40 - Am I resentful person?(S2)

Just updating at least guys do votes and comment on this one.

Short note - to all the medical fields people are reading this , I have used my limited knowledge and internet sources to write this chapter if any way you find it, hilarious please acknowledge this fact, that I have barely knowledge of this field, and I came from pcm background, thanks 🙏🏻 👍🏻.

***

Niharika was hauntingly scared; the blood in her vessels was frozen, and her mind had stopped working, lagging behind as if refusing to process the situation. The fine hairs on her skin stood on end and a lone tear escaped from her eyes. She flinched as she felt its warmth against her cold skin. She began looking around cautiously in the narrow space, and then her eyes fell on an iron-angle rod-she took her time.

As she saw that all three were busy discussing something in the local accent of the same language her husband's family spoke, she couldn't understand much; but all the words that reached her ears felt threatening.

Slowly, She moved slightly, her legs trembling, and tried to grab that piece with her hands, but as she reached for it just a little, as fate would have it, it happened exactly as Niharika had always feared—Had things ever gone as Niharika wished?

Never. So why would they now, after all the mishaps?

This additional blunder was the cherry on top that ruined her day forever.

The iron rod she tried to retrieve was much heavier than she expected, and she missed it. All the junk, waste iron that was stored in a pile on top of it tumbled down with a heavy sound, and they all looked back at her. She looked both terrified and as if she were dying, struck with a moment of shock as her heart skipped a beat, Her limbs felt weak as if they were giving up on her. But in that moment of sheer panic, her survival instincts kicked in.

Without hesitating, she quickly reached for the iron rod again, yanking it from the pile. Some of the debris tumbled down, scraping her foot painfully. She bit her lip to stifle a cry, blinking back the sting of tears.

"Is it going to rain? Let's get this done fast," one of the men muttered, glancing at the sky before turning his focus back on her.

"What the hell are you trying to do? Can't even stand still?"

He stepped forward, cursing under his breath.

And then she struck.

Hitted with god-knows-what force, she never knew herself she had, Niharika swung the rod, hitting the man with all the strength her trembling arms could muster.

Where had this strength come from? Even she didn't know.

She dragged her injured leg slightly, hesitating for a moment, doubt creeping into her mind. But when another one of them lunged forward, reaching to grab her, she knew she had no choice.

She swung again, this time aiming for his head.

The man let out a pained yell, clutching his skull as pain surged through him.

Suddenly, a wave of weakness washed over her. Her vision blurred, her chest burned from lack of oxygen, her hand paralyzed and the iron rod slipped from her hands. She barely registered the fact that it had dropped dangerously close to her own foot, nearly almost digging into her flesh as it fell nearby, creating the loudest sound.

Niharika stood there, frozen, staring in shock.

She had hurt someone.

These hands-these hands that had only ever created art, that had always been careful, delicate, precise-had been used to inflict pain for the first time in her life.

She hesitantly, with wide eyes, stared at them, witnessing the harm she had caused just as the third man began to rise. She reached down to retrieve a typically old keypad phone she held in her palm-when the men grabbed her hands, She struggled violently, kicking with all her might, wrenching her arm free, and ran.

She ran with all her might, rubbing her hands near her cheeks, but then, terrified by her own hands, she moved them away from her face. She didn't know they had the power-or the strength-to cause harm to someone.

But it was all to protect herself. "Yes, to protect myself," she muttered through tears reassuring herself.

And as she ran, crying, her hair-which had once been styled beautifully in a half-open, cluttered arrangement adorned with a jasmine gajra-began to break apart on its own, strand by strand, like pearls freshly harvested from an oyster, mixing with the soil.

Despite the painful heels on her feet, she didn't stop.

But then, as she dared to glance over her shoulder, her soul crushed within her.

They were still following her.

***

Prithvi was madly looking for her, his eyes never leaving his GPS screen. He stopped his car where it showed her last location and stepped out rapidly, running in every direction, screaming her name into the empty air and spaces.

Finding no one, he searched every corner, every lane, only to find no sign of people. The night was growing darker, and the air was turning more vigilant, violently changing its direction, smashing against his face as if watching him closely, as if in the mood to cry in the most dramatic form.

