76. Amrita

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The wind howled through the cemetery, carrying the scent of damp earth and old memories.

Amrita sat motionless on the ground, her legs folded beneath her, her hands resting on the cold, unyielding stone before her.

The engraved names of her parents stared back at her, mocking her loneliness.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t cry.

She simply sat there, staring at the names as though they would blink back to life if she looked long enough.

Minutes passed. Hours, maybe. She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

Then, a gentle touch. A hand, warm and comforting, smoothed over her hair, caressing her head the way her father used to when she was little.

Her body tensed, then relaxed. She closed her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line.

When she opened them again, she slowly stood up. Her gaze lingered on the gravestone for a moment before she whispered, “Thank you, Daddy.”

And then she turned away, walking towards her car.

Her phone rang.

Mahima.

“I’m coming,” she said, not giving Mahima a chance to speak, and hung up.

She drove back in silence. The roads blurred past her, but her mind was trapped in the past, in the words that still haunted her.

By the time she reached the Raghuwanshi Mansion, the funeral had already begun.

The house was silent. A strange kind of silence—heavy, suffocating.

Geeta and Rukmini sat near Neelima’s corpse, their silent tears soaking into the white fabric draped over her.

Divya clung to Daksh, her wide, tear-filled eyes staring blankly ahead.

Aditya lay with his head in Ananya’s lap, and even the usually energetic girl had lost all her fire.

She sat still, her fingers absentmindedly stroking Aditya’s hair as she stared at her grandmother’s lifeless body.

Mahima stood near Rukmini, her hand on the older woman’s shoulder, whispering soft words of comfort.

Ishika sat with Geeta, rubbing her back soothingly.

Rudraksh and Aaryansh were occupied with the guests.

And then, Ananya’s family arrived.

They stood at a distance. Not near her. Not with her.

They stood with Ishwar and Shravan, whispering among themselves.

The contrast was stark. Amrita watched as they stayed far away, unwilling to even acknowledge their own daughter’s grief.

And in that moment, she knew.

Blood ties meant nothing when hearts refused to connect.

She walked in quietly, her steps barely making a sound. She didn’t greet anyone. Didn’t speak. She simply went and stood in the corner, observing, absorbing.

A few moments later, Mahira arrived.

She walked in with a bouquet of roses, her movements slow and measured. She placed the flowers near Neelima’s corpse and then stepped back, her eyes scanning the room.

For a second, her gaze met Amrita’s.

Amrita looked away first.

After what felt like an eternity, Neelima’s corpse was carried away. The guests began to leave, murmuring soft condolences before stepping out into the world again.

The mansion was emptying, but the weight of grief remained.

The elders had also left, only the younger ones remaining behind.

And then—Amrita’s mami approached her.

She was hesitant, her fingers twisting together as she took slow steps toward the girl she had once ignored for years.

“You… okay?”

Amrita froze.

She turned to face her mami—the woman who had never once spoken to her with concern, never once looked at her with anything but indifference.

She nodded. Quietly.

Before anything else could be said, her mama arrived.

His face twisted in anger as he glared at his wife.

“What are you doing?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.

Amrita stood still.

Her mami flinched but didn’t speak.

And then, before she could stop herself, before she could think—Amrita's lips parted.

“…Mama.”

He froze.

His eyes, filled with years of resentment, snapped to hers.

And then—disgust.

“No one is your mama here. Understand?” His voice was low, yet it rang through the hall like thunder.

Amrita looked down.

She didn’t know why she had said it. Why, after all these years, her heart had still sought some form of belonging.

But his next words shattered whatever was left inside her.

“Why do you hate me so much?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

He let out a bitter laugh, his hands clenching into fists.

“Why?” His voice rose. “You want to know why?”

His lips curled into a sneer.

“Because you are a curse.”

The words sliced through her like a dagger.

“Everywhere you go, bad things happen.”

She stopped breathing.

“You took my akka away from me the day you were born.” His voice was shaking now, but it wasn’t from sadness. It was rage. A deep-seated hatred that had been festering for years.

(Akka - big sister)

“I loved my akka more than anything. And because of you, she died.”

Amrita’s fingers curled into her palms.

“You weren’t done, were you?” he continued, his tone venomous. “You killed my bava too! You snatched both of them from me!”

(Bava ~ Brother-in-law)

Her heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear anything else.

“And now—” His voice cracked, but the cruelty in his words remained. “Just months into your marriage, you killed another one.”

Amrita inhaled sharply.

The room was deathly silent.

“You think I didn’t see Alludu’s face today?” He scoffed. “Maybe you hurt him too.”

(Alludu~ Son-in-law)

Amrita flinched.

