The last two hours felt endless.
Every second—
like a blade.
Cutting deeper.
The car didn't slow.
Not once.
Roads blurred.
Voices echoed.
Orders were given—
but Aarav?
He wasn't fully there.
Because his mind—
was stuck on one thing.
Her voice.
"Paani…"
His grip tightened on the steering.
"Faster," he said again.
Even though they were already pushing limits.
"Sir… location confirmed," a voice came.
"Old villa… outskirts."
That was enough.
The convoy changed direction instantly.
Dust rising.
Engines roaring.
And then—
after what felt like forever—
they saw it.
A lone villa.
Isolated.
Silent.
Aarav stepped out before the car even stopped properly.
His eyes locked onto the building.
Dark.
Still.
His chest rose—
slow.
Controlled.
"I'm coming…" he whispered.
Then—
he moved.
The gates were forced open.
Doors pushed.
Footsteps echoed through the halls.
"Search every room!" someone shouted.
But Aarav didn't wait.
He already knew.
He followed instinct—
turning sharply—
opening one door—
then another—
And then—
he saw her.
Everything stopped.
Meher.
Sitting on the floor—
head tilted—
completely still.
His breath caught.
"Meher…"
No response.
He rushed to her instantly—
dropping to his knees.
"Meher!"
His voice broke.
He untied her hands quickly—
carefully—
holding her face.
"Meher… aankhein kholo…"
(Open your eyes…)
Nothing.
His hands trembled—
just slightly.
"Meher… please…"
For the first time—
Aarav looked… lost.
He pulled her into his arms—
holding her close.
Too close.
"I'm here…" he whispered,
"I'm here…"
His forehead rested against hers.
And for a moment—
the world outside disappeared.
Just him.
And her.
Footsteps rushed in.
Police.
Officers moved fast—
securing the area.
Kabir was dragged forward—
hands restrained.
Anaya beside him.
Kabir laughed.
Cold.
Unbothered.
"Mil gayi?"
(Found her?)
Aarav didn't look at him.
Not yet.
"Check kar lo…" Kabir continued,
"…zinda hai ya nahi."
(…check if she's alive or not.)
That was it.
Aarav slowly stood—
still holding Meher in one arm.
Then—
he turned.
His eyes—
dark.
Unforgiving.
He stepped forward—
closing the distance.
And without a word—
he struck.
A sharp slap.
The sound echoed.
Silence followed.
Kabir's head turned slightly—
but he smiled.
Still.
"Touch mat karna usse," Aarav said quietly.
(Don't even speak about her.)
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried something worse.
Finality.
Police pulled Kabir back.
Taking him away.
Anaya looked at Aarav—
for a second—
but said nothing.
Because even she could see it.
This wasn't the same man anymore.
Aarav turned back—
his attention returning instantly to Meher.
He picked her up carefully—
holding her like something fragile.
"Doctor ready rakho," he said.
(Have a doctor ready.)
And then—
he walked out.
Not looking back.
Because for him—
nothing else mattered now.
Just her.The hospital lights were too bright.
Too clean.
Too calm.
It didn't match what Aarav felt inside.
"Patient stable hai… lekin abhi hosh mein nahi aayi."
(The patient is stable… but she hasn't regained consciousness yet.)
The doctor's words echoed.
Stable.
But not awake.
Aarav stood still for a moment.
As if processing—
or refusing to.
"Kitna time lagega?" he asked.
(How long will it take?)
The doctor hesitated.
"Hum exact nahi keh sakte."
(We can't say exactly.)
That answer—
wasn't enough.
But it was all he got.
He didn't argue.
Didn't shout.
Didn't react.
He just turned—
and walked toward her room.
The door opened slowly.
And there she was.
Meher.
Lying on the bed—
too still.
Too quiet.
Machines beside her—
soft beeping sounds filling the silence.
Her hair—
neatly moved aside now.
Her hands—
free.
But resting without strength.
Aarav stepped closer.
Slowly.
As if afraid—
that even his presence might disturb her.
"Meher…" he whispered.
No response.
He pulled a chair—
sitting beside her.
For a long moment—
he just looked.
Trying to match this image—
with the girl who argued with him.
Who teased him.
Who laughed.
And it didn't match.
At all.
