Shaurya’s POV
For the second time, I found myself lifting her unconscious body in my arms. And just like that night, every muscle in my jaw clenched with rage and helplessness.
The memory of finding her broken, bloodied, and voiceless under the pale moonlight slammed into me like a wave.
I had sworn never to let her feel that fear again—yet here we were.
Behind the closed door of her room, the doctor was checking her vitals. I stood frozen outside, fists clenched at my sides, unable to step away. I needed to know what had triggered her—what in my office could’ve shaken her to this point. But no matter how much I wanted to walk down that hallway, my legs refused to move.
Because more than anything, I needed to know—Is she okay?
Just moments ago, she had been smiling at the dining table, teasing Ryan like a child tasting happiness again. And in one heartbeat, that light disappeared.
Everyone was gathered in tense silence, waiting for answers. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. The lump in my throat wouldn’t allow it.
Then the door creaked open.
We all turned as the doctor stepped out. Her face calm, yet serious. We didn’t need words—we were all clinging to hope.
“She’s stable,” the doctor said gently. “It was a panic attack.”
A breath of relief swept through the hallway.
“But,” she continued, her gaze sharp, “I need to understand what caused it. She’s been recovering so well… something triggered her deeply.”
Siya immediately stepped forward. “She was fine, Doctor. She bent down to pick up some fallen files in Bhai’s office… and then suddenly she started trembling. It happened so fast.”
The doctor nodded thoughtfully. “Trauma doesn’t always knock. It lurks in silence, waiting for a crack. She’s healing faster than I expected, which is rare and incredible. But this kind of setback… it’s a sign. She’s trying to climb out of her darkness, but one wrong step—she could fall deeper than before.”
Her words hit me hard.
“Whatever you’re doing, continue it. Let her heal on her terms, but don’t let her drown. Only trust can pull her out now.” She handed Siya the medicines. “She’ll wake up in an hour or two. Just be there.”
And with that, she left.
I turned and walked toward my office, a storm brewing inside me.
I needed to know.
I had to know.
The files were still scattered on the floor, just as she left them. I picked them up one by one, flipping through the pages—mugshots, records, court reports. Faces I recognized. Faces we had buried.
Veer and Ryan entered silently behind me. “What did you find?” veer asked
I handed them the files. They flipped through them, frowning. “They’re all dead,” Veer said quietly.
“We killed them ourselves.” Ryan said looking at the photos
“That’s what doesn’t make sense,” I muttered. “If they’re dead, why would she react like that? What in this room set her off?”
Veer suggested. “Let’s go through everything again. Maybe we missed something.”
We sat there on the sofa, scanning every file, marking anything suspicious. Time blurred. We didn’t care. All that mattered was why she broke down. And if it could happen again.
Suddenly, Siya stepped in. I looked up. “What happened?”
“She’s awake,” she said softly. “But… she asked to be alone for a while. She went to take a bath.”
A pause.
Why does she want to be alone?
I looked at Siya and nodded. “Okay.”
Still… doubt lingered. She was strong—I knew that. But even the strongest hearts fracture quietly.
And I couldn’t afford to see her broken again.
‼️‼️ Mention of self-harm ahead ‼️‼️
Saaisha’s POV
I had just started believing that maybe... just maybe life could be kind to me too. That maybe I wasn’t born only to suffer. That even a girl like me, ruined and broken, could find a place to belong.
For the first time, I wanted to be selfish.
I wanted to collect every drop of love being showered on me—wrap it around my wounds and stitch myself together with it. I wanted to forget the screaming echoes of the past, and just live in this warmth I had found.
A family... a home.
But I had forgotten.
How could I dare to be happy?
How can a girl who's been touched by filth even think she deserves joy?
And then it came back…
That feeling.
The sick, crawling sensation of their hands—rough, repulsive, violating—tracing every inch of me like I was nothing more than flesh to ruin.
The memory slithered up my spine like poison, wrapping itself around my throat, whispering—this is who you are now.
I tried to wash it off.
God, I tried.
Earlier in the shower, I scratched myself—hard, frantic, desperate—until my old scars split open and bled.
Crimson rivers ran down the drain, and for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe… maybe my shame could bleed out with it.
But it didn’t.
Because the worst part?
I didn’t feel pain.
Not even a sting.
Because the only thing I can feel…
Is them.
Their touch.
Still burned into my skin like acid.
Still stinking, still staining, still haunting.
I wanted to scream—Why me?
Why always me?
You took my family.
Then you took my Dadi.
And still… I tried.
Didn’t I?
I held on. I stitched myself together with trembling hands and bleeding hope.
All I have left is this body.
This soul.
But even they aren’t mine anymore.
They’re torn.
Shattered.
Unrecognizable.
My hands began to tremble again.
“Stop… please, stop,” I whispered to them.
But they wouldn’t.
They never listen.
So I clenched my fist, bit down on my palm until the taste of blood filled my mouth—just to feel something.
Anything.
You’re strong, Saaisha… remember?
A voice inside me.
The last flicker of light—trying to fight, trying to survive.
But I snapped.
No! I’m not strong! Do you hear me?!
I don’t want to be strong.
I tried.
I even enrolled in self-defense yesterday, and today—I fought. I punched, kicked, resisted. I thought maybe… maybe I could fight back.
But when those shadows from the past crept in…
I crumbled.
No… I can’t do this.
I’m not strong.
I’m just a girl.
A broken, exhausted girl.
And I’m so tired now.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to tear the silence apart with a roar of pain.
But no sound came out.
How could I forget?
I’ve lost my voice too.
Because they stole that too.
My voice.
My ability to cry out.
To ask for help.
To say please don’t touch me.
To scream stop.
They stole everything.
I can’t live like this.
I’m a burden.
Yes, they care for me—but how long before the weight of me becomes too much?
Before even their kindness turns into pity… and then into silence?
Maybe… maybe they’d be better off if I just…
disappeared.
If I just… died.
At least then, I could see Mumma again.
Papa.
Dadi.
They’d understand.
They’d hold me.
They wouldn’t ask me to be strong.
My eyes drifted, aimless and hollow—
Until they landed on the fruit basket.
And inside it—
The glint of a knife.
My hands moved on their own.
Shaking. Cold.
But certain.
Just one cut, I told myself.
One deep cut and it’ll all go quiet.
Do it.
End it.
Be free.
I pressed the blade to my wrist—
Chilled metal kissing fragile skin.
Just a little more…
Just one push and—
A voice slashed through the silence like a whip:
“Wahan se nahi… thoda upar se cut karo… jaldi mar jaogi.”
I froze.
___________________________________________
Write a comment ...