86. Pure Hate.

ꨄ

Aarush tightened his grip around Mahira as she let out another shuddered breath. His heartbeat was erratic, panic still buzzing through his veins.

“We’re going to the hospital,” he stated firmly, already preparing to lift her again.

Mahira’s eyes widened. “No,” she rasped out, shaking her head slightly.

Aarush frowned, his jaw tightening. “Mahira, you’ve been shot. You need a doctor.”

But she was already pushing herself up, wobbling slightly but determined. “I… I don’t want to go to the hospital,” she insisted, her voice weak but stubborn.

His eyes darkened. “You are bleeding.”

She exhaled shakily, pressing her palm against the wound. “It’s not deep. I’m fine.”

Aarush clenched his jaw. “Mahira—”

“Take me home,” she cut him off, her glossy eyes pleading.

Aarush stared at her for a long moment, frustration and concern battling within him.

He wanted to argue, really wanted to, but there was something in her voice… a silent desperation that made him stop.

He inhaled deeply, rubbing his face with his free hand before muttering a curse under his breath.

“Fine,” he finally said. “But if you collapse, I’m taking you straight to the hospital.”

Mahira gave a small nod.

With great effort, she slowly stood up.

Aarush’s hands shot out immediately. “Don’t walk!” he snapped.

She exhaled a weak chuckle. “I can walk…” But as soon as she took a step, her legs wobbled dangerously.

Aarush sighed sharply, catching her arm before she could fall.

“I swear to god, Mahira,” he grumbled, slipping an arm around her waist for support.

She gave him a small, almost apologetic glance before bending down slightly and picking up the scattered photos.

Aarush watched her, his frown deepening as she carefully placed each photo back into her bag.

Even now, when she could barely stand, she cared more about those photos than herself.

Something about that made his chest tighten.

“Let’s go,” she whispered.

With a sigh, he helped her out of the room, keeping her steady as they moved.

By the time they reached his car, she was already exhausted. Aarush opened the door, gently helping her sit inside before shutting it and circling to the driver’s side.

As he started the engine, he glanced at her. “Where do you live?”

Mahira leaned her head against the window, blinking slowly. She gave him the directions in a tired voice, her strength clearly fading.

Aarush didn’t say anything—he just drove.

The journey was mostly silent, except for Mahira’s soft breaths and the occasional wince when the car hit a bump. Aarush kept glancing at her, concern growing by the second.

When they finally reached her house, he parked the car and got out.

Mahira moved to step out too, but before she could—

Aarush picked her up.

She gasped, her fingers instinctively clutching onto his shirt. “Aarush Sir—”

“Shut up,” he muttered, walking toward the door without hesitation.

Mahira’s face burned.

She wasn’t expecting this. Not at all.

But she didn’t have the strength to argue.

With her heart pounding in her chest, she simply let him carry her inside.

ꨄ

Aarush pushed open the door with his foot, still holding Mahira securely in his arms.

Her weight was nothing to him, but the way she barely moved, the occasional pained breath leaving her lips, made something tighten in his chest.

He stepped inside her dimly lit house, glancing around briefly before she whispered, “Bedroom… take me to my bedroom.”

He didn’t argue. He just followed her directions, carrying her toward the room she pointed at.

Once inside, he gently set her down on the bed. She winced slightly as she adjusted herself, but then, with slow movements, she reached for something under her bed.

Aarush raised an eyebrow as she pulled out a small metal box.

“What’s that?” he asked, crossing his arms.

She placed the box on her lap and exhaled, looking up at him. “A first aid kit.”

Aarush narrowed his eyes. “Mahira—”

“I told you, the wound isn’t deep,” she cut him off. “It didn’t touch my heart.”

“That doesn’t mean you can treat it yourself!” he snapped. “We have to go to the hospital.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll handle it.”

Aarush clenched his jaw, inhaling sharply. “You just got shot.”

She sighed and glanced down at the kit. “I know… but I have to take out the bullet first.”

