61. BABIES

ABHIMANYU’S POV

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Shivnya's face crumpled, her eyes clouded with confusion and pain. She closed her eyes tightly, bringing her hands to her head as if trying to block out the war raging in her mind.

"I... I don't know!" she shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of her turmoil. She gripped her head harder, as if squeezing it might somehow force the answer out, but the uncertainty gnawed at her soul.

Doctor Uncle's voice was louder now, more insistent, pushing her toward clarity. "You wouldn't go, Shivnya," he said, his tone ringing with certainty. "You wouldn't leave your husband."

Shivnya's eyes snapped open, wide and startled. The truth in his words hit her like a splash of cold water. For a moment, she was silent, her breath catching in her throat. She stared ahead, dazed, and the reality she had been avoiding finally began to settle in.

Doctor Uncle continued, his voice gentler now but still firm. "Bache, you need to understand... he was your anxious attachment, not your love."

Before he could finish, Shivnya's expression hardened, and she shouted, cutting him off, her voice fierce and trembling with raw emotion. "He was my love!"

Her words hung in the air, desperate, defiant, but there was a crack in her voice, a tremble that betrayed the uncertainty she couldn't admit. She was fighting against the truth with everything she had.

Doctor Uncle sighed, his eyes soft with understanding. He looked at me, then back at her, his voice full of compassion as he said, "Shivnya... accept it. He wasn't your love. He was your anxious attachment." He paused, letting his words sink in, and then he gestured toward me, his gaze steady. "Your husband is your love."

Shivnya's puffy, tear-soaked eyes softened as they met mine, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. She stared at me, her emotions swirling in those deep, dark eyes-confusion, pain, longing, and maybe, just maybe, a fragile acceptance. The words she was so desperate to reject echoed in the silence between us.

Doctor Uncle's voice was a quiet reassurance now. "He was your past, Shivnya. But your husband... he's your future. That's what love is, not clinging to the past out of fear or guilt."

Her gaze flickered, lingering on me, as if she was searching for something in my eyes-validation, forgiveness, or maybe a sense of belonging. The battle in her heart wasn't over, but a seed of realization had been planted. She swallowed hard, still trembling, her fingers loosening their hold on her head.

But the guilt wouldn't let her rest. It clung to her like a shadow. She pulled away slightly, shaking her head, her voice rising again. "But he died because of me. If it wasn't for me, he'd still be alive!"

Doctor Uncle's grip on her shoulders tightened, his voice sharp as he interrupted her. "No, Shivnya. He didn't die because of you. He died because of Shrikant."

The mention of Shrikant's name seemed to shift something deep inside her. Her grief twisted, transforming into something darker, sharper. Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes, once filled with helplessness, now blazed with anger.

"Shrikant..." she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. The name was like venom on her tongue, fueling the fire inside her. "Shrikant killed him."

Doctor Uncle nodded, his voice firm. "Yes. Shrikant is the one who took him from you. This wasn't your fault, Shivnya. Shrikant is to blame."

Her chest rose and fell with heavy, uneven breaths, her sorrow now mingling with fury. Her hands clenched into fists, her jaw tight as the grief that had paralyzed her moments before turned into cold resolve. "I'll kill him," she whispered, the words sharp, deadly, her eyes narrowing with vengeance. "I'll kill Shrikant."

"Sure, you'll kill him as brutally and inhumanely as you desire," Uncle said, his voice heavy with conviction. "But not now, Shivnya. First, you need to rest. If you don't, how will you find the strength to destroy him the way you want?"

His words struck her like thunder, yet her steps faltered as he gripped her hand firmly, pulling her from the room.

"Come with me," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

"Where?" she asked, her voice trembling, caught between defiance and desperation.

He didn't answer immediately, leading her to another room. With a swift push, he opened the door, revealing a serene space bathed in dim light. "Here," he said firmly. "You need to rest."

Her body stiffened as she tried to pull away. "But-"

"Bache," he interrupted, his voice softening, though the authority remained, "we need to prepare. He's not ready yet, and neither are you. When the time is right, you'll meet him. But first, rest."

She stared at him, her lip quivering as if she wanted to scream. Her silence felt like a storm gathering. "I don't want to rest," she muttered, the anguish in her voice cutting through the air.

"Please, Shivnya. You must understand," he said, his voice almost pleading.

