Chapter 58: ✿Chapter 51✿

दुनिया तुम्हारा साथ छोड़ेगी, पर हम नहीं,

हर दर्द सहेंगे, पर तुझे छोड़ेंगे नहीं।

आंधियां आएं या बदल जाए मौसम,

हम रहेंगें तेरे संग, ये वादा है हरदम।

◇

Avyansh's POV

I had never seen her like this. Not once. The woman who stood before me, who always carried herself with quiet resilience, was breaking. And I was helplessly watching every piece of her shatter.

Her hazel eyes, always filled with an untold weight, held a storm tonight-one that I was only now beginning to understand.

"I was the first child of this family. Everyone used to love me a lot," she said, her voice distant, as if she were speaking from another time.

"Chachu used to be my best friend. Dadu, Dadi, Papa, Maa... everyone's world revolved around me."

She paused, inhaling sharply, her fingers twisting into the fabric of her dupatta.

"But then..."

Her voice cracked, and I clenched my fists, my own chest tightening in anticipation of what she would say next.

"When Chachu married Chachi, I was eight. Everything changed."

Her words were steady, but the tremor in them betrayed her.

"She started comparing me to others. Always. Even in front of my parents. She would manipulate them, make them believe I wasn't enough. That I wasn't as smart, as capable, as worthy as other children."

I exhaled sharply, anger rising in my veins. How could a child-a mere child-be treated this way?

She let out a humorless chuckle, shaking her head. "I was weak in academics. Always had been. But nobody cared before. It never mattered. But suddenly, it did. Suddenly, my failures weren't just mine-they were a reflection of my parents, of the family."

Her eyes met mine then, raw and hollow.

"Papa was furious. Chachu... changed. He changed so much that I didn't even recognize him anymore. Was he really my Chachu?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, gripping my knees so hard that my knuckles turned white.

"I was a late speaker. Shy. Introverted. I couldn't even form proper sentences until I was seven," she continued, her voice quieter now.

"And when Dadu and Dadi left for Odisha, when Chachi took their place in the house... there was no one left to protect me."

Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them.

"Samarth was little. He was the apple of everyone's eye. And I..." she trailed off, laughing bitterly.

"I grew jealous of him. Of my own brother. But I never harmed him, never mistreated him. I just... I just realized he needed more love than me. Because he was my brother. Because I loved him."

I had never felt this helpless in my life.

She took a deep, shaky breath before she continued.

"When I failed for the first time, my father-" she stopped, biting her lip so hard I thought she might draw blood.

"My father slapped me."

A deafening silence filled the room.

"In front of my entire class."

I blinked, unable to comprehend.

"Parents were there. Teachers were there. I was just thirteen."

The breath I had been holding escaped in a sharp exhale.

"At home, he made me study for hours. Two tutors. One pitied me, but the other..." she closed her eyes, as if trying to block out the memories. "She beat me."

My jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

"She pressed pencils between my fingers, made me stand for hours, slapped me when I couldn't get the answers right. And my father-my own father-told them to fix me."

I had never known rage like this before.

"I never knew my happy family would change just because of one woman. Just because of her manipulations."

Her sobs shook her frame, and before I could think, I was already moving.

I reached for her, pulling her into my chest.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I whispered, my voice breaking. "Why, Mishti?"

She trembled against me, her fingers clutching at my shirt, but she said nothing.

I tightened my hold on her, my lips brushing against the top of her head.

"They sent me dinner in my room," she continued, her voice muffled against my chest. "Samarth wasn't allowed to meet me. My cousins weren't allowed near me. They thought I would corrupt them-make them weak, like me. Make them foolish, like me. Make them... mad, like me."

I squeezed my eyes shut, my throat burning with the words I wanted to say but couldn't.

"And then, after four years... Dadu and Dadi came back."

She pulled away slightly, looking up at me with tear-streaked cheeks and swollen eyes.

"I had begged my father to let me learn music. Begged. It was the only thing that made sense to me."

She exhaled shakily. "When Dadu saw me, he looked... horrified. He barely recognized me."

She swallowed hard, her lips trembling.

"And then he said..."

