Chapter - 96
Hello, beautiful people! ??
Darkness.
Thick... heavy... endless.
But in that darkness, I heard something. Not clearly. Not fully.
Just a soft sound.
A voice.
My mind couldn't understand the words, but my heart knew instantly —
Siya.
My angel's voice.
I felt something warm around my hand, soft and familiar. Her touch. The only touch that ever calmed the storm inside me.
I tried to move my fingers... nothing.
I tried to open my eyes... nothing.
My whole body felt trapped, like I was shouting inside but nobody could hear me.
Then slowly... the voice came closer, clearer.
"Avi... I gave you a sponge bath. Now it's time for your medicine."
Her tone was calm, steady... but I could hear the tiredness she was hiding.
I pushed again. Harder this time.
A small movement. Maybe.
Then again.
My eyes. My hand. Something. Anything.
And on the third try, everything finally obeyed me.
My finger moved.
My eyes opened.
Light hit me instantly, and I closed them again because it was too bright, too much.
I tried again... slower this time.
And when my eyes fully opened... the first thing I saw was her.
Siya.
She was putting some papers in her bag, talking softly — maybe to herself.
She was wearing a blue floral Anarkali. A matching dupatta draped lightly over her shoulder. Tiny silver jhumkas moving every time she turned her head.
Her mangalsutra resting neatly above the pendant I gave her.
Sindoor shining in the parting of her hair.
She looked like she belonged to me.
My angel.
My wife.
My heartbeat felt strange — heavier, faster.
When she turned toward me, she froze.
No scream.
No tears.
Just... disbelief.
Her eyes widened, her breath hitched, and she stood there for two or three seconds like time itself stopped.
Then she came to me—slow, careful, as if I might disappear if she moved too fast.
Her hands cupped my face gently.
Her eyes searched mine — doubt, hope, fear... all mixed together.
I blinked.
Just once.
And that was enough.
She hugged me tightly, her face buried against my shoulder. She didn't say a single word.
Even silent, she felt loud... her emotions, her relief, her pain.
She pressed the button near the bed.
Within seconds, the doctor rushed in.
"Rani-sa, please step out. Let us check him."
She didn't want to leave — I could see that clearly. Her hand tightened around mine before she slowly let go.
And the moment she stepped outside, the room felt cold.
The doctor checked me — pulse, light in my eyes, questions I didn't answer because my attention wasn't on him at all.
I only heard her voice outside... the doctor telling her something. I couldn't catch his exact words.
But I watched her.
The way she nodded.
The way she stood straight even though I could see her shoulders shaking a little.
The way she held her breath to stay calm.
She wasn't breaking.
She wasn't crying.
She was holding herself together — for me.
I didn't know how long I had been gone...
a day, a week, more...
but her eyes told me one thing clearly —
She had suffered.
She had waited.
And she had fought for me every second.
And now that I was awake...
I wasn't letting her face any of that alone again.
Before I could say anything, Arjun came rushing in.
The moment his eyes met mine, he didn't stop—he just hugged me, hard, like he was holding back years of emotion.
"I... I was so scared, bhaiya," he whispered, voice shaking. "Thank God you're safe. You know how much I missed you...?"
Arjun never cries in front of anyone.
But today... he was.
I lifted my hand—slow, weak—and placed it on his shoulder.
"I... I'm okay," I managed. My voice felt rough, unfamiliar.
He quickly wiped his tears and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I can see that." He forced a laugh and added softly,
"And it's all because of bhabhi."
My eyes immediately went to her.
"She didn't leave you alone for even a second," Arjun continued.
"If she went to college or to do any work, she made sure a family member stayed with you. She checked your medicines, your tests, everything... on time, every day. She... she didn't rest, bhaiya."
I didn't reply.
I couldn't.
Because Siya was standing near the corner of the room... quiet, stiff...
Not looking at me.
Not saying a word.
Almost like she was scared to believe I was real.
Before I could call her name, the door opened again.
Dadi Maa rushed in, tears in her eyes.
Maa came next, covering her mouth in relief.
Dad followed, his face composed but his eyes soft.
Chachu, Chachi, Anaya... everyone came.
