97. Healing in His Arms

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Aaryansh woke up to an unnerving emptiness.

His arms, which had cradled Amrita the whole night, now lay across the cold mattress.

His brows furrowed as he turned, reaching out only to find the space beside him deserted.

Frowning, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He scanned the room, expecting to see her standing near the window or sitting in a corner with her arms crossed like she usually did after a restless night. But the room was eerily silent.

Something was wrong.

He threw the blanket aside and stood up. "Buttercup?" he called, his voice rough from sleep. No answer.

His jaw clenched. He checked the bathroom. Empty.

The balcony. Empty.

Every corner of the room was empty.

A heavy feeling settled in his chest.

His wife, his lioness, was missing.

Without wasting another second, he stepped out of the room. The moment he did, he froze-not because of what he saw, but because of who he saw.

Rudraksh. Daksh. Aditya.

All three of them were standing in the hallway, looking around frantically. And the second their eyes met, they knew.

Their wives were gone.

No one needed to say it out loud.

Daksh frowned. "Where the hell would they go this early?"

Rudraksh's jaw ticked, his mind working fast. "Together. They're definitely together."

Aaryansh inhaled deeply, forcing himself to think logically. "They left without telling anyone." His voice was calm, but there was an undeniable urgency beneath it.

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The atmosphere was heavy, suffocating.

Under the pale morning sun, four women stood in the heart of the cemetery, surrounded by old gravestones and wilted flowers. The wind was cold, but none of them seemed to care.

Ishika stood motionless, her fingers gripping Divya's arm so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Tears slid silently down her face, but she didn't make a sound.

Divya, on the other hand, was breaking apart. Her body shook as she clutched Ishika's shoulders, her sobs muffled but relentless.

It was as if she was trying to keep herself together, but failing miserably.

And then, there was Amrita and Ananya.

Ananya was crying quietly, her face buried against Amrita's shoulder. She held on tightly, her grip firm, desperate.

Amrita, however, was completely still. She didn't cry. Didn't tremble. Didn't break.

She simply stood there, holding Ananya close, her dark eyes staring ahead at the gravestones.

There was something about her stillness that was unsettling.

It wasn't calmness. It wasn't acceptance.

It was pain. A pain so deeply buried that it no longer showed on her face but echoed in the silence of her body.

She didn't cry.

Because she had cried enough in the past.

She didn't scream.

Because she had lost her voice long ago.

But the storm inside her was roaring.

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The car pulled up to the grand Raghuwanshi Palace, its towering structure standing against the pale morning sky.

Silence hung heavy as Divya, Ananya, and Ishika stepped out, their movements slow, their eyes red from the weight of emotions they had left behind.

The journey back had been wordless. No one spoke. No one needed to.

Divya was the first to enter, followed by Ananya, both disappearing into the warmth of the palace.

Ishika stood at the entrance, frozen in place.

Her eyes lingered on the driveway where Amrita still sat inside the car, hands gripping the steering wheel. She wasn't looking at Ishika. She wasn't looking at anything.

She was just... breathing.

Ishika's fists clenched at her sides. A lump formed in her throat as she took a hesitant step forward.

"Ritu," she called softly.

No response.

Amrita simply exhaled, then finally turned her head. Her dark eyes met Ishika's, and for a moment, there was understanding.

No words were exchanged.

And then, Amrita sighed and stepped out of the car.

She closed the door with a quiet thud before walking up to Ishika. There was no hesitation in her movements when she pulled Ishika into her arms.

The second Ishika felt Amrita's warmth, her restraint shattered.

A broken sob tore from her lips as she gripped Amrita tightly, her body trembling with each breath. Tears fell freely, uncontrollably.

Amrita held her through it all.

She didn't speak, didn't shush her. She simply ran her hand over Ishika's back, soothing her with her presence.

Ishika cried until she couldn't anymore. Until her breaths turned into hiccups, until exhaustion settled into her bones.

And when she finally pulled away, Amrita gave her a small nod.

"Go inside," she murmured.

Ishika sniffled, wiping at her eyes. Then, she turned and walked in.

Amrita didn't follow.