For a moment, she seemed to gather herself, her back straightening as though sheer willpower alone could hold her together. "I'm fine," she insisted, her tone sharp yet brittle.

Uncle's gaze darkened, the lines on his face deepening as he leaned closer. "Enough. Rest."

Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she gave a reluctant nod. He glanced at me as he turned to leave. "Abhimanyu, take care of her."

I approached her carefully, watching as her walls crumbled before my eyes. The moment I was close enough, she threw herself into my arms, her grip tight enough to steal my breath.

"Abhi," she whispered, her voice broken and raw. "He's gone. He's dead."

Her words came like a dagger, twisting deep. I tightened my hold on her, my heart aching as I felt her body shake against mine. Then, barely audible, she added, "Abhi... he died because of me."

Her pain rippled through me, and I cupped her face gently, tilting her tear-streaked gaze to meet mine. "No, jaan," I said firmly, my voice trembling with the weight of her sorrow. "It wasn't because of you."

She shook her head, her lips moving as if to protest, but I pressed my finger lightly against them. "Shh," I whispered, my voice low and soothing. "My love, rest."

Her tear-filled eyes searched mine, looking for reassurance she couldn't yet feel. "Abhi," she murmured, a faint glimmer of something-hope, perhaps-appearing. "Do you know what he said when I showed him our picture?"

I brushed a strand of hair from her damp cheek, my voice soft. "What did he say?"

Her lips curved into the ghost of a smile, though sorrow weighed her every word. "He said, 'God made me for you , not for him and God made you for me . Both of us , for each other.'"

The air seemed to shift as her words settled between us. I hadn't known him, yet in that moment, I felt his presence-a man who'd loved her enough to let her go. Guilt clawed at my chest as I whispered, "He was right. He told the truth."

She buried her face against my chest again, her sobs muffled but unrelenting. "Abhi," she choked out, "I'll never forgive myself. Never."

I stroked her hair, my hand trembling as I tried to calm her. "Baby, listen to me," I said softly, desperation creeping into my tone. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Her cries grew louder, her voice breaking like a shattered mirror. "It's my fault. It's my fault I walked into his life."

I pulled back, cupping her face once more. Her eyes, bloodshot and filled with anguish, met mine. "If you hadn't," I said, my voice steady but thick with emotion, "how would everything have unfolded? That accident... your transformation. How would you have become who you are now? And how would we have found each other? It's all connected, jaan. Fate. Destiny."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clung to me like a lifeline. "But it wasn't his destiny," she whispered, her voice breaking with grief.

I rested my forehead against hers, my arms wrapped tightly around her trembling frame. "No," I murmured, my own voice unsteady. "He deserved better. He deserved peace. And now he has it, with God. Please, Shivnya. Don't let the weight of what can't be undone crush you. He wouldn't want that."

She buried her face into my chest once more, her sobs gradually softening into quiet whimpers. Her pain still hung in the air, thick and unrelenting, but for now, I held her, offering what little comfort I could as she fell apart in my arms.

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏

The next day, after the post-mortem, we all made our way to the crematorium. I held Shivnya's hand tightly, her fingers cold yet firm in my grasp. Everyone was dressed in pristine white, the silence around us broken only by the shuffle of feet and murmurs of grief.

As we approached, the somber atmosphere was disrupted by the clamor of reporters. Their cameras clicked incessantly, voices rising in excitement. Then, cutting through the crowd, a man in brightly colored clothes entered with a woman by his side. Harish Bahl. Advaith's father. And with him, his second wife.

The moment Harish stepped onto the sacred ground, Shivnya wrenched her hand free from mine and stormed toward him, her fury palpable. Her voice cut through the air like a blade.

"How dare you come here? Who invited you?"

Before anyone could respond, Uncle stepped forward, his expression calm but resolute. "I called him."

Shivnya spun on her heel, her eyes blazing as they met Uncle's. "Why?"

But before Uncle could answer, Harish, with a sneer, replied, "Because he was my son. My family-"

Before he could finish, Shivnya's hand connected with his cheek in a resounding slap that echoed across the grounds. Her voice trembled with rage as she spat, "Save your drama and get the hell out of here!"