He stilled. His body tensed. “What?”

She met his eyes. “It’s still inside me.”

Aarush’s breath hitched. His hands clenched into fists. “Mahira—”

“I need to do it now,” she interrupted. “If I leave it in for too long, it’ll get worse.”

Aarush’s mind raced, but before he could protest again, she gently placed a hand on his wrist.

“Please,” she whispered. “Trust me. I'm a doctor.”

His jaw ticked. He hated this. Hated the idea of her going through this alone.

But something in her gaze—something determined, yet vulnerable—made him sigh.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m staying here.”

Mahira immediately shook her head. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

She exhaled. “I can’t do it if you’re here.”

Aarush frowned, crossing his arms. “Why not?”

She averted her gaze, biting her lip. “Because… it’s going to hurt. A lot. And if you’re here… I’ll hesitate.”

Aarush’s chest tightened. She didn’t want him to see her in pain.

He exhaled, rubbing his face. “Fine,” he muttered. “But if you take too long, I’m coming in.”

She gave him a weak nod, and with one last glance, he turned and stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

ꨄ

Inside, Mahira took a deep breath, placing the first aid kit beside her. She opened it with trembling hands, pulling out a sterilized knife and tweezers.

Her heart pounded.

Oh God.

She pressed the tweezers against the wound, taking a sharp breath.

Just do it. Just do it.

She pushed in.

The moment the metal touched the bullet, blinding pain shot through her.

She let out a loud gasp, her hands shaking.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered, tears pooling in her eyes. “Oh God, oh God, oh God!”

Her whole body trembled.

“It hurts, it hurts, oh my God, there’s a bullet in me—”

Tears streamed down her face as she let out a muffled sob.

She sucked in a breath and tried again, biting down on her lip so hard that she tasted blood.

The tweezers finally caught the bullet, and she yanked it out—

“Aahhh!!” she screamed, her voice breaking.

Her hands were shaking so much that she almost dropped the bullet.

Tears blurred her vision.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she gasped, staring at the small metal piece covered in her own blood.

Her entire body felt weak.

She sniffled, blinking rapidly.

Stitch it. You have to stitch it.

ꨄ

Her hands barely functioned as she picked up the needle and thread, her breath shuddering.

She pressed the needle against her skin—

The needle touched her wound, and Mahira squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the bedsheet with her free hand.

Her breathing was ragged, her body trembling from the sheer agony as she pushed the needle through her torn flesh.

Her lips wobbled as she muttered, “Oh my God… oh my God… it hurts so much.”

A broken sob left her mouth as she pulled the thread, sealing the wound bit by bit.

Knock. Knock.

“Mahira?” Aarush’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Are you done?”

Mahira sniffled, blinking away her tears. “Y-Yeah… C-Come in.”

The door swung open, and Aarush stepped inside.

The moment he saw her tear-streaked face, his chest clenched. His gaze dropped to her shoulder, where fresh stitches gleamed under the dim lighting, and his breath hitched.

His jaw tightened as he rushed toward her, kneeling in front of her.

“What the hell, Mahira?!” His voice was sharp, his hands hovering over her.

She let out a weak chuckle, wiping her tears. “I told you… I can handle it.”

“Handle it?!” Aarush snapped. “You look like you just survived a damn battlefield! You—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “God, Mahira.”

Mahira smiled faintly, but the moment she shifted, pain shot through her, and she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

Aarush immediately placed his hands on her arms, steadying her. “Don’t move,” he murmured.

Mahira bit her lip, blinking up at him.

His fingers brushed her cheek, wiping away the stray tears. “You cried,” he whispered.

Mahira swallowed hard. “It hurt.”

Aarush sighed, his grip on her tightening. “I told you to go to the hospital.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“You’re too damn stubborn.”

Mahira gave him a small smile. “You just realized that?”

Aarush rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched. “Idiot.”

He grabbed the first aid kit, pulling out antiseptic. “At least let me clean this up properly.”

Mahira nodded.

