A U T H O R

The ICU room was dimly lit, the hum of machines filling the silence as Karanveer sat beside Aaravi, his head resting on her hand. His face was pale from sleepless nights, his eyes puffy from crying endlessly. The strong, protective brother who had always been Aaravi’s shield now sat broken, his world hanging by a fragile thread—the hope that his sister would wake up.

The tension in the room was thick, the air heavy with anticipation and dread. It had been days since she had slipped into this unresponsive state, and every moment felt like an eternity. Karanveer, unable to leave her side, had barely eaten or slept. His only comfort was being near her, holding her hand, and silently pleading with her to wake up.

As he drifted into a restless slumber, his fingers loosely wrapped around hers, a faint movement jolted him. At first, he thought he had imagined it—a trick played by his exhausted mind. But then it happened again. A slight twitch, subtle but unmistakable.

Karanveer’s eyes shot open, and he sat up abruptly, his heart racing. Rubbing his eyes, he looked down at Aaravi’s hand. For a moment, he doubted himself. Had it really happened?

And then it did. Her fingers moved again, a delicate but deliberate motion that shattered the suffocating stillness in the room.

Karanveer’s breath hitched, and his vision blurred as tears streamed down his face. His chest tightened, a mixture of relief and overwhelming emotion threatening to consume him. "Princess…" he whispered, his voice trembling.

He quickly stood up, his chair screeching against the floor. For a moment, he was frozen, staring at her hand as if afraid that this fragile sign of life would disappear if he blinked. But the reality of what had just happened hit him like a wave, and he sprang into action.

Without wasting a second, Karanveer rushed out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hospital corridor. Nurses and attendants turned to look at him, startled by the sudden commotion, but he paid them no mind. His destination was clear—the doctor’s cabin.

Reaching the door, he didn’t bother to knock. He barged in, startling the doctor, who was busy reviewing patient charts.

"Doctor!" Karanveer’s voice cracked, his emotions spilling over. "She… she moved her fingers! Aaravi moved her fingers!"

The doctor looked up, momentarily stunned by Karanveer’s outburst. Seeing the raw hope and desperation in his eyes, the doctor stood up immediately, grabbing his stethoscope and medical bag.

"Calm down, Mr. Sachdeva. Let’s go check her," the doctor said, his tone steady but urgent.

Karanveer nodded, his legs trembling as he followed the doctor back to the ward. Each step he took felt like walking through quicksand, slow and burdensome, yet every second mattered. The dimly lit corridor seemed to stretch endlessly, the walls closing in as his mind raced with possibilities.

"What if it was just a reflex? What if the doctor comes and finds nothing?" he thought, his heart pounding in his chest. Yet, amidst all the doubt and fear, a fragile flame of hope flickered within him. He clung to it desperately, praying it wouldn’t be snuffed out.

Finally, they reached the ward. Karanveer hesitated outside the door for a moment, his hand hovering over the handle. The doctor placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, nodding for him to proceed. Gathering every ounce of courage, Karanveer pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the room, a constant reminder of Aaravi’s fragile state. She lay there, pale and motionless, the soft glow of the machines casting a faint light on her delicate features. Karanveer’s throat tightened as he watched the doctor approach her bed.

The doctor leaned over Aaravi, his movements deliberate and careful. He checked her vitals, his practiced hands gliding over her wrist, forehead, and chest. Karanveer stood frozen, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Move her fingers," Karanveer urged, his voice barely above a whisper. His plea carried a desperation that couldn’t be ignored.

The doctor glanced at him, his expression calm and focused. Nodding, he gently pressed against Aaravi’s palm. "Aaravi," he said softly, his voice steady, "if you can hear us, try to move your fingers."

For a moment, there was nothing. The stillness in the room became suffocating, each second stretching into eternity. Karanveer’s heart sank, and doubt began to creep back in.

And then, it happened. A faint twitch, so subtle that it could have easily been missed. But Karanveer saw it. His eyes widened, and his breath hitched.

"She moved!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and hope.