She turned on her heel, got back into the car, and drove away.

She needed to be alone.

She needed space.

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The grand doors of the palace opened, and the moment Ishika stepped inside, she was greeted with the sight of Mahima.

Mahima's brows furrowed as she took in the three girls-their tear-streaked faces, their lost expressions, their exhaustion.

She didn't ask what happened. She didn't need to.

Her arms opened, and before Divya or Ananya could react, she pulled them both into a warm, tight embrace.

The moment they felt her touch, their walls cracked again.

Ananya clutched onto Mahima's saree, burying her face in her shoulder, while Divya shut her eyes, letting herself be held like a child.

A few seconds later, Geeta and Rukmini joined them.

They surrounded the girls, holding them, offering silent comfort.

It was a picture of warmth amidst a storm.

A promise that no matter how lost they felt, they were never alone.

After a long moment, Mahima cupped their faces, wiping their tears away.

"Go freshen up," she said softly. "Take some rest."

The three girls nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. Without another word, they made their way upstairs.

But, another storm was brewing.

Aaryansh had barely stepped outside before his gaze started scanning the entire palace.

His wife wasn't here.

He knew it.

Something inside him twisted painfully.

He walked straight to Ishika, his eyes sharp. "Where is she, Bhabhi?"

Ishika hesitated for a second, then met his gaze.

"She didn't come in," she admitted.

Aaryansh stilled.

His fists clenched at his sides. His jaw tightened.

His heart-his very soul-roared in protest.

Amrita was out there, alone.

And he wasn't going to let that happen.

Aaryansh took a step toward the door when Ishika's voice stopped him.

"She'll be at the temple."

He turned to look at her, his stormy gaze locking onto hers.

She was exhausted. Completely drained.

But she still knew Amrita better than anyone.

Aaryansh inhaled sharply and gave a single nod before turning on his heel. Within seconds, he was gone.

Ishika, however, didn't move.

She stood in the hallway, staring at the door long after it had shut.

Then, slowly, almost mechanically, she turned and walked to her room.

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As soon as Ishika entered her room, she let out a deep sigh.

Her fingers reached for her dupatta, and she pulled it off, tossing it aside.

She sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in her lap, shoulders heavy with the weight of the morning.

And then...

She heard him.

A soft, familiar voice.

"Dil," he called.

Ishika lifted her head, startled.

Rudraksh stood in the doorway, his usual confident smirk nowhere to be seen. His eyes held something softer... something unspoken.

He stepped inside and walked toward her, his movements slow, calculated.

And then, to her surprise, he knelt in front of her.

She blinked. "Rudraksh ji-"

He didn't let her finish.

His hands came up, gently brushing away the tears she didn't even realize were still on her cheeks.

"You're crying," he murmured.

Ishika let out a weak scoff. "And you're stating the obvious."

Rudraksh hummed. "I do that sometimes."

Her lips twitched. But she didn't smile.

He sighed and rested his hands on her knees. "I hate seeing you like this, Dil."

She looked away. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

She stayed silent.

Rudraksh tilted his head. "You know... I was thinking," he started, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Ishika narrowed her gaze. "About what?"

"About how scary you looked when you were mad at me last time."

Her brows furrowed. "What-"

"And how I swore I'd never make you that mad again because, Dil, I genuinely thought you were going to murder me."

Silence.

A beat passed.

Then-

A small, breathy laugh escaped her lips.

It was barely there, just a tiny sound, but he heard it.

Rudraksh grinned. "There it is."

Ishika rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."

"And you love it."

She shook her head, but this time, she was smiling.

And Rudraksh was just watching her.

Watching the way the weight on her shoulders seemed to ease, even if just for a moment.

He reached up, cupping her cheek once more, his thumb grazing her skin.

"Listen to me," he said, voice softer now. "Whatever happens, I'm here. Always."

Ishika's throat tightened.

But she nodded.

He leaned in, pressing the softest, most delicate kiss to her forehead before pulling her into his arms.

And for the first time that day, Ishika let herself relax.

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Ananya stepped into her room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring blankly at nothing in particular.

She felt empty.

Exhausted.

Broken.

