32. When Time Stood Still

The wind whipped against Abhir’s face as he raced down the highway, the sky blurring into streaks of gold and silver.

The hum of his bike beneath him was steady, rhythmic—his own personal symphony before the chaos of the concert.

The road stretched out ahead, empty and inviting, and for a brief moment, he felt weightless.

Free.

A brief escape before stepping onto the stage, before becoming Abhir Sharma—the star once again.

But fate had other plans.

As he reached an intersection, he instinctively squeezed the brakes—only to feel nothing.

His heart lurched.

The lever was loose beneath his grip, useless.

His pulse spiked as realization slammed into him.

The brakes—unresponsive.

His breath hitched, his fingers tightening around the handlebars as icy panic gripped his chest.

He pressed down harder, but the bike didn’t slow.

Instead, it skidded, wobbling beneath him as if fighting against his control.

The headlights of an approaching truck burned into his vision, its horn tearing through the silence like a death knell.

No, no, no—

His mind screamed for control, but his body was frozen, instincts drowned beneath the sheer force of impending impact.

His hands clenched the handles, muscles screaming for control.

For the first time in years, fear gripped him.

And then—time fractured.

Everything slowed.

A flash of white.

A gasp stolen from his lips.

And suddenly, he wasn’t here anymore.

He was somewhere else—drifting between memory and reality, in the fractured eternity of those few seconds, faces flashed before his eyes.

His mumma— Akshara pressing warm kisses to his forehead, running her fingers through his hair as she whispered bedtime stories. She was smiling, that smile that always felt like home.

His Papa — Abhinav's strong arms lifting him high in the air, making him feel like he could touch the sky.

A shuddering breath escaped him.

And then—Docman.

His dada.

His hero.

Abhimanyu’s face flickered into his mind,Abhimanyu Birla the man who had held his tiny hands, bandaged every scraped knee, promised to always be there.

Tears pricked his eyes, but before they could fall, another face surfaced.

Abhira.

His sister. His only family. She had come back—after so long, after years of aching silence. Her eyes filled with unshaken faith in him, the kind that made him want to be better.

Ruhi—His best friend. His sister.

His partner in crime.

The one person who had always been there, through every high and low.

And then… Charu.

Charu, standing with her arms crossed, exasperated but unmistakably worried, scolding him for being reckless.

Her sharp words, her unwavering presence—she was his own personal storm and shelter all at once.

Abhir, go slow.

His chest tightened.

His body felt weightless, like he was being pulled under, deeper into the abyss.

And then—impact.

The world tilted violently.

The deafening screech of tires.

The blinding flash of headlights.

His body lurched forward.

And then—nothing.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

-----------------------------------

Back at the concert venue, anticipation crackled in the air.

The crowd roared, chanting Abhir’s name, their voices a thunderous wave of adoration.

Inside, the crew bustled with last-minute preparations, the stage illuminated by dazzling lights, waiting for its star.

But behind the scenes, Abhira’s heart twisted in unease.

She paced outside the dressing room, her heels clicking against the floor in a frantic rhythm. Every second that passed without Abhir’s arrival gnawed at her insides.

"Bhai pickup pickup!" she muttered under her breath, dialing his number for the tenth time.

Charu, standing nearby, tried to mask her own worry. "Bhabhi, he’ll be fine. You know how he is. Probably lost track of time, enjoying his ride." She forced a smirk, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

A knot of fear had settled in her stomach too.

Abhira exhaled sharply. "No, Charu. This isn't just him being late. My gut says something is wrong. Even Bhai isn't answering." Her hands trembled as she stared at the blank screen of her phone.

Then, a shift in the atmosphere.

A ripple in the crowd.

A hushed gasp rolled through the audience as suddenly Abhir appeared at the entrance.

For a second, relief flooded Abhira’s chest—until she saw him.

Her breath caught.

He was barely standing, his body swaying as he forced himself forward.

His clothes were torn and stained with dirt and blood, his face pale, his gaze distant.

