Hi khuchupuchus

Stay healthy and blessed 🌸

Do vote and comment

Follow me on Instagram for spoilers: authorrylahh

****

Aayat's POV

"Mihir."

He didn't respond immediately.

Of course he didn't.

He was pretending to read again.

File open. Eyes down. Expression controlled.

Except... I knew better now.

"Are you going to keep staring at that file," I said, walking a little closer, "or actually listen?"

His eyes lifted, calm, composed, like nothing ever disrupted him.

"I'm listening."

Liar.

I crossed my arms, watching him for a second longer before speaking.

"Thank you."

That got a reaction.

Small. But real.

His brows pulled together just slightly.

"For what?"

I held his gaze.

"For getting the property back from Dev."

Silence.

He leaned back a little, like the words didn't sit right.

"I didn't..."

"Yes, you did," I cut in, quieter now but firm. "You don't have to pretend."

A pause. His jaw tightened. And then he shook his head once.

"No." Flat.

Certain.

"I didn't do anything."

I frowned.

"That's not..."

"I mean it," he said, looking directly at me now. "I didn't do it for you."

That... stopped me. A beat passed. Then another.

"Then why?" I asked.

He held my gaze for a moment longer.

And then said, calmly...

"Because I wanted to."

I blinked.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Silence settled between us again. But this time... it felt different. Less guarded. More... honest.

"You still helped me," I said.

He exhaled once, like I was being unnecessarily persistent.

"I don't do things for thanks, Aayat."

A pause.

"Don't thank me."

His tone wasn't harsh.

Just... final.

And then, like he couldn't leave it there without ruining it...

"And witches don't look good while thanking."

I stared at him.

"Seriously?"

He shrugged slightly.

"Very."

That did it.

"Unbelievable," I muttered, stepping closer without thinking.

He didn't move.

Didn't even flinch.

Which made it worse.

"You can't just..." I started, then stopped myself, exhaling sharply.

Annoying.

So annoying.

My hand moved before I fully processed it.

I scrunched his nose.

Hard.

Not painfully.

But enough.

He froze.

Completely.

I leaned in just slightly, narrowing my eyes at him.

"That," I said, "is for being insufferable."

A beat.

"And for not accepting a simple thank you like a normal person."

His eyes stayed on mine.

Unblinking.

Still.

Then slowly...

"...are you done?"

I dropped my hand immediately.

Stepped back.

"Yes."

A lie.

He adjusted his expression slightly, like he was recalibrating from whatever just happened.

"You're getting comfortable," he noted.

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself."

But my voice didn't have the same edge.

And we both knew it.

A pause settled.

"You're still a terrible human," I said.

Of course I did.

Because I had to.

He looked at me again.

"And you're still a witch."

Of course he said that.

And this time...

And that...

was probably the most dangerous thing of all.

The silence stretched just a second longer.

Then I broke it.

"I'm changing," I said, turning away before I could think too much about anything.

He just nodded.

When I came back, he was still there, but this time, he wasn't pretending to read.

He looked up the moment I walked in.

I stopped a few steps away.

"I need to ask you something."

He didn't tense.

Didn't question it immediately.

"Hmm?" he said, setting the file aside. "What is it?"

I hesitated for a second.

Annoying.

"Can I handle Omkar's case?"

Silence.

Not sharp.

Not heavy.

Just... him thinking.

His eyes stayed on me.

"Why do you want to?" he asked.

I looked down briefly, pressing my fingers together.

"I don't know," I muttered. "I just... do."

A pause.

Then, a little clearer...

"I was there, Mihir."

That was enough explanation for me.

For him too, probably.

My fingers fidgeted again.

"I mean... can you let me handle it?" I added, quieter this time.

He noticed.

He always did.

But he didn't point it out.

Didn't make it awkward.

Instead...

"Do you have something in mind?" he asked.

I looked up at him.

"Yes."

This time, no hesitation.

"I won't let him get away with anything," I said.

Simple.

Honest.

"I'll make sure he feels it."

Silence.

He studied me for a second.

Long enough to understand what I meant...

but not long enough to make me uncomfortable.

Then his brows lifted slightly.

"Sounds like you have a plan."

"I do."

A small pause.

Then, steady...

"I guarantee you... he won't get to breathe easy again."

Another silence.

But this one...

felt like a decision forming.

He leaned back slightly.

Then nodded once.

"Alright."

I blinked.

"That's it?"

A faint hint of something softened his expression.

"You wouldn't ask if you weren't sure," he said.

That... stayed.

But then he added...

"Just don't lose yourself in it."

I frowned slightly.

"I won't."

His gaze held mine.

Making sure.

Then...

"Handle it." Simple.

when I walked out... it wasn't just anger pushing me forward. It was something steadier. Something that felt like control.

