Chapter 36
KAVYA
I stepped into the villa, fear gnawing at my insides. A heavy weight sat in my chest; I hadn't told Saurav I was participating in the competition, let alone that my partner was his former best friend, Abhiraj. I hadn’t even told him I was going to Switzerland for a week for a dancing competition.
Now, his anger was a physical force in the room.
He believed I had known about his father’s condition and intentionally kept it from him.
Guilt washed over me, even though I truly hadn't known Mr. Chauhan was suffering from a brain tumor. He had looked unwell for months, but I’d assumed it was just the stress of dealing with his wife’s secret.
I covered my mouth, a realization hitting me like a blow.
The truth was, I had been so consumed by my sister’s health that I had neglected my father-in-law entirely.
I froze when I saw Saurav standing by the table, his fingers tracing my golden trophy. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice dripping with mockery as he held it up. “Kavya and Abhiraj... wow.”
“Saurav...”
I took a step toward him, but he shook his head sharply.
“I don’t want to hear another lie, Kavya!
I’m so tired of your fucking lies. I should have known the moment you stepped into my life…
the day you mistook my kindness for cruelty and filed that complaint against me.
I ignored it. I thought it was a misunderstanding, that you had your reasons, that eventually, you’d be honest with me.
But damn it! You’re a liar. You lied to me every single moment.
When I asked how my father was, you told me he was fine, knowing he was suffering from this disease! ”
He stepped closer, his eyes wild. “You hide everything from me! You didn’t even mention the competition.
I could have lived with that, but your partner was Abhiraj?
” Saurav sneered, the name tasting like poison.
“Is he your next target, Kavya Chauhan? Since you’ve destroyed my world, do you want to destroy his too? You’re a curse to us.”
Tears blurred my vision. “I’m not a curse, Saurav,” I said, my voice trembling as I approached him. “I had no idea about the tumor. I swear, I didn't know.”
“Shut up!” he hissed, his face inches from mine. His expression was shattered. His chest rose and fell rapidly, a desperate struggle for control. “You weren’t here when he needed you most. You were having fun in Switzerland with another man. How the fuck do you explain that?”
“I didn’t know… ” my lips wobbled.
He grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight and desperate. “He’s dying, Kavya. We don’t know when he’ll take his last breath. If you had been here, we could have done something! We could have bought him more time. Instead, he had to endure it all alone.”
At that moment, I saw fear in his eyes. It was paralyzing fear of losing his father.
“I... I didn’t get to see her one last time before she left. Now he’s leaving too...” His voice choked off. It was the first time he had ever mentioned his mother. “I can’t lose him, Kavya. I can’t...”
“I should have been with him,” his voice cracked. “I should have talked to him. I should have listened to him.”
“Saurav...” I reached out to touch his arm, wanting to offer even a shred of comfort, but the moment my fingers grazed his sleeve, he recoiled as if I had burned him.
He moved away, putting distance between us. The vulnerability I had seen seconds ago vanished, replaced by a cold, hard mask of indifference. He looked at me, his eyes devoid of the emotions that had just been there.
"Don't," he spat. “Don't pretend you care now. It’s too late for your sympathy, Kavya.”
"Saurav, please, I just want to help…"
"Help?" He let out a sharp, jagged laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "You've helped enough. You’ve lied, you’ve hidden things, and you’ve danced while my father lay dying. I don't need your 'help.' I don't even want you in my sight."
Before I could say another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room. His footsteps echoed against the marble floor, growing fainter until the front door slammed shut.
I stayed there, my hand still reaching out for a man who wasn't there anymore.
The golden trophy sat on the table, mocking me with its shine.
I had won the competition, but I realized I had never felt more like I was losing.
I was losing my father in law who had been nothing but kind to me.
I was losing my husband who had once been my safest place.
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Mr. Chauhan had been in the ICU for three days, and with every passing hour, the silence from Saurav grew louder. He was retreating into himself, building walls I couldn’t climb. We hadn’t spoken since the night everything collapsed.
