AUTHOR’S POV
After breakfast, everyone was ready for the conference. Later, the media joined them in the main hall, where the event was scheduled. The hall was grand, and the platform-elevated to signify authority-had been set with chairs for the key members of the Rathore family. Shivnya and Abhimanyu took their seats alongside his father, grandfather, and uncle.
Abhimanyu's grandfather's assistant stepped forward, his voice echoing through the room. "I'm truly grateful that you all managed to attend on such short notice. Welcome to the renowned Rathore Haveli. Of course, I understand that what truly pulled you here wasn't just the invitation-but the promise of some spicy headlines. So without further delay, the floor is open. Ask your questions to the most powerful couple of the day."
The reporters stirred with excitement, pens ready, cameras rolling. In India, news wasn't just news-it was a cocktail of fiction, spice, and drama. The juicier, the better.
A reporter stood up and began, "Miss Shivnya Rajvanshi-"
But before he could continue, Abhimanyu cut him off sharply.
"You know," he said, his voice calm but laced with control, sarcasm, and a touch of warning, "I always believed reporters were supposed to be well-informed. Clearly, you're new. Let me correct you-it's Mrs. Shivnya Abhimanyu Singh Rathore Rajvanshi."
The room fell into a charged silence, the weight of his words settling in.
"Sorry, sir," the reporter stammered, shrinking under Abhimanyu's piercing gaze.
Abhimanyu gave a curt nod, the air around him thick with warning. Another reporter, emboldened by the silence, dared to speak,
"Sir, can we assume your marriage was some kind of business deal? A way for the Rajvanshis to secure the Rathores' daughter, and vice versa?"
A muscle in Abhimanyu's jaw ticked. His voice, calm yet razor-sharp, cut through the tension.
"Have you ever heard of the word love?" he asked coldly.
The crowd of reporters laughed awkwardly, unease slithering through their ranks.
"When did you both get married?" another shouted.
"Does it matter?" Abhimanyu countered, voice clipped.
"It does," the reporter insisted.
Abhimanyu's nostrils flared slightly, rage simmering beneath his controlled exterior. His voice, heavy with suppressed fury, answered,
"First of March."
"Was it arranged or a love marriage?"
Another question. Another match thrown into the powder keg.
Abhimanyu's fingers tightened around Shivnya's hand. She felt his anger bleeding into her skin, thrumming like a living thing between them. She squeezed his hand back, her silent plea for him to stay calm.
"That's none of your concern," he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous softness. "We didn't invite you here to dissect our lives. We got married privately because it was our choice. Now, we choose to announce it - on our terms."
Turning fully to face the flashing cameras, his voice rang out, steady and powerful,
"I, Abhimanyu Shivnya Singh Rathore Rajvanshi, and she, Shivnya Abhimanyu Singh Rathore Rajvanshi, are happily married."
The moment should have ended there. But vultures never leave without trying to draw more blood.
"Sir, is this announcement just to create hype for your families?"
A flicker of pure disgust crossed Abhimanyu's face. His voice was laced with venom.
"Hype?" he repeated, almost laughing. "You think we're some street-corner businessmen trying to sell a brand? We are Rajvanshis. Rathores. Our names are empires. They don't need your cheap headlines."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the sea of eager faces.
"You want drama? Go watch a soap opera. Not every storm that brews behind these walls is yours to exploit. Now, go home, read a few books, maybe grow a spine before daring to interview me again."
Shivnya's heart swelled in her chest. Pride. Love. Fear. It was all tangled inside her. She clutched his arm tighter, willing him to leave it at that.
But the reporters weren't done.
"Is it for publicity?"
"Was it because you two were spotted together secretly?"
"Or because you were seen at a hospital?"
"Did Mrs. Rathore kill the CM's daughter because she was flirting with Mr. Rajvanshi?"
Shivnya felt herself stiffen. The air had turned poisonous.
Another shouted:
"Did Mr. Rathore kill Mr. Saxena after he misbehaved with Mrs. Rathore?"
Each question was a slap. A wound.
Abhimanyu's body went rigid beside her. Shivnya could almost hear the chains of his self-control straining to hold him back.
And then -
"Are you pregnant? Is that why you rushed the marriage and went to the hospital?"
The words echoed through the hall.
Silence.
Dead, brutal silence.
Abhimanyu stopped walking. Shivnya could feel the sudden chill that blanketed the room. It wasn't just anger now - it was rage of a kind that could destroy worlds.
