Chapter 38: ✿Chapter 32✿

तेरी नज़दीकियों में खो जाने का मन करता है,

तेरी सांसों के करीब होने का डर नहीं लगता है।

जब तू पास होता है, तो वक्त भी थम जाता है,

तू सिर्फ पास नहीं, दिल के करीब लगता है।

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Avyansh Pov

I looked at her when she clutched my arm and whispered, "Avyansh, please take me home."

Her voice was shaky, almost desperate, and I knew something was wrong. Her usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a fragile, vulnerable version of her.

I scanned the crowd quickly, trying to figure out who or what was responsible for this shift. My gut told me that the answer was somewhere here.

"Avyansh, please," she said again, her voice breaking this time. That was it-I couldn't control myself anymore. Wrapping my arm around her waist protectively, I pulled her closer.

But then, a sharp smell hit me-the bitter sting of alcohol. My eyes narrowed as I realized it was coming from her. She's drunk? Avantika never drinks, not even socially. Did she drink willingly, or was she forced? My gaze darted around again, searching for the familiar figure of her aunt.

We took a few steps forward when her mother suddenly appeared in front of us. She looked at Avantika, then at me, her eyes filled with what seemed like concern-or was it pretense?

"Kya hua, damad ji? Is she okay? Avantika, beta?" she asked, her voice laced with an attempt to sound caring.

I looked at her mother, my chest tightening with frustration. Her mother. The woman who should have protected her.

Suddenly my mind flashed back to all the things Avantika had endured-the scars on her back, the abuse she'd been through, the pain she hid so well. How could her own mother not know? Or worse, how could she ignore it? Did she never notice the bruises, the sadness in her daughter's eyes? How could a mother turn a blind eye?

My jaw clenched as I forced myself to respond. "We're leaving," I said curtly, keeping my voice steady, though my anger simmered just beneath the surface.

As I turned to leave, her father stepped forward, blocking our path. His eyes flickered to Avantika, then to me, his expression unreadable.

"Did something happen, Avyansh beta?" he asked, his tone measured, almost too calm.

"Yes," I replied coldly.

"And I would like to discuss this matter later-soon. For now, we are leaving. My men will come tomorrow to collect our belongings." My voice was sharp, laced with finality, leaving no room for argument.

His gaze shifted back to Avantika, whose eyes were now red, either from the alcohol or something else-something deeper. Her father opened his mouth as if to protest.

"It's already late you sho-."

I cut him off.

"If we say we're leaving, it means we're leaving," I said firmly, my tone icy as my eyes bore into his. I could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on us, but I didn't care.

Something about this place, these people, was suffocating, wrong. The way they looked at her, the way they interacted with her-it was all off.

I tightened my grip on her waist as we walked out. My instincts screamed that getting her out of here was the only right thing to do.

I opened the car door and gently helped her into the passenger seat. She seemed distant, lost in some internal storm, but then, out of nowhere, her lips curved into a sadistic smile. The kind of smile that sent a chill down my spine.

I paused for a second, unsure of what was going on. "Avantika?" I said softly, but she didn't respond. Her gaze met mine, her eyes hollow yet intense, as if she was trying to tell me something without words.

Sighing, I leaned in to buckle her seatbelt. Her body stiffened as my hands reached across her, her breath hitching audibly. I stopped for a moment, giving her space, and then continued, carefully securing the belt.

"There," I said quietly, trying to reassure her. She took a deep breath, almost shaky, like she was holding something in. Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap as if she was battling herself.

I looked at her again, my eyes searching hers for answers, but she wouldn't meet my gaze this time. Her eyes focused somewhere in the distance, that unsettling smile now gone, replaced by something I couldn't quite decipher-fear, anger, or maybe pain.

Closing the door gently, I walked around to the driver's side, my mind racing. Something had happened-something terrible. And I was going to find out what.

As I started the car and pulled onto the empty road, the quiet was unbearable. It was just past midnight, and the streetlights cast eerie shadows across her face. Her breathing sounded shallow beside me.

"I'm not feeling good," she said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was shaky, and she fanned her saree pallu toward her face. "I'm feeling... hot."