His hand moved slowly—
holding hers.
Carefully.
Cold.
Too cold.
He tightened his grip slightly.
"Utho…" he murmured.
(Get up…)
Silence.
He leaned forward—
resting his head lightly against her hand.
For the first time—
Aarav didn't look strong.
He looked… tired.
Hours passed.
No change.
Nurses came.
Doctors checked.
Machines continued.
But Meher—
remained still.
Night fell again.
Aarav didn't leave.
Not once.
Someone brought food.
He didn't touch it.
Someone asked him to rest.
He ignored it.
Because how could he?
When she hadn't opened her eyes yet.
Around midnight—
the room grew quieter.
Dim lights.
Soft shadows.
Aarav still sat there—
his hand in hers.
"Tumhe yaad hai…" he whispered softly,
"…tum kehti thi main overprotective hoon?"
A faint, broken smile appeared.
"Ab uth jao…"
"…complain kar lena."
Silence answered him.
His thumb moved gently over her hand—
almost unconsciously.
"Main yahin hoon," he said again.
That line—
he had said before.
But this time—
it felt different.
More desperate.
A long pause.
Then—
very softly—
his voice dropped.
"Please…"
Just one word.
And for a moment—
it felt like even the machines paused.
But nothing changed.
Outside—
guards stood.
Security tightened.
The world moved.
But inside that room—
time had stopped.
Because Aarav—
was waiting.
Not for revenge.
Not for answers.
Just for her.
To open her eyes.Morning came—
but for Aarav—
nothing changed.
He was still there.
Same chair.
Same position.
Her hand still in his.
The doctor entered quietly.
Checking the monitors.
Reports in hand.
Aarav looked up instantly.
"Doctor…"
The doctor paused—
then spoke carefully.
"Unki condition stable hai…"
(Her condition is stable…)
Aarav didn't react.
He was waiting for the rest.
A small pause.
Then—
"Unhe kaafi der tak paani nahi mila."
(She didn't get water for a long time.)
Silence.
Aarav's fingers stiffened slightly.
"Severe dehydration tha…"
(It was severe dehydration…)
The doctor continued—
"Lagta hai… woh paani maang rahi thi…"
(It seems… she was asking for water…)
"…but no one gave her."
That was it.
The words settled slowly.
Too slowly.
Aarav didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Just stared at her.
Her face.
Her lips.
Still dry.
And suddenly—
that moment from the video—
came back.
"Paani…"
His grip tightened around her hand.
A tear slipped.
Just one.
Silent.
He closed his eyes for a second.
Breathing uneven.
"Iske liye…" he whispered,
"…main jaan de doon…"
(For her… I would give my life…)
His voice broke slightly—
but he continued.
"…aur usne…"
A pause.
"…usse paani tak nahi diya…"
(…and he didn't even give her water…)
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Unbearable.
Aarav leaned forward—
his forehead resting gently against her hand.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered.
Not to the world.
Not to anyone else.
Just to her.
"I should've been there…"
His fingers tightened slightly—
as if holding her closer would fix everything.
"You called me…"
"…aur main late ho gaya…"
(…and I came late…)
His voice dropped—
almost breaking completely.
"Ab aur nahi…"
(Not anymore…)
A pause.
"Ab kabhi nahi."
(Never again.)
He lifted his head slowly—
looking at her again.
This time—
not just with pain.
But with something darker.
Stronger.
A promise.
Because now—
this wasn't just about saving her.
It was about making sure—
no one ever hurt her again.The room had gone quiet again.
Machines humming softly.
Light falling gently across her face.
Aarav still sat beside her—
holding her hand.
Not moving.
Not leaving.
Time blurred.
Minutes.
Maybe hours.
Then—
something shifted.
Small.
Barely noticeable.
Her fingers moved.
Just slightly.
Aarav froze.
His eyes snapped to her instantly.
"Meher…?"
Another movement.
Her brows furrowed—
like she was fighting something.
A dream.
A memory.
Pain.
"Aa…rav…"
Her voice—
broken.
Faint.
But clear.
For a second—
Aarav didn't breathe.
Then he stood up instantly—
moving closer—
almost stumbling in the rush.
"Meher!"
Her eyes were still closed—
but tears slipped down slowly—
one after another.