"Ma'am , we have him secured in the basement. He's... not in good shape." The officer swallowed hard, remembering the state they found Omkar in. I walked past them without a word, his footsteps echoing down the concrete stairs leading to the basement. The door creaked open...

"Chained." The officer's voice was tight. "Both hands and legs. Fractured in three places. Severe head injury. He hasn't spoken since we brought him in."

I stepped fully into the room.

The smell hit me first.

Metallic. Blood. Dampness.

My  eyes scanned the concrete space until they landed on him.

Omkar.

"Ma'am, I'll give you a moment." The officer closed the door softly behind him, leaving me alone in the room with the broken man. In approached cautiously, my heels echoing slightly in the silence. Omkar's head was bowed, hair matted with blood and sweat.

"Don't." I grabbed a fistful of his blood-caked hair and yanked his head up. His face was a mess, swollen eyes, split lip, dried blood crusted along his jaw. "Don't say my name like you have any right."

I  studied his face, letting the silence stretch between them.

"You know what I've been thinking about?" I  stood abruptly, kicking his leg sharply with her heel. Omkar groaned, the movement jostling his broken ribs. I circled him slowly.

Without warning, I slammed my  elbow into his already fractured shoulder. Omkar's choked scream was muffled by the gag in his mouth, his body convulsing against the chains. I  watched, unblinking, as he trembled and spasmed. I  grabbed a rusted pipe from the corner, left there by the officers for interrogation purposes,  I imagined.

Perfect.

I ran the cold metal of the pipe down his bruised cheek, mocking gentleness. Then, without hesitation, I brought it down hard across his shattered kneecap.

The sound of bone grinding against metal was sickening.

Omkar's back arched violently, a silent scream tearing at his throat as his body thrashed against the restraints, sweat and blood instantly coating his skin.

I watched him writhe, my expression calm. I struck the other kneecap, then his already fractured hand. Each hit was precise, controlled, designed to cause maximum pain without risking immediate death. I wanted him conscious for this.

I tossed the pipe aside with a clang, letting it roll across the floor. I walked back to him and dug my sharp heel directly into his open gunshot wound on his thigh, grinding down slowly. Omkar's body seized up, his muffled screams turning into desperate, broken whimpers as she twisted her foot, pressing fresh blood from the injury.

I  leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear. "This is for every day the women cried  because of you," I whispered, then slammed her knee into his broken ribs.

The sickening crack made me  smile. Omkar's head lolled forward, almost passing out, but I  wouldn't allow that mercy.

"Stay awake for me, Omkar."

I grabbed a jug of ice-cold water from the small metal table and threw it violently into his face. Omkar gasped, his body jolting awake as the freezing water stung his open cuts and burned his eyes. He shivered violently, his teeth chattering behind the gag.

I  grabbed a handful of coarse salt from a bowl.

"Did you think I was done?"

Without warning, I  poured the salt directly into his open wounds, his gunshot, his knife cuts, his shattered kneecaps. Omkar's scream was muffled by the gag but his body convulsed wildly, every muscle contracting as the salt burned into his raw flesh.

I stepped back, watching his tortured body with cold satisfaction. I leaned down, my  face inches from his as i pulled the gag off slightly to let him breathe. "Remember this pain," she whispered harshly. "Every scar I've given you tonight is a reminder of what you did  to the women."

I wiped my  hands clean with a pristine handkerchief, glancing one last time at Omkar's trembling, broken form. I pulled out her phone, dialing Rhea with a smirk.

"Rhea, darling," i chirped into the phone, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Your mannequin is getting ready. I've done the prep work..."

"...He's in perfect shape for you to start designing. I've even given him a few new scars to make your fashion statements more... edgy." I laughed, her eyes gleaming with cruelty. "Think about it, babe. New designs, new outfits."

"Oh, and Rhea?" I  paused, my  gaze lingering on Omkar's battered face. "He's not going anywhere. I've chained him up nice and tight. You can come anytime, day or night, and work on your little project. No rush."

I  ended the call with a satisfied smile, the weight of the past month lifting from her shoulders. I had done it. I had taken everything back from Dev Kapoor, his empire, his contacts, his power. Everything I  had lost was mine  again.

I  walked through the compound, the cool night air feeling like victory against my skin.

I reached my office. The silence didn't last long. It never does in my office.

A soft knock.

Then the door opened slightly.

"Ma'am?"

I didn't look up immediately.

"Come in."

Three of them stepped inside, operations, finance, and international coordination.

That meant one thing. Work that didn't wait. Good.

I closed the file in front of me and leaned back slightly.

"Talk."

The operations head stepped forward first, placing a tablet on my desk.

"Europe cluster update," he said. "Occupancy in the Paris and Milan properties has increased, but we're facing supply issues with the new renovation line."