I glanced at her, alarmed. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glassy and slightly red. She wasn't just drunk-this was something else. My pulse quickened.

Reaching into the center console, I grabbed a water bottle and handed it to her. Her hands were trembling so badly that water spilled over the edge as she brought it to her lips.

"Avantika, are you okay?" I asked, my voice firmer this time.

She shook her head slowly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "No," she whispered. "I... I feel so strange. Please, Avyansh, turn on the AC. Do something. I feel like I'm burning."

Her words sent a chill down my spine. I quickly turned the AC to full blast, but my concern was growing by the second. Her body language, the redness in her face, her shaky movements-it didn't feel right.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. What if someone had spiked her drink? But... we were at her house. Who would do that? Who could do that? My jaw clenched as my mind scrambled for answers.

She suddenly leaned her head back against the seat, her breathing becoming more labored. "Avyansh," she whispered, barely audible now. "Something's wrong... really wrong."

Panic swirled in my chest. I pressed harder on the accelerator, the empty road stretching out in front of me. We weren't far from home, but now it felt like every second mattered.

We reached home, and Avantika was still mumbling, fanning her face, her breaths shallow and uneven. Despite the car's AC running at full blast, beads of sweat clung to her forehead, trickling down her temple.

Something was seriously wrong, and I didn't know how to fix it.

I helped her out of the car, but as we stepped inside, her legs gave out, and she stumbled. My arms shot out instinctively, catching her by the waist.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice tense with worry.

Instead of answering, she leaned into me, her head resting against my chest. My heart skipped a beat, pounding against my ribs in a rhythm that felt out of sync with the moment. She never acted like this-never sought my touch in this way.

Her body pressed against mine, and I could feel the unnatural heat radiating off her.

"I don't want to walk," she mumbled weakly, her voice barely audible. "I feel like... burning. My body is burning."

I tried to steady her, gently pulling her upright. Her legs were shaky, unsteady.

Every fiber of me wanted to understand what was happening, but her condition left no room for delay. Without another thought, I scooped her up in a bridal style, her body limp in my arms.

Her head fell softly against my shoulder, and her hands clutched weakly at my shirt. She was feverish to the touch, her breathing labored. "You're going to be okay," I said, more to reassure myself than her. "I've got you."

Carrying her upstairs, I pushed open the bedroom door with my shoulder. Gently, I set her down on the bed.

She murmured incoherently, her eyes fluttering open and shut. Her skin had taken on a reddish hue, her cheeks flushed unnaturally.

laid her gently on the bed, her words slicing through the air like a knife. "No one loves me... I want to die," she mumbled, her voice trembling with a mix of despair and something unplaceable.

My heart clenched painfully at her words, and I knelt beside her, watching as she clung to my hand.

"Don't leave me," she whispered, her grip tightening.

I leaned closer, cupping her cheek softly. Her skin was warm-not feverish, but flushed, as though every nerve in her body was heightened. Her eyes, glassy and vulnerable, searched mine.

"I'm not leaving," I reassured her. "I just need to get you some clothes to change into, okay?"

But instead of letting go, she leaned into my palm, tilting her head ever so slightly. Her expression shifted, a fragile smile forming as her breathing hitched. "It's comforting," she murmured, her voice soft and unsteady. "Touch me more."

Her words sent a jolt through me, and I froze for a moment, unsure of what to do.

This wasn't Avantika-not the Avantika I knew. She was strong, independent, distant at times even, but never like this. Never so vulnerable, so... needy.

"Avantika..." I whispered, keeping my hand on her cheek. "You're not yourself right now. Whatever's in your system-it's making you feel this way."

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and she let out a shaky breath. "I don't care," she said faintly, her hand reaching up to cover mine. "Just... don't let go."

I swallowed hard, my thoughts spinning as I tried to process the situation. I couldn't leave her like this-not when she was this vulnerable. I had to stay by her side, but I also needed to figure out what had caused all this.

"Okay," I said softly, my voice steady. "I'm right here.

She was silent for a moment, her grip still firm on my hand. I knew I had to get her something to help lessen the effects of whatever was in her system. Lemonade might help. I took a steady breath and tried to reason with her gently.