Every step he took looked agonizing, but he kept moving—like a man possessed, like someone who had dragged himself back from the edge of darkness.

The crowd, still unaware of the full extent of his condition, erupted in cheers.

They saw their idol standing before them, they worshipped him for it.

"ABHIR! ABHIR!"

Some of his fans rushed forward, hands outstretched, lifting him onto their shoulders, carrying him toward the stage in a wave of rejoice.

Abhira wanted to scream, wanted to stop them, but her voice refused to come out.

Even Armaan, standing beside her, hadn't yet processed the nightmare unfolding in front of them.

He smiled at first, watching the fans adore his brother-in-law. "He's here, Abhira. Look at that love."

But then—

Abhir blinked, dazed, his vision swimming.

The noise of the crowd faded into a dull hum as he took another shaky step toward the stage.

His legs wobbled beneath him

He barely had time to process it before his body gave out, collapsing to the ground with a sickening thud.

The cheers died.

Gasps echoed through the venue. The mic dropped from the announcer’s hand.

The entire stadium seemed to hold its breath.

"BHAI!" Abhira's scream cut through the stillness as she ran toward him.

She dropped to her knees, hands shaking as she touched his face. "No, no, no, Bhai, open your eyes!" She patted his cheek desperately, her fingers brushing against the dried blood on his temple.

Armaan followed closely behind, his face tight with confusion and growing panic.

Manish and Swarna Goenka, who had been watching from the VIP section, rose to their feet in alarm, their expressions paling as they realized something was terribly wrong.

Charu stood frozen behind her, her mind blank for a moment before an icy wave of fear crashed over her.

The crowd, the noise, the lights—it all blurred into insignificance.

The only thing that mattered was the sight of him so lifeless.

The man who just hours ago had been teasing her, annoying her, making her scold him.

The man who, for some inexplicable reason, had become a constant presence in her mind.

Her breath hitched. Her pulse pounded so hard she thought she might collapse, too.

Her vision blurred with unshed tears as she took a hesitant step forward, almost as if she was afraid of what she was seeing.

Abhir, who always had a smug smirk or a mischievous glint in his eye—now lying so still, was unbearable.

Ruhi shoved past the crew, pushing her way through the chaos. The moment she saw him on the ground, all the air was knocked from her lungs.

"Billa boy!" she sobbed, shaking his shoulders. "No! wake up!!" Her voice cracked as she grabbed his hands, squeezing them tightly as if her touch alone could bring him back.

Kiara, standing at the edge of the stage, her idol Abhir, lay unmoving.

Her hands clamped over her mouth as tears streamed down her face.

Manish and Swarna rushed forward, their faces pale with fear. Swarna clutched Manish’s arm, her fingers digging in as if anchoring herself.

"Oh, God, Manish! Our Abhir—he’s hurt!"

Manish bent down beside them, his hands hovering over Abhir’s body, his voice hoarse with worry. "Call the doctor! Now!"

The medics rushed in, breaking through the stunned crowd.

"Step back!" one of them commanded as they carefully lifted Abhir onto the stretcher.

Ruhi refused to let go of his hand. "Please, he's going to be okay, right?" she pleaded, looking at them with wild, desperate eyes. "He has to be okay!"

Abhira staggered to her feet, her head spinning.

Armaan caught her before she collapsed. "Abhira, breathe," he whispered, his own voice shaking.

Charu's fingers curled into fists at her sides as an unfamiliar ache bloomed in her chest.

Fear.

For Abhir.

Not just concern, not just worry—raw, suffocating fear.

Her breath hitched, her nails pressing into her palms.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He was supposed to be his usual cocky, reckless self.

He was supposed to tease her, provoke her, make her roll her eyes at his antics.

Not lie there, still and silent.

Her body moved on instinct.

Before she even registered it, she was gripping Abhir’s limp hand. "Abhi, wake up, dammit!" Her voice wavered, but there was a desperate edge to it.

"I warned you to be safe!"

Abhira turned, startled by the crack in Charu’s voice.

