Chapter 55: ✿ Chapter 49 ✿

Hey Masala Mafia,

The introduction of

"His Shayari, Her Sparks"

is published. I’ve just updated it, so go check it out and share as much as you can. The real story hasn’t started yet—I’ve only published it so you can add it to your TBR. It will take time, but trust me, it’ll be worth the wait.

Now, fill the comments with your excitement only not any other talks please.

♡

वो चले गए, पर दिल न माना,

हर सांस ने बस उनका नाम ही जाना।

साथ था जैसे किसी ख्वाब का,

अब बस यादों का है एक अफसाना।

चलते रहे हम उन्हीं रास्तों पर,

जहाँ कभी संग वो चला करते थे।

पर अब सन्नाटे ही पूछते हैं हमसे,

क्यों अकेले यूँ भटकते रहते हैं?

◇

Grab a tissue if you want..

Avantika's POV

A shrill ring tore through the silence, jolting me awake. My eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep, as I reached for my phone. The screen glowed in the darkness-Samarth calling.

I frowned. 3 AM. Why was he calling so early? A sudden unease crept up my spine as I quickly swiped to answer.

"Di-Dadu... Dadu's health is critical. He's just been shifted to the ICU in XX Hospital. Please come fast," Samarth's voice wavered, thick with tension and fear.

My heart stopped.

No. No. This couldn't be happening.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips as I sat up abruptly, my hands trembling. My breathing grew erratic, my chest tightening painfully. Dadu... My Dadu... No, this couldn't be real.

I swung my legs off the bed, rushing toward the door, my only thought being I need to get there. I need to see him. But just as my fingers brushed against the doorknob, I stopped. My gaze flickered back, panic clouding my mind.

I turned on my heels, stumbling toward the other side of the bed. My voice came out in a broken whisper, "Avy-Avyansh ji..." My breath hitched as a sob escaped me, tears already slipping down my cheeks.

He stirred instantly, waking up as if sensing my distress before his eyes even fully opened. His gaze locked onto me, instantly alert.

"Kya hua?" His voice was thick with sleep but laced with concern as he sat up. His hands reached for me, cupping my tear-streaked face. "Why are you crying?"

I struggled to form the words, my throat closing up. "Dad-Dadu..." I choked out, my voice breaking into a sob.

His expression shifted instantly-sleep forgotten, replaced by sharp concern. He didn't need any more explanation. His hands tightened around me, steadying me as I trembled.

And at that moment, as panic clawed at my chest, he became the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

"Kya hua? Ache se bataye, Avantika," Avyansh's voice was firm yet gentle, grounding me in the midst of my panic. His hands cupped my face, his thumb brushing away the tears I didn't even realize were still falling.

I sucked in a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. "Samarth called... Dadu is in the ICU," I whispered, my voice barely audible. Saying it out loud made it feel more real, and the weight of those words crushed my chest.

Avyansh didn't waste a second. "Chaliye," he said, his grip tightening around my hand as he pulled me towards the door.

We hurried downstairs, the house eerily silent at this hour. Every second felt too long, every breath too heavy.

He unlocked the car swiftly, opening the passenger door for me before moving to the driver's side. The moment he started the engine, his hand instinctively reached for mine, squeezing it reassuringly.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my heart, but the fear in my chest only grew heavier.

"He will be fine, Mishti," Avyansh said softly, his voice unwavering.

I swallowed hard, gripping his hand tighter. The warmth of his palm against mine was the only thing keeping my mind from spiraling into worst-case scenarios.

The city lights blurred past us as we sped towards the hospital, the tension thick in the air.

Please, God... let him be okay.

As soon as we entered the hospital, Avyansh quickly approached the receptionist, his voice calm but firm as he asked for Dadu's room.

The cold sterility of the hospital, the faint smell of antiseptic, and the quiet urgency in the air made my stomach churn.