I skimmed through the numbers.

Clean. Efficient. Expected.

"Switch suppliers," I said.

He blinked.

"That fast?"

"Yes."

A pause.

"If they can't keep up, they don't stay."

He nodded quickly.

"Done."

The finance head stepped in next.

"Revenue from the Dubai and Singapore hotels has exceeded projections," he said. "But there's a fluctuation in long-term bookings."

I tapped my fingers lightly against the desk.

"Adjust pricing tiers," I said. "Not across the board. Only premium suites."

He nodded, already noting it down.

"Understood."

The third one stepped forward.

"Expansion proposal," she said. "New property under consideration in New York City."

That made me look up properly.

"Location?"

She showed me. Prime. Risky. Expensive. Worth it.

"Proceed with evaluation," I said. "But I want full control over design and branding."

"Yes, ma'am."

Silence fell for a moment.

They waited.

Because they knew... if I hadn't dismissed them yet, I wasn't done.

My gaze moved across all three.

"Asia cluster," I said.

They straightened slightly.

"How's Tokyo performing?"

"Stable," the operations head replied. "But competition is rising."

Of course it was.

"It always does," I said.

A pause.

"Then we don't compete."

They waited.

"We dominate."

That landed.

No confusion.

No follow-up questions.

Because they understood what that meant.

Better service. Better presence. Better control. Everything.

"Make sure every property reflects that," I added. "No exceptions."

"Yes, ma'am."

I leaned back slightly, glancing at the stack of reports again.

This... this is my world. Structure. Movement.

Decisions that shaped things beyond a single room. Beyond a single moment.

"Anything else?" I asked.

A brief hesitation.

Then...

"No, ma'am."

I nodded once.

"Go."

They left immediately.

The door closed behind them.

And just like that...

the room went quiet again.

Running exactly the way it should.

I picked up the next file.

Because no matter what else was happening.... this never stopped.

And neither did I.

8:26 pm

I promised Naina I'll come by 7:30 pm

Shittt

I drove myself home.

I didn't realize I was standing there until my hand was already on the door.

My room.

His voice came through before I even pushed it open fully, low, steady, on a call.

"I've already said no," Mihir said, tone calm in that irritatingly final way of his. A pause. "Because that isn't how we handle it."

Silence on the other end.

Then he added, a little colder this time, "If they want alternatives, they can send someone who understands basic structure."

Click.

Call ended.

Of course it did.

I stayed still for half a second longer than necessary.

Then I walked in like nothing happened.

I glanced at him once more.

He was still talking to someone else on another device now, voice low, focused again. Not rushed. Not distracted.

Just... present.

I should've gone straight to my room.

I did go.

But my brain didn't follow instructions properly.

⸻

When I came back after freshening up, the corridor was quiet.

My steps slowed before I even reached the door.

Because I could hear him again.

Typing.

Not speaking this time. Just work.

I pushed the door open gently. He didn't look up immediately.

That alone was unusual.

Mihir always noticed.

Always.

But now he was focused on the screen, posture slightly leaned forward, one hand resting near the keyboard, the other flipping a page in a file like it mattered more than anything else in the world.

I stayed near the door.

Didn't interrupt. Just watched.

He wasn't doing anything dramatic.

Nothing that should've made me pause.

And yet...

something about the way he sat there made the room feel quieter than it already was.

Like everything else had decided to stop competing with him.

I frowned slightly at my own thoughts.

Annoying.

Very annoying.

"Stop," I muttered under my breath.

His fingers paused.

Not his head.

Just the smallest reaction.

"You said something?" he asked without looking up.

"No."

Too fast.

Wrong answer. He finally glanced up then. Just briefly.

One look.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing without permission from my brain.

And I watched him properly this time.

Not like earlier. Not distracted. Not irritated. Just... aware.

The way he worked wasn't loud. Wasn't messy. Everything had order. Even him. It was infuriating.

And then my brain, completely unhelpful, went:

Done checking out your husband, Mrs. Raghuvanshi.

I froze slightly.

My eyes narrowed at absolutely nothing.

"Shut up," I muttered to myself.

He didn't hear me.

Thankfully.

I pushed off the frame and walked further inside instead, pretending I had a reason to be there.

"I need that file later," I said casually, gesturing vaguely.

"Already on your system," he replied.

Of course it was.

Of course he had already done it.

Silence settled again. But this time, I didn't leave immediately. I stayed near the couch. Watching him work. Not because I wanted to. Just because I was... waiting for something. For him to move.

To say something stupid. To break the focus. But he didn't. And that somehow made it worse. Because it wasn't performance. It was just him.

Calm. Controlled. Unbothered.

Like nothing in this world could pull him out of that state unless he allowed it.