He moved forward, staring at the screen in his left hand, where it showed her last known location. He was just a few kilometers away from where he had left her. Rocky walls surrounded him, and the whole sky, empty and furious, gazed down at him, howling in anger.

He was shocked- why did the GPS show her location here but not her? He made a phone call and heard the ringing sound coming from behind a lone rock. He rushed toward it and found her broken phone lying there. He took possession of it, the once-bright orange case now dull under the night, the screen shattered but still making the sound of the call he had just made.

With no trace of her.

He looked around in circles, and in horror, he scrambled his fingers through his messy hair. Holding her phone tightly as if it were the most precious thing in the world, he placed it carefully in his inner coat pocket.

Then, in a desperate voice, he screamed, "My lady, are you there? Can you hear me? Please, stop playing-come out!"

No answer.

Inside, Prithvi was confused, lost. He once again searched every passage, every possible hiding place, but she was nowhere to be found. She wasn't playing this time. Maybe his punishment had gone on too long.

His face was long, pale, and exhausted, his spirit crushed. This was not the Prithvi everyone knew-this was a defeated man.

And inside, his mind screamed at him, cursing him with every possible name, every insult. What the hell was happening? His past came crashing down on him—flashes of that shocking moment when he first realized someone was following him. The panic attacks. Then, another person was targeted back at the hotel. followed by his own wife's name appearing in a strange letter.

And now, he himself was being more often targeted by constant threats. None of it made any sense to him.

He just wanted to get away from it all, to witness no more. Maybe he was being watched even now. Someone was keeping an eye on him and his wife, diligently playing their game. He especially worked out based on raw emotion, intending to take her with him, not knowing that this was the last time he was gambling with his luck—making an even worse move in this deadly game of life.

He looked around again, scanning the entire place, staring at empty spaces as if he would find answers hidden in them. His wife was in danger because of him.

Because of his arrogance, his selfishness.

Instead of accepting his defeat, he had chosen to be ignorant, to act like an entitled monster, a spoiled brat who gambled not only his life but hers—something he had no right to do.

He had played the worst move of his life, and her life was the price.

Standing in the center of the deserted road, Prithvi screamed, "My lady... where have you gone? Where do I look for you?"

With trembling hands, he dialed his phone and barked an order at his secretary.

"Get the security team and the police. I want a patrol started immediately."

"Sir, what exactly—"

"Ask every corner, every street, every nearby store. Get CCTV footage checked!" Prithvi's sharp eyes darted around, looking for any surveillance cameras in the narrow lanes. "Call the people in charge and check the footage. I want to know where she went."

He paused for a breath, his steady speech breaking, "I want her back here in the next half hour."

"But sir, I was in the hospital... and with all the drama that happened, the media is here. How am I supposed to tackle this—" his secretary hesitated.

"I don't care!" he shouted. "I want this entire area searched! Ask Abhi's dad to handle things just for today. Make sure the case doesn't get disclosed or leaked. And leave from there now."

Prithvi was drowning in helplessness, every second that passed filling his mind with tormenting thoughts of her.

"I'll call the security team and ask the police for their cooperation," Amar responded. Then, after a brief hesitation, "Boss... what about you? Are you okay? Should I come myself?"

"What about me?" Prithvi snapped. "She's the one who's missing!"

His voice tired and turned harsher. "Don't come for me. Go look for her!"

Without wasting another second, he cut the call.

His hands trembled as he whispered, "Please, God... protect her. I've had enough for today."

Like a coward, he begged.

"At least give me what I can handle. She... she's out of my endurance." She was beyond his control. Then, in a barely audible voice, he admitted what had been tearing him apart from within— "I'm weak," he said.

"I'm weak for her."

"She must be hungry and tired," he whispered to himself.

With that, the man was once again ready, looking around nearby spot where her phone had been found.

He couldn't lose one more person, especially her. Not tonight. After all, he had already witnessed enough bloodshed. It was painful even to see—let alone imagine the pain the victim had gone through.

And now, someone very close to him was being targeted, just like before, just like the past few hours...

Back in the changing room, Prithvi and Abhi were already trying to decipher the meaning behind those enigmatic words and the strange flower.

Then came the worst possibility.

The next big, tragic news came flashing their way.

Prithvi's phone rang.

"Boss, I think you need to come... there's been an attack."