Without wasting a second, we walked toward the ICU. My heart pounded with every step, dread tightening around my chest.

As we reached the waiting area, I saw them-everyone was there.

Their worried faces turned towards me instantly. The weight of their gazes only made the fear inside me grow stronger.

And then, Samarth's eyes met mine.

Tears brimmed in his eyes as he quickly got up and rushed toward me.

"Di-" His voice cracked as he wrapped his arms tightly around me.

I held onto him just as tightly, my hands trembling as I felt his shoulders shake against me. He was trying to be strong, but I knew my little brother-he was breaking inside, just like I was.

I closed my eyes, pressing my lips together to stop another sob from escaping. "He will be okay, Samarth," I whispered, more for myself than for him. "Dadu is strong."

Avyansh stood beside us, his presence unwavering, his eyes scanning everyone, reading their expressions carefully.

He didn't say anything, but I felt the warmth of his hand on my back-steady, grounding, reminding me that I wasn't alone in this.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly pulled away from Samarth and looked at the others, silently asking the question that was clawing at my throat.

"How is Dadu?" My voice came out barely above a whisper.

Samarth wiped his tears, inhaling sharply before speaking. "The doctor said it's critical... his Congestive Heart Failure (CHF) has worsened. His blood pressure and heart rate have spiked."

His words echoed in my mind, but I felt... nothing.

No reaction. No tears. No panic.

Just emptiness suddenly.

My body stood still, my face void of any emotion. It was like my mind had detached itself from reality, refusing to process what I had just heard.

I could feel everyone's eyes on me, waiting for a response, a breakdown-something.

But there was nothing.

The weight in my chest was unbearable, yet I remained unmoving, staring at Samarth as if he hadn't spoken at all.

"Di..." Samarth called me softly, his voice unsure.

Still, I said nothing.

The air felt thick, suffocating, but my expression remained blank-like I had forgotten how to react to pain.

My voice came out steady, devoid of emotion. "Who was in charge of his medicine?"

Samarth swallowed hard, guilt evident in his eyes. "I-I was..." he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

My gaze sharpened as I looked around at everyone, scanning their faces. No one spoke. The air was thick with unspoken tension, with silent accusations hanging between us.

And then, Chachi's voice cut through the silence.

"You are not needed here," she said through gritted teeth, her eyes burning with resentment.

I didn't flinch. I didn't react. I simply looked straight into her eyes, unblinking, my expression unreadable.

Before I could say anything, a familiar voice, firm and commanding, filled the space beside me.

"You're not going to tell her if she's needed here or not," Avyansh ji spoke, his tone cold, his stance unwavering.

His words sent a ripple through the room, making everyone tense. Chachi's face twisted in anger, but she remained silent, biting back whatever she wanted to say.

Avyansh's presence beside me was solid, unshaken. He wasn't just defending me-he was making it clear that I belonged here.

I finally tore my gaze away from Chachi and looked back at Samarth. "We will talk later," I said, my voice calm but heavy with meaning.

He nodded weakly, lowering his head in shame.

Taking a deep breath, I turned toward the ICU door. Right now, nothing else mattered except the man fighting for his life behind that glass wall.

Two hours had passed since we arrived. The air in the hospital felt heavier with each passing minute.

Avyansh had already informed the family about our whereabouts, but when they insisted on coming, he firmly denied them, saying they could visit later.

"Baithiye," he said gently, guiding me to sit on the chair. I didn't resist, my body too drained to argue.

"You want to eat something?" he asked, his voice soft yet firm, as if making sure I was taking care of myself.

I shook my head, refusing silently. Food was the last thing on my mind.

He exhaled, watching me carefully before speaking again. "I'm going to take Samarth downstairs to the canteen. He hasn't eaten properly since last night. If I find something light, I'll bring it here for you too. Hmm?"

His hands cupped my face, tilting it slightly so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. The warmth of his touch contrasted with the cold, sterile atmosphere around us.