Slowly, he turned. His eyes - burning with unholy fury - locked onto the reporter who had dared to utter those words.
The man visibly paled, taking a shaky step backward, sensing the beast he had awoken.
Abhimanyu's hand slipped from Shivnya's. Not because he abandoned her. But because the storm inside him demanded all of him - both hands clenched into fists at his sides, trembling with contained violence.
Shivnya, instinctively, grabbed his arm again, her heart hammering wildly.
"Abhimanyu calm down, they just want us to give them spice to run their business ..." she whispered, only loud enough for him to hear.
Her touch - soft, pleading - was the only thread holding him tethered to reason.
He turned his head slightly toward her, his chest heaving. For a moment, their eyes met. And in that one glance, Shivnya saw the war he was fighting - between the urge to protect her honor violently, and the need to protect her peace.
He looked back at the crowd.
"One more word," he said, voice low, deadly calm. "One more filthy word against my wife... and I will make sure none of you can ever hold a mic again."
There was no threat in his tone. Only a terrifying promise.
The reporters froze.
Not even a camera dared click.
Shivnya's fingers brushed against his knuckles calming him down as she knows he never allows anyone not only the strangers but the known also to speak anything ill about her.
Abhimanyu exhaled - a sound more like a growl than a breath - and finally, after a heartbeat of unbearable tension, turned his back to them.
He wrapped an arm around Shivnya's waist - possessive, protective - and steered her away from the vultures.
This time, not a single reporter dared to call them back.
They walked up the stairs, his hand firm on the small of her back, as if shielding her from the entire world. Shivnya leaned into him slightly, her heart swelling with so many emotions she thought she might burst.
Safe. Loved. Protected. Fiercely claimed.
When they reached the top, out of sight, Abhimanyu pulled her into a darkened corridor. His arms went around her instantly, pulling her against his chest. His heart thundered against hers.
"I know, Abhimanyu... I know exactly what you're thinking." Shivnya whispered, resting her cheek against his chest. "But just ignore them. They're leeches. All they want is a headline - something to twist, something to feed on. Just think of it like giving a beggar some food. Don't feel anything more than that."
Abhimanyu hummed against her hair, his arms still wrapped around her tightly.
Shivnya smiled faintly and teased, her voice lighter, trying to pull him out of his anger,
"Waise, Mr. Rathore... now that everyone knows I'm your wife, no girl will even think of looking your way."
Abhimanyu chuckled, the sound low and warm.
"I only need one girl to think about me - and she's thinking a lot, believe me."
"Haww, shameless!" she gasped, smacking his chest playfully. "I'm your wife! Who else are you letting think about you, huh?"
He grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes.
"Sorry, but she's persistent. I can't stop her... and if I try, she might just kill me."
"Abhimanyu!" she narrowed her eyes. "Tell me. Who?!"
"Aww, my bacha... obviously you, my baby. My jaan."
Shivnya laughed softly, her heart blooming with warmth as she buried her face against him. In his arms, the world didn't matter.
---
Later that evening, after the reporters had finally dispersed, Abhimanyu left for a few important meetings, and Shivnya returned to her suite to get ready for the reception. The mansion was buzzing with energy. Staff hurried down polished corridors, florists added finishing touches to massive arrangements, and elite guests had already started arriving.
Shivnya was surrounded by the best makeup artists and stylists in the city. Her gown shimmered in shades of emerald green and soft rose-pink, threaded with golden embroidery - regal, elegant, and breathtaking. A perfect reflection of the new queen of the Rajvanshi empire.
Abhimanyu had already changed into his charcoal suit - sharp, commanding - but he wasn't allowed to see her before she was ready. Everyone knew that if he did, he'd never let her finish dressing.
Just as the final touches were being applied - her earrings clipped on, her veil pinned - her phone buzzed.
Doctor Uncle.
Her breath hitched.
She answered immediately, trying to keep her voice composed,
"Hello, Uncle... are you coming-"
Before she could finish, his voice rushed in, panicked.
"Shivnya... Advaith is awake. He's asking for you."
The brush slipped from her hand.
Her body went still. Her mind blanked.
Advaith... is awake?
Ten years.
Ten long, agonizing years.
A decade of waiting, of hoping, of praying in the silence of sleepless nights.
And now... he was awake.
Tears welled in her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.
But then - reality struck.