I cupped her face, tilting it up to meet my gaze.

"Kya kaha Dadu ne?" I asked softly.

She blinked at me, another tear slipping down her cheek.

And then, in the smallest, most broken voice I had ever heard, she whispered-

"'Meri beti toh aisi nahi thi.'"

A silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

Her eyes, filled with grief and a pain so deep it made my chest ache, locked onto mine.

And in that moment, I knew-

She had never truly healed from this.

And I would never forgive them for what they had done to her.

Avantika's POV

"Dadu fought with Papa," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. "He fought so hard. For me. But still..."

My throat tightened as the memories resurfaced, raw and unfiltered.

"He was so blinded by his reputation, his status, his image that he didn't care."

I closed my eyes, the weight of those years pressing down on me like a suffocating fog.

"'Agar yeh ladki is ghar ki izzat nahi rakh sakti, toh isse koi haq nahi hai yaha rehne ka!'" My father's voice echoed in my head, sharp and cruel.

"'Izzat?'" Dadu had roared back, his face red with fury. 'Izzat ghar ke naam se nahi, logon ke bartav se banti hai,! Tum apni beti ke saath kya kar rahe ho, ek din tumhe bohot pachhtawa hoga!'"

My hands curled into fists on my lap.

"'Aap sirf bigaad rahe hain isse, Baba!'" Papa had snapped, his eyes cold. 'Yeh ladki mujhe meri izzat ke saamne ek kalank lagti hai. Yeh humare ghar ki shaan nahi badha sakti, sirf neecha dikha sakti hai!'"

I shivered, the words cutting through me as if I was hearing them again for the first time.

"Maa..." I hesitated, swallowing back the lump in my throat. "She only cared about Samarth. Needed me only for work, only when it was convenient. She never stood up for me."

I exhaled sharply, blinking away the sting in my eyes.

"I used to stay in Dadu's room. That was the only place where I felt safe. The only place where I wasn't treated like a burden, like a failure, like an outsider in my own home."

I lifted my gaze to Avyansh ji, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with unreadable emotions.

Tears blurred my vision as memories crashed over me like violent waves, pulling me back into a past I had spent years trying to bury. My voice trembled, but I couldn't stop now-not when everything I had held in for so long was finally spilling out.

"Dadi... she loved me," I choked out, my hands gripping the edge of my saree as if it could hold me together. "But she... she got paralyzed because of the constant stress.

She used to cry so much, Avyansh ji." My breath hitched, the raw pain tightening around my chest.

I wiped my tears away harshly, but they just kept falling.

"I tried... I tried so hard. I starved myself, ran until my legs gave out-just to lose weight, just to look acceptable in their eyes. But I couldn't. And then, when I couldn't change how I looked, I changed something else. I excelled in academics. I topped every class, won every competition, hoping, just hoping, that maybe this time... maybe this time they'd look at me with love." I let out a broken laugh, shaking my head.

"But it never came."

My fingers curled into fists as the ache in my heart deepened.

"I won every music competition, every function, but they never came-not once. Except for Dadu and Dadi." My voice wavered, the loss of them-the only two who ever truly loved me-shattering me all over again.

"But then Dadi got sick, and Dadu couldn't leave her alone. He still tried. He still wanted to come. But I stopped him."

I closed my eyes, my breath shaky, my voice a whisper now.

"I told him not to come, Avyansh ji. Because I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear seeing just him in that empty auditorium when my parents should have been there."

A sob ripped through me, my chest tightening painfully. "And school... my classmates-they used to tease me, mock me, call me names, bully me. I never told anyone. Because what was the point? I had no one to tell. No one who would have cared."

I sucked in a trembling breath, my hands shaking uncontrollably now. "And then... when I turned 16... a day before Samarth's birthday... Papa was throwing a huge party for him. Everyone was so busy. Chachu, Chachi, my mother-everyone was at the back house, making arrangements. The house was empty except for me and Dadi. Dadu was out somewhere."

I swallowed hard, the memory as clear as if it had happened just yesterday.

"She was sitting in her wheelchair," I whispered, my lips trembling. "I was singing to her... with the guitar she gifted me. And then..."