"Aarav…" she whispered again—
this time weaker.
That was enough.
He sat on the edge of the bed—
leaning closer—
his hands instantly holding her face.
"I'm here… I'm here…"
His voice shook.
Her lips trembled slightly—
her breathing uneven.
Without thinking—
Aarav pulled her into his arms.
Carefully.
Protectively.
Holding her tightly—
as if letting go would break everything again.
"It's okay… it's okay…" he murmured near her hair.
Her head rested weakly against his chest—
tears still slipping silently.
"I'm here, Meher…"
His hand moved gently over her hair—
slow—
soothing—
trying to calm her.
"No one's touching you now…"
"…no one."
Her fingers curled weakly into his shirt—
gripping it.
Like she recognized him—
even without opening her eyes.
That small movement—
broke him again.
He tightened his hold slightly—
pressing his cheek against her head.
"You're safe…"
"…I promise."
Her breathing slowly started to calm—
still weak—
but steadier.
And for the first time—
since everything—
Aarav felt something else.
Relief.
Because even in unconsciousness—
she called him.
And he answered.She was still in his arms.
Breathing softly now—
not steady yet—
but calmer than before.
Aarav didn't move.
Didn't let go.
As if even a little distance—
might take her away again.
Then—
very slowly—
her lips moved.
Barely.
"Aa…rav…"
His heart clenched instantly.
"I'm here," he whispered.
A pause.
Her voice came again—
so soft—
so fragile—
"Paani…"
(Water…)
That one word—
hit him harder than anything.
For a second—
he froze.
Because he remembered.
The video.
Her whisper.
Her asking.
And no one listening.
His chest tightened.
"Meher…" he said softly,
"haan… haan… abhi."
(Yes… right now.)
He carefully helped her sit up slightly—
supporting her gently.
His hands trembled—
just a little—
as he reached for the glass.
He brought it close—
holding it carefully to her lips.
"Slow…" he murmured.
But she didn't.
She drank quickly—
like she had been waiting too long.
Her hands weakly tried to hold the glass—
but he held it steady for her.
"Aram se…" he whispered again.
(Gently…)
But he didn't stop her.
Because he could see it—
that need.
And something inside him—
almost broke.
A tear slipped again—
silent—
as he watched her.
"Bas… thoda aur…" she murmured faintly.
(Just a little more…)
He nodded instantly—
giving her more.
Every second—
every sip—
felt heavier than anything before.
Because this—
was something so simple.
And yet—
it had been taken from her.
When she finally slowed down—
he gently pulled the glass away.
"Enough for now," he said softly.
She didn't argue.
Her head leaned weakly against his shoulder—
eyes still closed.
"Thank you…" she whispered.
That was it.
Aarav closed his eyes for a moment—
holding her closer.
"No…" he murmured quietly,
"…sorry."
His hand moved gently through her hair—
slow—
careful—
as if making up for every moment he wasn't there.
"I'm here now," he said.
And this time—
it wasn't just reassurance.
It was a promise.The room had finally softened.
Meher rested against him—
weaker,
but conscious.
Aarav hadn't let go.
Not even for a second.
A gentle knock broke the silence.
The doctor entered with a nurse.
"Bandage change karna hoga," he said calmly.
(We need to clean the stitches and change the bandage.)
Aarav's body stiffened slightly.
His hold around her tightened unconsciously.
Meher looked at him—
eyes still tired.
"It'll be quick," the doctor added.
Aarav nodded slowly—
but didn't move immediately.
"Sir, aap bahar wait kariye," the nurse said politely.
(Please wait outside.)
For a moment—
he didn't want to leave.
At all.
But Meher gave a small nod.
"I'm here…" he whispered softly,
"…bas bahar."
(I'm just outside.)
He gently placed her back—
adjusting the pillow carefully.
Then—
reluctantly—
he stepped out.
The door closed.
And suddenly—
everything felt wrong again.
The hallway was quiet.
Too quiet.
Aarav stood there—
hands clenched—
jaw tight.
Seconds passed.
Then—
a sound.
A soft cry.
He froze.
Another one.
Louder this time.
"Aarav…"
That was it.
He moved instantly—
reaching the door—
about to push it open—
when the nurse stepped in front of him.
"Sir—please," she said quickly.