And I hated how stable it looked.

How easy it seemed for him to just exist like that.

I exhaled slowly, breaking my own silence first.

"You're always like this?" I asked.

His eyes flicked up again.

"Like what?"

"Like you're... not affected by anything."

A beat.

He leaned back slightly, finally giving me full attention.

"I'm affected," he said simply.

"Just not loudly."

That landed somewhere I didn't expect.

I looked away first.

Annoying.

Again.

I walked toward the table, picked up a random pen, turned it between my fingers.

"Mm," I said like I didn't care. "Good for you."

But I didn't leave.

And neither did he.

And for once...

that silence didn't feel like something missing.

It just felt like it was waiting.

The silence didn't stay empty for long.

Mihir closed the file in front of him, slowly, like he wasn't in a hurry to end anything. Then he leaned back in the chair, eyes finally staying on me instead of moving past me like earlier.

"Something's off," he said.

I didn't look up from the pen still turning between my fingers.

"No."

A pause.

That tiny, annoying pause he always used when he didn't believe a word but also didn't feel the need to argue immediately.

"You've said that twice today," he added.

I finally glanced at him.

"So?"

"So," he repeated, quieter now, "you don't usually repeat yourself when nothing's wrong."

I clicked my tongue softly.

"Congratulations. You've discovered patterns."

That should've ended it.

It didn't.

He stood up.

Not fast. Not aggressive. Just... certain.

And walked closer to the table.

My fingers stopped moving.

Not because I told them to.

Because something in the room shifted again.

He stopped at a respectful distance, hands loosely in his pockets, gaze steady.

"You went there," he said.

It wasn't a question.

My jaw tightened slightly.

"I handled it."

"I know."

That was all he said.

And somehow, that was worse than interrogation.

Because there was no curiosity in his voice.

Just understanding.

And something underneath it that didn't feel like approval.

I straightened a little.

"It's done," I said.

A beat.

His eyes didn't leave mine.

"Was it necessary for you to be the one to do it?"

My grip on the pen tightened.

"There are things I don't delegate."

He nodded once, like he expected that answer.

Then, softer

"And did it help?"

That made me pause.

Just for half a second.

Because the question wasn't about the task.

It was about me.

I set the pen down properly this time.

"It made it clear," I said finally. "That it's over."

Silence.

He studied me for a moment longer.

Not judging.

Just... observing.

Then he said, "You're standing differently."

I frowned.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means," he replied, calm as ever, "you're not as steady as you're pretending to be."

My eyes narrowed slightly.

"I'm steady."

"Mhm."

That sound alone annoyed me.

I stepped away from the table.

"You don't get to analyze me like I'm one of your files."

"I'm not analyzing," he said simply. "I'm noticing."

That distinction should've helped.

It didn't.

Because it meant he wasn't trying.

He just saw it.

I turned slightly, walking a few steps toward the couch again, needing space that suddenly felt smaller than it was.

"I don't need you to notice everything," I muttered.

"I don't do it because you need it," he replied.

That stopped me mid-step.

Of course he said it like that.

Like it was obvious.

Like it wasn't personal at all.

I exhaled, sharper than intended.

"Then stop acting like it matters."

A pause.

When I looked back at him, he hadn't moved.

Still there. Still calm. But his voice, when it came, was lower.

"It does matter."

Simple.

Just that.

Something in my chest tightened slightly, irritatingly out of place.

I looked away first.

Again.

"Everything matters to you," I said, trying to regain something familiar in the conversation. "That's your problem."

A faint shift in his expression.

Not offended. Not defensive. Just... almost amused.

"No," he said. "That's my job."

That made me scoff before I could stop it.

"Your job?"

He nodded once.

"To notice what others miss."

A pause.

Then, quieter...

"Even when they don't like it."

The room went still again.

But not in the same way as before.

This wasn't waiting.

This was something settling.

I walked back toward the table slowly, picking up the pen again just to have something to do with my hands.

"You make everything sound like it's controlled," I said.

"It is," he replied.

I looked at him sharply.

"And people aren't."

That finally earned a change in his expression.

A small one.

But real.

"I didn't say they were," he said.

A beat.

"I said I account for it."

That landed differently.

Because it didn't erase chaos.

It just... contained it.

I looked down at the pen again, turning it once between my fingers.

Annoying.

Everything about this conversation was annoying.

And yet I was still here.

Still not leaving.

I exhaled.

"You're impossible," I said.

"Frequently told that," he replied.

That made me huff despite myself.

I glanced up at him again.

He was still watching me.

Not pushing. Not pulling. Just there.

And for some reason, that felt louder than anything he could've said.

I set the pen down properly this time.

"Fine," I muttered. "I'm fine."

A lie.

