This chapter is short, I know... and I feel like it should have been longer, but honestly, likhte likhte hi itna emotional ho gaye mai... so grab a tissue before reading.
Also, I just realized-50 CHAPTERS!!! Can't believe we've come this far, and yet it feels like the journey started just yesterday. Only 7-10 more chapters left before this book might come to an end... Maybe. I said maybe... ð
A big congratulations to me and to all of you for being part of this journey! Your love and support mean everything. ð
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Author's POV
The house remained silent, its walls heavy with grief.
Pakhi and Anjali had left an hour ago, reluctantly, only after Avyansh had firmly told them to go home and rest. "Staying here won't help," he had said.
It was now 4 PM.
Avantika sat alone in her grandfather's room.
The air inside still carried traces of him-his books neatly stacked on the table, his glasses placed beside them, as if he would return at any moment to pick them up. But he wouldn't.
She sat in his chair, his old, warm shawl wrapped tightly around her, as if trying to hold onto whatever was left of him.
In her hands, she clutched a photo frame.
It was an old picture-one of her and Dadu. She was young, probably no older than ten, her small hands wrapped around his arm as she grinned up at him.
He had that same gentle smile, the one that always made her feel safe.
A single tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn't wipe it away. She just stared at the photo, her fingers ghosting over the glass.
The house was full of people. Yet, at that moment, she felt completely... alone.
Avantika's legs wobbled as she tried to stand, her exhaustion finally catching up to her. The weight of everything-the accusations, the confrontation, the grief-pressed down on her like an unbearable storm.
Before she could collapse, Avyansh was already there, steady and unwavering. His hands gripped her shoulders gently, his touch firm yet careful, grounding her in the chaos.
"Chaliye, ab toh ghar chaliye," he repeated, his voice softer this time, as if coaxing her back to reality.
Avantika blinked up at him, her hazel eyes glazed with unshed tears. She turned her head slightly, looking at the chair-the chair her Dadu used to sit in, the place that once held his presence, now just an empty space.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her saree, gripping tightly as if holding on to something-anything-that would keep her from breaking completely.
"Ek minute... bas ek minute," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Avyansh sighed but didn't push her. He simply crouched in front of her, his hands still on her arms, waiting.
She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, trying to gather whatever strength she had left. But when she exhaled, it came out shaky, her body betraying the control she desperately tried to hold onto.
Avyansh didn't say anything. He just reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, his warmth seeping into her cold skin.
"Mishti," he murmured, the nickname carrying a tenderness that made her throat tighten.
She opened her eyes again, looking at him-really looking at him. The quiet understanding in his gaze, the silent promise of I'm here.
That was all it took.
She nodded, barely noticeable, but he understood. Without another word, he helped her stand, his arm instinctively wrapping around her waist as she stumbled slightly.
No more words were needed.
He led her out of the room, away from the ghosts of memories and the weight of unanswered questions, guiding her home.
As they reached home, exhaustion weighed heavily on both of them. The emotional turmoil of the day had left them drained, but neither spoke about it.
Avantika freshened up quickly and disappeared before Avyansh even stepped into the washroom.
When he came out, running a towel through his damp hair, he immediately noticed the empty room. His brows furrowed. Where did she go now?
Without a second thought, he moved towards the door, ready to go find her, but just as he reached for the handle, the door opened.
"Kaha gayi thi aap?" he asked, his voice calm but firm, eyes scanning her face for any sign of further distress.
Avantika blinked at him, looking slightly surprised. "Huh?"
"Where were you?" he repeated, this time his tone laced with slight irritation.
She let out a quiet breath. "Samarth ke paas. Making sure he has eaten," she said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Avyansh's jaw tightened slightly. "And what about you?" he asked, stepping closer.
She didn't respond immediately, just glanced away, avoiding his gaze.
He sighed, already knowing she hadn't eaten. "Let me ask someone to bring something to eat, and don't you dare deny it," he warned, his voice holding a finality that left no room for arguments.
She parted her lips, ready to protest, but the sharp look in his eyes silenced her. Instead, she stood quietly as he picked up his phone and instructed the maid to bring food.
