Shaurya's POV
I lifted my head, my gaze locking onto Veer as he spoke in a hushed tone to Siya and Ryan. He was explaining the medical details—the extent of her injuries, the critical hours ahead—but his voice was nothing more than a distant hum in the background.
My mind was stuck on something else. On her eyes. On the silent plea I saw in them.
She wanted to die.
A sharp exhale snapped me out of my thoughts.
Ryan.
The man who rarely reacted had his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His jaw was locked, his entire body stiff with restrained rage. The air around him was thick with silent violence.
And Siya…
I turned to my sister. Her usual sharp smirk was gone, replaced with something foreign. Her arms were crossed, but her eyes—moist, stormy—told me everything.
"Why do you think she won’t fight?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the thick silence.
I didn’t answer. I knew Siya well enough to let her speak.
"She already fought through hell for three days," she continued, stepping closer.
"If she wanted to give up, she would’ve done it there. But she didn’t. She survived them. That means she can survive this too."
I exhaled sharply. "Siya, it's not that simple—"
"It is," she interrupted, her voice unwavering. "If she loses hope, we give her a reason to live. If she falls, we make sure she stands again. But don’t decide for her, Bhai."
A heavy silence settled between us.
I looked away, my fingers tightening into a fist. "She has to fight,” I muttered. "Till she is my responsibility I can't let her die.
And I… I stared ahead at the closed OT doors, my mind made up.
The OT doors swung open.
I lifted my head, my entire focus narrowing to the doctor who stepped out. Her movements were slow, deliberate—like she knew we were all hanging on to her next words.
I clenched my fists, my breathing steady, controlled. My pulse? Not so much.
She pulled down her surgical mask and looked at me. All of us. And then she spoke.
"The operation was successful."
The pressure on my chest loosened—just a fraction. A small part of me wanted to believe that meant she was safe now. That she was out of danger.
"She’s safe now," the doctor continued, her voice softer.
Safe.
A lie wrapped in good intentions.
Because safety wasn’t just about surviving. It wasn’t just about breathing. And I had seen it in her eyes—she hadn’t just been hurt. She had been broken.
The doctor hesitated, her next words carrying an edge of disbelief. "To be honest, I thought she would give up." She shook her head slightly. "But she didn’t. She fought through it. She’s strong."
Strong.
I exhaled slowly. Of course, she is.
She survived three days in hell. Survived the monsters who tried to tear her apart. She wasn’t weak.
But then…
Then came the words that shattered everything.
"But… due to uterine scarring she cannot conceive in future."
Silence.
I didn’t move, didn’t react. But the weight of those words settled heavily in the air. They had taken more than just her body. More than her dignity. They had stolen something she hadn't even been given the chance to choose.
I inhaled sharply, forcing the storm inside me to settle—for now. Around me, I could sense the others breaking in their own ways.
Ryan stood like a statue. Veer was stiff. And Siya… Siya had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her nails pressing into her skin like she was trying to physically hold herself together.
No one spoke. No one could.
I was the first to break the silence.
“Can we see her?" My voice was calm. Too calm. It was the only way to contain the rage threatening to tear through me.
The doctor sighed. "She’s unconscious. She will regain consciousness within 24 hours."
A pause.
Then she turned her gaze to me.
"I know you want answers."
Her voice was measured, cautious.
“You want to know about the culprits. You want to ask her questions. But it’s not the right time."
Not the right time?
"We can see her physical injuries," she continued, "but we don’t know the depth of her mental scars. We don’t know what might trigger her, what might push her deeper into fear."
I clenched my jaw. She was right. And yet, the fire inside me didn’t cool.
“So, I suggest you wait."
Wait.
I had never been good at waiting. Not when justice was within reach. Not when the monsters were still breathing. But for her, I have too.
The doctor hesitated, then added one last thing. This time, her eyes were locked on mine.
"She will be afraid. Afraid of touch. Afraid of human interaction. And especially…"
I knew what was coming.
"Especially men."
It wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t unexpected.
Veer exhaled a heavy breath. Ryan looked away. Siya swallowed hard.
And me?
I did what I always did. Buried the emotions. Buried the pain. Let the fire settle in my veins, waiting for the moment it could burn.
One thing was clear.
No matter how long it took—no matter what it took—I would make sure she never had to fear again.
The doctor walked away, her words still echoing in my head.
But I had no time to dwell on them. Not now.
As soon as she left, the four of us stepped into the room, she was shifted.
And there she was.
Lying on the hospital bed, wires running across her fragile body, machines beeping softly in the background. The harsh white lights made her look even paler—her skin almost ghostly against the sterile sheet,her arms wrapped in bandages.
So small. So still.
I exhaled slowly, pushing down the weight pressing against my chest.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Veer step closer. Ryan stilled beside me, and Siya—Siya hadn’t moved an inch, her arms hugging herself tightly.
And then I saw it.
Pity.
In their eyes.
Veer’s gaze softened with something close to helplessness. Ryan clenched his jaw, his eyes dark with silent grief. Siya… she looked at her like she was breaking apart, like she didn’t know how to put herself back together.
Pity. Sympathy.
I turned back to her.
And in my eyes? There was neither.
Not because I wasn’t hurting. Not because I wasn’t shattered in ways I couldn’t explain.
But because the moment I looked at her—really looked at her—all I could feel was admiration.
Not for what she had suffered. But for the fact that she survived.
She wasn’t weak.
She wasn’t a victim.
She fought.
She didn’t surrender. She endured. She breathed through hell and still made it out alive.
Even now, even lying there in the hospital bed, she was still fighting. Still breathing. Still holding on.
And that—that was why I refused to look at her with pity.
Because she wasn’t someone to be pitied.
She was someone to be feared.
Because the moment she rose again—the moment she found her strength—the world would know exactly what happens when a girl who was broken refuses to stay shattered.
And I…
I would make sure she got there.
No matter what it took.
Because She is my responsibility now.
I looked at her one last time—wrapped in wires, her breathing shallow, but alive. That was enough. For now.
The battle wasn’t over.
It had just begun.
I would make sure every single one of them paid.
With blood.
With their lives.
With everything they had.
I exhaled slowly, the storm inside me finally settling into something sharper. Colder. Deadlier.
Then, without another word, I stepped out of the room.
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