Not convincing even to me. His gaze didn't change.

But he didn't call it out.

Instead, he just said

"Okay."

Like he was accepting it. Not believing it. Accepting it anyway. And somehow...

that was worse.

____

The sound didn't belong in the house.

A sharp thud, heavy enough to shake the quiet.

Then another sound right after it.

A scream.

"Naina!"

Everything in me snapped into motion before I even thought.

Mihir was already moving.

The calm from seconds ago was gone.

Completely.

We reached the corridor at the same time, and then the stairs came into view.

Naina.

At the bottom. Unmoving for a split second too long.

My breath caught.

Mihir didn't hesitate.

He ran.

"Naina!" His voice cracked halfway through her name.

That alone was enough to make something in the air shift.

I followed right behind him, but slower, because my brain was trying to process what my eyes were already seeing.

She was conscious. Barely. Her hand moved slightly, trying to push herself up. But she couldn't.

Mihir dropped beside her instantly.

"Naina, look at me," he said, voice tight—too tight.

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Mihir... I—"

"Don't talk," he cut in immediately, but not harsh. Never harsh with her. "Don't move."

His hands hovered for a second before touching her carefully, like he was scared she'd break if he did it wrong.

That was when I noticed it. The panic.

His control,everything he built himself around, was cracking in real time.

"Call the doctor," he said sharply without looking at me.

I was already reaching for my phone.

"I'm on it."

But his voice came again, faster this time.

"No—no, not just call. Take her. Now."

That's when his composure finally slipped.

Just slightly. But enough.

His hand tightened around Naina's wrist for a second before he forced himself to steady it again.

"She's not staying here," he said, like he was convincing himself more than me.

Naina winced softly.

"I'm okay," she tried again.

Mihir shook his head immediately.

"No. Don't say that."

His voice dropped lower.

Not anger.

Fear.

Real fear.

And it didn't suit him.

At all.

I stepped closer, kneeling beside them.

"She needs to be checked properly," I said, already assessing quickly. "We'll take her immediately."

He nodded once.

But his eyes didn't leave her.

Like if he looked away, something worse would happen.

"Naina," he said again, softer now. "Stay with me, okay?"

She gave a small, shaky nod.

That was enough for him to move.

He lifted her carefully.

Too carefully.

Like he was holding something he'd already lost once before and refused to lose again.

And as we moved toward the car, I saw it clearly now.

This wasn't just about the fall.

It was something deeper.

Twenty years of absence don't just disappear.

They sit in people.

Quiet. Waiting. And right now...they were all hitting him at once.

Mihir's voice came again, low and controlled, but barely holding.

"Drive faster."

I didn't answer.

Because for once... I could hear it too. Not in his words.

In everything he was trying not to feel.

He wasn't just scared she was hurt.

He was scared of being alone again.

Because it meant he'd already decided he'd deal with whatever came next.

The hospital lights were too white.

Too sharp.

Everything felt louder than it should've, footsteps, wheels of the stretcher, the quick exchange of instructions at the emergency entrance.

"Naina Raghuvanshi," Mihir said immediately as they took her in. His voice was controlled again, but only just. "Fall injury. She's conscious but unstable."

The doctor nodded once and didn't waste another second.

"Emergency room. Now."

And then she was gone. Through those doors. Swallowed by them.

For a second, Mihir didn't move.

Just stood there staring at the doors like if he looked long enough, they'd open again and undo everything.

Then his hand came off mine. Slowly.

Like he didn't even realize he was holding it.

And then... something in him broke.

Not loudly. Just... completely.

His shoulders dropped. His breath hitched once.

And then he sat down in the nearest chair like his legs had stopped listening.

I didn't know what to do at first.

I've seen him calm. I've seen him controlled.

I've even seen him angry in that quiet, dangerous way.

But not this. Not undone.

His head lowered into his hands.

And then I heard it.

"Mihir..." I said carefully, stepping closer.

No response.

Just his breath, uneven now.

I hesitated. I didn't do this part well.

Comfort wasn't something I had ever practiced. It was always something I observed from a distance, like a language I never bothered learning properly.

But he looked... gone.

So I sat beside him. Slowly. Carefully.

At first, I didn't touch him. Just stayed there.

Present.

A few seconds passed.

Then his voice came out, broken at the edges.

"Aayat..."

That was it.

Just my name.

Like he was holding onto it so he didn't fall completely apart.

I turned slightly toward him.

And then he said it.

"I can't lose Naina."

His hand pressed against his forehead harder, like he was trying to force the words back in.

"I've already—" His voice cracked. He stopped, inhaled sharply, then tried again. "I've been without her for twenty years."

Silence.

Even the hospital noise felt far away for a second.

He shook his head.

"She was six," he said, quieter now. "Six when I lost her."