Time Skip
A soft knock at the door broke the heavy silence. The maid entered, placing a tray of warm food on the table before quietly stepping out.
Avyansh grabbed the plate and turned towards Avantika. "Come here," he said, his voice firm but gentle.
"I'm not hungry," she muttered, already looking away.
Avyansh exhaled sharply, his patience thinning. "Avantika, sit down and eat," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for discussion.
"I don't feel like it," she mumbled, stubbornly standing her ground.
His jaw clenched, and before she could move, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him.
She gasped softly as she lost her balance, and before she knew it, she was sitting on his lap, her small hands gripping his shoulders instinctively.
"Enough," he muttered, adjusting her so she was comfortable. Picking up the spoon, he brought a bite to her lips. "Eat, Mishti."
She turned her face away, pressing her lips together in silent defiance.
"Avantika," his voice was softer now, but there was an unmistakable warning in it.
She sighed, knowing he wouldn't let her go without eating. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth and took the bite, her gaze lowered.
"Good," he murmured, scooping another spoonful.
She ate quietly, feeling the warmth of his presence, the steady grip of his hand on her waist, keeping her securely against him.
A part of her wanted to protest, to remind him she wasn't weak, but another part-one she barely acknowledged-found comfort in the way he cared, in the way he wouldn't let her bear everything alone.
And Avyansh? He didn't say it aloud, but with every bite he fed her, he silently promised-she would never be alone again.
Avyansh reached for the chandi ka vashtra, an antique silver basin placed on the nearby table, filled with warm water. He dipped his hands in, rubbing them clean before drying them with a soft cotton cloth.
She was still sitting on his lap, unmoving.
His eyes flickered to her face-still blank, her gaze distant.
With a quiet sigh, he reached out, his thumb gently wiping away a small trace of food from the corner of her lips, just like one would with a child. His touch was light, careful. Yet, she didn't react, didn't flinch.
The door opened slightly, and the maid stepped in. She moved silently, picking up the empty plates and tray before leaving just as quickly, sensing the delicate stillness in the room.
"Avantika?" Avyansh called softly.
No response.
His chest tightened at the sight of her, lost in a void of grief. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms fully around her, pulling her closer.
She didn't resist.
Instead, she shifted, pressing her forehead lightly against his chest.
He felt her exhale, her breath warm against his skin, her fingers barely clutching the fabric of his kurta.
And he simply held her, his grip firm yet soothing.
As if shielding her from the storm raging inside her.
As if silently telling her-I'm here.
"Wo kyun chale gaye, Avyansh?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of her entire world crumbling around her.
A lone tear slipped down her cheek, trailing slowly before disappearing into the fabric of his kurta.
Avyansh tightened his hold around her, his fingers pressing lightly against her back, grounding her. "He had to," he murmured. "He didn't have a choice."
Avantika lifted her face to look at him, her hazel eyes-once warm, once full of life-now dull, clouded with unbearable pain.
"He had a choice," she said, her voice shaking. "He skipped his medicine because he was fed up, Avyansh."
Her lips trembled, another tear slipping down.
"Fed up with dealing with me... with my problems. How I always made him listen to everything-my pain, my fears, my burdens." Her voice cracked.
Avyansh's jaw tightened. He could feel her breaking, feel the self-blame creeping into her heart like a slow poison.
"No," he said firmly, cupping her face. "Don't do that, Avantika."
She blinked up at him, her tears now falling freely, her breath uneven.
"He loved you. He lived for you," Avyansh continued, his voice steady, but there was something raw in his eyes-something that mirrored her pain. "You were never a burden to him. Not for a single second."
She let out a choked sob, her fingers gripping his kurta as if afraid he, too, would slip away.
"He left me, Avyansh," she whispered brokenly. "Just like everyone else."
And at that moment, Avyansh did the only thing he could-he held her tighter, pressing a kiss against her forehead, silently vowing that no matter what, he wouldn't let her drown in this grief alone.
"Did I leave you? Am I not right here?" Avyansh asked, his voice gentle yet unwavering.