I didn't respond, only blinking at him, my exhaustion too deep for words.

I could feel the weight of everyone's stares around us. Some subtle, side-eyed glances. Some direct, openly watching the way he was taking care of me.

But Avyansh didn't care. His focus was solely on me.

"Mishti," he murmured, his voice even softer now, as if coaxing me to respond.

I finally nodded, just enough to assure him I had heard him.

Satisfied, he gave my cheek a small, reassuring stroke before standing up. "I'll be back soon," he promised, then turned toward Samarth, nodding for him to follow.

As they walked away, I exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of my tshirt. I didn't care about the stares, the silent judgments.

Right now, all I cared about was Dadu.

He had been gone for barely five minutes when Chachi's taunting voice cut through the tense silence.

"This is the way to come outside after marriage? To a hospital?." she sneered, her sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe.

I knew exactly what she was implying. Her gaze lingered on my simple T-shirt and trousers, silently criticizing my choice of clothing.

I inhaled deeply, keeping my expression neutral. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, I tilted my head slightly, biting the inside of my cheek to ground myself.

Dadu's words echoed in my mind.

"She is not important. Don't respond to her."

But she wasn't done yet.

"Don't you think you should have been supporting your mother, who was crying? Instead, you're just sitting there like some badtameez child," she added, her voice laced with condescension.

Before I could respond, Uncle's voice boomed through the corridor.

"Chup raho!" he snapped at her. His eyes, usually calm, held frustration. "Yeh koi waqt hai aisi baatein karne ka?"

But she wasn't one to back down easily.

"Aap chup rahiye ji!" she shot back, turning her glare toward him before pointing her finger at me.

"Dikhawa karne aayi hai yeh sirf!"

I clenched my jaw, my hands tightening into fists on my lap.

I could ignore her words. I could stay silent. But the venom in her tone, the baseless accusations... they stung.

I slowly lifted my gaze to meet hers, my voice calm yet unwavering.

"Aapko lagta hai hum dikhawa karne aaye hain?" I asked, my tone eerily quiet. "Toh phir aap yaha kis liye baithe hain, Chachi?"

Her face twisted in irritation at my directness. She had expected submission.

She stood up and marched toward me, her steps heavy with anger.

I remained seated, my legs crossed, watching her approach with an unreadable expression.

"Akaad kis cheez ki aa gayi hai tumhe itni? Sasural se yeh seekh kar aayi ho kya?" she spat, her voice laced with mockery and irritation.

"Ya phir pati ne sar pe chadha liya hai jo itna uchal rahi ho?"

Her voice was sharp, her words meant to cut. But I had mastered the art of staying unaffected-at least on the outside.

I bit down on the skin of my thumb absentmindedly, a habit I did when I was trying to control my emotions. But that simple action seemed to trigger her more.

Her nostrils flared as she stepped even closer, her anger boiling over.

My heart pounded, my chest tightening as I tried to regulate my breathing.

Control, Avantika. Holding everything in-my anger, my frustration, my pain-it was difficult. But necessary.

Then, before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.

"Baith jaiye," I said, my voice eerily calm.

"Your BP will get high, aur kya pata... aapko bhi yahi admit karna pad jaye."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Her eyes widened in shock, and I knew immediately that I had said something I shouldn't have.

"You-" she seethed, raising her hand.

My breath hitched slightly, but before her palm could even come close to me, a firm grip stopped her mid-air.

A gasp echoed through the room.

I turned my head slightly, my eyes landing on the man now standing beside me.

Avyansh .

His hold on her wrist was unyielding, his face calm, but his eyes-his eyes burned with a quiet, dangerous fury.

His voice was deadly low, each word slow and deliberate.

"Dare to repeat this mistake again and I'll make sure you don't live to regret it."

He said, his grip tightening just enough to make his warning clear.

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

Chachi froze, her arrogance faltering under his unwavering gaze. For the first time, she looked... afraid.