They surrounded me, touching my hands, my face, asking,
"Aarav, how are you feeling?"
"Beta, can you hear me?"
"Do you need anything?"
"You scared us so much!"
Each one told me how they missed me in these twenty-one days.
I answered the same thing every time:
"I'm okay now."
But my eyes searched only for her.
Slowly, one by one, everyone left—wanting to give us space.
Finally...
It was just me and my angel.
Siya still stood there, silent, eyes lowered, fingers fidgeting... as if she didn't know how to approach me. As if she was still afraid this was all a dream.
I opened my mouth to call her name—
to finally hear it in my own voice after twenty-one days of darkness—
But her phone rang.
She flinched.
Like the sound pulled her out of some deep thought.
She looked at the screen... then turned slightly away, answering in a quiet, steady voice. Strong.
"How is Priya now?" she asked.
A pause.
"Okay... arrange a space for Priya and her mother in our NGO. And make sure Priya's father never reaches them. Inform me once they are safe there."
I lay there, staring.
This was my Siya...?
The girl who used to panic even before answering unknown calls?
Who talked softly, almost hesitantly?
When did she learn to speak like this...?
Now she sounded like a queen.
My queen.
Confident.
Clear.
Calm.
In control.
She ended the call, put her phone aside, and turned toward me.
No panic.
No crying.
No dramatic rush to hold me.
Just... quiet.
She walked slowly, sat on the chair next to me, picked up a file, and began reading.
Then she wrote something on a paper—her handwriting neat but a little shaky.
I watched her fingers move.
Not because of the file.
But because they were her fingers.
The same fingers that held mine for twenty-one days while I was lost somewhere inside darkness.
I shifted my hand, slowly...
and held hers.
She froze for a second.
Then she looked at me.
Her eyes—those soft eyes—had questions, fear, hope... everything.
"D... do you need anything, Avi?" she whispered.
God.
Her voice.
I felt something tighten in my chest.
I smiled a little. "Yes."
She immediately put the file on the table, leaning closer.
"What?"
I tightened my grip on her hand, as much as my weak body allowed.
"You."
For a moment, her breath caught.
Her lips pressed together, trying not to tremble.
Then she gave me the smallest, softest smile.
"I'm here only," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."
I could have asked her a thousand questions—
What happened?
How much she cried?
How much she suffered?
Why she wasn't looking at me properly?
But I didn't.
Because I could see the hesitation in her eyes.
She needed time... to accept I was awake.
To believe this wasn't another dream that would break in the next second.
So I just held her hand.
And didn't let go.
Because I had been gone for too long.
And now... now I wasn't letting her face anything alone.
It had been an hour since I woke up.
Raghav had just left after hugging me so tight I thought he would break one of my ribs. And Siya... she was still moving around the room, talking to people on calls, giving instructions, telling them what to do, what to arrange, whom to contact.
My angel.
But today... she didn't look like an angel.
She looked like a Queen.
Then Rohan walked in with a box in his hand. He handed it to Siya, bowed his head, and then came toward me.
"A...are you o...okay, Sir?" he asked, trying not to show how emotional he was.
I hummed. "Hmm. And thank you... for taking care of my Siya's safety."
He straightened a little, nodded quickly, and left without saying more.
Siya came to me then—as if she had been doing this her whole life.
She helped me sit properly, arranged the food tray, opened the box, and quietly started feeding me khichdi with her hand.
Not a word.
Not a single complaint.
Just soft eyes and steady hands.
And when she was done, she ate the same khichdi herself—like it was the most normal thing.
"You rest for a little," she said softly, brushing my hair back. "I will come. I need to talk to the doctor for something."
She helped me lie down, pulled the blanket up, tucked it properly, and then walked out of the room.
I watched the door long after she left.
By evening, she was back, helping me walk.
My legs felt weak... almost useless.
But she held my arm, her other hand hovering near my back as if she were ready to catch me any second.
I managed a few steps... then breath hitched in my chest, and I leaned against her shoulder.
"I'm fine," I whispered.
"No..." she whispered back, tightening her hold on me, "but you will be."
Her voice... God.
It was soft, broken at the edges, but she still kept it gentle.
After a few more steps, she shook her head.
