His Angel

Chapter - 94

Hello, beautiful people! ??

It had been a week since that night — the longest, hardest week of my life.

Every day felt the same — white walls, machines beeping, and the constant echo of my prayers in my mind. Avi still hadn't opened his eyes. The doctors said his body was healing, but his mind... it needed time.

When I opened my eyes that morning, the clock showed 3 a.m. The world outside was silent, but my heart wasn't. Today was Karva Chauth — the day we had planned together with so much excitement. I smiled faintly, though it hurt. Maybe Shivji didn't like our plan.

I sat up slowly, taking a deep breath. There wasn't much time.

I went to the attached bathroom, freshened up, and took a shower.

Then I wore the red saree Maa gave me last night — the one with the golden border.

She said I should wear it for sargi. I paired it with a matching blouse, gold jhumkas, bangles, and tied my hair in a bun with flowers.

I put on my mangalsutra and filled the parting of my hair with sindoor.

For a moment, I just stood there, looking at my reflection. I remembered how Avi always teased me when I fussed over small details, how his eyes would light up when I wore red. I whispered softly, I'm doing this for you, Avi.

I walked to his bedside. He was lying there, still and peaceful — almost like he was just sleeping. I sat beside him and held his hand.

"Good morning, Avi," I said quietly, brushing my fingers over his hair. "See... I wore the saree Maa gifted me. Isn't it pretty?"

He didn't reply, of course. But the doctor had told me he could hear me — that he might be listening, somewhere deep inside. So, I kept talking.

I moved my bangles gently, letting them make that soft, tinkling sound he loved.

"Listen... the bangles you gifted me. I'm wearing them today," I said, smiling faintly. "You said they'll look pretty when I wear red. You were right."

I told him everything — about Maa and Chachi coming, about how quiet the hospital felt without his voice, about the way I missed his scolding, his teasing, the sound of him laughing at nothing. My voice trembled a little, but I didn't cry. Not today. He didn't need my tears; he needed my strength.

Just then, Maa and Chachi entered the room. Maa smiled softly. "Siya beta, come, sit with us. It's time for sargi."

I nodded and sat beside them on the small sofa. Maa handed me the sargi she had lovingly prepared.

"Eat, beta," she said softly. "You kept this fast with so much hope... Shivji will bless him."

I smiled, though my heart ached. "I know, Maa. He will wake up soon."

We ate together — quietly, peacefully. I felt guilty that they had to come here, to this hospital, instead of sitting in the palace like every year. But what could I do? How could I leave him here alone?

They had told me many times to go back to the palace and rest. But I said the same thing every time —

"I'll go only with Avi. My home is where he is."

After sargi, they both met Avi, spoke to him lovingly, and then left. I watched them go, then turned back to him.

"You're too stubborn, Avi," I whispered, brushing his hand gently. "Everyone talks to you, but you still won't reply. You never listen to anyone... not even me."

I smiled through the silence. Calm on the outside, but inside, I replayed his voice in my head — over and over. That was all I had left until he opened his eyes again.

It was evening, and the soft golden light of the setting sun filled the room.

The doctor had just left after checking Avi.

He said everything was stable... but stable felt so small compared to what I wanted.

I wanted him awake, smiling, scolding me for skipping lunch, teasing me about silly things.

I stood up, planning to get ready for the Karva Chauth pooja. Just then, the door opened, and Rohan walked in, carrying a big box in his hands.

"Rani sa," he said respectfully, handing it to me. "This was prepared by Rana sa. He had ordered it weeks ago... just for today."

My eyes shifted from Rohan to Avi — still lying there, silent, his chest rising slowly with every breath. I took the box from Rohan's hands and nodded softly.

"Thank you, Rohan."

He gave a small smile and looked at Avi for a moment before quietly leaving the room.

I placed the box on the table and slowly opened it. Inside was a smaller box — jewelry, maybe. I set it aside for a moment and lifted the outfit first.