Her reception. Her husband. His family. Their name. Their reputation.
And Abhimanyu... how could she leave him tonight of all nights?
She stood frozen, torn in half by duty and emotion.
"I... I..." she stammered.
Doctor Uncle's voice cracked,
"Please come fast... anything could happen."
That was it.
That was all it took.
Her heart overruled her logic. Her soul answered before her brain could argue.
"Okay. I'm coming."
Shivnya turned toward the mirror - her reflection glowing like royalty. But beneath the glamour, her eyes betrayed the storm inside her.
She checked the clock. 5:30 PM.
The reception was scheduled to begin at 7. If she hurried... maybe she could return in time. Maybe no one would notice.
"Don't let anyone enter this room until I'm back," she instructed her makeup artist firmly. "No one. Not even my husband."
"But ma'am-"
"I said no one."
Grabbing the keys to her car, she quickly covered her gown with a heavy shawl and put on a long veil. Taking cautious steps, heart pounding, she slipped out the back door of the mansion - undetected.
Each step felt like betrayal. Each breath a silent apology.
But something far more fragile than duty was calling her - hope.
As soon as Shivnya settled into the car, she gripped the wheel with trembling hands - and slammed her foot on the accelerator.
The engine roared to life.
She didn't care about traffic signals. She didn't care about speed limits. Her only focus was the hospital - his hospital - the one she had bought for him, maintained for him, loved for him.
The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadows as her car raced down the road, slicing through time and rules alike.
"Please hold on, Advaith... I'm coming."
The car screeched to a halt in front of the hospital. Without wasting a breath, Shivnya flew out, her gown rustling around her legs as she sprinted toward the private floor.
Her heart thundered. Her mind was a mess. But she didn't stop.
She burst through the door of the ICU wing - and there he was.
Advaith.
Awake.
Alive.
Her legs nearly gave out at the sight.
Doctor Uncle and two nurses stood quietly near his bed, but everything else faded for her. There was only him.
His weak eyes found her - and a soft, broken smile spread on his lips.
"Angry bird..." he whispered.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rushed to him and fell to her knees beside the bed, wrapping her arms around him gently, her voice trembling,
"You don't know... how long I've waited, Advi. Every single day... I prayed for this moment. You came back... you came back to me."
His fingers brushed weakly against her hair.
"Shivu... where's Mumma?"
Her heart shattered.
The only promise she'd made to him... the only one she couldn't keep.
She couldn't speak - her lips quivered, but no sound came out.
Doctor Uncle stepped forward, his voice heavy,
"She's no more... Advaith."
For a moment, silence.
Pain flickered in Advaith's eyes, but he nodded slowly - as if accepting the harsh, cruel truth that life often gave.
He looked at Shivnya again - and this time, his gaze fell on the sindoor shining brightly in her hairline.
"You got married?" he asked softly, a small chuckle escaping his parched lips.
Shivnya froze.
That was the last thing she wanted him to see today. Not when he had just come back to life. Not like this.
But now he knew.
She nodded, eyes downcast, ashamed of the timing but not the truth.
"Show me how he looks..." he murmured.
She hesitated, then pulled out her phone and showed him photos - moments frozen in time where she was smiling beside Abhimanyu.
Advaith looked... and smiled.
"You both look beautiful... and in love," he said, his voice thin. "Shivuu... he loves you. I can see it in his eyes."
Shivnya nodded, tears threatening again.
But then, suddenly, his body stiffened.
"Arghh... Shivnya..." he groaned.
Her eyes flew to the monitor - his pulse was dropping.
"No... no... Advaith, don't do this! Not now!"
His breathing grew shallow.
His hand clutched hers with fading strength.
"I'm... always with you. But now, you need your husband... Shivuu. Love him. Stay with him. He will... take care of you. And don't... ever think I'm angry with you. You'll always be... my best friend..."
His last words struggled from his lips - heavy, strained.
"...And I'm... always... grateful... for... that."
The line on the monitor went flat.
"No..."
Her scream tore through the room.
"ADVAITH!"
"Advaith, you can't leave me!"
She clutched his shirt, shaking him, pulling him, trying to wake him as if sheer will could force life back into his body.
"Open your eyes, dammit! You know I'll scold you! You hate my anger, remember?! ADVAITH!"
But there was only silence.
Only stillness.
Only death.