Avantika didn't respond immediately. Her eyes searched his face as if looking for cracks in his words, waiting for the moment they would shatter. But all she found was sincerity-an unshakable truth in his gaze.
"Aap bhi chod kar chale jayenge," she whispered, her voice barely audible, yet carrying the weight of all her fears. "I know."
Avyansh exhaled sharply, his grip on her tightening. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Never," he said, his tone firm, leaving no room for doubt. "Until I die, I will never leave you."
The conviction in his voice made her chest tighten, made the air around them feel heavier.
Avantika took a deep breath, as if preparing herself-preparing for something she had never done before.
She was going to share.
Everything.
Every past wound, every buried nightmare, every unspoken fear.
She was tired of carrying it all alone. And for the first time in her life, she allowed herself to believe-maybe, just maybe-she didn't have to.
Avyansh's POV
She took another deep breath, her grip tightening on my kurta, as if bracing herself for the weight of her own words.
I stayed silent. I didn't push.
I just held her.
The room felt colder, or maybe it was just the way her body trembled slightly in my arms.
"I..." she started, then stopped. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, her lashes fluttering like she was forcing herself to be strong.
I ran my thumb gently over the back of her hand.
She exhaled shakily.
"There are things you don't know about me, Avyansh ji," she finally whispered. "Things I never wanted anyone to know."
I remained still, watching her carefully.
She wasn't looking at me. She was looking past me, lost in the memories she had buried deep.
I could feel it.
The storm inside her.
The one she had held back for so long.
And now... now she was letting me in.
"I was sixteen when it started..."
Her voice was hollow, distant, like she wasn't just telling the story-she was reliving it.
"The injection... the therapist..." she whispered, her voice barely holding together, cracking under the weight of her past.
I felt her body tremble, the way her fingers clutched at my kurta, knuckles turning white.
"You will never leave me, na?" she asked again, her voice so small, so fragile, like she was bracing for the worst.
I didn't even hesitate. "Never, bache. Never."
She inhaled sharply, as if my words weren't enough to reach the darkness she was drowning in.
And then she looked at me.
Truly looked at me.
Her hazel eyes, usually soft and warm, were clouded-red, puffy, swollen with unshed tears, but beneath all of that... I saw something else.
Fear.
But not just fear.
It was something deeper. Something that had been festering inside her for years.
"Even if I'm not pure?"
The words sent a sharp pang through my chest.
"Even if before you..." she swallowed hard, her lips quivering, "someone else has touched me?"
Her voice cracked completely now, her breaths coming out in shaky, uneven gasps.
"Touched me everywhere?"
A storm rose inside me.
I felt it like fire crawling up my throat, my hands tightening into fists on instinct before I forced myself to relax.
This wasn't about me.
This was her pain.
Her scars.
And she was finally letting me in.
Her next words shattered something inside me.
"He held me down, Avyansh ji..." Her voice was hollow now, detached, as if she wasn't here but back there-reliving it all over again.
"I screamed, I begged, I fought... but no one came."
Tears streamed down her face freely, her entire body shaking like she was going to collapse.
"I used to think if I was a good girl, if I listened to everything I was told, nothing bad would happen to me. But it did. Again. And again."
She let out a broken sob, curling into herself, her arms wrapping around her own body as if she could protect herself now in ways she couldn't back then.
"And after that... I was dirty, wasn't I?" She let out a bitter, almost lifeless laugh.
"Damaged. Spoiled. Not worthy of love. That's what they said. That's what I believed. That's why Papa sent me to therapy, why I had to take those injections, those medicines-to forget. To erase it."
My blood ran cold.
I couldn't breathe.
But she wasn't done.
"Even after it ended, it never really ended," she whispered, barely able to form the words.
"Every time someone touched me, I felt them all over again. Their hands, their breath, their voices..." Her nails dug into her arms as she shut her eyes tightly, like she was trying to block it all out.
"And I thought-maybe if I stayed silent, maybe if I pretended it never happened, it would go away. That one day, I would wake up and feel normal again. But I never did."
She exhaled shakily, lifting her gaze to meet mine again.