"Avantika," I said softly. "Can you let go of my hand for just a moment?"

Her grip tightened slightly, and she shook her head, her lips trembling.

I leaned in, brushing her damp hair away from her face. "If you let go of my hand, I'll bring you clothes to change into. Then, you can hold it for... forever?" I added, trying to coax a small smile out of her.

Her glassy eyes met mine, a flicker of something indecipherable flashing through them. She looked like she was weighing my words, her expression softening. Finally, she gave a small, hesitant nod.

I stood up slowly, reluctant to leave her side, but this was necessary. I walked toward her closet, pulling open the doors.

Inside, I found a neat row of her traditional clothes-sarees, kurtas, and salwar sets. I frowned. She had t-shirts and shorts; I'd seen her wear them before. But where were they?

Digging through her closet, I finally found a pair of shorts tucked away in a corner. But there were no t-shirts in sight, no casual tops anywhere. Frustrated, I gave up on her closet and turned to mine instead.

Opening my wardrobe, I grabbed a plain white shirt. It was definitely going to be oversized on her, but it was soft and comfortable. It would have to do for now.

Returning to her side, I knelt by the bed, holding up the clothes. "Okay, Avantika," I said gently. "Here's what we'll do. You change into this, and I'll make you some lemonade. Then I'll be right back, okay?"

She didn't respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the shirt in my hands. Then, slowly, she reached out and touched the fabric, her fingers brushing against mine. "Your shirt..." she murmured, her voice barely audible.

"Yeah," I said, trying to keep my tone light. "It's comfy, and it'll fit for now. Let's get you feeling better, okay?"

I came back into the room, carrying the glass of lemonade, but stopped in my tracks when I saw her.

She was standing by the bed, still wearing her saree, clutching the clothes I'd given her. Silent tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, her body trembling.

"Kya ho gaya, bache?" I asked softly, placing the lemonade on the table and stepping closer. "Apne kapde kyun nahi badle?" My voice was gentle, trying not to startle her.

She looked at me, her expression a mix of fear and exhaustion. "I... I'm feeling hot," she mumbled, her voice cracking.

"I'm burning... inside. They will... they'll do something to me," she said, her words broken by hiccupped sobs.

My chest ached at the sight of her like this. She looked so fragile, so unlike herself. I stepped closer, my hands hovering near her shoulders.

"Nothing will happen, Avantika," I said firmly, my tone steady and reassuring. "I'm here. No one can hurt you. Not while I'm with you."

Her gaze searched mine for a moment, her lips quivering.

"Listen," I continued, "why don't you go to the bathroom and change? I'll be right outside, waiting for you. If you need anything-anything at all-just call me, okay?"

She hesitated, then gave a small nod, clutching the clothes tighter to her chest as she slowly walked toward the bathroom. I watched her go, every step unsteady, my heart heavy with worry.

Time felt like it dragged on forever, but eventually, the bathroom door creaked open. I turned, and there she was.

She had changed into the shorts and my oversized t-shirt. The shorts weren't particularly short, stopping just below her knees, but my t-shirt practically swallowed her, falling down to the same length.

She looked breathless, her movements still shaky, but there was something heart-wrenchingly endearing about her appearance-vulnerable yet stubbornly holding on.

She walked toward me slowly, her eyes fixed on mine. Before I could say a word, she wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. The suddenness of it caught me off guard, and I froze for a moment.

Her warmth pressed against me, her breathing uneven against my shoulder. I slowly brought my hands up, gently resting them on her back, unsure of what to say.

She clung to me like I was her anchor in a storm, and I realized just how much she needed reassurance.

"It's okay," I murmured, my voice low and soothing. "I've got you, Avantika. You're safe now."

She didn't respond, but her grip tightened, and I could feel the faint tremors in her body. Whatever had happened -whatever had been done to her-it had shaken her to the core.

All I could do now was hold her and hope she felt the safety and comfort she so desperately needed.

"It feels good," she mumbled against my shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. Her words made my chest tighten with a mix of emotions-relief that she was finding some comfort and a deep ache for the state she was in.