Her body collapsed against his as she cried like her soul was being ripped apart. Her sobs echoed in the sterile white room, raw and broken.
And as she whispered his name one last time... she passed out beside him, darkness pulling her under.
"...Advaith..."
The grand clock in the hallway struck 7 PM.
Abhimanyu Rathore adjusted the cuff of his suit, his expression calm but heart restless. Tonight was their reception - a night meant for celebration, for public acknowledgement, for making the world witness what she meant to him.
But he hadn't seen Shivnya since she began getting ready.
He climbed the stairs to their private room, bouquet in hand, and knocked gently on the door.
No response.
He frowned and knocked again, this time louder.
Still silence.
Something stirred uneasily in his chest. He finally turned the knob and stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit. The makeup artists and designer were standing still like statues - their faces pale, anxious, their eyes darting toward each other.
Shivnya was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is she?" he asked, his voice calm but clipped. "Is she in the washroom?"
No one answered.
He could feel the silence tightening like a noose.
"I asked a question."
Still nothing.
Now his tone turned sharp, commanding - the voice of the Abhimanyu no one dared disobey.
"Say something. Now."
A startled breath left the chief makeup artist. She looked like she'd been dying to speak but was too afraid.
"She... she received a phone call, sir," she stammered. "Around 5:30... she said she had to leave. She didn't say where, just asked us not to let anyone in until she returned."
Abhimanyu's jaw clenched. He turned toward the wall clock - 5:30 PM. But the clock was frozen.
Which meant when Shivnya left... it was already close to 6:30.
She left. Half an hour ago. Without a word. On the day of our reception.
His breath hitched - not in anger, but in a sudden, chilling realization.
Something wasn't right.
Without wasting another second, he pulled out his phone and called Yuvraj.
"Get everyone to my room. Now."
Within minutes, Yuvraj arrived with Divit, Tanmay, Aayansh, and both families - including Shivnya's parents. The celebration downstairs continued to hum faintly in the background, unaware of the storm upstairs.
"She's missing," Abhimanyu said bluntly.
Gasps and chaos erupted in the room.
Her mother clutched her chest. Her father stepped forward immediately, "We can't just stand here. Let's go and find her!"
But Abhimanyu had already turned on his heel. "I know where she is. Follow me."
Everyone rushed behind him, confusion clouding their eyes.
As he walked, he pulled up an app on his phone - GPS Tracker. Shivnya's exact location blinked back at him on the screen. A small red dot. A hospital.
Not just any hospital.
Advaith's hospital.
A chill passed through him.
She had gone to him - the boy who had once meant the world to her. The boy who had been in a coma for ten long years. The boy whose presence had always cast a quiet shadow over their love.
She left our reception... for him.
Abhimanyu didn't stop. His steps grew faster. His eyes are colder. His silence was louder.
He jumped into the car, unlocking it without a word. The others followed suit in separate vehicles.
As the convoy of luxury cars tore through the city, horns blaring and tires screeching, the night air was heavy with tension. Abhimanyu's knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
His father, Ranveer Rathore, seated across from him, finally broke the silence.
"How do you know where she is?"
Abhimanyu didn't even look at him.
"It's personal."
Ranveer didn't like the answer - but one look at his son's face, and he knew better than to press. There was fury there. But beneath it... was fear.
Fear of losing her.
Fear of what might've happened.
Fear of the one thing even the mighty Abhimanyu Rathore couldn't control - fate.
The hospital doors flung open with a loud thud, startling patients and staff alike.
Abhimanyu didn't care.
He sprinted down the familiar corridor, eyes wild, chest heaving, heart thudding in panic. The GPS had led him here - to this floor, to this exact moment - and what he saw shattered the breath inside him.
Shivnya.
On a stretcher.
Unconscious.
"Shivuu!" he cried, his voice cracking as he rushed forward. "Shivuu, baby... wake up! Please!"
Her head lolled to the side, her hand limp. She looked fragile - too fragile for someone who had always fought like fire. His heart pounded so loudly he could barely hear anything else.
"Let her go, Abhimanyu," came a voice from behind.
It was Doctor Uncle.
"She's just unconscious. Emotionally triggered. Let the nurses take her in."
The stretcher was wheeled away, disappearing into the room at the end of the hallway. But Abhimanyu stood rooted for a second, fists clenched, eyes burning.
"What happened?" he asked, voice low but deadly calm - a calmness that came only when he was seconds from breaking.