Aarush carefully dabbed the wound with a cotton pad, his fingers gentle. Mahira winced, but she stayed still.

As he worked, his voice softened. “Mahira.”

“Hm?”

Aarush hesitated for a moment before finally saying, “You scared me.”

Mahira blinked, her heart skipping a beat.

“I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Mahira stared at him, warmth blooming in her chest.

She lifted a trembling hand, barely grazing his fingers. “You won’t,” she murmured.

Aarush exhaled, his gaze locking with hers.

His hand lingered on her skin, his touch warm and steady.

Mahira didn’t move away.... she didn’t want to.

ꨄ

After he was finished, Mahira sat on the bed, sniffling as she held a piece of gauze against her freshly stitched shoulder.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips trembling as she hugged her knees, looking like a scared kitten.

Aarush leaned against the dresser, watching her with an amused smile. "You okay?"

Mahira glared at him, sniffling. "Do I look okay to you?!"

Aarush bit back a chuckle. "You did just stitch yourself up like a badass."

"Badass?!" Mahira huffed, wiping her nose. "I was crying like a baby! I was saying 'oh my God' on repeat!"

Aarush grinned. "Yeah, I noticed."

Mahira pouted, hugging her knees tighter. "I… I saw a gun, Aarush!" Her voice wobbled.

"And… and then the BANG happened! And—" She covered her face with her hands. "I swear my soul left my body for a second!"

Aarush finally let out a chuckle. "Yeah, you looked like you saw a ghost."

Mahira peeked through her fingers. "I almost became one!"

Aarush rolled his eyes, stepping closer. "Drama queen."

Mahira gasped, offended. "Excuse me?! A BULLET WENT THROUGH ME!" She pointed to her bandaged shoulder. "You see this? This is not drama! This is trauma!"

Aarush shook his head, sitting beside her. "You survived, Mahira. You're okay now."

Mahira sniffled, leaning her head against his arm. "Barely!"

Aarush sighed dramatically. "Poor you."

Mahira nodded. "Yes! Poor me!" She shivered slightly. "I was so scared."

Aarush softened, looking down at her. "I know."

Mahira clutched his sleeve. "I thought I was gonna die. I didn’t even get to eat my gulab jamuns yesterday!"

Aarush blinked, then burst out laughing. "That's what you were thinking about?!"

Mahira pouted. "Food is important!"

Aarush shook his head, amused. "You're impossible."

Mahira huffed, resting her head back on his arm. "And I didn’t even get to scream dramatically before fainting!"

Aarush chuckled. "You wanted to faint dramatically?"

"Yes! but no! I just fell like a potato!"

Aarush laughed harder. "A potato?!"

Mahira nodded seriously. "Yes! A useless, lifeless potato!"

Aarush wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, shaking his head. "You're the cutest bullet victim I've ever seen."

Mahira sniffled, crossing her arms. "That's not a compliment."

Aarush smiled, nudging her gently. "It is when I say it."

Mahira looked up at him, her pout still in place, but her cheeks turned slightly pink.

Aarush raised an eyebrow. "Still scared?"

Mahira hesitated before nodding. "A little."

ꨄ

Aarush looked down at Mahira, who was still curled up against him, her fingers gripping his sleeve like a child afraid of letting go.

His amusement faded slightly as he remembered the moment before she lost consciousness.

His voice was gentle but firm. "Mahira… what you said earlier… about being Mahima's sister… was that true?"

Mahira's breath hitched. Her fingers tensed against his sleeve, and she froze completely.

The room, which was filled with her dramatic complaints just moments ago, suddenly felt too quiet.

Aarush felt her hesitation. "Mahira?"

She swallowed hard but didn't say a word.

Aarush sighed. "You can’t just drop a bomb like that and expect me to forget it."

Mahira slowly pulled away from him, her gaze fixed on her lap. "I—I was weak… I didn't mean to say that…"

"You didn’t mean to say that?" Aarush raised an eyebrow. "Mahira, you were barely conscious. People don’t just say random things when they’re half-dead."