"What?" Prithvi said, standing completely still.

Abhi, growing impatient, snatched the phone and put it on speaker.

"The security team just contacted me. One of the servants... he's in an unconscious and serious condition. They found him lying in the staff washroom."

Both Prithvi and Abhi stared at each other before sprinting out together.

The whole floor was stained with blood splatters. And inside the washroom, the man lay motionless—his face pressed against the tiles, his back drenched in blood, which spilled out of his wounds like a never-ending river.

Prithvi stood in shock as the staff carefully laid the waiter's body on the floor, adjusting his head to a slightly elevated angle, just as Abhi had instructed.

"How did this happen? Why didn't anyone notice?" Prithvi shouted at the senior employees gathered there.

One of the senior staff members stepped forward.

"One of our female employees heard something... like a gunshot. She was coming to check this wing as part of her duty, but she ignored it. Later, in the lobby area, she stumbled—she stumbled upon the victim. He was bleeding profusely from a head wound... and she screamed in panic."

Every employee stood frozen in their place, their faces masked with terror and fear. They didn't dare to look up, keep staring at the floor.

While Prithvi was processing the situation, Abhi stepped forward to assess whether the man was still conscious. The emergency physician present at the hotel was called in to help.

Prithvi moved toward Abhi. "How's his pulse?"

Abhi didn't reply immediately. He checked for a carotid pulse on the man's neck, observed his breathing patterns, and watched for any rise or fall in his chest. After a few moments, he checked again... and shook his head in denial; A gunshot to the head could cause immediate cardiac arrest.

"What happened? Will someone tell us, or are we just going to stand here clueless like fools?"

Prithvi snapped in frustration.

Abhi gestured for Prithvi to help stop the bleeding. "Use your hands—apply pressure."

He sat down beside the victim, pressing both hands over the wound, while another staff member grabbed a towel from the hanging rack and handed it to him.

"Press lightly but firmly... we need to stop the bleeding somehow."

Prithvi followed his instructions, but then his eyes landed on something nearby—a handkerchief.

The same one he had received as a present from an employee.

His gaze shifted back to the lifeless face of the young man, and horror crept into his senses.

It was the same person.

Prithvi's breath hitched. "Is he going to live?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

His hands trembled.

Abhi, though calm, spoke with underlying anger. "Prithvi, hold it right! He's losing too much blood."

He took a moment to look at his friend, Abhi cursed under his breath and then ordered the men standing nearby, "You—come here. Hold it down with pressure."

"Prithvi, step aside," he muttered. Prithvi, feeling utterly shaken, backed away.

"you need to stop the bleeding with whatever you have here, He shouldn't be losing any more blood. Layer it with more towels!" Abhi commanded, and the employees rushed to bring more supplies.

Abhi looked quite busy; he didn't have time to give his full attention to his friend. He had no time to console his friend.

The man lying there—he assumed—was already beyond saving. Since a gunshot to the head can cause immediate cardiac arrest, the chances were slim.

The physician beside Abhi exchanged a grim look with him, confirming his worst fears, Shining his phone's flashlight into the young man's eyes, Abhi saw that the pupils were fixed and fully dilated—completely unresponsive to light.

Abhi's heart dropped. He turned toward Amar and shouted, "Rub his hands!"

Then, pulling off his waistcoat and undoing the man's shirt buttons, he began chest compressions. There was no heartbeat. No pulse detected.

"Sir, should we bring the AED and perform resuscitation immediately?" a physician asked.

"No," Abhi answered without hesitation. "Head injuries don't directly cause heart failure. He's in shock. He might be slipping into a coma... and he's already lost too much blood."

He continued pressing down on the man's chest, trying to stimulate any response.

"The AED won't deliver a shock unless it detects an abnormal heart rhythm," Abhi added, his voice strained.

After multiple attempts, he finally pulled back, exhausted. The other physician took over.

Abhi sat there, running his sweaty hand under his chin, his breathing heavy.

"Abhi?" Prithvi muttered, voice trembling.

"I think, Prithvi... he is dead," Abhi stated.

Just then, a sudden sound played in the background—a retro track.

Everyone looked up, their faces frozen in shock. A small MP3 player slipped from the butcher's pants pocket and hit the ground with a dull thud.