"And now, you're saying you'll never leave." A hollow smile formed on her lips, so heartbreaking that it felt like something inside me shattered. "But you will, Avyansh ji. One day, when you realize that you deserve better, when you realize that I will never be whole again, you will leave."
I couldn't take it anymore.
I cupped her face, forcing her to look at me, to see me.
"Avantika," I murmured, my voice thick with emotions I couldn't even name.
"I love you."
Her breath stilled.
"I love you the way you are," I said, my thumbs wiping away the endless stream of tears trailing down her cheeks.
She shook her head slightly, as if refusing to believe me, but I didn't let her look away.
"I don't care about your past. I don't care about what anyone did to you. I don't care how many scars you carry, how much pain you've buried," I said, my voice firm, steady, leaving no room for doubt.
"You are mine, and Equally I am yours too."
Her lips parted in a silent sob, her walls crumbling before me.
"And I swear on everything," I whispered, pressing my forehead against hers, my grip tightening around her.
"I will never let anyone, anyone, make you feel less than what you are."
She let out a choked sob, gripping onto me like I was the only thing keeping her afloat.
She had spent years running from her past.
She pulled her sleeves up slowly, fully, revealing her arms.
"Look,"
I had seen them before-faint glimpses beneath makeup, hidden under fabric. But never like this. Never this closely, this fully.
My breath caught.
Scars. So many scars.
Some thin. Some deep. Some faded. Some fresh.
Some so violently carved into her skin that they would never truly disappear.
Each one was a scream that was never heard. A cry for help that was never answered.
I felt something inside me shatter.
She didn't look at me. Her fingers traced one of the deeper scars on her wrist, almost absentmindedly, like she had done it a thousand times before.
"When I first attempted to... to kill myself," she whispered.
The air in my lungs turned to stone.
She let out a shaky breath. "I thought it would end. The nightmares. The shame. The filth."
Her voice trembled. "I thought I'd finally be free."
She swallowed, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her saree. "But they saved me."
A hollow, lifeless chuckle escaped her lips.
"I thought it was because they wanted me.
Because they loved me. Because my life meant something to them."
Her breath hitched.
"But I was wrong."
She lifted her eyes to mine, and I wished she hadn't.
Because the emptiness in them was worse than tears.
'They didn't save me for me.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
"They saved me for their reputation."
I clenched my jaw so hard it ached.
She sucked in a breath, her voice shaking violently. "Do you know what my father said to me?"
I didn't move. Didn't speak.
I knew whatever came next would break something inside me that could never be repaired.
Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the bed, holding onto it like she was holding onto reality itself.
"Hume bata dete... I would have helped and made it look like an accident.."
I froze.
My blood ran ice cold.
"Itni badnaami se toh acha hai..."
Her voice cracked at the end.
And the moment it did-so did she.
She didn't cry out loud.
She didn't scream.
She just-broke.
Completely.
Her entire body trembled. Her breaths came out in short, shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling too fast, too erratic.
She pressed a hand to her throat, like she was choking, like the air itself was suffocating her.
"I-I wanted to die," she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her hands clutched at her chest, at her throat, at the very places that still carried the weight of hands that should have never touched her.
"I wanted to die so badly."
I swallowed, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
"I thought if I died, everything would stop hurting," she continued, her lips trembling. "That if I disappeared, I wouldn't have to feel anymore."
She let out a quiet, broken sob. "But even death wasn't mine to choose."
My breath hitched.
'They took that from me too."
She sucked in a sharp breath, her nails digging into her arms, pressing against the very scars that told the story of a girl who had been fighting for too long.
"I thought... maybe if I stayed quiet, maybe if I pretended it never happened, maybe if I just forgot-I would be okay."
She let out another lifeless chuckle. "But I never forgot."
Her eyes flickered to me, raw and hollow. "And I never will.
Her voice cracked on the last word.
She let out a soft, shuddering breath, her hands slowly loosening their grip.
Her shoulders trembled, her entire body sagging forward.
â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â â¡â <â â¡â â¡â â¡
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Guys⦠um, hi!
So, as you know, Iâm handling the account for now, and thereâs something I need to tell youâ¦
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