Doctor Uncle exhaled heavily, his face tired, lined with guilt.
"Advaith... woke up."
Abhimanyu's eyes narrowed.
"He woke up from coma today. And he asked for her. The moment she heard it... she left."
Abhimanyu didn't interrupt. He just stood still, jaw locked, waiting.
Doctor Uncle continued.
"She came, talked to him, held him... he died in her arms, Abhimanyu. After ten years of silence, he woke up... only to say goodbye. That broke her. She passed out after he died. Her body couldn't take it."
Silence.
Dead, choking silence.
Abhimanyu swallowed the lump rising in his throat. He'd always known this day would come. Somewhere in the deepest, darkest corner of his mind - he had imagined this. Prepared for it.
But not like this.
Not on the night of their reception.
Not when she had finally smiled at him like he was her whole world.
And now...
Now, she was lying inside, broken all over again.
He walked toward her room slowly, as if each step took a year to make. Through the glass, he watched her - unmoving on the bed, her breathing shallow, her hands tucked beneath the blanket.
She looked like she was floating between past and present.
---
Inside the Room
The clock ticked softly. The smell of antiseptic hung heavy in the air.
Shivnya stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking against the white lights. She sat up weakly, her head pounding, her throat dry.
The first thing her eyes did was search the room - for him.
"Advaith...?" she whispered hoarsely.
Silence.
Her heart twisted.
It wasn't a nightmare. No.
It was all real.
The hug.
The smile.
His words.
His death.
Her body trembled and she took steps to go outside the room she pulled her hand from the IV which was connected to her hand which lead to bleeding she moved outside the room
ABHIMANYU’S POV
The door to her room swung open, revealing Shivnya in a hospital gown. Her hair was a tangled mess, tear stains streaked her face, and the drip had been torn from her hand, which was now bleeding. Each drop of blood hitting the floor felt like a dagger to my heart, shattering it into a million pieces. Her steps were slow and unsteady. I ran to her, gathering her into my arms.
"Jaan, you need rest. Come," I urged softly, my voice trembling with concern.
"Abhiiii... Adviii... Usse hosh aagya na? Usse kuch nahi hua na? Zinda hai na woh?" she stammered, her face etched with horror and tension. Her eyes searched my blank expression, probing for answers I didn't have. She pushed me away, her frustration evident. She tried to run to his room, stumbling over a chair. My dad, her grandfather, and her brothers tried to stop her, but she was determined.
( abhii .. advi is conscious now …? Did he said something ?? is he alive ?? )
I looked into Doctor Uncle's eyes. They were soft but resigned, as if he had expected this. I had never imagined that day would come so soon, that I would be unable to handle the situation and my love. I knew this day would come someday, but not this early.
My thoughts halted when I heard Shivnya's heart-wrenching scream, filled with pain and fear.
"Adviiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"
I ran into the room and saw her on the ground, by his side. She was on her knees, crying, sobbing, and screaming in disbelief, crawling back as if trying to escape reality. Her brothers were in shock, the elders feeling helpless, especially my father, who held a special place for her in his heart. His heart ached seeing his daughter in such agony.
No one dared to approach her, so I went to her with a heavy heart and hugged her, trying to console her. But she kept crying, her screams echoing through the hospital, amplifying the tragedy. This hospital, once a place of care for her love, now only echoes the worst part of it-the despair of a person begging for her life's lifeline.
"Adviii, please come back! Adviii, please! I can't live without you!" Her words pierced my heart. After all, she is my love. How could I bear to hear these words from her mouth? But he was her first love; she had every right to cry over his death. Blood oozed from her hand as she wailed in front of everyone, begging to save him. My shirt was soaked with her tears. She wiped them quickly and pulled away, her voice trembling with stammering words, as if begging.
"Aap humse pyaar karte hain na?" she asked. I took her hands and wiped the blood with my shirt. The stains of her blood and tears marked my failure as a husband. Every time I vowed to protect her, I ended up breaking that vow, unable to handle the situation.
( you love me na ..? )
"Haan, Jaan, hum aapse beintehaa ishq karte hain," I said, giving her assurance in a soft voice, though my heart ached to see her in such pain. I pulled her closer, showering her with all the love I could muster, but the depth of her grief was beyond my reach. The umbrella of my love had scattered, unable to shield her from this storm.