"Okay... we will try again tomorrow morning."
She guided me back to the bed and helped me sit. Every movement of mine, she matched it with twice the care.
She handled everything perfectly—
Me.
My medicines.
My physiotherapy.
My food.
My entire family.
People of Rajasthan calling her for justice.
Cases.
Responsibilities.
Decisions.
Everyone.
Everything.
But in all of this...
She forgot the one person she should take care of the most—
Herself.
Her eyes looked tired.
Her shoulders stiff.
Her voice quieter than before.
And somewhere inside me... anger rose.
Not at her.
But at myself.
Because the reason she stopped handling herself...
was the twenty-one days I wasn't beside her.
And now that I was awake—
I was going to make sure she never reached this point again.
After dinner, Siya had stepped out for ten minutes — just ten — to talk to the doctor.
That was all the time I needed.
I had asked the doctor to call her for some "update" so I could get a few minutes alone... enough to arrange a small surprise. My legs were still weak, my breath uneven, but I pushed myself up.
Weakness could wait.
She couldn't.
With shaky fingers, I pressed the call button.
Rohan came rushing in. "Yes, Sir?"
"Bring the things," I whispered.
He didn't ask anything. Just nodded and left quickly.
By the time Siya returned, I was sitting up, holding the blanket tightly to hide how badly my hands were trembling. My heartbeat was out of control — not from pain... but from fear.
Fear of disappointing her again.
Fear of seeing sadness in her eyes.
She opened the door—
...and stopped breathing.
Her eyes widened, slowly... beautifully.
On the small table beside my bed were:
soft pink balloons
a tiny rose-colored cake
a bouquet of pastel pink flowers
warm battery candles
a little sparkle on the wall from the decorative glitter
Nothing huge.
Nothing royal.
Just... enough. Enough for her.
She lifted her hand to her mouth and gasped softly. Her eyes filled instantly — the tears she always tried to hide from me, pretending she was "strong."
I smiled weakly. "Happy anniversary, Siya."
She didn't move at first. Just stared... like her heart didn't know how to react.
Then she took a small, trembling step forward.
"Avi... what is this?" her voice shook.
"Nothing big," I said softly, "because I can't give you that right now."
I held her hand gently. "But I couldn't let today pass without doing something for the woman who carried my whole world for twenty-one days."
Her eyes met mine — full of love, pain, disbelief.
"You remembered...?" she whispered.
I touched her cheek with my thumb.
"I could be unconscious for twenty-one days... but I would still remember the day you became mine."
A tear escaped her cheek. She quickly turned away and wiped it.
"Avi... please... I don't want to cry today."
I reached forward and pulled her into my arms slowly, carefully.
"Then don't stop yourself," I murmured. "Not today. Not with me."
Her breath broke.
Just one soft sound — enough to tell me everything she had held inside.
"Come here," I whispered. "You don't have to handle everything alone now. I'm awake. I'm here. Cry on my shoulder if you want... it's your place."
She leaned in, finally, like she had been waiting for this moment longer than she wanted to admit. Her forehead touched mine, her fingers held my arms so gently, afraid I might break.
"I thought..." her voice shook badly, "I thought you wouldn't wake up... and our first anniversary... I would spend it alone."
I kissed her temple. "Never. You'll never spend anything alone again."
She broke then.
"I...I was scared, Avi... too scared to think anything," her voice cracked. "I just waited for you to wake up and call me... b-but you didn't."
Her tears fell on my shoulder — warm, desperate.
"Do you know," she whispered, choking on her words, "I.
.. I spent Karva Chauth alone. The day we were supposed to celebrate together.
.. just us. And... and Diwali too. When the whole of Rajasthan was shining with lights.
.. my world was only darkness. Because you are my light, Avi.
Without you... everything was just hollow. "
I closed my eyes.
Every word felt like a knife.
"And in all this... everything I handled... I know I can't do it like you," she cried, "but I tried. So people wouldn't think they were alone. So they wouldn't feel... they had no one."
She sobbed harder, gripping my t shirt.
She cried like she had waited twenty-one days to break.
Like she had held all her pain in a tight fist and finally opened it.
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close, ignoring the ache in my body.