Tears pricked her eyes again, but she blinked them back. No more crying. She was done crying.

But then-

A shadow moved.

She turned her head slightly, her vision landing on the man who had been waiting for her.

Aditya.

He stood near the bed, his piercing gaze never leaving her face. He must've been watching her ever since she entered, waiting for her to say something.

But she didn't.

Because the moment she saw him-

Her walls crumbled.

Without a second thought, she rushed forward and threw herself into his arms.

"Adityaaaa," she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest.

His arms immediately wrapped around her, pulling her close, his warmth seeping into her cold skin.

"Kitten," he sighed, relieved to finally have her in his arms. "It's okay, sweetheart. I've got you."

She clung to him even tighter. "Don't let go."

"Never," he promised, pressing his lips against her hair.

She trembled, fists tightening against his shirt. "I-I don't know why, but I feel so... so..."

"Lost?" he finished for her.

She nodded.

Aditya exhaled, his grip on her tightening. He understood.

She had just visited a place that held pieces of her heart. A place that carried memories, grief, loss.

And now, she was trying to put herself back together.

"Shhh, my cat," he whispered, swaying her gently. "You're safe. You're home."

Ananya bit her lip. "I hate this feeling."

"I know."

"I don't want to feel like this anymore."

Aditya pulled away slightly, just enough to cup her face in his hands.

"You won't," he assured her. "Not alone, at least. I'll be right here. Always."

She sniffled. "Even if I annoy you?"

His lips curled. "Even then."

She pouted. "Even if I throw pillows at you?"

A soft chuckle escaped him. "Even then."

She narrowed her eyes. "Even if I steal your blanket at night?"

Aditya let out a low laugh, resting his forehead against hers. "Ananya," he murmured, his voice drenched in love.

"You can steal every blanket in this palace, but you'll never have to steal my warmth. Because it's already yours."

Silence.

She blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly.

And then, she melted.

Ananya threw her arms around his neck, hugging him with all the strength she had left.

"That was the most romantic thing you've ever said to me," she mumbled against his shoulder.

Aditya smirked. "Oh? Should I say more?"

"Yes," she nodded rapidly.

Chuckling, he lifted her into his arms and walked toward the bed.

She curled into him like a child, her exhaustion finally catching up to her.

And as Aditya gently tucked her in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, he made himself a silent promise.

Everyday, no matter what, he would make sure she smiled.

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The silence of the Raghuwanshi Palace was deceptive. Though the walls stood still, unshaken by the storm of emotions raging inside, the hearts within them were anything but calm.

Divya had barely stepped into her room when she felt her shoulders drop, as if the weight she had been carrying was suddenly too much.

Her hands trembled slightly as she removed her dupatta, letting it fall onto the chair. She wasn't crying. She didn't have any tears left.

But her heart... it was aching.

As she stood near the window, looking at the sky, she felt a presence behind her.

She knew who it was before even turning around.

Daksh.

She didn't need to see him to know he was there. His presence alone was a shield, a warmth, a grounding force.

She felt his arms wrap around her waist from behind, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder.

"You've been holding it in all day," his voice was soft, a whisper against her skin. "You don't have to."

Divya swallowed, shaking her head. "If I let go... I don't know if I'll be able to stop."

Daksh sighed, pressing his lips to her temple. "Then don't stop. Just let it out."

That was all it took.

The floodgates broke.

Her body trembled as she turned in his embrace, burying her face in his chest, clutching his shirt like he was the only thing keeping her standing.

Daksh held her tighter, his fingers threading through her hair, whispering soft reassurances.

"It's not fair," she murmured, voice cracking.

"I know."

"It hurts, Daksh ji."

"I know, Honeypie," he whispered, his own heart aching at the pain in her voice. "But I've got you. Always."

Divya let out a shaky breath, her hands fisting his shirt. "I just... I just need you to hold me."

"You don't even have to ask," he murmured, lifting her up effortlessly.

He carried her to the bed, placing her down gently before joining her, wrapping her in his arms.

Divya curled into him, letting herself sink into his warmth.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in silence, wrapped in each other.

And then-

A small smile tugged at Daksh's lips.

