80. Grief

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One of you asked my Instagram Id, So here it is. My name is Radha.

IG: icey_chaos

I didn't post much though...

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩

Aaryansh washed his face, letting the cold water refresh him before stepping out of the bathroom.

Amrita was sitting on the bed, waiting for him. The moment he came out, she stood up, her gaze fixed on him.

He raised a brow and walked toward her. “What is it, Buttercup?” he asked, his voice soft yet curious.

She didn’t answer, just made him sit on the bed before taking out the first aid kit.

Standing in front of him, she pulled out a cotton swab and gently dabbed at the wound on his forehead.

He didn't flinch, just watched her, his eyes filled with something unreadable—something that made her heart race.

But then, he winced.

Her expression immediately shifted to concern. "Sorry," she whispered, her touch becoming more delicate, almost feather-light.

Aaryansh smiled, shaking his head at her unnecessary apology as she carefully placed a bandage over the wound.

But before he could say anything, she reached for the buttons of his shirt.

His eyes widened slightly. "What are you doing?" he asked, half in shock.

"You got hurt by thorns too," she reminded him, her tone steady despite the heat creeping up her neck. "I'm going to treat them."

A slow smirk formed on his lips. "Oh?" he drawled, leaning back slightly. "Go ahead, then."

Amrita ignored his teasing tone and focused on her task. But the moment she unbuttoned his shirt completely, her fingers faltered.

Her breath hitched as she took in his toned body, muscles sculpted and firm, his skin warm under the dim rays.

She gulped, her face turning red. Clearing her throat, she quickly looked away and busied herself with the first-aid kit, pretending she wasn’t affected.

Aaryansh, of course, noticed everything. His smirk deepened.

She cleaned the small cuts on his back first, carefully bandaging them.

Then, as she moved to the front, she hesitated. The position was awkward, and she knew it would be easier if he were lying down.

"It'll be better if you lie down," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aaryansh nodded and leaned back against the bed. Amrita climbed in next to him, her hands steady as she worked.

She cleaned and bandaged his cuts with practiced care, but her mind was anything but calm.

Just as she was finishing, he suddenly pulled her forward, catching her off guard. She gasped as she lost balance, falling onto his chest.

Her wide eyes met his mischievous ones.

Aaryansh smirked, his arms wrapping around her waist. "Now, Buttercup," he murmured, his voice deep and teasing, "shouldn't I return the favor?"

Huh?" she mumbled, still dazed by the sudden pull.

Aaryansh didn't give her a chance to process as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

His warmth, his intensity—it all consumed her in an instant. Amrita's eyes fluttered shut, her hands instinctively pressing against his bare chest as her heart pounded.

When he finally pulled away, she was flushed, her breath uneven. He smirked, watching the way her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink.

"Lie with me," he murmured, his voice softer now.

Before she could protest, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him.

The heat from his skin seeped into her, making her blush even more. Her hands were still resting against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her fingertips.

She hesitated for a second, but as he held her close, something in her melted. Slowly, she relaxed in his embrace, letting her head rest against him.

Aaryansh smiled. "Good girl," he whispered, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on her back.

Amrita didn't reply—she was too busy trying to calm her racing heart which raced even more with his words now.

And just like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, they drifted off to sleep.

Aaryansh held Amrita close, his grip secure yet gentle, as if he was afraid she would disappear.

Amrita, for the first time in a long while, felt safe—truly safe. Her head rested against his chest, his steady heartbeat lulling her into a deep slumber.

The night was silent, except for the soft rhythm of their breaths, perfectly in sync. In that moment, neither of them needed words. Just being in each other’s arms was enough.

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩

Ishika lay on the bed, her head resting on her folded arms as she stared at Rudraksh.

He sat at the desk, his face illuminated by the cold glow of his laptop screen. His fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, his posture tense, as if he were trying to drown himself in work.

She sighed. He hadn’t cried. Not even once.

Not at the funeral. Not when they brought Dadi’s body home. Not when everyone else had broken down.

Not when she had tried to hold his hand for comfort.

And she knew—she just knew—that wasn’t good. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t him.

Rudraksh loved his Dadi. She had been the only one who truly understood him, who had supported him no matter what.

And yet, here he was, acting like nothing had happened, like she had never existed.

It had been hours now. She had given him time. But she couldn’t watch this any longer.

Taking a deep breath, she called out softly, “Rudraksh ji.”

He didn’t respond.

She tried again, louder this time. “Rudraksh ji.”

His fingers froze for a moment before he resumed typing. “Go to sleep, Ishika.” His voice was flat, emotionless.

She stilled.

It wasn’t the name. It was how he said it.

Cold. Detached.

As if she was just anyone.

Ishika pushed herself up and sat cross-legged on the bed. “You should come to bed too.”

“I have work.”

“You're on leave.”

“I said I have work,” he snapped, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

Ishika’s jaw clenched. “Work? Or an escape?”