"What do you mean?" Prithvi shot up.

Everyone stared at each other in tense silence until Amar finally spoke, instructing everyone to vacate the area.

Abhi, looking deadly serious, exchanged glances with the other physician, who had grown exhausted and stopped compressing the victim's chest.

"He's not responding..."

Irritated, Prithvi snatched up the recorder and violently hurled it across the room. The device was a customized player, programmed to play only one song—perhaps a mocking message for Prithvi.

"No! Check again! You have to do something!" Prithvi demanded.

"I did. I'm sorry, but this wound... there's no coming back from this," Abhi responded with professional calm.

"What about the AED? He was talking—do it! Bring him back to life!" Prithvi insisted, desperate for Abhi to use his medical expertise.

"His heart isn't the problem. The brain controls everything. Even if I could restart his heart with my team, the damage is irreversible."

"Abhimaan! Bring him back to life! That boy is gone because of me! You know he was working under my authority. If he loses his life, that means I'm the reason—" Prithvi grabbed Abhi by the shoulders, shaking him.

"What answer will I give to his family? Abhimaan" he shouted his frustration morphing into helplessness.

"It's too late, Prithvi," Abhi said, removing his hands and screaming back at him. His voice carried both frustration and deep sorrow as he stared into Prithvi's tormented eyes, filled with pain and doubt.

Prithvi thought hard, staring at the young boy's lifeless body.

Who was responsible for his death?

His mind went blank.

Once again, he had failed.

"No... take him to the hospital quickly," Prithvi ordered, his voice shaky, unable to accept reality.

Abhi stood to the side, silently observing.

"Why are you just standing there?" Prithvi snapped at Amar. "Get the ambulance ready!"

"Boss, we can't," Amar pointed out. "There are media outlets outside. If they see us, the whole hotel's image will be ruined."

Even if they managed to take him out, there was no way to bypass the swarms of reporters hungry for coverage.

"I said take him! Urgently! As fast as possible-he needs emergency care!" Prithvi ordered. "Abhi, call someone at the hospital. Get one VIP ward cleared for him. Book whatever surgery he needs. Just bring him back to damn life!"

Amar glanced at Abhi, seeing that Prithvi wasn't thinking rationally. Abhi gave a silent nod, instructing Amar to arrange a car instead of an ambulance.

"We can transport him... whether he lives or not," Abhi said, placing a reassuring hand on Prithvi's shoulder. "But first, you need to stop blaming yourself."

" This isn't something we can fix."

With trusted staff members blocking off the area where the incident occurred, two or three men carefully lifted the body and rushed to the hospital.

To prevent any unwanted media attention, they exited through the kitchen. while, Abhi explained the victim's critical condition, the grim reality of the situation—whether the victim would live or die was uncertain.

Prithvi dialed the security room. "Check the last 24 hours of footage. If you find anything suspicious, report it to me immediately."

At the same time, he began preparing a basic report for the police department—specifically the DSP—to keep the matter as discreet as possible.

One call.

That's all it took to assemble the entire hotel staff. Addressing them, Prithvi laid out the situation, ensuring they were on neutral ground while also emphasizing the importance of preventing any leaks that could damage the hotel's reputation.

"If any of you helped that man play this foul game with people's lives, you better come forward now," Prithvi warned, His voice turned dangerously low. "Because if I find out myself, I won't let it go—and you won't be walking on two legs when I'm done."

The staff remained silent, obediently dispersing to resume their duties.

A migraine started creeping up on Prithvi. Exhaling slowly, he massaged his temples, trying to regain focus.

"There were some bruises near his diaphragm," Abhi finally spoke after spending a long time analyzing the strange marks.

Prithvi looked at him in shock.

"I think he was attacked—someone grabbed him from both sides, crushing his lungs, probably in an attempt to suffocate him. He must've struggled, fought back... and in the struggle, he hit his head against the toilet seat." Abhi explained, pausing to piece it together.

Prithvi's eyes widened in horror as he completed the next verdict of Abhi.

"—And when the shooter realized he was losing control, he shot him. Then entered disguised in staff uniforms walked in... and staged the whole thing."

"And here,  We couldn't even think about it." Prithvi uttered as Abhi patted his shoulder.