"I have a secret," he murmured against her hair.

Divya sniffled, her voice muffled. "Hmm?"

Daksh pulled back slightly, tilting her chin up so she'd look at him.

"Today's not just any day," he whispered.

She frowned. "What?"

He chuckled, tapping her nose. "It's someone's birthday."

Divya blinked.

And then it hit her.

Her eyes widened.

"Ritu..." she whispered.

Daksh smirked. "Bingo."

Divya shot up from the bed. "Oh my god. It's her birthday. And I- I completely forgot-"

Daksh pulled her back down, laughing. "Relax. You're not the only one."

Divya groaned, burying her face in her hands. "But I need to prepare something for her."

"Nah," Daksh teased. "She's too busy being kidnapped by my brother right now."

Divya paused.

Then, she peeked up at him.

"Wait... what?"

Daksh grinned. "Aaryan has plans. And knowing him, he's going to make sure she has the best birthday ever."

A slow smile spread across Divya's lips.

She let out a deep breath, her shoulders finally relaxing.

"Then," she murmured, looking up at Daksh with warmth in her eyes, "I guess we should do our part too."

Daksh smirked. "That's my girl."

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The temple was silent, save for the occasional rustling of leaves outside and the distant sound of temple bells.

The scent of incense lingered in the air, wrapping the place in an eerie sense of calm.

Aaryansh walked inside, his steps light yet determined as he scanned the temple.

And there she was.

Sitting on the cold marble floor with her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them, Amrita sat motionless in front of the deity.

The golden glow from the oil lamps flickered against her face, highlighting the void of emotions she held.

She wasn't praying.

She wasn't crying.

She was just... staring.

Aaryansh sighed softly before making his way to her, settling down beside her without a word.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

She finally glanced at him-just for a second-before turning back to the idols in front of her.

"You left without telling anyone," he said quietly, breaking the silence.

She didn't respond.

"You could've at least woken me up," he tried again, his voice laced with forced nonchalance. "I would've brought you here."

Still, nothing.

Aaryansh exhaled, leaning back on his arms, looking at the same idols she was.

He knew Amrita.

He knew that silence didn't mean she wasn't listening.

She was just... resisting.

"You've been like this since morning," he said, tilting his head to glance at her. "You're shutting everyone out, Buttercup."

She remained still, her fingers tightening slightly around her arms.

Aaryansh frowned. "You're not even talking to Ishika bhabhi. You know how much she worries-"

"I don't want to talk," she cut in, her voice low but sharp.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You never do."

Amrita's jaw clenched, but she didn't snap back.

Aaryansh softened his tone. "Buttercup, I know what today is. I know what it means to you. But you don't have to keep it all inside."

She let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Crying makes you weak, Aarya."

His eyes narrowed. "Who told you that?"

She looked at him then, a tired, hollow look in her eyes. "I did."

Aaryansh exhaled slowly. "So, by that logic... you think Ishika bhabhi is weak?"

Her frown deepened. "No."

"Divya bhabhi?"

"No."

"Ananya?"

"Of course not."

He tilted his head, watching her. "But they cry, Buttercup. They break down. They grieve."

She looked away.

"They feel things deeply, and they don't pretend to be unaffected." He leaned forward slightly. "So why do you hold yourself to a different standard?"

Her throat bobbed, but she remained silent.

Aaryansh's voice was gentle but firm. "Why is it okay for them to cry, but not for you?"

She pressed her lips together, fists clenching against her knees.

"Because," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because what?" he prodded.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the emotions swelling, rising, threatening to spill.

And then-

"Because if I start," she whispered, "I am scared I will break."

Aaryansh's heart clenched at her broken voice.

She shook her head, her fingers digging into her skin. "Because if I let it out, Aaryansh, I won't be able to pull myself back together."

Her breathing became uneven.

"It hurts so much," she admitted, voice cracking. "It hurts, and I don't know how to make it stop."

Aaryansh had never seen her like this. Not Amrita. Not the cold, ruthless woman who never let her walls down.

But today, she was shattering before him.

And he refused to let her break alone.

He reached for her, gently pulling her into his arms.