Harish's face twisted in anger, his hand hovering near his cheek. "You... how dare you-"

Before he could continue, I stepped behind Shivnya, my voice cold and commanding. "Bahl, lower your voice. Think carefully before you speak to her. Do you know who she is? Do you know who her husband is?"

The weight of my words silenced him. He glared at me, his anger simmering but subdued.

Shivnya's voice cracked with emotion as she stepped closer to Harish. "How dare you call him your son? When aunty called you for help, you ignored her cries. When Advaith needed you-when he called, waited outside your house for hours-you never even looked at him. He lived in poverty. He worked himself to the bone to survive. And where were you?"

Her voice rose, each word sharper than the last. "If you truly cared, you would have come here alone. Not with cameras, not with reporters. You're here for a spectacle, not for him."

Her eyes bore into him with a fury that made him falter. "Now get out. Don't make me show you what I'm capable of if you stay here another second."

Harish's sneer faltered as her words sank in. He glanced at me, then at her, before turning on his heel.

"Vikram!" Shivnya's voice rang out. "Get these reporters and that man out of here now. I don't want to see their filthy faces again."

Vikram nodded, swiftly executing her command, the reporters scrambling to leave with Harish trailing behind.

Though her body was visibly weak, Shivnya remained determined. Everyone tried to dissuade her from performing the final rites, suggesting I do it instead, but she refused. Her resolve was unyielding. This was her last goodbye.

As the moment arrived, Shivnya stood beside Advaith one last time, her trembling hands brushing his face before covering him with the funeral wood. When she struck the match and set the pyre alight, the flames danced and roared, consuming him.

Her strength gave way. She fell to her knees, her hands pressing into the earth as she sobbed, her cries raw and unrestrained. I made a move toward her, but Uncle's hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"Let her be," he said quietly. "Let her cry, let her break. She needs this. If she doesn't let it out now, she'll suffocate for the rest of her life. This pain, this misery-it's hers to bear. Only then can she find peace."

And so, I watched, helpless, as she poured out every ounce of her anguish. She stayed there, crying until the flames began to dim, her grief echoing in the stillness.

When the priest handed her a small earthen pot containing Advaith's ashes, she froze. Her hands trembled as she took it, her wide, horrified eyes staring at the priest. It was final now. Not just his soul, but his body was gone. There was nothing left.

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she steadied herself, straightened her back, and rose to her feet. With the pot cradled in her arms, she turned and walked out of the crematorium, her steps resolute despite the weight of her grief.

Her pain lingered in the air, palpable and suffocating. But in her eyes, there was a flicker of something else-a quiet determination to carry the burden Advaith had left behind.

AUTHOR’S POV 

Shivnya marched toward her car, her face a storm of grief and rage. Without hesitation, she slid into the driver's seat of her black G-Wagon, her movements mechanical, her mind distant. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, veins pulsing beneath her pale skin.

"Shivnya, wait!" Abhimanyu called out, his voice laced with urgency.

She didn't respond. The engine roared to life, a guttural growl that mirrored the fury boiling within her. Before anyone could react, the car surged forward, leaving behind a trail of dust and silence.

The family scrambled, confusion and fear etched on their faces. They hurried into their vehicles, engines sputtering to life as they tried to keep up with the relentless pace of the G-Wagon. Shivnya's car tore through the deserted streets, the speedometer climbing dangerously.

The city blurred around her, her vision clouded with unshed tears. Her chest heaved with every breath, each exhale a battle to keep herself from shattering completely. The pot of ashes on the passenger seat caught her eye, a cruel reminder of what she had lost.

Her thoughts spiraled-Advaith's laughter, his voice, his love-all stolen from her. Her grip on the wheel tightened until her knuckles turned white, and the car roared past terrified bystanders, its speed unrelenting.

The outskirts of Maharashtra greeted her with the looming gates of her 100-acre farmhouse. Armed guards snapped to attention, their faces stoic as they opened the gates without question. She didn't slow down, the tires screeching as she brought the car to an abrupt halt.

The silence after the engine's roar was deafening. Shivnya stepped out, her movements sharp, her jaw clenched. The family arrived moments later, their anxious whispers filling the air.

Vikram approached her cautiously, lighting a cigarette and offering it to her. She took it with trembling fingers, inhaling deeply. The smoke seemed to steady her, momentarily silencing the storm raging within.