“That’s who you are. A walking disaster. A curse. Wherever you go, shani follows.”

Tears welled up in the eyes of those around them, but not in hers.

She didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

“I never want to see you near me again.”

And then—he walked away.

Leaving behind a silence so heavy, so unbearable, it crushed the very air in the room.

Amrita stood frozen.

Every single eye in the room was on her.

But she didn’t care.

She couldn’t.

The weight of his words pressed down on her chest, but she didn’t let them show. She didn’t let the pain surface.

Ishika took a hesitant step towards her.

Amrita moved away.

Her feet carried her towards the exit.

Someone tried to hold her back. Another hand grabbed her wrist. She pulled away.

“Amrita, stop!”

She didn’t.

She walked out.

Into the cold night.

Into the darkness.

And she didn’t stop.

⚡︎

The Raghuwanshi Mansion was in chaos.

Hours had passed.

The sky had turned a deep shade of blue, and then black.

The storm outside raged violently, rain pelting against the windows, wind howling through the trees.

Inside the house, the tension was thick.

Aditya was making frantic calls.

Aarush paced back and forth, his anxiety palpable.

Rishi was also dialing numbers, his hands trembling slightly.

The girls sat huddled together, their faces lined with worry.

The elders were still not back.

And Amrita—

She was nowhere to be found.

The storm outside continued to rage.

But the storm inside their hearts was far, far worse.

⚡︎

The storm outside was merciless, its howls rattling the windows of the Raghuwanshi mansion.

Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating with panic. No one sat still. No one spoke in a normal tone. Fear had taken over the house like an uninvited shadow.

Aditya was making call after call, his fingers moving in frustration as he tried to reach Amrita’s phone again and again.

Each failed attempt only made the worry in his chest grow heavier.

Aarush paced back and forth near the entrance, his mind racing. The girls sat together, their expressions filled with worry.

Ishika held Ananya’s hand, trying to calm her down, but Ananya was barely holding herself together.

The elders, along with Aaryansh and Rudraksh, entered the mansion, their clothes soaked from the storm outside.

The moment they stepped inside, their eyes fell on the state of the family—panicked faces, restless movements, desperate whispers.

“What the hell is going on?” Ishwar demanded, looking at the chaos around him.

Ishika, tears still in her eyes, turned to him. “She’s gone,” she whispered.

“Who’s gone?” Geeta asked, confused.

“Amrita,” Rishi said, his voice low but filled with tension.

Aaryansh, who had just pulled off his soaked blazer, froze. His heart stopped for a second.

“What do you mean gone?” His voice was dangerously calm, but everyone could hear the storm brewing within him.

“She walked out after what happened with her… uncle.” Aarush explained, his voice thick with emotion.

Rudraksh’s expression hardened. “Someone stop speaking in riddles and explain exactly what happened.”

Mahira, who had been comforting the girls, took a deep breath and spoke up. “Her uncle blamed her… for everything. For her parents’ death, for dadi’s death, for every tragedy that happened in his life.”

Ishwar’s eyes darkened.

“What the hell?” Rudraksh muttered under his breath, his fists clenched.

“He said… he never wanted to see her again.” Mahira continued, her voice shaking slightly. “And Amrita just stood there… listening to everything.”

Silence.

“She didn’t cry,” Ishika added. “She didn’t say anything. She just left.”

Aaryansh’s breathing grew heavier. His hands fisted at his sides. He knew Amrita. He knew how she bottled things inside her.

She didn’t cry in front of people. She didn’t break in front of people. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t breaking.

He didn’t waste another second.

“I’m going to find her,” he said.

“Aaryansh—” Rukmini started, but he was already moving.

“Bhai,” Aditya called, but Aaryansh ignored him, grabbing his car keys and rushing out of the mansion into the raging storm.

⚡︎

The rain slammed against his windshield, but Aaryansh didn’t care. His mind was only focused on one thing—finding Amrita.

He drove to every place he could think of.

He drove to the empty roads near the lake. Nothing.

He checked the abandoned construction site she once mentioned passing by. No sign of her.

“Where the hell are you?” He muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

His mind raced with possibilities.

Was she safe? Was she alone? Did she even have an umbrella or a coat?

A flash of lightning illuminated the road ahead, but the streets were deserted.

His heart pounded in his chest.

Then, without thinking, he reached for his phone and called her again.

No answer.

“Damn it, Buttercup! Pick up!” He yelled into the empty car, his frustration reaching its peak.

He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t lose her.

Not like this. Not tonight.

And so, he kept driving, kept searching.

No matter how long it took, no matter how far he had to go—he wasn’t coming back without his wife.

⚡︎

:(

Every Step She Took Felt Heavier, As If The Past Refused To Let Her Go...💔