She resisted for a moment, stiffening.

But then-

The dam broke.

Her fingers twisted into his shirt as she clung to him, her body trembling.

A choked sob tore through her lips.

Aaryansh held her tighter. "Let it out, baby," he whispered. "I've got you."

She sobbed into his chest, her body shaking violently.

"I miss him," she gasped between broken breaths. "I miss him so much, Aarya."

He pressed his lips to her hair, his own throat tight. "I know, Buttercup. I know."

"I don't even remember my mother's face," she admitted, her voice soaked in agony. "I try so hard, but I can't see her. I can't. And it-" She sucked in a sharp breath. "It's like she's slipping away, like she never existed. And I hate it. I hate it so much."

Aaryansh closed his eyes, his grip tightening around her.

"I can't remember things" she continued, voice shaking. "I lost so many memories. I lost pieces of myself. I lost them. And no matter how much I try to remember, it's all... gone."

Aaryansh hated this.

He hated that he couldn't turn back time, that he couldn't take her pain away.

But he could do one thing.

He could make sure she never felt alone in it.

"You are not alone in this, Buttercup," he murmured against her hair. "Not anymore."

She sobbed harder, her fingers clutching him like he was her last anchor to reality.

Aaryansh held her through it all.

Through every broken breath.

Through every trembling sob.

Through every shattered piece of her heart.

And in that moment, he made a promise to himself.

Today would not be a sad day for her.

He would make sure of it.

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Amrita's sobs slowly quieted, her breathing still uneven, but the storm within her had begun to settle.

Aaryansh didn't let go, though.

Even when her hands loosened their grip on his shirt, even when her trembling body stilled against him, he continued to hold her close.

She was still so fragile in this moment, her pain still raw and heavy.

He let his fingers trail through her hair, his hand smoothing down her back as her breathing steadied.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Her face was still buried against his chest, and he felt the dampness of her tears soak through his shirt. But he didn't care.

When she finally pulled back slightly, her face was red, her eyelashes clumped together from the tears, and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but didn't know what.

Aaryansh lifted his hand and gently cupped her cheek, his thumb wiping away the remaining tears.

"Done?" he asked softly.

She nodded weakly.

He let out a breath and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Good."

Amrita exhaled slowly, looking anywhere but at him, her fingers still unconsciously gripping the fabric of his shirt.

Aaryansh tilted his head, watching her. "Did you take blessings from God?"

She blinked at him, her lips parting, then closed them again, shaking her head slightly.

Aaryansh sighed dramatically. "Unbelievable. You came all the way here, sat in front of God for so long, and didn't even pray?"

Amrita glanced away, her fingers playing with the ends of her dupatta. "I wasn't in the mood," she mumbled.

He let out a short chuckle. "Come on," he said, standing up and offering his hand. "We're doing it now."

She hesitated for a moment before placing her hand in his.

Aaryansh pulled her up, steadying her as she stood, and without letting go of her hand, he led her toward the deity.

The temple was still quiet, the soft scent of flowers and incense lingering in the air as they approached the idol.

The pandit looked up as they stood before the idol and offered a warm smile. "Ah, beta, you're here early today."

Amrita gave a small nod, while Aaryansh greeted him respectfully.

The pandit took a small brass plate with flowers, a diya, and prasad before beginning the aarti.

Aaryansh joined his hands together, bowing his head.

Amrita hesitated for a second before mirroring his actions.

As the pandit recited the prayers, Aaryansh stole a glance at her.

Her eyes were focused on the idol, her expression unreadable.

But she wasn't emotionless anymore.

There was something different about her now.

She looked... lighter.

The heavy weight of grief still lingered, but for the first time, she looked like she was breathing again.

When the prayer ended, the pandit dipped his fingers into the small plate of kumkum and applied a tilak to both of their foreheads before handing them prasad.

"May God bless you both," he said warmly.

Amrita accepted the prasad quietly, her fingers grazing Aaryansh's when he took his portion.

"Thank you, Pandit Ji," Aaryansh said, nodding in respect.

Amrita bowed slightly as well before they turned to leave.

The temple steps were cool against their feet as they made their way outside.