The entire room was silent. No one dared to intervene.

"Avyansh!" Uncle's voice rang out as he quickly walked toward us, his expression tense. He reached for Chachi's wrist, gently but firmly removing his grip from her.

I stood up instinctively, my heart still racing from what had just happened.

Avyansh didn't move, his posture relaxed yet exuding an unmistakable dominance.

His dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, met Uncle's gaze with an intensity that sent a chill through the air.

"She's the only thing keeping me sane," he said, his voice deceptively calm, but the warning beneath it was crystal clear. "Push me, and you'll see what Avyansh Raghuvanshi actually is."

The weight of his words made the room feel smaller, heavier.

Uncle exhaled, his face stiff with regret as he turned to look at Chachi, who had gone eerily quiet. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice laced with disappointment. "She should not have done that."

I clenched my hands into fists, my nails pressing into my palms. The anger that had simmered beneath my skin, the frustration, the exhaustion-I had bottled it all up.

But Avyansh ji had spoken for me. Defended me. Stood by me.

I glanced up at him.

He was still looking at Uncle, but his hand, warm and steady, found mine, squeezing it just once-reassurance.

A sharp voice cut through the thick tension in the room.

"Maintain silence. Agar aap logon ko ladna hai toh-"

The nurse stopped abruptly, her scolding tone faltering the moment her gaze landed on him.

Her expression changed instantly, eyes widening in recognition. "M-Mr. Raghuvanshi... I'm sorry, I was just-" she stammered, suddenly flustered.

Avyansh ji didn't even acknowledge her nervous apology. His attention remained fixed on Uncle and Chachi, his stance unwavering, his presence commanding.

I felt the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone. The air was thick, suffocating. But beside me, his hand was still wrapped around mine-warm, steady, grounding me in ways I hadn't even realized I needed.

The nurse, clearly uncomfortable under his gaze, quickly recomposed herself. "Every patient need rest and peace. Please keep your voices down," she added, her tone much softer this time.

Avyansh gave a curt nod, his grip on my hand tightening slightly before he let go.

The tense silence in the waiting area was suddenly shattered when the ICU doors burst open, and a group of nurses hurried out, their faces grim.

My heart stopped.

Before I could move, the doctor followed, removing his gloves as he stepped toward us. His expression alone was enough to send my world crashing down.

"Doctor...?" My voice barely came out, my throat tightening with fear.

He exhaled heavily, glancing at the reports in his hand before meeting my gaze. "We've done everything we can... but his condition is deteriorating rapidly."

I shook my head. No. No, this wasn't happening.

"His body is not responding to the treatment," the doctor continued, his voice measured but serious. "His heart is failing. If there's something important you want to say to him, do it now."

A gasp escaped my lips, and my legs nearly gave out.

No.

I felt Avyansh's arm around me instantly, steadying me before I collapsed.

The room spun, the beeping of machines inside the ICU sounding distant, like an echo in my head.

"No, doctor, please... please do something," I begged, my voice cracking.

The doctor's expression softened slightly, but his words were firm. "We are trying our best, but you need to prepare yourselves. I'm sorry... but he may not survive."

The world blurred around me.

Samarth let out a broken sob behind me. Chachi gasped, while Uncle lowered his head, grief settling on his face.

Everything felt unreal. Like I was stuck in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

Strong hands gripped my shoulders, grounding me.

"Avantika," Avyansh's voice was firm yet gentle, cutting through the fog of panic.

I turned to look at him, my vision swimming with unshed tears.

"He's still here," he said, his thumb brushing against my cheek as if silently wiping away the tear that hadn't even fallen yet. "Let's go see him."

I nodded, unable to speak.

I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

"You will not enter now."

The words came from my father. Cold. Final. Like a wall being built between me and the man who raised me.

I stared at him, my chest tightening, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.

Before I could react, a firm voice cut through the tension.