"And then, why use her name?" Prithvi thought hard—Why would he try to protect his wife when he was after him-stalking him all this time?

"Someone is using her," Abhi added. "Prithvi, she isn't capable of handling that much."

But now, Prithvi's mind had come to a different conclusion—a totally different theory.

"I know."

"Then?"

Prithvi looked up for a moment but didn't answer, as so much was going on in his mind.

His thoughts were at their most vulnerable and primitive stage.

Yes! That's the problem—she had become Prithvi's weakness. Now, anyone could use her to directly attack him, and every time, he took the bait. That was the reason behind his boiling blood pressure and anger. He had never wanted anyone to even know about her, yet now, people were openly using her as a threat against him. Her safety was at stake, and he was being mocked like a fool and treated like the butt of a joke.'

Prithvi got up and rushed back to where his wife was. Abhi tried multiple times to convince him, but he was too stubborn to stop. If only, back then, he had locked himself away instead of acting on his reckless thoughts...

***

It was still not easy for him. Yet again, another event slipped through his fingers.

What if something happened to her? If she were in any sort of danger, he thought, "No, no," he said to himself. "My lady, where are you?"

It was already past two and a half in the night, and he had lost his wife. How foolish he was.

He sank down onto his knees, with both his hands pressed on his thighs and his lips pressed together as he looked up at the sky, struggling to hold back his emotions.

He should definitely look for her and not waste a single moment, as he was risking every inch of her life with every passing second. Yet, why did he remain still?

He had finally cursed her fate to be like his own; he had finally become her worst karma. He should have stopped himself at the very beginning. He looked everywhere once again, trying to imagine where she could have gone... It was a grotesque pain surging inside him in the most exaggerated, unnatural way—the pain of losing a part of his life, just as he had in the past.

He couldn't bear to see his worst fear creep in once again: losing the person who mattered most to him.

Why does that painful feeling never leave him, as if he were living under a rock? Like a needle stuck on a vinyl record, it keeps getting scratched and more vulnerable, like touching a wound without any skin. He felt like a failure all the time, with no success whatsoever—even a tiny victory to lift his spirit was nowhere to be found.

Prithvi closed his eyes for a moment and took a tired breath. Then, getting up, he opened his car door when his personal phone rang with an unknown number.

Without wasting a second, he answered.

His eyes widened as the unclear, grainy, stuttered voice greeted him. Relief flooded his chest, he leaned against the car door, then stood up straight again.

"Pr..ithvi ji..." came the very low voice, soft yet trembling. He listened, his entire being still, his heart pounding in deep serenity.

"My lady, where are you?" His voice was urgent, breathless.

"Dar lag raha, mujhe kho dene ka?"

"Haan!" he replied roughly and quickly, on the verge of bursting into tears.

Prithvi put his hand over his mouth and moved here and there, looking for her, but only received long, silent responses from her side.

"P..phir, mujhe a..i..ise bich raste m.mein ch.h.od kar k..k.yu chale gaye?"

"G... galti hogayi, baba." he admitted, his voice cracking.

"P..p..p.hir se galti! Kit..n..ni galti ka..r..rte ho aap?"

"M-mujhse sh..h..adi ik galti,"

"Nahi!" He shook his head in big aggressive No.

"Mu..u..jhpe jh..o..oote acc.c.usations lagna du.u..sri galti."

"A.ab mujhe k..kahi akele chhod ka..r ch.h.ale j..ana p..p.hir se ik a.aur galti."

Prithvi's throat tightened. "Please... tell me, where are you?"

"P..p.ata hai, m..a.ain dad se con..n..fess kar chuki hoon... agar m..m..main mar gayi toh a-app and he is th..e re..ason."

His blood ran cold. "Pagal ho gayi ho?!"

"N..n.nahi... bas ap..ke hi ja.i..i.ise ho gayi ho..o.on," she said with a broken laugh.

"Ab m..main bhi do..o.osron pe a..apni g.g..galtiyan daal d..o.oongi, unko b..blame k-karungi, just li..ke you do."

Prithvi clenched his jaw, like his inside was resigning to the situation. "Toh karo na, mere samne aa ke karo. Jitna kehna hai, utna kaho! "

A deep silence stretched between them. She didn't say a word, and with every passing second, Prithvi's fear grew stronger.