( yes i love you immensely )
"Aapne kaha tha ki hum aapse kuch bhi maang sakte hain," she said, placing her hands on mine, her eyes shining with hope, believing I could fix everything for her. For the first time, my eyes lied to hers, unable to offer the solace she sought. Everyone present witnessed her breakdown and my helplessness.
( you told me that i can ask you to give me anything )
"Haan, aap kuch bhi maang sakti hain humse," I nodded, feeling regretful. I knew what she would ask, and I felt miserable and helpless, unable to fulfill her wish. For the first time, I felt ashamed of myself, unable to grant the one thing she desired. She was my lifeline, and I would have taken anything from anyone to give her what she wanted. If it were possible to beg from God, I would have done that too, just to see her enchanting smile and the playful spirit of my Shivuuu again.
( yes you can ask me anything to give you )
"Please, use wapas laa dijiye. Hum mar jayenge uske bina. Woh humara pehla pyaar hai, hum mar jayenge," she cried, her voice desperate, her head bowed in front of me. The person who never bowed to anyone but her God was now begging me to bring back her love. She believed I could restore her happiness, but this time she was wrong. The situation was beyond my control.
( Please, bring him back. I will die without him. He is my first love, I will die.)
"Aap jo kahenge hum woh karenge. Hum apna sir jhuka kar jeeyenge aapke saamne, par please use wapas laa dijiye. Hum mar jayenge uske bina, usse wapas laa dijiye. Hum nahi jee payenge uske bina," she pleaded between hiccups, and leaned into my chest, trying to hide her face, seeking the solace she always found in my arms. But this time, I knew she wouldn't find it. Her tears soaked my shirt, her breath becoming labored. I looked at her helplessly.
( I'll do whatever you say. I'll live with our heads bowed before you, but please bring him back. I'll die without him, please bring him back. I can't live without him. )
She kept chanting, "Hum mar jayenge," . I held her, feeling utterly powerless, as my love cried in my arms, begging me to save her first love. And I couldn't even give her the reassurance that I would do something to save him.
( i will die )
My heart shattered into a million pieces, knowing that I, who had sworn to protect her, could do nothing but hold her and share in her agony.
As I held her trembling body against mine, I could feel her shattered heart in every breath she took. Her brothers and mine stood frozen in disbelief, their faces pale, eyes wide, still trying to grasp the magnitude of what had just unfolded. My father, her father, Doctor Uncle, and her grandfather approached cautiously, the weight of grief etched deeply into their expressions. Doctor Uncle knelt beside her, his voice a soft plea in the storm.
"Come here," he whispered gently.
Her head snapped up, her tear-streaked face contorted in pain and rage. Her bloodshot eyes, filled with betrayal, darted between Doctor Uncle and her grandfather as her lips quivered.
"You promised me..." Her voice, barely above a whisper, cracked. The betrayal slashed through her words like a knife. "Both of you promised me you'd take care of him!" She sobbed, her chest heaving violently. "Look at him now! I warned you-I told you he couldn't live without me. I can't live without him! But no... you didn't listen. You had your plans, your cruel tricks!"
Her raw words struck me hard, twisting the knot of guilt tighter in my chest. I wanted to say something, anything, to take away her pain, but all I could do was hold her, rub her back in slow, desperate strokes. My other arm tightened around her waist, trying to keep her anchored as her grief threatened to pull her apart.
Doctor Uncle took a step closer, his face clouded with sorrow, though his voice remained calm, too calm for the devastation unfolding before him. "Calm down, child... come here."
She flinched, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face like an unstoppable flood. "No! No, Uncle! I always saw you as a father, but I-" Her voice cracked, trembling with pain and disbelief. "I expected too much from you. You let me down." Her eyes shone with the weight of shattered hope, her words dripping with accusation.
"Shivii..." Doctor Uncle's voice broke slightly as he reached out, wrapping her in a firm embrace despite her resistance. His hand gently stroked her hair, his lips pressed in a thin line as he tried to comfort her. "Beta, his fate was sealed. He had to go one day. For nine years, it was your love alone that kept him alive. But think-if he had survived, could he have ever forgiven you for his mother's death? He, too, made a promise... to take care of her. But you couldn't keep yours, not even for a year."
Her face twisted with guilt as she gazed up at him, the accusation hanging heavy in the air. Her body went limp for a moment, then she crumbled back into my embrace, her sobs returning with violent force. I held her closer, cradling her as though she might shatter completely if I let go.