It was breathtaking — a red lehenga with golden embroidery, paired with a light pastel dupatta.

The intricate golden threadwork shimmered softly under the light, and the delicate floral patterns gave it a royal, yet gentle charm.

My fingers brushed the fabric, and I smiled faintly. He chose this for me.

Then, I opened the small jewelry box. Inside was a choker-style necklace with matching earrings — elegant, graceful, just like his taste. A folded note lay beside it. I picked it up carefully and read:

"When we got married, I couldn't give you your choice of outfit, but you said you'd wear what I chose. So here is your first Karva Chauth gift, Rani Sa — even this outfit turns divine only when it touches you."

I didn't cry — I just smiled, because even when he wasn't with me... he was everywhere, in every color, every fabric, every heartbeat.

I got ready slowly, wearing the lehenga and jewelry he had chosen. When I looked in the mirror, I almost felt him standing behind me, teasing me softly like always. I remembered how he'd wink and say, "You look like mine Angel."

I went near him and said, "Avi, I wore the outfit you picked. I love your choice, as always." I smiled a little and added, "I'll click a picture in this, so when you wake up, you'll see how beautiful your gift looks."

Before the pooja started, I had told Maa and Chachi not to come to the hospital tonight. They had to handle the palace, where the staff and nearby ladies had gathered for the rituals. They had already done so much — this time, I wanted them to rest.

I performed my pooja quietly in the hospital room. It wasn't grand, but it was peaceful — just me, the diya, and Avi lying before me. I prayed for his health, for his life, for his smile.

After that, I sat beside him again and started talking softly, like I always did. "You know, Avi," I said, brushing my fingers over his hand, "the moon is taking forever tonight. Maybe he's learning from you — making me wait." I let out a small laugh. "Tell him to come soon, I'm hungry."

Just then, the door opened quietly. "Bhabhi?"

I turned to see Anaya walking in, carrying a small box. She smiled, looking a little tired but happy. "I brought your food," she said before I could even speak. "I knew you'd say no, so I didn't ask before coming."

I couldn't help but smile. "You've become smart like your bhai," I said softly.

She laughed and came to sit beside me. "Of course, bhabhi. I've been helping Maa and Taiji since morning — and they finally let me come here after the pooja."

We talked for a while. She told Avi about the palace — how Maa panicked when the sweet burned, how Chachi made everyone laugh, and how the whole family missed him. Her voice filled the quiet room with life again.

And then suddenly, she looked out the window and gasped softly. "Bhabhi," she said, smiling, "the moon is here."

I placed my plate carefully and went to the balcony.

Avi's bed had already been shifted near the window.

I draped my dupatta over my head and held the sieve in my hands, looking up at the bright moon.

I offered water to the moon, silently praying for Avi's life, for his safety, for him to be back with me.

Turning, I looked at Avi through the sieve, remembering the times we had talked about how he would open my fast. I set those thoughts aside and focused on the now.

I went to Avi's side, guided the glass to his hand, drank the water first to let the coolness soothe me, and then carefully sipped the sweet.

Even though Avi couldn't respond, I whispered softly, "This is for you, Avi. .. I'm doing it for both of us."

Anaya quietly filmed everything, making sure that when Avi woke up, he wouldn't feel like he had missed anything. I smiled faintly, feeling a little comfort in that.

We ate the food together in silence. I knew she had come just to keep me company, to make sure I didn't feel alone.

And how could I? My Avi was here — my world, my home, my heart.

Pain could touch me, fear could try. But in this moment, with him near and the moon watching us, I felt a quiet strength.

I was calm, I was strong — for him, for us.

I whispered softly, brushing my fingers over his hand again, "Don't worry, Avi... I'll wait for you. Always."

I sat beside Avi, holding my cup of tea, letting the warmth seep into my hands. My blush-pink organza saree with delicate white floral embroidery felt soft against my skin. I couldn't stop staring at him — so still, so peaceful... yet stubborn as ever.