I squeezed my eyes shut, the memory flooding back, the one that changed everything. The one that broke me completely.

I felt Avyansh move closer, his fingers tightening around mine, grounding me, reminding me I wasn't alone now.

But the past... the past never truly left, did it?

My fingers clenched onto Avyansh's shirt as I pressed closer into his warmth, my breath uneven, my heartbeat a trembling whisper against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me, but nothing could stop the memories from surfacing-the ones I had buried so deep, hoping they'd never resurface.

"I... I don't know what to show I was taking her to my room ," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

I took a shaky breath, my mind dragging me back to that night-the night that changed everything.

I was taking Dadi to my room. We were near the stairs when her phone rang from inside.

"Dadi, ruko... main dekh ke aati hoon, okay?" I had told her.

She nodded, smiling weakly, her frail fingers gripping the arms of her wheelchair. I turned away, stepping inside. It was Papa.

"Samarth waha hai?" he asked.

"Nahi, Papa," I replied, frowning.

And then-a crash.

Loud. Bone-chilling.

I froze. My breath hitched. My body went cold.

I rushed outside.

She wasn't there.

Dadi wasn't where I had left her.

She was-

She was down there.

Lying at the foot of the stairs.

Blood.

There was so much blood.

Her frail body twisted in a way it shouldn't have been. Her wheelchair lay overturned beside her.

And beside her-Samarth.

He was crying. Shaking. His small hands tugging at her saree, his face red and panicked.

"Didi... maine nahi kiya," he sobbed. "Please... sorry... Didi, please sorry..."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. My hands trembled as I fell to my knees beside Dadi, cradling her bleeding head on my lap, my vision blurring.

"No... no, no, no..." I whimpered.

She was not breathing-.

I felt hands on my shoulders. Papa...? No. He wasn't there yet.

"Avantika," a voice called, but I couldn't focus.

Samarth was beside me, his tiny fingers clutching my wrist.

"Didi, please," he kept crying, "maine nahi kiya. Dadi... Dadi mujhse gir gayi, main unko le ja raha tha side pe... please, Didi...Trust me..."

He was scared. Terrified.

And I was too.

If Papa found out... if they found out...

He'd suffer. Like me.

I had to protect him. I had to.

"Avantika... Avantika!"

The voice was louder now.

I gasped, my body jerking as I was pulled out of my thoughts, back into the present.

Avyansh.

His hands were on my face, cupping my cheeks gently, his thumbs wiping away the tears I hadn't realized were falling.

"Breathe, bache," he murmured.

I was shaking. My chest heaved. My hands-cold.

"She was bleeding, Avyansh..." my voice cracked. "There was so much blood. And Samarth-he was so small... so small... He would have suffered, I know he would have suffered like I did. I-I had to lie, I had to-"

"Shh... shh, Avantika," he whispered, his forehead pressing against mine. "You're here. I'm here. It's over."

But it wasn't over.

It would never be over.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

On my hands. On my clothes. On the floor.

"Didi, please... sorry... Didi, please sorry..."

Samarth's cries rang in my ears, mixing with the deafening pounding of my heart. My breath came in short, sharp gasps. My hands-trembling. My vision-blurring.

"You killed your mother."

No.

"You killed your Dadi."

No. No. No.

"Unse kya jalan thi tumhe, jo unko maar diya?"

I clutched my head, shaking violently, trying to push the voices away.

"You're the reason."

"You're dumb."

"You're a curse.

"Meri beti hoti toh aisa kabhi na karti."

"Meri beti hoti toh humare izzat rakhti."

"Par tu toh apne maa pe gayi hai-manhoos!"

"STOP!" I screamed, pressing my hands against my ears, but the voices wouldn't stop. They wouldn't leave me.

Dadi was lying on the floor again. Her body limp. Her blood soaking my hands.

"Avantika!"

A new voice-different, urgent-called out to me, but I couldn't focus.

The room was spinning.

I couldn't breathe.

"Breathe, Avantika!"

No air. No escape.

"Mishti!"

My chest tightened. My vision darkened.

