Siddharth's confusion and fear would likely escalate.

"Avishka, please," Siddharth repeated, his voice to strained.

He stepped closer, but she remained rigid, her back to him.

"You're not making any sense.

You're scaring me."
He reached out, tentatively touching her shoulder.

She flinched, pulling away as if burned. The rejection stung, adding to his growing anxiety.

"Tell me," he insisted, his voice hardening slightly.

"Tell me what you saw.

What did you find out about my family?"

She turned to face him, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and accusation.

"You didn't tell me," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"You deliberately withheld information."

"What information?" he demanded, his patience wearing thin.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your family," she said, her voice rising.

"The Raghuvanshi family.

They..." She hesitated, her eyes darting between him and the photograph.

"They were involved...in something terrible."

Siddharth felt a cold dread creep up his spine.

"Involved in what?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Avishka's gaze hardened. "In my parents' deaths," she said, her voice laced with venom.

Siddharth's world seemed to tilt on its axis.

He stared at her, his mind reeling.

"That's impossible," he said, his voice hoarse. "My parents...they would never..."

"They were," she interrupted, her voice sharp.

"And you knew. You knew and you didn't tell me."

"I didn't know anything!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in desperation.

"Avishka, you have to believe me.

I would never keep something like that from you."

"Explain why your family's name is linked to my parents' murder."

Siddharth's mind raced, searching for answers, for any explanation that could make sense of her accusations.

He knew nothing of his family's involvement in any criminal activity. His parents were kind, gentle people. The idea that they could be involved in something as heinous as murder was unthinkable.

"I can't explain it," he admitted, his voice filled with despair. "Because I don't know.

But I swear to you, Avishka, I will find out. I will find out the truth."

"The truth?" she scoffed, her voice filled with bitterness.

"The truth is staring me in the face." She gestured towards the photograph.

"The truth is that you're a Raghuvanshi, and your family destroyed mine."

She turned away from him, her body trembling with rage and grief.

Siddharth watched her, his heart breaking. He had no idea what to do, how to bridge the chasm that had suddenly opened between them. He knew one thing for certain: their lives had just taken a devastating turn, and he didn't know if they could ever recover.

The accusation hung in the air, a poisoned dart lodged between them. Avishka's words, "your family destroyed mine," echoed in Siddharth's ears, a relentless, deafening roar.

She stared at him, her eyes filled with a coldness he'd never seen before, a stark contrast to the warmth he'd cherished.

He reached out, his hand trembling, desperate to bridge the widening gap. "Avishka, please, don't..."

But she cut him off with a sharp, dismissive gesture.

"Don't," she repeated, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Don't touch me."

The rejection was like a physical blow. He recoiled, his hand falling limply to his side.

He watched as she turned away, her movements swift and decisive.

She grabbed her coat, her movements sharp and efficient, like a soldier preparing for battle.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice laced with panic.

He took a step towards her, but she stopped him.
With a swiftness that made his breath catch in his throat, Avishka drew a gun. The cold steel glinted in the dim light, a stark and terrifying reminder of the world she inhabited.

She pointed it directly at him, her hand steady, her eyes devoid of emotion.

"Don't," she said, her voice low and dangerous, each word laced with icy finality.

"Don't follow me."

Siddharth froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He stared at the gun, his mind reeling. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Avishka, the woman he loved, was pointing a gun at him.

"Avishka," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"Please, put the gun down.

We can talk about this."

She shook her head, her eyes fixed on his.

"There's nothing to talk about," she said, her voice hard.

"Just stay here."

He watched, helpless, as she backed towards the door, her eyes never leaving his.

With a final, lingering glance, she turned and disappeared, the door slamming shut behind her, the sound reverberating through the house, followed by the distinct click of the gun's hammer as she lowered it.
Siddharth stood frozen, his mind reeling.

He stared at the closed door, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt a sense of overwhelming loss, as if a part of him had been ripped away.

The cold steel of the gun, and the deadness in her eyes, had etched itself into his memory. He knew he couldn't follow her.

Not now.

He was left in his home, alone, with the picture of his family, and the heavy weight of unanswerable questions, and the very real threat of a gun pointed in his direction.

He sank into a chair, his head in his hands. He felt a sense of dread, a premonition of impending disaster. He knew that Avishka's departure was more than just a temporary retreat.

To be continued -------

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Hello , lovely people!!!

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