"Siya... enough," I whispered against her hair. "Let it all out. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere now."
Her tears soaked my shoulder.
My heart soaked her pain.
And in that moment, I made a silent promise—
No matter what happens,
she will never carry this kind of loneliness again.
Not while I'm breathing.
When she finally calmed a little, I took her hand and guided it towards the cake.
"Come," I whispered, "we'll cut it together."
Her fingers rested weakly over mine. I could feel the shake in her hand, the exhaustion she had been hiding from everyone—including me.
Together, we cut the tiny rose-colored cake.
Then she took a small piece, lifted it to my lips... and fed me.
Her hand trembled so much I had to hold her wrist gently to steady her.
I wiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb.
"Siya..." my voice softened on its own, "once we go home, I'll give you the grand celebration you deserve. Lights, music, the whole palace... I'll make the entire kingdom celebrate us."
She shook her head quickly and leaned her forehead lightly against my shoulder.
"This... is enough," she whispered.
"You being awake... you holding my hand... this is the only celebration I ever wanted."
Her words hit me harder than any wound I had ever taken.
This girl...
She didn't want jewels.
She didn't want grand royal nights.
She didn't want a kingdom.
She just wanted me.
And in that quiet hospital room, surrounded by pink balloons, soft candles, and the girl who carried my world for twenty-one days...
...it felt like the most perfect anniversary we could ever have.
I rested my chin on her head and murmured,
"Happy anniversary, Siya. From now on... you'll never cry alone. I swear."
And for once, the king who ruled Rajasthan...
...felt ruled by her love.
Two days passed...
And Avi recovered more than the doctors expected.
He still needed rest, but the doctor said he could take that at home.
Home.
Finally... we were going home together.
When the car stopped at the palace gates, I felt a strange mix inside me—relief, fear, happiness, and something tight in my chest.
The whole place was decorated... exactly the way I wanted for our anniversary.
Soft lights... flowers... warmth.
A small smile pulled at my lips, even though my heart still felt heavy.
Dadi Maa came towards us with the aarti ki thali.
She did aarti for both of us, touched our heads gently, and put tilak on our foreheads.
Everyone gathered around... talking, asking about Avi, blessing us.
I stood beside him, holding him subtly, making sure he didn't lose balance.
Then Maa said softly,
"Siya beta, take Avi to the room and rest. I'll send food for both of you."
I opened my mouth to say something—maybe to help her, maybe to ask something—
but she didn't let me speak.
She moved away with Chachi toward the kitchen.
I sighed quietly.
I held Avi carefully.
He could walk now... small steps... slow steps.
But I wasn't taking any risk when it came to him.
Not again.
We reached our room.
I helped him sit properly on the bed.
I turned to leave—just to bring water, nothing else—
but his hand wrapped around mine gently.
"Will you not sit with me, baby?" he asked softly.
I swallowed and nodded.
I sat beside him.
He opened his arms slightly.
"Come."
I leaned in... hugging him tightly.
His heartbeat felt slow, warm... safe.
"That's enough, angel," he whispered in my hair.
"I love you taking care of me... but not when you're forgetting yourself."
My eyes stung for a second, but I blinked them away.
"You don't have to do anything alone now," he murmured.
"We'll handle everything together. You don't have to be strong—not in front of me.
"
His voice softened more.
"You can cry.
.. you can overthink... you can be angry.
.. you can show tantrums. You can be you in front of me.
"
He paused.
"I love you... but I love my old Siya more. "
My breath stopped for a moment.
Old Siya?
The one who smiled freely?
Who spoke softly without fear?
Who didn't hold everything inside?
He broke the hug and cupped my face gently with both hands.
"Will you become my old Siya, please?"
I nodded slowly.
My throat felt tight, but I stayed calm.
Before I could say anything—
A knock came.
The door opened slightly.
Arjun Bhaiya stepped inside, his face tense.
"Bhabhi..." he said quietly, "your mami... Mrs. Rawat... she had a serious accident."
My heart dropped—
But my face stayed still.
Inside, everything twisted...
but outside, I stayed composed.
I stood up slowly, my voice quiet but steady:
"Bhaiya... where is she?"