Shaurya's POV.

I was still fastening the last button of the fresh shirt Siya had brought for me when my gaze shifted toward the staircase.

And there she was Saaisha, coming down slowly, carefully, like every step demanded courage from her fragile frame.

But then, my heart stopped. Her foot slipped on the edge of the step. She lost balance. My instincts took over before my mind could even register the danger. My legs moved on their own, and in seconds, I was there. My arms shot out, catching her just before her body could crash against the cold, merciless ground.

For a heartbeat, time froze.

Her eyes were tightly shut, her face pale with fear. But when she realized she hadn’t fallen, her lashes fluttered open.

The very first thing her gaze landed on… was my bare chest. She stilled, her breath uneven, her pupils dilating as if she was processing something that shook her to the core.

Her eyes trailed upwards first at my face, then down at my hands holding her, and then… again at my chest.

I could see the confusion flicker in her eyes, but in the next second, it shifted twisted into something else.

Horror. Fear. Trauma.

And before I could even utter a single word, she shoved me away with all the strength in her trembling body. Her scream pierced through the walls, shattering the silence.

That sound.

That voice.

Her voice.

It felt like lightning coursing through me. I froze, stunned. After days of silence, days of watching her struggle, her voice had finally broken free.

But before my thoughts could even form into words, her body swayed again about to crash to the ground. My arms moved instinctively. Again.
I couldn’t let her fall. I caught her.

Only this time… her reaction wasn’t fear alone. It was rage. Pain. Helplessness.

My heartbeat thundered in my chest. What the hell was happening?
First, I couldn’t let her fall. Second, was that… her voice?

Before I could make sense of anything, a sharp sting burned across my cheek. Instinctively, I jerked back. And then it hit me..

Oh. She slapped me.

A little too hard, actually. Damn, she’s strong. Stronger than she knows. She should aim higher next time—maybe break a jaw.

That ridiculous thought had barely passed when her words sliced through the silence.

“How dare you touch me!”

I froze.

It was her voice.

Yes, idiot, it’s her voice. Loud and clear. My subconscious was already mocking me: Lagta hai thappad zyada zor ka padh gaya hai, isliye sunayi nahi de raha.

(Looks like the slap was too hard, that’s why you can’t hear anything.

“Shut up,” I muttered to myself.

Her voice… it was back. Finally.

I stood there, staring at her, my cheek burning but my lips slowly curving into a smile I couldn’t contain.

God, I’d been waiting for this. For days I had watched her struggle, her throat working but no sound escaping. I’d seen her eyes scream louder than her lips ever could. And now, this. A scream, a shout, an accusation but it was sound. It was her.

My heart hammered against my ribs, an odd mix of emotions flooding me all at once. Relief. Joy. Pain. Gratitude.

If it took her anger, her fear, even her slap towards me to bring back her voice, then so be it. I would take it a thousand times over. That slap was nothing. Those words were nothing. If this was the price for hearing her, I’d gladly pay it.

I opened my mouth, desperate to say something...anything. To tell her she was safe, that she didn’t need to be afraid of me, that she had no idea how much her voice meant.

But before I could form the words, she stumbled back, her breaths shallow and ragged, her eyes wide with horror as if my touch had burned her.

And then, she ran.

Her footsteps echoed against the stairs, each one pulling her further and further away from me. I didn’t move. I just stood there, watching her retreating figure, my cheek still stinging, my heart pounding with a mixture of relief and joy.

Her voice was back.

And that was enough. For now, it was enough.

I looked around to see my family staring at me, their eyes wide with shock. Of course, they weren’t staring because she slapped me. They were staring because her voice was back.

I turned to Maa, grinning like a fool. “Her voice… it’s back. Call the doctor.”

Siya didn’t waste a second; she already had her phone in hand, dialing.

Veer and Ryan, though, didn’t move their eyes from me. Both walked closer, their expressions unreadable until Veer finally asked, “Why are you smiling so much?”

I blinked at him, almost offended by the question. “Because her voice is back.”

Ryan arched a brow, his tone edged with disbelief. “But she slapped you. You - the CM. The Saarkar.”

I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I shrugged, almost amused. Did they really not get it? Her voice was worth a thousand slaps. In fact, I would’ve taken it earlier if it meant bringing her voice back. Idiots, I thought.

The doctor came and checked her, assuring us she was fine. But while everyone sighed in relief, something hit me harder than any slap could.

She didn’t allow me in her room. And the way she looked at me… it wasn’t just anger. It was pure hatred.

I thought it was just her fear that she acted like this but no…

My touch had triggered something inside her. I could have taken her curses, her slaps, even her silence but that look in her eyes, as if my very presence disgusted her… it was unbearable.

I shouldn’t have touched her. I could’ve saved her from falling in a hundred other ways, but why did I choose to hold her? Why did I…?

In frustration, my fist slammed against the table. The sting in my knuckles was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

What if I’m the trigger to her nightmares?

What if every time she sees my face, she relives that horror?

No. I can’t let that happen.

I need to give her space. She needs time. And if that means I have to stay away, then so be it.

I’ll leave for a few days… stay at Ryan’s place. She deserves peace more than anything now.

.

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Author's POV:

Everyone was relieved that her voice had returned, though the tension of what happened between Saaisha and Shaurya lingered unspoken.

But Saaisha hadn’t uttered a single word after the doctor left. She had answered only the necessary questions, and then silence claimed her.

Alone in the room, she rose slowly from the bed, locked the room and walked toward the mirror.

Her trembling hands reached for the hem of her kurta. Piece by piece, she stripped until her bare back was revealed under the dim light. She turned slightly, eyes catching the reflection that she wished she could erase.

Her back was a canvas of torment dark lines, half-healed welts, scars from belts and whips that no medicine could fully conceal. They would remain etched into her forever, cruel reminders of what had been done to her.

Her throat tightened, but her eyes burned with fury instead of tears. She glared at her own reflection, her voice trembling yet laced with venom as she whispered:

“After doing this to me, how dare you act so innocent, Mr. Rathore…
Behind this facade… you're nothing but a MONSTER.”

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