The doctor nodded and pressed her palm again, encouraging her further. This time, her fingers twitched more distinctly, curling slightly around his hand.

"She’s responding," the doctor confirmed, his voice steady but tinged with relief. "This is a very good sign, Mr. Sachdeva. Her body is reacting. It’s a step toward recovery."

Karanveer’s legs buckled beneath him, and he sank into the chair beside her bed. His hands covered his face as a tidal wave of emotion crashed over him. Relief poured out in the form of uncontrollable sobs, his body shaking as he cried.

"Thank you, Doctor," he managed to choke out between his tears. "Thank you so much."

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Karanveer’s shoulder. "She’s a fighter. Keep talking to her, keep encouraging her. It’ll help her regain consciousness fully."

Karanveer nodded, his resolve strengthening. As the doctor left the room, Karanveer turned his attention back to Aaravi. He took her hand in his, his tears falling onto her delicate fingers.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "I knew you wouldn’t leave me. I knew you’d fight your way back to us. That’s who you are—my strong, stubborn sister."

He kissed her hand gently, a soft smile breaking through his tears. But before he could say anything more, he noticed something. Her eyelashes fluttered. It was barely perceptible, but it was there.

"Doctor!" he called out, his voice laced with urgency. "Her eyes… they’re flickering!"

The doctor hurried back into the room, immediately moving to Aaravi’s side. He leaned over her, his voice calm yet encouraging. "Aaravi, if you can hear us, try to open your eyes. You’re safe. You’re surrounded by people who love you."

Aaravi’s eyelashes fluttered again, this time more deliberately. Slowly, she began to open her eyes, her movements hesitant and weak. Her eyelids parted just enough to reveal her unfocused gaze.

Karanveer leaned closer, his heart pounding with both joy and concern. "Princess, it’s me. It’s your brother," he said softly.

Aaravi blinked, her expression dazed. She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry, and a faint groan escaped her lips instead. The effort seemed to exhaust her, and her head lolled slightly to the side.

The doctor placed a hand on Karanveer’s shoulder, offering a reassuring nod. "It’s okay. She’s disoriented, which is normal after being unconscious for so long. She needs rest and hydration. But this is a huge step forward."

Karanveer let out a shaky breath, his chest swelling with hope. He watched as Aaravi’s eyes fluttered shut again, but this time, it wasn’t the lifeless stillness he had feared for so many days. This was different. She was here. She was fighting.

A faint movement stirred her fingers, and then, like a gentle breeze, a whisper escaped her lips. "Water."

The single word was barely audible, but to Karanveer, it was as loud as a thunderclap. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly leaned closer. "Princess, did you say something? Water? Do you want water?"

Her eyelids fluttered open, her gaze weak and unfocused, but she nodded ever so slightly.

Karanveer scrambled to pour water into a small cup, his hands trembling with emotion. "Here, princess," he said softly, bringing the cup to her lips. He tilted it gently, letting the cool liquid trickle into her mouth. Aaravi sipped slowly, her parched throat finding some relief.

As she finished, Karanveer set the cup aside and cupped her face with his hands. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he whispered, "Thank you, princess. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I lost you, but you’re here. You’re back. Do you know how scared I was? How broken I felt?"

His voice cracked, and he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You’ve always been my strength, Aaravi. I need you. I can’t imagine a world without you."

Aaravi blinked slowly, her lips twitching as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. She was too weak, her body drained from the ordeal she had endured.

"Mr. Sachdeva," the doctor said, moving toward Aaravi’s bed. "Let me check her vitals."

Karanveer reluctantly let go of her hand and stepped aside, watching anxiously as the doctor examined Aaravi. The stethoscope was placed gently against her chest, and her pulse was checked. The doctor’s movements were methodical, his expression giving nothing away.

After a few minutes, the doctor straightened up and turned to Karanveer. "Her vitals are stable, which is a very positive sign. However, her body is still extremely weak. Being unconscious for so many days has taken a toll on her, and she’ll need proper rest and care to recover fully."

Karanveer nodded vigorously, relief flooding his features. "I’ll make sure she gets all the rest and care she needs. Whatever it takes, Doctor, I’ll do it."