"You will not tell her what to do," Avyansh spoke, his tone dangerously calm. "If she wants to, she will."

His presence beside me was unwavering, his words carrying the weight of absolute authority.

"And she will be meeting him first," he added, leaving no room for argument.

I swallowed hard, my gaze shifting back to my father. His face twisted in anger, but he said nothing. He knew there was no use. Not when Avyansh had spoken.

A nurse hurried toward us. "We're shifting him to another room now," she informed.

Everything was moving too fast, yet too slow at the same time. My heart pounded as they prepared to move Dadu.

Time Skip

The moment finally arrived. The moment I both dreaded and needed.

I stepped forward, my breath shaky as I entered the dimly lit hospital room.

Dadu lay on the bed, frail, surrounded by machines, the steady beep of the monitors the only sound in the room.

My steps were hesitant, my heart breaking at the sight of him.

I exhaled softly, stepping closer.

"Dadu..." My voice was barely a whisper.

I reached for his hand, my fingers trembling as they wrapped around his weak, cold ones.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not yet.

I had to be strong.

For him.

The steady beeping of the monitor was the only sound in the room, but to me, it felt like a ticking clock-counting down the moments I had left with him.

Dadu lay motionless, his breathing shallow, his once strong hands now frail and cold in mine. His face, once full of warmth and wisdom, looked weak, too weak.

I sank to my knees beside his bed, clutching his hand tightly, as if holding him would stop him from slipping away.

"Dadu..." My voice broke, a sob tearing through my chest.

He didn't respond.

My heart clenched in unbearable pain.

"I will die, Dadu. I don't... I can't-" My words trembled, my throat tightening. "Why are you leaving me?"

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, falling onto our joined hands.

"Why are you punishing me?" I whispered, my body trembling. "Dadi left me too... and everyone blamed me for it. They said it was because of me. You never blamed me, Dadu. But now... you're leaving too."

A choked sob escaped my lips. "Don't put this blame on me too. Please."

I buried my face against his hand, desperate for a sign-anything-that he could hear me.

My entire world felt like it was collapsing.

I felt a warm presence beside me, solid and grounding.

Avyansh ji.

He knelt beside me, his hand resting on my back, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles, but I was too lost in my grief to register it fully.

"Please, Dadu," I begged, my voice raw, my body shaking. "Don't leave me too. I need you... I still need you."

The machines continued their slow, rhythmic beeping. The world outside this room kept moving.

But for me, everything was shattering.

And I didn't know if I would ever be able to put the pieces back together.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me so hard that my stomach twisted painfully. My throat tightened, my breath coming in short gasps.

I clutched my abdomen, the overwhelming grief mixing with the dizziness making everything unbearable.

"Avantika?" Avyansh ji's voice was sharp with concern, but I barely heard him.

I felt my body sway, my vision blurring.

A painful knot formed in my stomach, and before I could stop myself, I gagged.

"I... I need to-" I couldn't even complete my sentence before rushing toward the door.

Avyansh was beside me in an instant, his arm steadying me as we stepped out of the hospital room.

The cold air of the hallway hit my burning skin, but it did nothing to ease the sickness churning inside me.

I barely made it to the nearest washroom before I collapsed against the sink, my body convulsing as I vomited, my sobs mixed with painful gasps.

I gripped the cold edges of the sink, my body trembling violently.

Everything felt too much.

Too heavy.

Too painful.

Everyone had met him. One by one, they had gone inside, spoken to him, held his hand.

And I just stood there. Outside the glass window, watching.

Watching the man who had been my entire world lie there, frail and weak, surrounded by wires and machines keeping him alive.

I didn't cry anymore. I couldn't.

My hands gripped the edge of my tshirt tightly, my knuckles white. The pain inside me was beyond tears now-it was a suffocating weight pressing down on my chest.

Just then, the nurse stepped out, glancing at the list in her hand.