Without a word, she strode into the dimly lit room. The air inside was thick, oppressive, reeking of fear and blood. Three captives sat bound and trembling, their faces pale, their eyes wide with terror.

This was Shivnya's world now-a domain of death and reckoning. Here, she wasn't just a grieving woman; she was a force of nature, a reckoner of fates.

With a brutal grip, she yanked Shrikant by his hair, dragging him like a lifeless doll across the floor. He whimpered, his body trembling under her touch. She didn't flinch, didn't pause. The rage in her eyes was terrifyingly cold.

"This is where it ends for you," she hissed, her voice low and lethal.

Her family stood frozen, disbelief etched on their faces. Just hours ago, she had been a shattered lover, her heart broken and raw. Now, she was unrecognizable-a predator, ruthless and unrelenting.

Vikram hauled Kunal forward, dumping him on the floor beside Shrikant. The air grew heavier, tension crackling like a live wire. Abhimanyu and Aarav exchanged uneasy glances, their hands clenched into fists. Janvi lingered in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes wide with horror.

Then Abhimanyu stepped forward, his heart aching for the woman he loved. He reached for her gently, his voice soft yet firm. "Jaan, please. You can kill them later. Not now. Your health-"

She turned to him, her eyes ablaze with a fury so intense it made him falter. Her stare wasn't just anger-it was desperation, anguish, and an unyielding need for closure. Her trembling hand brushed against his, as if silently begging him to understand.

Abhimanyu's breath hitched. He could see it now-this wasn't just revenge. This was survival. This was the only way she knew how to keep herself from drowning in her grief.

He swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. "Alright, jaan... but please, be careful."

Shivnya didn't respond. Her gaze shifted to Vikram, her voice cutting through the room like a blade.

"Bring my whip."

The room seemed to hold its breath. Even the captives stilled, their terror palpable. The family exchanged frantic glances, but none dared to intervene. This wasn't a moment they could stop.

As Vikram moved to obey, Shivnya stood in the center of the room, the cigarette in her hand burning low. She was no longer just Shivnya-the grieving lover . She was something darker, something other which can't be described.

Vikram moved swiftly, retrieving the whip without hesitation. Shivnya stood in the center of the room, her breath shallow, her hands trembling slightly-not with fear, but with the weight of nine years of pent-up rage. When he handed her the whip, her fingers curled around it with a kind of reverence, as if it were the key to unlocking her torment.

She took a long drag of her cigarette, letting the smoke linger in her lungs before exhaling slowly. Her gaze, icy and unflinching, remained locked on Shrikant. Without a word, she flicked the cigarette to the ground, the glowing ember scattering on impact, and crushed it beneath her heel.

"Teri maut maine ussi din likh di thi, Shrikant," she snarled, her voice a low growl that sent chills through everyone in the room.

( i wrote your death that day only shrikant )

The whip cracked through the air like a thunderclap, striking Shrikant across the chest. His scream pierced the tense silence, raw and guttural, but Shivnya didn't flinch. The first lash was just the beginning.

"You sealed your fate the moment you killed him, killed my love " she spat, her voice filled with venom. The whip came down again and again, each strike a testament to her fury. Blood seeped through his shirt, staining the floor beneath him, but her expression remained cold, almost detached.

Shrikant's cries echoed in the room, but they didn't move her. This wasn't about mercy; it was about justice-her justice. Her family stood frozen, their faces a mix of shock and horror. Aarav finally snapped, turning to Vikram, whose smirk betrayed an unsettling sense of satisfaction.

"Are you out of your mind? What the hell are you smiling at?" Aarav demanded, his voice shaking with rage.

Vikram didn't look away from the scene, his expression unwavering. "You don't understand, Aarav. Today, you're witnessing something extraordinary. This is the culmination of nine years of pain. Every lash, every scream-it's her liberation. You should be grateful to see it."

"Grateful?" Aarav hissed, aghast. "This is barbaric, and why are you so happy in it???

Vikram finally turned to him, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. " Because I follow her DEEDS AND IDEAS and this is justice. And it's long overdue."

Before Aarav could argue further, Shivnya's voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding.

"Vikram. The gun."

The room fell silent. Vikram moved swiftly to retrieve the weapon, encased in a polished black box. He opened it carefully, revealing a custom-made firearm. The gun gleamed under the dim light, its surface engraved with MADE BY SR. It wasn't just a weapon; it was a symbol of her power and precision.