I leaned closer and whispered, "Wake up, Avi.

Because of your stubbornness, Papa — who had left office work years ago — has started going again.

Chachu has so much to handle, and Arjun bhaiya.

.. he barely sleeps, sometimes even skips his meals.

Every day, he comes just to check on you and leaves quietly.

He never complains... he just watches over you. "

I let out a soft sigh. "And Anaya... she usually teases me endlessly, but now she only talks to you, hoping you'll say yes, Princess."

I gave a small laugh, more to myself than him.

"Today I'm not going to college. I have to go to Rathore Justice Center — there's a case, and I have to make sure justice is done for that girl.

I can't understand how parents... how can they even think that way?

Or maybe I understand now... people can think or do anything. "

I took a deep breath and added softly, "After that, I'll meet some special guests of mine."

I bent down and kissed his forehead lightly, the warmth of him grounding me. "Rest well, Avi. Don't worry, I'll handle everything while you sleep."

Just then, Maa entered quietly. I smiled at her, standing to meet her, and after exchanging a few words, I left, confident in the knowledge that Avi was safe, that I was strong, and that whatever came next, I would face it — for him, for us.

I just reached the hospital exit when I saw Rohan waiting near the car. He quickly opened the door for me, and I sat inside.

In the past week, whenever I went to college or anywhere else, he was always with me. He said it was his duty to protect me — and I never argued.

He started the car and glanced at me through the rear-view mirror.

"Rani sa, as you said, I've changed the security around everyone and increased the guards."

I nodded calmly. "That's good, Rohan."

He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Rani sa... when we already know that R-9 is Rawat, then why are we waiting? What are we waiting for?"

I looked out the window, watching the road pass by. My voice came out steady and quiet. "For the right moment. R-9 will get what he gave us — when the time is right."

He said nothing after that, and the rest of the drive stayed silent.

We soon reached the centre. The moment I stepped out of the car, the anger I'd held since morning came rushing back. That call — the one I received earlier — still echoed in my mind. The moment I'd heard what happened, my blood had boiled. And now, standing here, that same fire burned brighter.

Without a word, I walked straight toward the main hall — the one where Avi used to sit and give justice to people.

When I entered, everyone stood up. I walked to the centre, and they greeted me together,

"Khamma ghani, Rani sa."

Folding my hands, I replied softly, "Ghani ghani khamma."

Then, I sat on the chair where Avi once sat. My heart ached for a moment, but I pushed that aside. Right now, I was here for something else — for justice.

To my left stood a girl — barely sixteen or seventeen. She looked pale, scared, and empty. Beside her were her parents, their faces tense. On my right sat a man in his late twenties with his family.

One of them stepped forward and said, "Rani sa, I'm Gopal Choudhary — Varun's father. Whatever mistake my son has done cannot be changed, but our family is ready to compensate for it."

I looked at him, my voice calm but cold — the same tone Avi often used with outsiders.

"And what will your family compensate, Mr. Choudhary?"

He glanced at the girl, then said, "My son will marry her. The girl's family also has no problem."

My tone turned cold — the same calm power Avi always carried.

"And what about the girl?" I asked.

He looked at her, then back at me. "She doesn't know what's good or bad for her. If she did, this wouldn't have happened."

Before I could speak, the girl's father joined in, folding his hands. "Rani sa, my daughter doesn't understand what's right or wrong. Who will marry her now? They are ready to accept her. I will make her understand — this marriage is for her good."

I turned to Mr. Verma, who had called me here. "Why hasn't the police taken any action yet?"

He hesitated. "Rani sa... the girl's parents don't want to involve the police. They—"

"Enough," I interrupted sharply. "Call the commissioner right now. Tell him to send his team to arrest Varun Choudhary — for rape."

The hall fell silent. Everyone froze.