Gently, I lifted her off the ground and placed her back on the bed, making sure she was comfortable. She looked so small, so fragile as I pulled the blanket over her, tucking her in snugly.

Even without her less makeup, her face was streaked with the remnants of tears and the stress of the night. I opened the drawer beside the bed and pulled out some face wipes, kneeling down beside her again.

Her eyes fluttered open slightly as I began to gently clean her face, but she didn't protest.

I started with her cheeks, wiping away the faint smudges that lingered there, then moved to her forehead, carefully dabbing the sweat away. Her eyes... I lingered for a moment, wiping gently, the glassy look in them slowly softening.

Finally, I reached her lips, pausing briefly before wiping away the slight redness where she had bitten down nervously earlier.

Her breathing had steadied now, and she seemed calmer. For the first time tonight, I saw a faint flicker of peace on her face.

I stood up quietly, walking over to the table where I'd left the lemonade. Picking up the glass, I turned back to her, determined to help her feel better, one step at a time.

"Avantika," I said softly, sitting back down beside her, "have some lemonade. It'll help, okay?"

I returned to her side, sitting gently on the edge of the bed, the glass of lemonade in my hand. Her eyes fluttered open slightly, clouded and hazy, but her gaze locked onto me. There was a flicker of something unfamiliar-something deeper, more unsettling-in her expression.

"Avantika," I said softly, holding out the glass. "You need to drink this. It'll help."

She blinked slowly, her gaze drifting from the glass to my face. "I don't want that," she mumbled, her voice sultry and slightly slurred. "I want..." Her words trailed off as she reached out, her fingers brushing my arm.

My chest tightened as she leaned closer, her touch lingering longer than usual. "Avantika," I said carefully, setting the glass on the nightstand. "You're not yourself right now. You need to rest."

She shook her head, her movements unsteady but deliberate. "No... I don't want to rest. I feel... so hot," she whispered, fanning herself weakly with her hand. "Like I'm burning inside."

Her words struck a chord of worry deep in me. Her flushed face, the dilated pupils, and the way she clung to me-it all pointed to something more.

She clung to my words, her grip tightening on my arm as she leaned closer, her breath warm against my skin. "Don't leave me," she murmured, her voice almost pleading. "Your touch... it helps."

I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. Her behavior wasn't her fault, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to navigate. I needed to keep her safe and grounded.

"Okay," I said, my voice steady. "But first, you need to drink the lemonade. It'll help cool you down and ease whatever's happening."

She hesitated for a moment, her glassy eyes searching mine, before nodding weakly. I guided the glass to her lips, helping her take small sips.

As she drank, I silently vowed to find out who had done this and make sure it never happened again. But for now, my only priority was her. To make sure she felt safe, protected, and cared for-no matter what.

I slipped beside her as she urged me to, her soft voice barely leaving room for argument. The moment I settled down, she shifted closer, pressing her head against my chest.

Her warmth seeped through my shirt, and her shallow breaths tickled my skin, making it hard to think straight.

After changing in the other room, I'd hoped this would help her relax enough to sleep, but it was having quite the opposite effect on me. My body hardened involuntarily, tension coiling tightly as I focused all my energy on staying composed.

All I wanted was for her to fall asleep so I could take a cold shower and clear my head.

Her head tilted slightly, and she looked up at me, her eyes heavy with something I couldn't quite name. My breath hitched as she shifted closer, her face now just inches from mine.

"Avantika..." I muttered softly, trying to ground her-and myself-but she didn't stop. Her lips hovered over mine, so close that I could feel the faint warmth of her breath.

Just as they were about to brush mine, I turned my head slightly, causing her lips to graze my jaw instead.

A soft, almost frustrated sound escaped her lips, and before I could react, she grabbed my bicep, her fingers curling around it with surprising strength. She pulled herself up a little, her lips dangerously close to my ear now.

"Avantika," I said again, my voice low but firm. "You're not yourself right now."

She didn't seem to register my words, her gaze locked onto me as if searching for something. Her fingers traced the curve of my arm, and her head leaned closer again, her hair brushing against my face.

"Why... why do you always pull away?" she murmured, her voice barely audible but thick with emotion. "I feel like I'll burn if you don't... stay close."

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