Aaryansh placed the prasad in Amrita's hand. "Eat."

She rolled her eyes, but took a small bite nonetheless.

As they reached the car, he opened the door for her, and she slipped inside.

Aaryansh got in and started the engine, the low hum filling the silence between them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then-

"Thank you," she murmured.

Aaryansh glanced at her, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "For what?"

"For..." She hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of her dupatta. "For being here."

He didn't say anything for a second, then reached over and ruffled her hair.

"You can thank me by not running off alone next time," he said.

She swatted his hand away with a glare, but there was no real annoyance in her eyes.

Aaryansh chuckled and focused back on the road, a small warmth settling in his chest.

She was still hurting.

But at least, now, she wasn't hurting alone.

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As Aaryansh and Amrita stepped inside the Raghuwanshi Palace, the warmth of the grand chandelier bathed the hall in a soft golden glow.

Everyone was already gathered in the living room-Geeta, Rukmini, Ishwar, Shravan, and the rest of the family.

Their conversations hushed the moment Amrita entered.

For a second, she stiffened under their gazes, unsure of what to expect. But then, Geeta's gentle smile softened everything.

"Amrita," she called, her voice tender yet firm.

Amrita blinked. "Ji?"

"Come here, beta," Geeta said, patting the space beside her.

Amrita hesitated for just a second before walking toward her, the weight of the morning still lingering in her steps.

As she sat down, Geeta took her hands in hers, squeezing them gently.

Then she looked up and called, "Ishika, Divya, Ananya. Come here, all of you."

The three girls, who had been quietly sitting with their husbands, exchanged glances before getting up and walking over.

Geeta made them sit around her, holding their hands like a mother gathering her daughters.

Rukmini, who had been sitting beside her, smiled softly. "It's time."

Amrita frowned. "Time for what?"

"For a promise," Geeta said, looking at all of them with warmth and determination. "A promise to stop grieving on this day."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected.

The four girls stiffened. Their throats tightened as their minds tried to process what she had just said.

Divya was the first to shake her head slightly. "But-"

"No buts, beta," Ishwar interrupted, his voice gentle yet firm. "You've all suffered enough. Your parents wouldn't have wanted you to spend every year mourning them like this."

"They would've wanted you to live," Shravan added, his gaze kind but unwavering. "To celebrate the life they gave you, not drown in sorrow."

Silence.

No one spoke for a long moment.

Amrita's fingers curled into her lap, her shoulders stiff. Her mind screamed at her to disagree, to say that it wasn't that easy, that grief wasn't something one could just let go of.

But then Geeta cupped her cheek, tilting her face up so that their eyes met.

"I know it hurts," she murmured. "And I know that no matter how much time passes, it will always hurt a little."

She turned to look at all of them, her voice steady yet filled with emotion.

"But if you keep mourning them like this, year after year, you're not honoring their memory. You're holding on to the pain instead of the love."

Tears brimmed in Ishika's eyes. "Maa..."

"They would want you to be happy," Rukmini added, her voice thick with emotion. "To laugh, to live, to celebrate the life they gave you."

A lump formed in Ananya's throat. She clutched her dupatta, looking down.

Geeta smiled and squeezed their hands. "So today, I want you to promise me. No more grieving on this day."

Divya's breath hitched. "But how?" she whispered.

Geeta's smile didn't waver. "By making it a day of love instead of sorrow."

Amrita's throat tightened. She wanted to argue. To say that it wasn't that simple.

But then, as she looked around at everyone-the love in their eyes, the warmth in their smiles-she realized something.

They weren't asking her to forget.

They were asking her to live.

And maybe... just maybe... it was time to try.

Geeta extended her hand, palm up. "Promise me, all of you."

One by one, Ishika, Divya, and Ananya placed their hands on hers, tears brimming in their eyes.

Amrita hesitated for a moment longer.

Then, finally, she placed her hand on top of theirs.

"I promise," she whispered.

A tear slipped down Geeta's cheek, but her smile never faltered.

Rukmini exhaled softly, reaching over to wipe Ishika's tears. "That's my girls."