"Stitches hain… pain hoga."
(There are stitches… it will hurt.)
He didn't listen.
Couldn't.
Her voice came again from inside—
this time breaking—
full of pain.
"Aarav…"
His control snapped.
He pushed past—
opening the door.
And then—
he saw her.
Meher—
lying there—
eyes squeezed shut—
tears falling continuously—
face pale—
breathing uneven.
Her hands gripped the bedsheet tightly—
as if holding onto something—
anything.
"Aarav…" she cried weakly.
He was beside her in seconds.
"Hey… hey…"
His voice softened instantly—
completely different now.
He held her hand—
then gently pulled her closer—
careful—
so careful.
"It's okay… I'm here…"
She turned toward him immediately—
hugging him—
as much as her weak body allowed.
"A lot… pain…" she cried softly.
That broke him.
He wrapped his arms around her—
holding her securely—
one hand supporting her head.
"Bas… bas…" he murmured,
"ho gaya… ho gaya…"
(It's okay… it's done…)
His hand moved gently through her hair—
again and again—
trying to calm her.
"Main hoon na…"
(I'm here…)
Her grip tightened slightly—
seeking comfort.
Aarav closed his eyes for a moment—
pressing his forehead lightly against hers.
"I swear…" he whispered,
voice low—
shaking slightly—
"…this was the last time."
A pause.
"The last time you feel this kind of pain."
His words weren't loud.
But they carried weight.
Promise.
Protection.
Meher slowly calmed—
still breathing uneven—
but safer.
Because he was there.
And this time—
he wasn't leaving.The room finally settled again.
The doctor and nurse finished—
moving quietly out—
leaving them alone.
Aarav didn't move away.
Not even a little.
Meher was still close to him—
her head resting against his chest—
breathing slowly now.
His hand moved gently through her hair—
again and again—
like a rhythm.
"Better?" he whispered softly.
She didn't answer.
Not in words.
Instead—
her fingers curled into his shirt—
holding it tightly.
Like she was afraid—
he might disappear.
Aarav noticed immediately.
A faint, almost broken smile touched his lips.
"Hmm…" he murmured,
"itni clingy kab se ho gayi tum?"
(When did you become this clingy?)
She shook her head lightly against him—
still not letting go.
"Mat jao…" she whispered.
(Don't go…)
That one line—
soft.
Weak.
But full of fear.
Aarav's expression changed instantly.
He tightened his hold around her—
one hand resting protectively on her back.
"Kahin nahi ja raha," he said quietly.
(I'm not going anywhere.)
A pause.
"Yahin hoon."
(I'm right here.)
She relaxed a little—
but didn't let go.
Minutes passed like that.
Just silence.
Warmth.
Presence.
After a while—
he gently adjusted her—
making her lie back comfortably.
But even then—
her hand didn't leave his.
"Yahan aao…" she murmured weakly.
(Come here…)
He leaned closer instantly.
"Yahin hoon," he said again.
She shook her head slightly—
pulling his hand closer—
placing it near her.
"Yahan…" she whispered again.
He understood.
Without a word—
Aarav carefully sat on the edge of the bed—
then slowly leaned beside her—
making sure not to hurt her.
She shifted slightly—
resting her head against his arm.
Her fingers wrapped around his hand again—
tight.
This time—
he didn't tease.
Didn't move.
He just stayed.
"Ab theek hai…" she murmured faintly.
(Now it's okay…)
His chest tightened softly at that.
"Good," he whispered.
A small silence followed.
Then—
in a very soft voice—
almost like a child—
she said—
"Dar lag raha tha…"
(I was scared…)
Aarav's jaw tightened for a second—
but his voice stayed calm.
"Ab nahi lagega," he said.
(Not anymore.)
His thumb gently brushed over her hand—
soothing—
steady.
"Main hoon na."
(I'm here.)
Her grip loosened slightly—
not because she let go—
but because she felt safe.
Within minutes—
her breathing slowed again.
She fell asleep.
Still holding him.
Aarav didn't move.
Didn't even try.
Because for the first time—
after everything—
she was resting peacefully.
And he wasn't going to disturb that.
Not for anything.
His eyes stayed on her—
soft now.
Protective.
"Sleep…" he whispered very quietly.
"I've got you."
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Stay tuned