His hands dropped slightly, trembling now.

"And I—" A breath caught in his throat. "When I found her again, I thought... I thought that was it."

His eyes finally lifted to mine.

And I saw it. Not power.Not authority. Just fear.

Pure and unguarded.

"I can't lose her again," he said, voice breaking completely now. "I can't. I can't go back to that."

His hand reached out without thinking and caught my wrist.

Like I was something stable in a world that wasn't.

"Aayat," he said again, softer now, desperate in a way I'd never heard from him. "Please."

That word didn't fit him. It didn't belong in his voice.

"I can't—" he swallowed hard, eyes red now, no longer hiding it. "I can't be alone again."

Something in my chest tightened. I didn't have the right words for this. I still don't think I do.

But I moved closer without thinking and placed my hand over his.

"You're not alone," I said quietly.

It came out simpler than I expected.

He let out a shaky breath, like he didn't fully believe it but needed to hear it anyway.

"I need her okay," he whispered.

"I know," I said.

And this time, I didn't look away.

Because whatever he was afraid of losing...I could see it clearly now. It wasn't just Naina. It was every piece of his past he thought he'd finally gotten back.

And the possibility of it slipping again... was tearing him apart in real time.

So I stayed there. Next to him. Hand still holding his.

Waiting with him in a place where control didn't matter anymore.

Only what came next did.

The doors opened.

A doctor stepped out.

The expression on his face already told me something had gone wrong, but not everything.

Mihir stood up immediately.

"Naina?" His voice was sharp. Controlled again, but barely. "How is she?"

The doctor hesitated for half a second.

And that hesitation did more damage than words.

"She is stable," he said carefully. "We've managed to stop the internal bleeding from the fall. She's conscious now, but still under observation."

Relief should've come next.

But it didn't.

Because the doctor wasn't done.

He looked down at the file in his hands, then back up.

"There's something else we need to inform you about."

The words didn't settle right.

They hung in the air like something unfinished.

"I'm sorry... we couldn't save the child."

For a second, my mind just... refused to attach meaning to it.

Mihir didn't move.

Not even a blink.

Then, slowly...

"What child?" he asked.

His voice was low. Too controlled. Like if he kept it steady enough, the answer would change.

The doctor hesitated. That hesitation again.

"The pregnancy," he said carefully. "It was very early. Complications from the fall caused a miscarriage."

Miscarriage.

The word landed late. But it landed hard.

Mihir's expression didn't change immediately.

It was like his brain was still holding onto the first version of reality, the one where only Naina had fallen, only Naina had been hurt.

Then it cracked. Just slightly.

"She was..." His voice stopped.

Started again.

"Pregnant?"

The doctor nodded once.

"Yes. Very early stage."

Silence.

Not the quiet kind. The suffocating kind.

I looked at Mihir properly then. He wasn't breathing right. Not fully. Like his chest had forgotten the rhythm.

"No," he said under his breath.

Not denial of the doctor.

Denial of everything around him.

"That's not..." He swallowed. "That's not possible."

The doctor stayed calm.

"We've confirmed it. I'm sorry."

Another pause.

Then Mihir turned slightly toward me. Like I had answers. Like I could make it make sense. But I didn't.

Not yet.

His voice dropped lower.

"She never said anything," he whispered.

It wasn't an accusation. It was disbelief. Confusion breaking into something heavier.

I shook my head slightly.

"No one knew," I said quietly.

Because that was the only truth we had.

A silence stretched again.

And this time, Mihir's hands finally moved.

He pressed them against his face for a second, just one second, before dropping them again like even that wasn't enough to hold him together.

"She was alone," he said.

It wasn't a question. It was realisation. Sharp and delayed.

The doctor added gently, "She is stable now. Physically, she will recover."

But Mihir wasn't listening to that part.

His eyes stayed fixed somewhere far away.

Like he was seeing something none of us could.

A version of Naina we hadn't understood until this moment.

Small. Silent. Carrying something no one had noticed.

I stepped closer, slowly. Carefully. Not touching him yet.

Just close enough to break the distance.

"She's alive," I said.

A beat.

Then again, firmer.

"She's alive, Mihir."

That finally pulled him back. Just slightly. His eyes shifted toward me. Unfocused. But present.

Alive.

The word repeated itself in my head.

Alive.

But everything around it had changed. Nothing about this felt like relief. Not yet. Only weight.

Five hours felt like five years.

The hospital didn't change, but everything in it started to feel heavier with time, the waiting chairs, the beeping monitors in the distance, even the air conditioning that kept running like nothing had happened.

Mihir hadn't sat properly the entire time.

Neither had I, really.

He'd stayed near the emergency doors the whole time, like distance itself could delay reality.

When the doctor finally came out, Mihir was already standing.