Ishwar nodded approvingly. "From now on, this day is not one of grief but of love."

Shravan smiled and added, "And a little mischief, knowing you four."

A watery laugh escaped Ananya. "We can't help it."

Geeta chuckled and pulled them all into a warm hug, her arms wrapping around all four girls like a protective shield.

And for the first time in years, the weight on their chests felt just a little lighter.

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Mahima walked through the sterile white corridors of the hospital, her heels clicking softly against the cold tiles.

Her heart pounded in her chest, nerves bubbling in her stomach.

She had been searching about Mahira for weeks, but the girl had covered her tracks too well.

No trace of her past, no trail to follow-Mahira had been meticulous, almost as if she had vanished into thin air.

She paused outside her door, drawing in a deep breath before knocking lightly. A soft voice from inside said, "Come in."

Mahira was sitting by the window, lost in thought, when Mahima entered. She turned her head and blinked, clearly surprised.

"Ma'am?" Mahira's voice was cautious, unsure why Mahima was here.

Mahima swallowed the lump in her throat and took a hesitant step forward. "Mahira... I'm sorry."

Mahira's eyes widened. "Sorry?" she repeated, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Mahima nodded. "Yes. I should have believed you back then. I should have listened. And instead, I..." She swallowed.

"I accused you. I let you suffer alone. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I couldn't keep quiet about it any longer."

Mahira remained silent, her fingers gripping the blanket draped over her lap.

She seemed to be processing Mahima's words, her chest rising and falling with measured breaths.

Mahima stepped closer. "I let my fears control me. But no more. I couldn't find anything on you, Mahira. Not a single thing, because you've been too careful. And still, my heart tells me you're good, that you're family. That's what matters to me now."

Mahira's lips parted, but no words came out. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Mahima saw the disbelief, the hesitation, the longing for acceptance that Mahira had buried deep within herself.

Mahima softened. "And stop calling me 'ma'am.'"

Mahira blinked rapidly. "Then... what should I call you?" her voice trembled, as if afraid to hope.

Mahima smiled, though her own eyes were watery now. "Call me 'Didi.' You're my younger sister, after all."

Mahira let out a small gasp, covering her mouth with her hands as a tear slid down her cheek.

"Didi..." she whispered, testing the word as if it were the most fragile thing she had ever held.

Mahima reached forward, pulling Mahira into a hug. At first, Mahira froze, her body stiff with shock.

But then, slowly, she melted into the embrace, clutching onto Mahima tightly, as if afraid this moment would slip away.

"Thank you..." Mahira choked out, burying her face into Mahima's shoulder. "I never thought... I never believed that you..."

Mahima hushed her, gently rubbing her back. "I should've accepted you sooner. But I'm here now. And I won't let you go."

"I never hated you, Mahira," Mahima murmured. "I was just hurt."

She sighed, resting her chin lightly on Mahira's shoulder. "And I'll spend however long it takes making it up to you."

Mahira sniffled, nodding against Mahima's shoulder.

After a long moment, they pulled apart, both wiping their tears with small smiles.

Mahima took a deep breath and said, "Now, we have something important to do. It's Amrita's birthday today."

Mahira's eyes widened. "Today?"

Mahima nodded. "And I want you to come to the celebrations. I won't take no for an answer"

Mahira hesitated, glancing down at her hands before slowly nodding. "I'd love to come."

Mahima smiled. "Good. But before that... we have another task."

Mahira looked at her curiously. "Another task?"

Mahima crossed her arms. "We need to get her a gift. And since this is the first time we're doing something together, let's make sure it's perfect."

Mahira's eyes sparkled. "Shopping for a gift... together?"

Mahima nodded. "Yes, together. Sisters do that, don't they?"

Mahira wiped her tears away, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, they do."

A chuckle escaped Mahima's lips as she grabbed Mahira's hand. "Then let's go find the best gift for Ritu."

As they walked out of the hospital together, Mahira looked at Mahima with newfound admiration and warmth.

For the first time in a long while, her heart felt lighter. Mahima had found her again, and this time, she wasn't letting go.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

His touch didn't erase the past, but it made the present feel safe.💓✨