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Karanveer’s shoulder. "I’m sure you will. She’s lucky to have a brother like you. But remember, recovery will be slow. Don’t rush her, and don’t let her exert herself. Emotional support is just as important as physical care right now."

Karanveer nodded again, his gaze fixed on Aaravi’s face. She looked so fragile, yet seeing her open her eyes and sip water felt like a miracle. "I’ll take care of her, Doctor. I promise."

The doctor gave him a small smile before leaving the room, leaving Karanveer alone with his sister once more.

Karanveer returned to her bedside, pulling the chair closer. He gently took her hand in his again, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Did you hear that, princess? The doctor said you’re going to be okay. You’re going to get better, but you need to rest now. No more scaring me like this, okay?"

Aaravi’s lips twitched slightly, almost as if she wanted to smile, but her eyes fluttered shut once more. Her body needed rest, and Karanveer understood that.

He sat back in his chair, his fingers still intertwined with hers. As the silence of the room enveloped them, Karanveer allowed himself to breathe deeply, his heart finally feeling a semblance of peace. His princess was still weak, but she was here. She had fought her way back to him, and that was all that mattered.

He leaned his head against the edge of the bed, his tears flowing freely once more. But this time, they weren’t tears of despair—they were tears of gratitude, of relief, of love.

"You’re my everything, Aaravi," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ll do whatever it takes to see you healthy and happy again. Just promise me you’ll keep fighting, okay? For me, for us."

A A R A V I

I opened my eyes slowly, and for a moment, everything was dark. A dull, throbbing pain pounded in my head, and my body felt as though it had been through a storm. Every muscle ached, and when I tried to move, a sharp pain shot through me, forcing me to stop.

What happened to me? Why does everything hurt so much?

A faint movement stirred my fingers, and then, like a gentle breeze, a whisper escaped from my lips, "Water."

My voice sounded foreign, raspy and weak, as if it hadn’t been used in days. My throat burned with dryness, and I felt as though I’d been wandering in a desert.

I heard movement around me, hurried yet careful. Soon, a cool cup touched my lips, and the moment the water came in contact with my parched throat, I felt a wave of relief. It wasn’t much, just a few sips, but it was enough to soothe the fire inside me.

I opened my eyes fully this time. My vision was blurry at first, but as I blinked a few times, the sterile white walls of the hospital room came into focus. I looked around, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

Then, I saw him—Veer Bhai. He was sitting beside me, his eyes red and puffy, his face pale, and tears streaming down his cheeks. I had never seen him look so broken. He was saying something, his lips moving rapidly, but I couldn’t hear him properly. My ears were ringing, and everything sounded muffled, like I was underwater.

I felt his lips press softly against my forehead, his touch warm and comforting, but my mind was racing, trying to piece together the fragments of my memory. Why am I in this room? Why is he crying?

And then, like a floodgate opening, it all came rushing back. The accusations. The shouting. The heartbreak.

The tears welled up in my eyes before I could stop them. It all felt too much, too overwhelming. I had been accused, humiliated, and left to suffer alone. The memory of those words, the hate in his eyes—it was a pain far worse than the physical one I was feeling now.

A gentle hand wiped away my tears, pulling me out of my spiral of thoughts. "Why are you crying, princess?" Veer Bhai’s voice was soft, filled with worry and affection. His words wrapped around me like a blanket, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. My throat tightened, and I felt like I was choking on everything I wanted to say. How could I tell him? How could I explain the depth of the hurt I was carrying?

"Shh, it’s okay," he said, his thumb gently brushing against my cheek. "You don’t have to say anything right now. I’m just so glad you’re awake. You have no idea how scared I was. Don’t ever do this to me again, Aaravi. Please."

I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t my choice, that I never wanted to end up here, lying in this bed like a lifeless doll. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just stared at him, my vision blurred by the tears that refused to stop.

He kept talking, his voice soothing, but I couldn’t focus on his words. My mind was too chaotic, replaying the moments that had brought me here. I remembered Nikshant ji's face, the way his eyes had burned with accusations, his voice laced with anger. I remembered the way my world had shattered in an instant, leaving me to pick up the pieces alone.