Gopal Choudhary spoke again, desperate. "Rani sa, why police? When we're ready to compensate, what's the need for all this? The marriage will happen, and the matter will be solved."

I looked at him, my voice steady as steel. "Compensate? Tell me, what can anyone give to compensate a girl's dignity? Can anyone return what she lost?"

He lowered his eyes but muttered "Rani sa... no one will accept her now. My son will marry her, give her his name."

"Who are you to give her a name?" I said, rising from my seat. "A girl doesn't need a man's name for her identity. And why should she marry a monster? Your son didn't make a mistake — he committed a sin. And for sin, there's no sorry, no compensation — only punishment."

He tried to speak again, but I turned to Mr. Verma.

"I don't like unwanted noise. Remove them."

Two guards stepped forward and took the Choudhary out.

The girl's father shouted, tears streaming down his face. "Rani sa, what will happen to our daughter now? Who will marry her? You have no right to interfere!"

I ignored his words and walked toward the girl. She stood still, frightened. I gently placed my hand on her head.

"What's your name, beta?" I asked softly.

She looked at me — her eyes full of pain and loneliness.

"P... Priya," she whispered.

For a moment, I froze. The same name as Mom. I took a deep breath. "Beautiful name," I said quietly, "just like you."

I knelt a little so our eyes met. "Now when the police lady comes, you'll tell her the truth. Don't be afraid of anyone. I'm with you, and I'm proud of your courage."

She gave me a faint smile. That one small smile felt stronger than anything I'd seen all week.

Her father left angrily, but her mother came forward, folding her hands.

"Thank you, Rani sa," she said with tears. "My husband never listened to me or our daughter. I thought maybe Rana sa..." She stopped herself mid-sentence.

I smiled gently. "It's okay, kaki. You did the right thing by coming here. Don't worry — your daughter's culprit will get punished. The way Rana sa would've wanted."

Soon, the police arrived. Varun Choudhary was taken away.

I turned to Mr. Verma. "Send a lady staff with Priya and her mother to the station. Arrange for her education — if they need anything, make sure it's provided. And keep me informed."

He nodded quickly. "Yes, Rani sa."

I picked up my phone and walked out, calm and composed. My heart ached for that girl — but I didn't let it show. I knew pain too well. And I also knew... silence can be stronger than any scream.

After sitting in the car, I looked out the window and quietly said, "Rohan, you know where to go."

He nodded without asking a single question. That's what I liked about him — he understood silence too.

The drive was long, and the further we went, the quieter everything became.

No city sounds, no people — just the hum of the engine and my thoughts.

Every turn reminded me of memories I tried to bury — the taunts, the neglect, the loneliness that my so-called family gifted me after my parents were gone.

Thirty minutes later, the car stopped. I stepped out, my heels clicking against the cold marble. The building stood tall but lonely — just like the people inside it. I walked through the corridor, each step steady, even though my heart wasn't.

When I reached the door, the guard standing beside it bowed his head. "Rani sa," he said, and opened the door for me.

I entered.

There they were — Mr. and Mrs. Rajput. Or should I say, my loving tauji and taiji. They sat in the corner, their faces pale but proud, still trying to hide the fear behind their arrogance.

A guard came in, pulled a chair out for me, and left quietly.

I sat down, my eyes fixed on them. For a moment, no one spoke.

The silence between us carried years of unspoken pain — mine filled with memories of being treated like an outsider in my own home, and theirs with the fear of the power I now held.

Finally, I spoke, my tone calm but edged with ice.

Tell me, Taiji," I leaned forward slightly, voice even. "Is my hospitality not enough? Or should I... make it more memorable?

My voice was soft — too soft. The kind that made people shiver. Because calm anger always hits harder than loud rage.

Taiji looked at Tauji nervously, her hands trembling. I saw it — the same woman who once made me stand outside in the rain now couldn't even meet my eyes.

And I didn't need to say more. The silence between us said everything — about pain, power, and the balance that had finally shifted.