Mahira bit her lip, avoiding his eyes. "It was nothing…"

Aarush exhaled, rubbing his face. "*Mahira, just tell me the truth.**"

She shook her head, gripping her injured shoulder as if it was some kind of shield. "I can’t."

Aarush narrowed his eyes. "Can’t or won’t?"

Mahira's lips parted, but no words came out.

"Mahira…" Aarush’s tone softened. "Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know one thing—you're hiding something. And after what happened today, you can’t afford to keep secrets anymore."

Mahira squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. "I just… I can’t talk about it, Aarush sir. Not yet."

Aarush sighed again, leaning back. "Fine."

Mahira blinked, surprised that he wasn’t pushing further. "Fine?"

"Yeah." Aarush shrugged. "I’ll wait. But just know—" he met her eyes, "I’m not stupid. And I won’t stop asking until I get the truth."

Mahira felt a lump in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was fear… or something else. "Sir…"

"Get some rest, Mahira." Aarush stood up, his face unreadable. "We'll talk when you're ready."

Mahira watched as he walked toward the door, and before she could stop herself, she whispered, "Leave me."

Aarush had barely taken two steps when Mahira’s voice stopped him.

His brows furrowed, and he turned to face her. "What?"

Mahira clenched her fists, her breathing uneven. "I said, leave me. Don't ever meet me again."*

Aarush's confusion deepened. "Mahira, what the hell are you talking about?"

She stood up suddenly, wobbling a little but holding herself firm. "Just go, Aarush sir! You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have ever gotten involved with me!"

Aarush's jaw tightened. "And why exactly is that?"

"Because I'm not good for you!" Mahira shouted, her voice shaking. "I'm a mess! I don’t belong with people like you!"

Aarush took slow steps toward her. "People like me? And what kind of person am I, Mahira?"

"Someone kind!" she yelled, tears brimming in her eyes. "Someone who helps others, someone who protects, someone who actually cares! You don’t deserve to have someone like me ruining your life!"

Aarush scoffed, crossing his arms. "Oh, so you’re ruining my life now? That's new."

"I'm serious, Aarush sir!" Mahira snapped, stepping back. "I bring trouble, danger—look at what happened today! I was shot! I bled! And the worst part? That wasn’t even the first time!"

Aarush froze, his eyes narrowing. "What did you just say?"

Mahira bit her lip, realizing she had said too much. She turned away. "It doesn’t matter."

Aarush grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly. "No, it does matter. It matters to me."

Mahira yanked her hand away. "And that's exactly why you need to leave! You care too much, Aarush sir! And one day, it'll get you hurt because of me!"

His body tensed, frustration growing in his chest. "So your solution is to push me away? Just like that?"

Mahira squeezed her eyes shut. "Yes!"

"No." Aarush’s voice was quiet but firm. "I’m not going anywhere."

Mahira's eyes snapped open, full of desperation. "Sir—"

"Enough." His voice was sharper now, his patience running thin. "You don’t get to decide that for me, Mahira. I’m not some lost puppy that follows you around just because I have nothing better to do. I’m here because I choose to be."

"Then you're making the wrong choice!" Mahira nearly screamed. "I'm not worth it, Aarush sir!"

Aarush took a step closer, closing the distance between them. "And who the hell are you to decide that?"

His voice was dangerously low now, his eyes locked onto hers. "You don’t get to tell me what’s good for me. You don’t get to decide who I care about. And you definitely don’t get to tell me to leave when I damn well know that you don’t want me to."

Mahira’s breath hitched. She looked away, shaking her head. "You... You have to leave. You have to forget me."

Aarush narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. "Why, Mahira?"

She clenched her fists, her expression unreadable. "Because I don’t like you."

Silence.

Aarush stared at her, searching her face for any sign of hesitation, any crack in her words.

But Mahira held her ground, her lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze steady.

He let out a scoff, tilting his head. "You don’t like me?"

"No." Her voice was firm, emotionless.