I thought he was healing — something he didn't break, but little did I know that he would shattered it into pieces that could never be mended.

Even after everything, I foolishly fell in love with him. Despite the walls I built around my heart, despite the promises I made to myself, it happened. How could it not? He had a way of sneaking past every defense, of slipping through the cracks I thought were sealed tight.

It wasn’t in the grand gestures; no, Nikshant ji wasn’t a man of grand gestures. It was in the little things—the rare softness in his voice when he spoke to me in moments of vulnerability. Those fleeting moments of care felt like stolen treasures, enough to make my foolish heart beat faster.

I had warned myself not to fall, over and over again. I told myself that loving him would only lead to pain, that he wasn’t the man I thought he could be. But destiny, cruel and unforgiving, had other plans. It lured me into the trap, made me believe in a future that was never meant to be mine.

And I fell. Hard.

I fell for the man who would smile at me in rare moments of affection. I fell for the man who could silence a room with his commanding presence. I fell for the man who, despite his flaws, made me feel seen in ways I hadn’t before.

But falling in love with him was the beginning of my undoing.

I never imagined that the same man who once held my hand with tenderness could become the very reason for my destruction. Never in my wildest dreams did I think Nikshant ji could stoop so low, that he would think so little of me, that he would believe the worst about me without a shred of hesitation.

The memory of his accusations still burned like acid on my skin. His words, sharp and cruel, played on repeat in my mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

How could he?

How could he look at me, the woman who loved him more than I loved myself, and think I was capable of such betrayal? How could he not see the truth in my eyes, not hear the honesty in my voice when I tried to defend myself?

My heart ached, torn between the love I still felt for him and the unbearable pain he had caused. Even now, as I lay here, weak and broken, his face haunted me. The way he had looked at me in that moment—cold, distant, full of doubt—it was a look I would never forget.

I had given him everything. My trust, my loyalty, my heart. And in return, he gave me betrayal.

I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts a chaotic storm. The weight of my feelings was suffocating, the love and hurt intertwining in a way that made it impossible to separate one from the other.

Why did I let myself love him? Why did I allow myself to believe in something that was doomed from the start?

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, though it quickly turned into a sob. This was my fate, wasn’t it? To love a man who would never truly see me, who would never understand the depth of my feelings.

I thought back to the moments when he had shown me kindness, when he had made me believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for us. Those moments felt like a cruel joke now, a way for destiny to give me hope only to snatch it away.

But even as the pain consumed me, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him.

No matter how much I wanted to, no matter how much I told myself that he didn’t deserve my love, my heart refused to listen. It still beat for him, foolishly, pathetically.

I closed my eyes, trying to silence the thoughts that wouldn’t leave me alone. But instead of finding peace, I saw his face.

I saw the man I loved.

The man who had unknowingly destroyed me.

Maybe I was the fool.

Maybe loving him was my biggest mistake.

But even as I thought that, a small, broken part of me whispered, “Maybe it wasn’t.”

A thought emerged in my mind—a thought I never believed I would entertain. But as the ache in my chest deepened, as the weight of everything I had endured pressed down on me, I realized I had no choice. This decision, however difficult, was the only way forward.

My voice was barely audible, even to myself, but I needed to speak. I had to say the words that had been forming in my mind. Summoning every ounce of strength I had, I tried to call for Veer Bhai. My lips parted, but the sound that escaped was so faint that even I couldn’t hear it clearly.

Still, to my surprise, Veer Bhai stirred in his seat beside me. His eyes, red and heavy with sleepless nights, lifted to meet mine.

"Did you say something, Princess?" he asked softly, leaning closer.

I tried again, forcing the words out despite the strain. "If... I... say... something... will... you... please... do... for... me?" I stammered, each word a battle against my body’s weakness.

His brows furrowed with concern, but he nodded immediately. "Of course, Aaravi. Anything you need. Just tell me."

His reassurance gave me a small spark of courage. I