She took it from him, her grip steady, her fingers brushing over the engraving as if drawing strength from it. Her voice was devoid of emotion as she issued her next order.

"Chain him up."

Shrikant was hoisted upright, his battered body trembling as chains bound his wrists and ankles. Her grandfather, Viren, could no longer stay silent seeing his daughter in so much pain that she was hiding while giving that bastard the pain, the death which he deserved . He stepped forward, desperation etched into every line of his face

Vikram stepped in front of him, his expression hard. "Sir, I'd advise you to stop. She doesn't like interruptions."

Viren faltered, his plea dying in his throat as he saw the fire in Shivnya's eyes. Meanwhile, Vikram handed out noise-canceling headphones to everyone in the room.

"Put these on," he instructed, his tone clipped. "This gun isn't just for show. Its noise can destroy your eardrums."

One by one, they complied, slipping on the headphones with trembling hands. Only Shivnya stood unprotected, her gaze locked on Shrikant as she raised the gun.

"All clear, ma'am," Vikram said, stepping back.

The room held its collective breath as Shivnya lifted the 10-kilogram weapon with ease, its weight no match for the rage coursing through her veins. Her finger hovered over the trigger for a moment, her chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.

Then she fired.

The gun roared, the sound deafening even through the protective gear. The bullet tore into Shrikant's shoulder, and he let out a bloodcurdling scream. Shivnya's hand didn't waver. She fired again, this time aiming for his leg.

Every shot was calculated, each one carefully placed to cause maximum pain without granting him the release of death. Blood pooled beneath him, his cries growing weaker, but her expression remained cold, unyielding.

When the gun finally clicked empty, she approached him, her boots splashing in the blood-soaked floor. She grabbed his hair, forcing his head up to meet her gaze. His face was pale, his eyes wide with terror.

"You think this is over?" she hissed, her voice dangerously soft. Her bloodstained kurti clung to her, a chilling reminder of her resolve. "This is just the beginning. You will pay for everything you've done. Every scream, every tear-you'll repay it all with your life."

Shrikant whimpered, his spirit broken, but Shivnya's gaze burned brighter, her fury unrelenting.

Shivnya's voice cut through the room like a blade, sharp and seething with venom. "Now, you will experience what it feels like when your loved ones are ripped away from you. You killed my love, Shrikant. I will kill your legacy before your eyes."

She turned, her voice rising into a command that echoed with raw fury. "Bring his daughter!"

Vikram obeyed swiftly, his movements sharp as he disappeared momentarily, only to return dragging Janvi by her arms. Her wrists were bound tightly, her mouth sealed with tape, muffling her cries. Tears streaked her face as she struggled, her wide, terror-stricken eyes darting between Shivnya and her father.

"No!" Shrikant's voice cracked with desperation, his bloodied face twisting in agony. "Shivnya, take your revenge on me! Do what you want to me-but please, leave my children out of this!"

Shivnya turned slowly, her eyes burning with a rage so intense it seemed to light the air around her aflame. She tilted her head, a cruel smile curving her lips as she stared at him. "Why, Shrikant? Why should I show them mercy when you showed me none? When you destroyed the man I loved? When your son harassed me, when your daughter tried to steal my husband? You left me with nothing but ashes, and now I will do the same to you. Every last shred of your bloodline will burn because of you."

Shrikant crumpled further, his body shaking with sobs. "Please... please, don't do this. I beg you."

Shivnya leaned closer, her smile twisting into a sneer. "Your pleas come too late, Shrikant. Far too late."

In his desperation, Shrikant looked toward the gathered crowd, his bloodshot eyes searching for salvation. His voice broke as he cried, "Shaurya! Abhi-"

"Don't!" Shivnya roared, her voice a crack of thunder that froze everyone in place. Her eyes, blazing with unrelenting fury, bore into him. "Don't you dare say my husband's name ! His purity doesn't belong in your filthy mouth." She took a menacing step closer, her presence overwhelming, her voice low but sharp as glass. "If you utter their names again, I swear I'll kill your children in ways so horrifying that even death itself will flinch."

Shrikant whimpered, his lips trembling but silent.

Shivnya turned sharply, her voice steady and commanding. " Bring my babies."

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

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