom sent just one quiet message, packed with her entire world of love:
"Beta, you've made us so proud. Kabir's pain felt real — because your heart is real. Stay that way."
Overnight, Sidharth's follower count doubled.
Fans sent thousands of DMs — some confessing he'd reminded them of their own silent heartbreaks, some simply sending hearts, some making entire montage edits of Kabir's smiles fading into heartbreak.
Everywhere he went — malls, airports, even a small cafe in Gurugram — someone or the other stopped him.
"Sir, you're Kabir na? Bro, my girlfriend made me watch your scenes, now I'm legit sad for you."
"Bhaiya, selfie please! My sister cried more for Kabir than her own breakup."
Sidharth would smile, ruffle the boy's hair or pose with shy college girls, grateful for the affection, even when it overwhelmed him.
Exactly a month later, he was on set of a Haryanvi song video, dressed in faded jeans, boots splashed with mud, a fitted white tee under a rustic black jacket. A local dhaba provided plates of piping hot jalebis between shots.
The director clapped.
"Sid bhai, today forget heartbreak. Now you're the proud gabru — that tractor's yours, the girl's yours, the whole pind is cheering for you."
Sidharth laughed, putting on his sunglasses, feeling the dhol beats rumble through the ground.
"This is weirdly therapeutic after all that crying."
As the camera rolled, he jumped off the tractor, spun the heroine around by her waist, flashing that killer grin. They danced through fields, dust flying up around their feet.
That night, back in his apartment, Sidharth FaceTimed the whole Malhan clan.
Nischay whistled.
"Arre yaar, acting toh thik hai… but you're actually dancing better than my Fortnite character now."
Dimple squealed.
"Also did you have to look SO GOOD with that mustache stubble? Even my friends are crushing. This is unfair."
Their mom just pressed her palm to her chest on camera, beaming.
"You always wanted to do this, na? Be an actor who could make people laugh, cry… or dance. Dekh lo. Dreams aren't small — they become songs people hum."
The fame was intoxicating, but Sidharth stayed grounded.
Every day he made time to reply to at least twenty fan DMs personally.
He posted silly BTS reels from the music shoots — him trying to dance on beat, slipping, almost falling off the tractor, bursting into laughter.
His captions stayed humble.
"From heartbreak to happy beats — thank you for making Kabir & now this gabru boy feel loved 💛."
By the third song release — a peppy Punjabi number with neon lights and a club scene — the press was calling him "TV's most soulful eyes now lighting up Punjabi music charts."
In an interview he said simply,
One evening, after an intense dance shoot in Rohtak, he stood on the rooftop of his small hotel, wind ruffling his hair. Down below, streetlights pooled like liquid gold. His phone buzzed with more notifications — edits, reels, fan art of him in both heartbreak and tractor glory.
He exhaled, a soft smile curving.
All this noise… it started with Kabir.
And maybe… that heartbreak was worth it, if it brought him here.
Somewhere deep down, he whispered a thank you — to that fictional love that broke him on screen, and to the millions who pieced him together again with their laughter and dancing feet.