Aarush chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head. "That’s funny, because last I checked, people don’t usually risk their lives for someone they don’t like."

"That was just the situation!" she snapped. "I would have done that for anyone!"

"Really?" Aarush challenged, stepping even closer. "So if it were Rishi, or some random stranger in my place, you would’ve acted the same way?"

"Yes." She lied through her teeth.

Aarush stared at her, jaw tightening. "Say it again."

Mahira blinked. "What?"

"Look me in the eye and say it again." His voice was low, steady. "Say that you don’t like me."

Mahira swallowed but didn’t waver. "I don’t like you."

Aarush held her gaze for a long moment, searching for something—anything. But Mahira was stubborn. She refused to let even a flicker of truth show on her face.

Finally, he let out a deep breath, nodding slowly. "Alright."

She blinked, slightly taken aback by how easily he accepted it. "Alright?"

"Yeah." Aarush took a step back. "If you don’t like me, then I won’t force you."

For a second, something inside her twisted. She had expected more resistance, more arguing. But he was… stepping away.

"Good," she said, forcing herself to stay indifferent.

"But one thing, Mahira." Aarush’s voice made her pause. He smirked slightly, but there was no humor in his eyes. "If you think I’m going to stop caring just because of a few words, then you don’t know me at all."

Mahira’s breath caught in her throat.

"You can push me away as much as you want," he continued, his gaze sharp. "But I know you, Mahira. And I know that you’re lying."

Her fingers curled into fists, but she stayed silent.

"I won’t force you to admit it," Aarush said, his voice softer now. "But just know one thing…"

He leaned slightly, just enough for her to catch the warmth in his eyes. "I’m not going anywhere."

Mahira’s heart pounded, but she kept her face blank. She had to.

"We’ll see about that," she muttered, turning away.

Aarush smirked slightly. "Yes, we will."

Aarush watched her for a moment longer, his gaze unreadable. Then, without another word, he stepped back.

Mahira kept her back to him, her fingers gripping the edge of her dress as she forced herself to stay still, to not turn around, to not stop him.

She heard his footsteps, steady and unhurried, moving toward the door.

Then—he paused.

"Take care of yourself, Mahira," he said quietly. There was no teasing in his tone this time, no amusement. Just something soft… something that made her chest tighten.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

The door opened.

And then—he was gone.

Mahira finally exhaled, her shoulders slumping. She glanced down at her hands. They were shaking.

She had done the right thing. She had to push him away.

But then why… why did it feel so wrong?

ꨄ

Mahima gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

The engine roared as she pushed the accelerator, the speedometer climbing higher and higher.

She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything right now.

The wind whipped through her hair as she sped through the roads, her vision almost blurring from the sheer force of emotions raging inside her.

Hatred.

Anger.

Confusion.

Betrayal.

Sister?

The word felt foreign, unnatural, wrong.

She didn’t know how long she had been driving, but eventually, her hands turned the wheel almost on their own, guiding her up the familiar winding path leading to the hilltop.

The place where she always went when her emotions were too loud to silence.

The car screeched to a stop near the edge. Mahima slammed the door shut behind her and walked forward, her boots crunching against the gravel.

She sat down heavily on the ground, her arms resting on her knees, her gaze fixed ahead at nothing.

The sky stretched endlessly before her, the sun dipping low on the horizon, casting an orange glow.

But she didn’t see it. Her mind was a mess, tangled with thoughts she didn’t want to process.

Behind her, another car pulled up.

Rishi had been searching for her everywhere, but deep down, he knew where she would be.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel before he cut the engine and got out.

He saw her, sitting there, completely still. Too still.

With a quiet sigh, he walked toward her.

“You drive like a maniac, you know that?” His voice was calm, but she didn’t respond.

Rishi sat down beside her, not too close, but not too far either. They sat in silence for a while, only the wind making any noise between them.

Finally, he spoke again.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Mahima scoffed, shaking her head. “Thinking? No. Trying to erase her from my mind? Yes.”