His grip tightened around his phone as he switched it to his other hand, where The silver ring on his hand caught the faint light, gleaming as if mocking his helplessness.

His eyes darted around anxiously, searching for any sign of her, dreading the worst.

"My lady...?"

There was no response.

"My lady, mere saath call pe Raho, tell me, where are you?"

No answer.

"My lady? Answer me!" His pulse raced.

"Pr..i..ithvi ji?" She finally answered, speaking in a more lower and grainy voice.

He looked back at his surroundings.

"Haan!"

"Ma..i..in ch..hali ja..aun k..kya? Aa..apko aisa k-kuch chahiye?" she cried. "W..w..will you be hap..p.py? Then-"

"Pagal ho! No, I can never be." he shouted. "Mujhe tumhare saath hi jeena hai, tumhare saath hi marna hai.

"T..o..oh phir sirf m..mere hone ki w..wajah see a..p..pp kyun mu..u..jhse itni n..nafrat ka..rte ho?  w...why y.y..you are lite..r.rally hating me, res...senting me? "she whispered, her voice barely there.

Prithvi exhaled sharply. "I'm sorry, my lady!"

She let out a bitter laugh. "I d...d..don't thin..k..k I'm the k..kind of person w..who des..s..serves what y..o.ou are thr..rowing at me."

"No, you aren't!" His voice cracked. "Ab bata do, kaha ho?"

"A..am I th..a..at resentful? I..s..is that w..why does everyone just w..w..wants so ba..d.dly to get ri..i..d of me?" she cried, lacing her inner doubts which she was holding to herself for a very long time.

"No, you aren't a resentful person in anyone's life, in any chapter." He looked around for her, going here and there while calming her. It's just that... I was blind. I followed my instincts blindly. I'm the one who is at fault here."

His voice turned raw. "I just don't want you to witness my worst possibility, what I could be. How much of a scumbag I am. How much of a coward I am... even more than you, because at least for sometimes, you have the courage to speak your heart out."

"How worse would I feel if I took out some of my secrets from inside and shared them with someone, at least for once? How much loser would I be? Will they ever take me seriously? Will they believe that I will ever be able to save my people after I tell them? How hard I'm trying to act like myself, and how much I admire you. " Prithvi stand still at one place.

"Will there ever be a version of me in the future—one who doesn't hate himself? One who is capable of being liked by someone like you?"

"How could someone who has never explored himself—who is terrified of being understood by anyone—react when the very person he admires tries to unravel him? How much disgust or self-hatred is waiting for me right across the other beacon of the ocean?" He took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I may be good with words, but when it comes to expressing myself, I fail every time. And if I'm being honest... maybe I don't even want to express anything at all."

"Does that hate I have for myself ever let anyone like me?" he admitted.

There was no response.

"My lady!"

A long silence.

"Ha..a.an?"

"Call pe raho. I'm coming... mujhse baat karti raho."

No answer.

"My lady? Answer me!" he phased nervously.

"Damn it, at least tell me where you are! Don't cut the call, Mrs. Chauhan, aap sun rahi ho? Don't cut on me!" he yelled desperately.

He screamed. And as he opened his car door again and sat back, he slammed his hand onto the steering wheel. Then his eyes, mindlessly, fell on the side-view mirror.

There, amidst the soft rustle of fabric and the faint jingle of bangles in deadly silent night, he came out, looking down the backside of the road, hearing her in silence and deep stillness, accompanied by heavy breathing.

And then, he heard it—her voice scared and breaking—

"P... Prithvi... Prithvi ji!" She shouted at him

His gaze snapped toward her.

There she was.

Her face was pale, her body weak, but facing him. Looking right at him.

His chest tightened, and His eyes stared in shock at her. "My lady..." he whispered, relief flooding through him.

And then, he ran.

Prithvi's heart pounded, his breath shaky. But then—he smiled. A raw, broken, relieved smile.

O' the abyss was so long and dark, but here she was. His wife, the one and only guiding light came toward him.

His shoulders dropped, and his muscles loosened. He twisted his neck slightly, exhaling all his stress. And when she was finally within reach, he prepared himself to give her the biggest smile he had ever given in his life.

Prithvi smiled, half-crying, half as if, once again, he was alive.