The blood-so much blood-

The voices-so loud-

The world around me blurred into nothingness.

And then-blackness.

Author's POV

The loud scream had shaken the entire house.

Within seconds, knocks pounded against the door, voices filled with worry.

Avyansh, his face tense, carefully laid Avantika down on the bed before striding toward the door, his phone still in his hand, fingers hovering over the emergency contact.

The door swung open.

Pakhi entered first, her eyes scanning the room in alarm. "Kya hua?" she asked, her voice sharp with concern.

Maanyata pushed past her, her face pale. "Kya hua mere bachi ko?" Her hands trembled as she reached out toward Avantika's unconscious form.

The rest of the family followed closely behind, their worried murmurs filling the air.

"She fainted," Avyansh stated, his voice firm but laced with underlying panic.

"How?" Vijay asked, his brows furrowed.

Avyansh exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "I'll explain later."

A new voice broke through the tension.

"What happened to Di?"

Samarth pushed his way into the room, his eyes frantically searching for his sister. His breath hitched as he saw her lying motionless on the bed. "Di!" He rushed toward her, gripping her cold hand in his.

Ruhaan entered next, his face set with determination as he stepped aside to let the doctor in.

The tension in the room thickened as everyone waited, breaths held, hearts pounding.

And Avyansh?

His hands clenched into fists.

His patience was razor-thin.

Because whatever had broken Avantika tonight-whatever demons from her past had dragged her into this darkness-he was going to destroy them.

The doctor, a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a calm demeanor, placed his bag on the bedside table and immediately began checking Avantika's vitals.

The room was suffocatingly silent except for the beeping of the oximeter and the occasional rustle of fabric as people shifted anxiously.

Avyansh stood rigid beside the bed, his fists clenched as his eyes remained fixed on Avantika's pale face.

Samarth hovered on the other side, gripping Avantika's hand tightly as if his touch alone could wake her up.

"Doctor, kya hua?" Dev finally asked, his voice unsteady.

The doctor pressed his fingers against Avantika's wrist, checking her pulse. His frown deepened slightly as he took out a small flashlight and carefully lifted her eyelids, observing her pupils.

"Pulse is weak," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

He then placed his stethoscope against her chest, listening carefully before shifting to check her blood pressure. The silence in the room became unbearable.

"Doctor?" Pakhi prompted, unable to wait any longer.

The doctor exhaled and turned to face them. "She has had a severe anxiety attack. Her body went into shock. Given her weak vitals, it seems she has been under prolonged stress, which has severely impacted her nervous system. Have there been recent triggers?"

Avyansh's jaw tightened. His knuckles turned white. He didn't need to look at Samarth to know the boy had stiffened, guilt heavy in the air.

"She has a history of trauma," Avyansh said in a clipped tone. "Something triggered her memories tonight."

The doctor nodded in understanding. "That explains it. Her body couldn't handle the emotional distress, leading to hyperventilation, which eventually caused her to faint."

"She will be fine, right?" Devika asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor sighed. "Physically, yes. But mentally? She needs rest. More importantly, she needs stability. If this continues, her body will begin to show more severe symptoms-chronic fatigue, organ strain, even blackouts. She cannot afford to be put through this again."

"What do we do now?" Vijay asked.

The doctor pulled out a small vial and syringe from his bag. "I'll give her a mild sedative to ensure she gets proper sleep. But once she wakes up, keep her calm. No stress, no forcing her to talk about anything unless she's ready. Her mind needs to recover."

He filled the syringe and injected it into Avantika's arm.

"She will wake up in a few hours. In the meantime, let her rest," he instructed before turning to Avyansh. "And you-"

Avyansh looked at him, his expression unreadable.

"Take care of her. Right now, she needs someone she can trust."

Avyansh gave a single nod, his gaze shifting back to the fragile figure lying on the bed.

He was already planning to do exactly that.

No matter what it took.

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Thanks for Reading

80% of the trauma is revealed.

Bohot zyda trauma hogya nhi?abhi aur baaki hai by God likhte likhte halat Khrab hogye.

Mr.Anjaan is good. 🙌🙂