When Uncle Dhruv called me this morning, my heart nearly stopped. The word "hospital" usually carries the weight of an ending. Panic surged through me until he clarified: Mr. Chauhan had woken up. He was asking for me.
Now, I stood in the hallway, the sterile scent of bleach stinging my nose. The heavy ICU door swung open, and Saurav stepped out. His eyes were bloodshot, his shoulders hunched. He didn’t spare me a glance; he simply walked past.
I took a trembling breath and stepped into the room. The air was unnaturally cold. My heart wrenched the moment I saw him, the only man who had ever loved me without conditions, without strings.
“Kavya… ” his voice was a mere husk of what it used to be.
I moved to his bedside, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a sob. I looked away, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling. I didn’t want my grief to be the last thing he saw.
“Did you win?” he whispered.
I nodded, unable to find my voice. I bit my lip until I tasted copper, trying to stay silent. I inhaled sharply, wiped my eyes, and finally forced myself to look at him. My breath caught in my throat.
He was barely the man I knew.
His face had hollowed, the once-strong jawline now sharp and skeletal.
His skin was pale, tinged with a faint, sickly gray, and dark shadows sat heavily beneath eyes that had sunk deep into his skull.
Yet, when they found mine, they still held that same quiet, familiar warmth.
A faint swelling lingered around his head.
His hair, once neatly groomed, was thin and brittle.
Tubes snaked into his arms, and the steady, rhythmic drip-drip of medication was the only thing anchoring him to this world. An oxygen cannula rested beneath his nose, his breaths coming in shallow, ragged hitches.
I sank onto the stool beside him and gripped his hand. I couldn't let go. “Why?” I whispered, the tears finally spilling over. “Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you fight?”
“There was no use for more surgery, Kavya. The doctors… they give you hope in bottles, but the body knows,” he said slowly, each word a struggle. “I would have reached this end regardless. I’ve reached it already.” He paused, his gaze intensifying. “Have you read the diary?”
At those words, I felt my heart shatter into a million jagged pieces. I nodded, the weight of his secrets pressing down on me.
“The day my wife left, I died too,” he confessed, his voice trembling.
“I only stayed alive for my son. I forced my heart to keep beating because I wanted him to be happy.
I tried so hard to erase her memory from his mind, to protect him from this kind of pain but he was too stubborn, wasn't he? He inherited that from her.”
“Don’t go,” I begged, pulling his cold hand to my cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Please, please… don’t leave us yet.”
“Dying is less painful than living,” he murmured, a stray tear escaping the corner of his eye.
I looked up at him, desperate. “Saurav won't survive losing you. He’s already breaking.”
“That thought is what kept me here for so long. He was my anchor.” His fingers curled weakly around mine. “But I can’t hold back the tide anymore. She’s waiting for me, Kavya. I can feel her.”
I broke down then, my shoulders shaking with the force of my grief.
“He has you,” he continued, his voice fading. “And I know you’ll keep him happy. You’ll stay by him, won’t you?”
“I don't know if I can …” I shook my head, feeling inadequate. “He’s so far away.”
“He doesn’t know it yet, but he loves you. I’ve seen it in the way he looks at you when you aren't watching.”
“He doesn't…” I protested weakly.
“Promise me,” he whispered, his grip tightening for one final, fleeting moment. “Keep him happy.”
I wiped my face, the air in the room suddenly feeling thick, as if someone were choking me. It was happening again. The same suffocating helplessness I felt when I watched my mother take her last breath. I couldn't bear to experience it again, yet here I was.
“I’ll keep him happy,” I forced out the words.
A small, peaceful smile touched his lips.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
Slowly, the tension left his fingers. His grip loosened, his hand sliding limp against the white sheets. On the monitor, the rhythmic mountain peaks flattened into a single, unending line. The high-pitched hum filled the room, signaling the end of the journey.
He was gone.
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