But Doctor Uncle's words kept cutting deep, like salt in a wound that refused to heal. Suddenly, she let out a scream-a raw, primal sound that seemed to rip through her entire being. It was the kind of scream that made the air around us tremble, and it sent chills down my spine. Everyone flinched, startled by the force of her agony.
"No!" she howled, pointing a shaking finger at her father and grandfather, her voice thick with fury. "It wasn't written! His death wasn't written! You killed him! You killed my love!"
Her breath came in ragged gasps, each one more painful than the last. I gently pressed my lips to her temple, whispering, "Shhh... I'm here... I've got you." But it felt so futile, so meaningless in the face of her overwhelming loss.
"You knew how much I loved him!" she screamed, her voice ragged with anger, eyes burning as she glared at her grandfather. Her chest heaved with each breath, her entire body trembling as raw emotion bled into every word. "You knew how much I cared for him, and yet you-you didn't let me kill that man! The one responsible for all of this, the one who dragged my love into this hell!"
Her voice broke, cracking with the weight of her grief, but the fury inside her wouldn't let her stop. Her tears fell faster, soaking her cheeks, but they didn't soften the sharpness of her accusations. She turned to her father, her expression twisting with pain, her voice growing louder, more frantic.
"And you!" she cried, pointing a trembling finger at him, her voice cracking with disbelief. "If you had just picked up my call for one minute, just one, what would've been the worst that could happen?!" Her voice rose, filled with betrayal. "I know you don't love me. You never did. All you care about is your son. But what did I do wrong? What was my mistake? What was his mistake? Why did my love have to die for your pride?" Her face twisted with agony, her sobs louder now, raw and broken, her words almost incoherent through the pain.
Her body shuddered as the weight of her emotions crashed over her, but she wasn't done. Her gaze whipped toward Doctor Uncle, her hands shaking as she pointed at him, her voice swelling with accusations.
"And you! You and him!" she screamed, her voice quaking with fury. "For five years, you both kept me locked in therapy, promising to help me. But you didn't! You didn't let me end it! You wouldn't let me kill that bastard, the one who ruined everything! You lied to me. You all lied to me!" Her voice became a desperate wail, her words filled with betrayal and rage as she pushed Doctor Uncle away. He reached for her, but she shoved him back with trembling hands, stumbling as she pulled herself out of my arms. Her eyes were wild now, filled with desperation as she staggered toward my father, her broken sobs tearing through the room.
"Baba... Baba!" Her voice was softer now, but filled with unbearable pain, as she clutched at his shirt, her tear-streaked face upturned, pleading. "Please, you've always protected me, always loved me. Just this once-please, just fulfill this wish for me. Don't let them stop me."
My father looked at her, his eyes filled with deep sorrow. His hand trembled as he reached out to cup her face, brushing away her tears with a tenderness that seemed too fragile in the face of her grief.
"Bache," he said softly, his voice thick with reluctance. "We'll find the best doctors... we'll do whatever it takes."
Something seemed to shift in her as he spoke, her wide, tear-filled eyes suddenly lighting up with desperate hope. Her movements became frantic, hurried, as if clinging to the possibility of saving what was already lost. She wiped her face hastily, her breath catching in ragged gasps as she turned to me, her eyes filled with desperation.
"Doctor... New York... my phone... Abhi!" she muttered, her words tumbling over each other in her panic. She turned to me, wild-eyed. "Where's my phone, Abhi?!"
I tried to soothe her, taking her hands gently in mine, hoping to calm her racing thoughts. "Jaan, it's in the haveli," I whispered, my voice soft, but it wasn't enough.
"No, I need it now!" she cried, her hands shaking as she frantically searched my pockets. "Give me your phone!"
She found it and immediately began dialing, her fingers trembling so hard she could barely press the buttons. The desperation in her movements, the way her breaths came in gasps, made my heart ache. She wasn't ready to let go. She couldn't let go.
Meanwhile, Doctor Uncle's frustration boiled over. His voice, usually so calm, suddenly cracked with anger as he turned to my father. "Are you insane?!" he shouted, startling all of us. "He's dead! You're letting her live in a fantasy. What are you doing?"
But my father, his face etched with guilt and helplessness, could only shake his head. "I can't... I can't see her like this. I can't stand her tears."
Doctor Uncle's eyes blazed with uncharacteristic anger. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he snapped, his voice booming. "So you're going to give her false hope? Let her destroy herself over a lie?!"