His fingers stopped. A sharp silence settled between them.

Then, he let out a scoff. “Don’t start, Ishika.”

“I will start,” she shot back. “Because you haven’t shed a single tear for her, Rudraksh ji. Not one.”

His hands curled into fists. “So?”

“So, it’s not normal!” Ishika exclaimed, sliding off the bed and walking towards him. “You loved her, Rudraksh. And she’s gone! How are you just sitting here like nothing happened? How are you acting like—”

Before she could finish, he slammed his laptop shut and stood up so fast that his chair screeched backward.

“Like a what, Ishika?” His voice was dangerous now. “Like a monster? A heartless bastard?”

Her eyes stayed locked onto his. “Like a man who is running from his own pain.”

His lips curled into a humorless smirk. “Pain is useless.”

“No,” she said, stepping closer. “Burying it is.”

“What do you want from me, Ishika?” His voice was low, dangerous.

“I want you to stop pretending like you don’t care—”

“Who said I don’t care?” he snapped.

“Then show it!” she burst out. “You loved her, Rudraksh! You can’t just act like nothing happened!”

His lips curled into a humorless smirk. “And crying is supposed to bring her back?”

“No, but it will—”

“Then shut up.”

His voice was cold. Cutting.

Ishika’s breath hitched.

He stood up, towering over her. “You think you understand me? You think you know what’s going on inside my head?”

She stayed silent.

“You don’t.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So stop acting like you do.”

Her chest tightened. “Rudraksh ji—”

“You’re so desperate to see me cry, huh?” he scoffed. “Why? So you can feel better about yourself? So you can act like some savior fixing me?”

She felt like he had punched the air out of her lungs.

“That’s not—”

“Shut. Up.”

Her hands trembled. He had never spoken to her like this.

“You want to see me cry? Fine.” His voice was sharp, bitter. “Let’s cry together over things we can’t change. Let’s be weak. Let’s sit here sobbing like idiots. Will that make you happy, Ishika?”

Tears threatened to burn in her eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

“Because I’m tired of you poking at something that doesn’t need fixing.”

“You’re hurting—”

“I’M NOT HURTING!” he roared.

She jumped, her back hitting the headboard.

“I feel nothing, Ishika. NOTHING.” His chest heaved. “She’s gone. That’s it. That’s life. People die. Move on.”

Her lips trembled. “So that’s what you’re going to do?”

He exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair. “Yes. That’s what I’m going to do.”

Ishika stared at him. “You’re lying.”

“But crying won’t bring her back!” he barked.

Ishika flinched at the sheer anger in his voice. But she stood her ground.

“I know that.” She looked up at him, her voice quieter now. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t cry for her.”

“You think you understand what I’m feeling?” He took a step closer, towering over her. “You don’t. You don’t. So stop acting like you do.”

Ishika’s hands clenched into fists. “Then tell me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

His nostrils flared, his eyes darkening. “I feel nothing, Ishika.”

“Liar,” she whispered.

His jaw tightened. “I said—”

“You feel everything,” she cut him off. “You just won’t let yourself.”

Rudraksh exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I swear, Ishika, if you don’t stop this—”

“No.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I won’t stop.”

His hands shook. “Why do you care?”

“Because it’s hurting you, Rudraksh ji!” she burst out. “And because she was your Dadi. You can’t just erase her from your heart like this!”

His face twisted in pain for the first time. There it is, she thought.

“I’m not erasing her,” he murmured.

“Then why are you pretending like she didn’t matter?”

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you acting like she never existed?”

“I’M NOT!” he roared.

Ishika flinched again, but she didn’t step back.

His eyes darkened.

“You want me to cry?” he asked, voice bitter. “Would that satisfy you?”

She shook her head. “It’s not about me.”

“Then stop.”

“No.”

His fists clenched. “Stop acting like you understand.”

She lifted her chin. “I understand you.”

He let out a sharp breath. “You think if I cry, she’ll come back? That it’ll fix anything?”

“No,” Ishika said quietly. “But it will fix you.”

His hands trembled.

And then, his voice turned cutting. “You think I’m broken?”

She didn’t even blink. “I think you’re hurting.”

His eyes burned into hers. “I don’t need you to save me, Ishika.”

Her lips pressed together. “I’m not trying to save you, Rudraksh ji. I’m trying to remind you that you’re human.”

Something inside him snapped.

“You don’t know anything!” His voice thundered, his hands slamming against the table. “You think just because you married me, you know me?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

His breath caught.

“I know you, Rudraksh ji,” she continued. “I know that Dadi was your world. I know that you were the only one she trusted with everything. I know that she meant more to you than anything else.”

He took a step back.

Ishika didn’t stop.

“I know that every single second since she left, you’ve been drowning. And I know that you refuse to let anyone see it.”

His breathing was uneven now.

She stepped forward. “And I know that you are this close to breaking.”

His fists clenched harder.

“Ishika, stop.”

She had seen it.