"Who is the closest to him? Whose name starts with 'A'? The patient is asking to meet them."

A shiver ran down my spine.

It was me. I knew.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe.

I turned to look at everyone-Samarth, Uncle, Chachi. Their eyes flickered with realization, but no one spoke.

I took a step forward, my heart pounding. My fingers trembled as I clutched the door handle.

I was the one he wanted to see.

But was I ready?

I didn't know.

Swallowing hard, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

His oxygen mask covered most of his face, but his eyes—those familiar, kind eyes—were open now.

Tired. Weak. But awake.

I stepped forward hesitantly, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Dadu…” My voice trembled as I reached for his frail hand, wrapping my fingers around his. His skin was cold, his grip weak, but he still held on.

I was alone with him this time. Avyansh ji stood outside, watching silently through the glass.

Dadu tried to say something, his lips parting.

“Av—” He struggled to speak, his voice barely a whisper.

“Please,” I broke down, my sobs escaping before I could control them. “Please don’t leave me, Dadu.”

Tears streamed down my face, dripping onto our joined hands.

“Please… humse chhod kar mat jaiye,” I begged, my voice cracking with pain. “You promised you would always be with me. You promised. Please try to fight.”

His fingers twitched weakly against mine.

Then, slowly, painfully, he lifted his trembling hand to his face, reaching for the oxygen mask.

“No, Dadu, don’t—” I panicked, trying to stop him, but he gave me a weak shake of his head.

His fragile fingers pulled the mask down just enough for me to see his face fully.

A small, tired smile formed on his lips.

His eyes held so much warmth, so much love.

“I am sorry...I couldn't protect you... ,” he whispered.

And then his hand went limp in mine.

My heartbeat stopped.

The steady beeping of the monitor suddenly turned erratic, sharp and piercing against the suffocating silence.

“Dadu?” My voice came out barely above a whisper, trembling.

His hand, once holding mine weakly, went completely still.

No.

The nurses rushed in, their hurried footsteps echoing in my ears. One of them gently tried to pull my hand away, but I wouldn’t let go.

I couldn’t.

“Dadu…?” I called again, my vision blurring.

I heard a nurse call out for the doctor. Someone adjusted the oxygen mask back on his face. Another one checked the monitors, pressing buttons, but I couldn’t move.

I just sat there, clutching his hand, my fingers trembling as I felt the warmth slowly leave his skin.

“No… no, no, please,” I whispered, shaking my head in denial.

A sob tore from my chest as I squeezed his hand, as if holding onto him harder would bring him back.

The beeping slowed.

I felt someone’s hands on my shoulders, firm and steady, trying to pull me back.

“Avantika,” a deep voice called, breaking through my haze.

But I couldn’t hear anything else.

Because the next second, the long, sharp, continuous beep filled the room.

And my world shattered.

Author’s POV

The house was silent. Too silent.

Clad in white, the entire family sat motionless, grief hanging in the air like an unshakable weight.

The rituals had been completed. The fire had turned everything to ashes. The final goodbye had been given. But the pain? The pain remained.

It was past 2 pm now.

Avantika hadn’t eaten anything since morning. Not a bite. Not even water.

Avyansh hadn’t either.

He had tried—tried to force her, tried to convince her—but she had simply turned away, her empty eyes staring at nothing, her face void of any emotion.

Pakhi and Anjali sat beside her, their presence a silent offering of comfort. But even they knew words wouldn’t help. Nothing would.

Devika and Dev had left with Samarth, taking him home, making sure he wasn’t alone.

Ruhaan and his mother had already returned to the Raghuvanshi house. Maanyata couldn’t come, but she had sent her prayers, her concern.

Viransha had quietly offered food to everyone, but no one had accepted it. Some refused because they were truly mourning. Others… simply because it was expected of them to act like they were.

And in the middle of it all, Avantika sat still.

Unmoving.

Unfeeling.

As if a part of her had burned along with him.

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