Just as Shivnya connected the call, her voice trembling with desperation, "Hello? Can I speak to Mr. John-" Doctor Uncle stormed over, his patience gone, and in one swift, violent motion, he snatched the phone from her hands and slammed it to the ground. The sound of it shattering echoed in the room.
Shivnya gasped, stunned, staring at the broken pieces of the phone as if her last shred of hope had been destroyed along with it.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Shivnya's voice erupted, cracking with anguish, her eyes burning with tears. She lunged toward Doctor Uncle, fury twisting her features, but he caught her wrists firmly, pulling her close and forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice steady yet filled with sorrow. His eyes held hers, unwavering, and for a moment, the room fell silent, as if the world itself waited for what he would say next.
Shivnya's chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, her lips trembling as she shook her head in denial. "No," she whispered, voice breaking. "No..."
"HE'S GONE, SHIVNYA. HE'S NO MORE." Doctor Uncle's voice was low but decisive, each word slicing through the air, shattering the last remnants of her hope. The weight of his words hit her like a physical blow. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed against him, sobbing uncontrollably.
"No!" she wailed, her voice thick with grief. She clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her fingers dug into his shirt, desperate, lost. Her cries filled the room, raw and unrelenting, echoing off the walls as her world fell apart.
Doctor Uncle held her tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Shhh, bache," he murmured, his voice gentle but steady, trying to anchor her in the storm of her despair. "His death was written, Shivnya. I consulted every doctor, explored every possibility. There was nothing anyone could do."
Her sobs quieted slightly, but the pain was no less sharp, no less suffocating. She shook her head against his chest, her voice broken and pleading. "There had to be something more... I should've done more. I-"
"No, bache," Doctor Uncle interrupted, his tone soft but firm. "You did everything you could. The only reason he survived these nine years was because of your love. You gave him that time. But it was his time to go. No one-no doctor, not even me-could change that."
Shivnya's grip on him tightened as the truth sank in, unbearable and heavy. "But I can't let him go," she sobbed, her body shaking with grief. "Please... there must be something... anything." She pulled back slightly, searching his face, her tear-filled eyes desperate for hope.
Doctor Uncle's heart ached as he looked down at her. He slowly shook his head, his expression sorrowful. "If there had been even the smallest chance, I would've fought for him. You know that. But his last words, Shivnya... he wanted you to live. He wanted you to be happy, to move on with your husband. He wanted you to let him go in peace."
Shivnya's sobs quieted further, her chest heaving as she tried to absorb his words. "He said if you cried for him, his soul wouldn't be able to rest. It would make him suffer, bache. Do you want that for him?"
Her breath hitched, and she froze, her tear-filled eyes wide with realization. She shook her head weakly, her voice barely a whisper. "No... I don't want him to suffer."
The silence that followed was thick with grief, but Doctor Uncle's words lingered, filling the space between them. Shivnya's tears slowed, though her heart still felt heavy, burdened by guilt. "Please," she whispered again, her voice so small it was almost lost. "There has to be some hope..."
Doctor Uncle gently cupped her face, brushing away her tears with a tenderness that belied his own sorrow. "If there had been hope, I would never have let him die. But he's gone, Shivnya. You need to let him go."
Her lips trembled, and for a moment, she was silent. Then, in a voice that barely carried, she asked, "Is there really nothing?"
Doctor Uncle shook his head, his gaze soft yet resolute. "There's nothing, bache. His last wish was for you to live. To be happy. Don't let your grief hold him back. Let him rest. Let him go."
Shivnya's sobs turned into quiet gasps as she tried to process the finality of his words. But then Doctor Uncle asked, "Do you want him to suffer?"
Her lips parted, trembling, as she whispered, "No..."
" But Uncle..." Shivnya's voice wavered as she pulled back slightly, detaching herself from his embrace. Her gaze flickered between Doctor Uncle and me, as if weighing something heavy on her heart. It was like she stood at a crossroads, torn between two halves of herself. On one side, there was her past, the love she had lost. On the other, there was me-her present, her future. The choice was excruciatingly clear, but she didn't want to face it.
Doctor Uncle sensed her inner conflict and took a deep breath, his eyes gentle but probing. "I know what you're thinking, Shivnya," he said softly, carefully pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. "But let me ask you something-if he were still alive, would you go back to him? Would you leave your husband?"
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