The slight tremble in his fingers.

She called out to him. “Rudraksh ji”

He clenched his jaw. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I said I’m fine.”

She took another step forward, her voice soft. “You’re not.”

His hands curled into fists, his breathing turning shaky. “I can’t—”

“You can,” she whispered.

His head snapped toward her. His eyes were no longer furious. They were hollow.

And then, she broke him.

“Dadi wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.”

A sharp breath left him.

His breath hitched.

And a silent tear left his eyes. And then, they wouldn't stop.

“I miss her,” he gasped, his voice raw.

“I know.”

“I—I don’t know how to—” His breath shuddered. “I don’t know how to live without her.”

Ishika hugged him and held him tight. “You don’t have to figure it out tonight.”

He sobbed harder. His arms wrapped around her so tightly it almost hurt, but she didn’t move.

“Ishika,” he choked out.

“I’m here.”

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. His cries turned into soft sniffles, his breath still shaky.

She rubbed his back gently. “You need to rest.”

“I don’t want to,” he whispered, his voice raw.

“You have to, Rudraksh ji,” Ishika said softly.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes fixated on the ground.

Ishika didn’t push him further. She simply guided him toward the bed. “Sleep, Rudraksh ji,” she murmured.

He laid back in bed, exhausted and unwilling to give in.

Ishika moved to the other side of the bed and laid down, facing him, giving him space.

A few seconds passed in silence.

“Come closer,” Rudraksh murmured, eyes still closed.

She hesitated, glancing at him. He didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes. But she could hear it in his voice—the silent plea.

So she shifted slightly toward him.

Before she could react, Rudraksh pulled her completely into his arms, his grip firm around her waist.

She gasped, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest.

His hold tightened. His face buried into the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

Silent tears slipped from his closed eyes.

Ishika stilled, feeling the slight tremble in his body. Her heart clenched.

Slowly, she reached out, her fingers threading through his hair, soothing him with gentle strokes.

Neither of them spoke.

His pain, her comfort—both were silent, yet louder than words.

But the closeness, the warmth of his bare skin against her, made her heart race in a way she couldn’t control.

She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath.

Tonight wasn’t about her. It was about him.

And she would hold him for as long as he needed.

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩

Ananya lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying—failing—to sleep. Her mind was too crowded, the past clawing at her like an unwanted shadow.

Aditya, who had been leaning against the headboard, his arms crossed, glanced at her.

He noticed the way her breathing wasn’t steady, the way she blinked too often as if forcing herself to keep her emotions at bay.

“ Kitten,” his voice was calm but firm.

She hesitated before turning her head slightly to look at him.

For a moment, he simply observed her—the sadness clouding her usually bright eyes, the way she clutched the bedsheet as if it would anchor her.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice was softer now, hesitant.

She nodded without a word.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “From what you told me… it seemed like your Mama loved you very much.” He paused. “Then why did he grow distant from you?”

Ananya’s fingers twitched against the sheet, her throat tightening.

Aditya noticed the shift in her expression, the flicker of pain she was trying to suppress. He regretted asking.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me,” he said, his voice gentler now.

She shook her head. “It’s fine,” she whispered.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, my Mama loved me a lot… but he loved his sister—my mother—more.” She swallowed. “And when she died… something inside him broke.”

Aditya remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

She let out a weak, sad sigh. “He was my second father, you know? He used to spoil me, carry me on his shoulders, buy me whatever I wanted. But after that night… everything changed. He stopped looking at me the same way. Like I was a reminder of what he lost.”

Her voice wavered. “I used to try so hard… to talk to him, to make him smile again. But he just… he shut me out.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly, as if ashamed.

Aditya’s jaw clenched. He moved closer, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“And you still loved him,” he stated, not as a question, but as a truth he could see in her eyes.

She let out a humorless chuckle. “Of course, I did. He was my Mama. No matter how much he pushed me away, I never stopped loving him. I still do.”

Aditya watched her, the way her lips trembled slightly, the way her shoulders curled inward as if trying to make herself smaller.

Without thinking, he reached out, brushing a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. She stilled at the touch, her breath catching.

"You know? My Mama and Atha didn't have kids because they thought of me as their kid."

Aditya's eyes softened “You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Ananya looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But I did.”

Something inside Aditya twisted painfully.

He moved closer, his face mere inches from hers. His hand, warm and steady, rested against her cheek, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles against her skin.

Ananya’s breath hitched. She wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to him being so close, so gentle.

Her gaze flickered to his lips for a brief second before she shut her eyes, ashamed of the thought.

“Adi…” she whispered, not even sure what she was trying to say.

“Sleep,” he murmured, his forehead resting against hers. “I’m here.”

Ananya’s fingers curled against his shirt, clinging to him as if afraid he would let go.

And for the first time in a long time, she let herself feel safe.

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩

Sorry for the delay guys! I have exams this full month so..

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He had healed her wounds, and now she would be his refuge...💓