Charu barely noticed anyone. Her entire world had narrowed down to the man lying before her, his usually mischievous smirk absent, his warmth slipping away beneath her fingertips.

A choked breath left her lips, her grip tightening. "You still owe me a debate, you idiot. You’re not getting out of it this easily."

The paramedics, rushing him toward the exit.

As they hurried after him, Charu’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind replaying every conversation, every smirk, every challenge he had ever thrown her way.

And in that moment, she knew.

She knew why she had fought with him so much, why his presence had always managed to get under her skin.

Why his absence today had made her restless, why seeing him like this was threatening to break something inside her.

Because she cared.

More than she ever wanted to admit.

And for the first time, she didn't want to negate what she felt.

------------------------------------

At the hospital, the white sterile walls felt suffocating.

The quiet buzz of the fluorescent lights seemed to echo in Charu's head. She couldn't shake the image of Abhir, his body crumpled on the stage, his once lively face now void of expression.

They waited in silence, each moment stretching painfully.

Abhira had her eyes fixed on the door, her fingers twisting around the fabric of her dress.

She didn’t speak; her gaze never left the hallway where the doctor would appear.

After what felt like an eternity, the door finally swung open. The doctor stepped out, his expression grave, issuing quick instructions to the nurse before turning to face them.

Everyone rose to their feet, hearts pounding, breaths held in anxious anticipation.

“He’s in critical condition,” the doctor announced, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of urgency. “Multiple fractures, internal bleeding… The injuries are severe. We’re doing everything possible.”

A suffocating silence followed, as if the very air had thickened with dread.

Abhira’s grip tightened on the armrest, her knuckles turning white. “He’s going to be okay, right?” Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it echoed through the room like a desperate plea.

The doctor hesitated, his gaze shifting between them, before responding carefully, “We’re working to stabilize him. Please give us some time.” And with that, he turned and disappeared back into the room.

Charu stood frozen, a cold wave of fear crashing over her.

Her chest ached, her hands clenched into fists as if that alone could stop the trembling inside her.

But no amount of resolve could erase the image seared into her mind—Abhir, unconscious, broken, fighting for his life.

Outside the hospital, a sea of fans had gathered, their voices rising in unison as they chanted his name, holding banners, lighting candles, and praying for their idol.

Social media was flooded with messages, prayers, and support, a testament to the impact Abhir had on the world.

He wasn’t just a singer—he was a beacon of hope, of love, of music that connected people across distances.

Inside, the family stood in a circle of silent grief. Swarna clutched Manish’s hand, whispering silent prayers, while Armaan and Abhira leaned against each other for support, their bond stronger than ever in this moment of crisis.

Ruhi’s fingers trembled  seeing the outpouring of love from fans worldwide. “He has to wake up,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “He has so many people waiting for him.”

Charu, standing by the window, stared at the flickering candles outside, her chest tight with emotions she had buried for too long.

She had always known Abhir was special to the world, but now, she understood just how much he meant to her.

The mere thought of a world without his laughter, his presence, his teasing glances—it was unbearable.

She pressed a hand to her heart, whispering a silent plea. “Come back, Abhir. You have to.”

A sob tore through the silence, drawing everyone’s attention. Manish Goenka, the man who had always carried the weight of his family with unwavering strength, crumbled.

He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with grief.

“He has already faced so much,” Manish choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

“He has spent years away from us, alone, struggling without his family by his side. We just got him back—I can’t lose him now. I won’t.”

Swarna squeezed his hand tighter, her own eyes brimming with tears, but before she could speak, Kaveri Poddar stepped forward.

“Have faith,” she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet strength.

“Abhir is a fighter. He has been strong enough to fight the world  alone all these years and make an identity for himself, this is nothing. He will come back to us.”

Manish looked up at her, his vision blurred by tears. “What if—”

“No,” Kaveri interrupted firmly. “No what-ifs. We don’t let doubt take root. We all just need to pray, we stand by him, and we wait for him to open his eyes.”

A newfound determination filled the room, as if Kaveri’s words had breathed life back into their hope.