"Mr. Raghuvanshi," the doctor said gently, "you can meet her now. She's stable, but she's weak. Keep it brief."

Mihir didn't answer.

He just moved. I followed him.

The corridor felt longer this time.

Or maybe I was just noticing it now.

Naina's room was dimmer than the hallway, soft light, quiet machines, the kind of silence that didn't feel empty, just careful.

She was awake.

Smaller somehow, even in a hospital bed that was too big for her frame.

When Mihir saw her, he stopped. Just stopped.

Like his body forgot how to continue forward.

"Naina," he said quietly.

Her eyes turned toward him immediately.

And something in her expression shifted the moment she saw him.

Relief.

"Bhai..." Her voice cracked slightly. "You came..."

Mihir moved closer instantly.

"No talking," he said, but there was no firmness in it. Only worry. "Rest."

She shook her head slightly.

"No... I need to say it."

Her fingers moved weakly against the blanket, like she was gathering courage from somewhere deep inside her.

I stayed near the door.

Not intruding. But watching.

Her gaze flicked between both of us.

Then she inhaled shakily.

"I wanted to tell you," she said. "I really did."

Mihir's expression tightened slightly.

"Tell me what?"

Her eyes dropped for a second.

Then lifted again.

"I found out... a while ago," she said softly. "I didn't know how to say it. I was going to tell you... I planned to. I swear I did."

Silence. Even the monitor seemed louder.

Mihir didn't interrupt.

Didn't push. Just waited.

And that somehow made her voice break more.

"But before I could..." She swallowed hard. "All this happened."

Her fingers clenched faintly into the sheet.

"I lost my child," she whispered.

The words didn't come dramatically.

They just... fell.

Heavy. Quiet. Final.

A pause followed that felt wrong in every way.

Like the world didn't know what to do with it.

Her eyes filled slightly, but she didn't look away from Mihir.

"My baby," she added, softer this time. "It's gone."

Mihir didn't speak immediately.

He just stood there.

Like if he moved too fast, he might shatter something that couldn't be fixed.

His throat worked once.

Then again.

"Naina..." His voice came out rougher than before. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Just pain trying to find somewhere to go.

She shook her head faintly.

"I was scared," she admitted. "I didn't know how you'd react... I didn't know if I could even keep it."

That last part hit differently.

Mihir's eyes closed for a second. Just a second.

When he opened them again, they were different.

Not calmer.

Just heavier.

He moved closer and sat beside her bed slowly, like even sitting required effort now.

"You don't decide things like that alone," he said quietly.

But there was no scolding in it.

Only broken understanding.

Naina looked at him, tears slipping now despite her trying not to.

"I didn't want to make things harder," she whispered.

Mihir shook his head once.

"You already were carrying too much alone," he said.

Silence again.

This one softer.

More fragile.

I finally stepped a little closer, not too much, just enough to be in the room properly.

Naina's eyes shifted briefly to me.

Then back to Mihir.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Mihir didn't respond immediately.

Then, quietly...

"Don't apologise."

A pause.

His hand moved slowly and rested near hers on the bed, not fully holding, just close enough that she could feel he was there.

"You're here," he said. "That's enough for me right now."

Naina closed her eyes briefly, like those words hurt and healed at the same time.

And I stood there in the quiet that followed...

realising something simple, but sharp.

Nothing about this family had been simple for a very long time.

The room changed before she even finished speaking.

Not in sound.

In air.

Like something inside it had tightened without warning.

Naina's fingers trembled against the sheet as she tried to steady her breathing.

"I was really married to Dev Chopra," she said quietly.

Mihir didn't move. Not yet.

Naina looked down, swallowing hard.

"It wasn't fake."

Silence followed that. Heavy enough to press into the walls.

Her voice dropped further.

"It was... abusive."

That word didn't land gently. It struck.

Mihir's jaw tightened instantly, but he still didn't interrupt.

Naina's eyes stayed lowered now, like looking up hurt too much.

"Everything," she whispered, "everything a woman's worst nightmare."

Her breath shook.

I felt my hands curl slightly at my sides without me noticing.

Naina continued, voice breaking more now.

"I was carrying his child."

A pause.

Longer this time.

"I thought I'd never tell him," she said. "I didn't want to."

Her lips trembled.

"And I didn't."

That part came out softer.

Almost like she was confessing something she had carried too long alone.

"I never wanted my child to know his name," she added, voice barely there now. "Dev Chopra."

The name hit the room like something poisonous.

Mihir finally moved.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like even his anger had to pass through grief first.

"Naina," he said, low and controlled, "you don't have to say everything right now."

But she shook her head immediately.

"No," she whispered. "I need to."

Her eyes lifted slightly.

Shattered, but clear.