Rishi sighed. “Mahima—”

“She’s not my sister,” Mahima cut him off, her voice sharp. “She’s not. I don’t care what she says. I don’t care what proof she has. I don’t care about her at all.”

Rishi just watched her, letting her spill out the storm inside.

“She followed me, Rishi. She was watching me! Who does that? What does she want from me?” Her voice rose.

“Why now? Why show up now and claim to be my sister? I don't have any sister. I was alone, and I accepted that. And now she comes along and—”

Her voice cracked, but she swallowed it down, her jaw tightening.

Rishi exhaled slowly. “Maybe she just wants her sister back.”

Mahima let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t need her. I never did.”

Rishi looked at her, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly, he asked, “Then why are you running?”

Mahima’s body tensed.

“You can say you don’t care, but the way you stormed out, the way you drove here like you were trying to outrun something…” He shook his head. “That doesn’t look like someone who doesn’t care.”

Silence.

Mahima didn’t look at him.

Rishi sighed and leaned back on his hands, staring at the sky. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. But maybe… just maybe… don’t push away something that could finally bring you peace.”

Mahima clenched her fists. She wanted to scream at him, tell him he was wrong, tell him she didn’t need peace because she was fine.

ꨄ

Rishi sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to Mahima. "Mahima… is she really your sister?"

Mahima let out a harsh laugh, tilting her head to look at him. “How the hell should I know?”

Her voice was sharp, biting. "But if she is—" her eyes darkened, jaw tightening, "I hate her."

Rishi frowned. “Why?”

Mahima clenched her fists. “Because—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Because she shouldn’t exist. She doesn’t get to exist.”

Rishi was taken aback. He had expected anger, maybe even regret for shooting Mahira.

But hatred? Pure, unfiltered hatred? That was something else.

"Mahima… are you—" he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "feeling guilty about what happened back there?"

She turned to him with an icy glare. "Guilty?" She scoffed.

"You think I'm guilty?" She let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. "No, Rishi. I'm glad. And if I had to, I'd do it again."

Rishi froze. His stomach twisted as he saw nothing but hatred in her eyes. It wasn't a mask, not an act. She meant it.

"Mahima," he said carefully, "what happened? Why do you hate her so much?"

She exhaled slowly, her voice dropping lower. “You really want to know?”

He nodded.

She leaned back, staring at the horizon, the wind blowing through her hair. Then, she spoke.

"I am an orphan, Rishi. Did you know that?"

Rishi stiffened but said nothing.

"My mother left me—abandoned me—the day I was born," Mahima continued, her voice raw.

"She didn't even have the decency to leave me with a name. Just a damn letter with only one word—Mahima."

She let out a bitter laugh. "That’s all. No ‘I’m sorry.’ No ‘I love you.’ Just my name, as if that was enough.”

Rishi stayed silent.

“I grew up knowing one thing—I was unwanted.” Her fingers dug into the ground.

“I hated my mother. I hated her so damn much. And my father? He didn’t even exist for me. My family? They were nothing but faceless ghosts who threw me away without a second thought.”

She inhaled sharply, her eyes burning with something dark. “And now, after all these years, after I built my own damn life, some bitch walks in and claims to be my sister? And I’m just supposed to accept that?”

Rishi finally spoke. “Mahima—”

“No.” She cut him off. "Tell me, Rishi, if she’s my sister, then why did my mother keep her and not me?”

Her voice cracked, but she masked it with venom. "Why did she get a family, a home, and I got nothing?"

Rishi didn't have an answer.

Mahima let out a slow breath, her hands trembling slightly. "So no, Rishi. I won’t love her. I won’t forgive her. And I sure as hell won’t feel guilty for pulling that trigger.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Rishi stared at her, seeing the cracks in her anger—the pain she was trying so hard to hide. But for now, he didn’t push.

Because Mahima wasn’t ready to face the truth.

Not yet.

ꨄ

Everything they knew shattered in a heartbeat, leaving only uncertainty behind.