"I was going to leave it all behind," she said. "I thought I still had time."

A pause.

Then...

"But I didn't."

Silence again. This one different. Not empty. Full. Of everything she hadn't been allowed to say until now.

Mihir leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly.

For a moment, he didn't look like someone in control of anything.

Just a brother trying to hold something together that had already been broken too many times.

"When you say abusive..." he began carefully.

Naina nodded once.

"Yes."

No hesitation. Just truth.

Her voice dropped further.

"I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't even think straight most days."

A breath.

"I survived it," she said, "but I didn't come out of it whole."

That line stayed in the room longer than anything else.

Mihir's eyes closed briefly. Just briefly.

When he opened them again, they were sharper, but not angry in the way people usually were.

It was something older than that.

Something protective in a way that made the air feel heavier.

"He's not near you anymore," he said quietly.

Not a question.

A fact.

Naina shook her head faintly.

"No," she whispered.

A pause.

Then softer,

"But he was."

Silence followed that again.

I finally spoke, carefully.

"Naina... you don't have to go through all of it now."

She looked at me briefly.

Then back to Mihir.

"I just didn't want you to think I chose any of it," she said.

Mihir's voice came immediately.

"You didn't." Firm. Certain.

No space for doubt.

That made her breath hitch slightly.

His hand moved again, just a little closer to hers.

"This," he said quietly, "was done to you."

Naina's eyes filled again, but she didn't speak.

Because sometimes there was nothing left to explain.

Only things left to survive.

And in that hospital room...

for the first time since everything started falling apart...

the truth wasn't something any of us had to uncover anymore.

It was something we were finally forced to hold.

The moment Naina said it, the room didn't feel like a hospital anymore.

It felt like something had stopped working inside it.

"I didn't choose it," she said softly, voice trembling now. "He forced me to marry him... or he said he would kill Advit."

Mihir froze.

Completely.

Like even his breath had paused to understand what it just heard.

Naina's fingers tightened weakly against the blanket.

"Advit... our brother," she added. "He was the only family I had for twenty years who actually stayed with me. The only one who was there."

Silence.

It stretched too far this time.

And then...Mihir's face shifted. Just slightly at first.

Like something inside him had cracked but hadn't fully broken yet.

"Advit..." he repeated quietly.

Naina nodded once.

Mihir didn't speak after that.Not immediately.

His gaze dropped to the floor like it couldn't stay on anything anymore.

And then...a tear slipped down.

Just one.

Quiet.

Uncontrolled.

It didn't match him at all.

His jaw tightened instantly like he was furious at himself for letting it happen, but it didn't stop the second one from threatening.

He looked away sharply.

And for the first time since I've known him...

he looked helpless.

"I should've known," he said under his breath.

Not to Naina.

Not to me.

To himself.

Another pause.

Then quieter...

"I should've protected you."

Naina shook her head immediately, panic flickering through her tired expression.

"No—no, bhai, you couldn't have—"

But he didn't let her finish.

His voice broke slightly this time.

"I was here," he said. "All this time... I was here and I didn't see it."

His hand clenched into a fist over his knee.

Not anger at her.

At himself.

The silence that followed felt different now.

Not heavy like before.

Broken.

Human.

I stepped closer slowly, not interrupting, just close enough to be there.

Naina tried again, softer this time.

"You didn't know," she whispered. "I didn't let anyone know."

Mihir shook his head slightly.

That wasn't enough for him. It would never be enough.

His voice dropped lower.

"He threatened our brother," he said, like the words themselves tasted wrong.

Naina gave a small, tired nod.

"Yes."

Mihir looked up again then.

And something in his expression changed.

The grief was still there, but now it was sharpening into something else underneath it.

Something controlled.

Dangerously controlled.

"Advit," he repeated again, quieter.

Like memorising a name that now meant something irreversible.

I could see it clearly now.

This wasn't just shock anymore. It was consequence forming in real time.

Mihir leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, staring at nothing for a moment.

Then he said, very softly...

"No one threatens my family and gets to walk away from it."

Naina looked at him, worried now.

"Bhai..." she whispered, like she was trying to pull him back from somewhere.

But he didn't look at her when he answered.

"I'm here now," he said instead.

And that was the only reassurance he seemed capable of giving...

to her...

and to himself.

"Mihir", Naina called.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A VERY SERIOUS QUESTION

WHAT IF ADVIT DIES?

1. What do you think will happen to Dev Chopra after this revelation?

2. If Mihir had witnessed what Aayat did to Omkar, how do you think he would react?

3. Is Aayat starting to see Mihir differently? What moment hints at that shift?

4. What was your favorite quiet moment in this chapter?

AND YES TELL ME HOW WAS THE CHAPTER??????

To be continued

Don't forget to VOTE and COMMENT.