12
( This chapter contains the mention of suicide and self harm please don't read it if it triggers you or make you uncomfortable ??)
We stepped out of the police station - and immediately, the press charged at us like wild animals.
Cameras flashed like lightning, mics were shoved into our faces.
"Is it true Utsav Choudhury assaulted a girl?
"
"Was he under the influence of drugs?
"
"Choudhury family, how will you respond to these serious allegations?
"
"Is it true Katha Choudhury is handling the case herself?
"
"Will the Choudhury influence bury the case? "
Utsav whimpered softly against me, clutching my jacket tightly.
My poor baby was overwhelmed.
In an instant, Bhairava bhaiya, Gyan bhaiya, and Dyan bhaiya moved - shielding us like an unbreakable wall.
Their expressions were pure rage, daring anyone to even come closer.
Bhairava bhaiya's deadly look alone made the reporters backstep in fear.
Papa came forward too, wrapping his arm around me and Utsav protectively.
"Come, baccha," he said in a low, soothing voice and started leading us toward the car.
I opened the car door swiftly.
"Sit, baby," I whispered gently to Utsav, stroking his back.
He nodded shakily and climbed in, still clinging to me, and I slid in after him, never letting go of his hand.
Outside, my brothers were handling the press with terrifying silence - but the fire in their eyes promised destruction.
And inside, all I cared about was my little brother, my laddu, sitting broken beside me.
I would fix this.
No matter what it took.
We reached home in a tense silence, and before the car even stopped properly, Utsav bolted out.
"Utsav!" I called after him, but he didn't stop.
He ran up the stairs, his footsteps frantic, and then-slam-his bedroom door shut hard.
By the time we all rushed up behind him, the door was locked.
"Utsav!" I banged on the door, panic rising in my chest. "Baby, open the door! Please!"
No answer.
Bhairava bhaiya tried the handle again, rattling it hard, but it wouldn't budge.
Gyan bhaiya and Dyan bhaiya were trying not to panic, but I could see their fists clenching and unclenching.
Even Papa was knocking gently but firmly.
"Utsav, open the door, baccha. We are here, nothing will happen to you. Please open," Papa said, his voice rough with worry.
Tears pricked my eyes. I pressed my forehead against the door.
"Uttu, listen to your Di, baby. I'm right here. Please don't lock yourself away from me... I can't bear it," I whispered brokenly.
Inside, there was silence-then a soft sob.
I could hear my laddu crying inside, but he still didn't open the door.
Each sound of his broken sobs tore my heart more.
I looked at Bhairava bhaiya helplessly.
"We have to break the door," he said grimly, and both Gyan bhaiya and Dyan bhaiya nodded immediately.
"Do it," I whispered hoarsely, stepping aside, praying he was safe.
Gyan bhaiya and Dyan bhaiya didn't waste a second.
With one strong kick, the door broke open with a loud crash.
But the scene inside made all of our blood run cold.
Utsav lay on the floor, unconscious, blood dripping from a deep cut on his hand.
For a second, everything around me froze - I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think.
Then-
"UTSAV!" I screamed, panic flooding my chest as I ran to him, falling to my knees beside his limp body.
I cradled his head gently, sobbing, "Baby, wake up, please, baby, open your eyes..."
Bhairava bhaiya was already at his side, pulling out a handkerchief and tying it tightly around Utsav's bleeding hand to slow the blood loss.
His face was tight with fear, but his hands were steady.
Papa knelt beside me, his face pale.
"Call the ambulance! Now!" Gyan bhaiya barked to Dyan bhaiya, but Dyan bhaiya was already dialing.
"We don't have time to wait," Dyan bhaiya said urgently after a second. "I'll bring the car to the porch. We take him ourselves."
"Move!" Bhairava bhaiya snapped, and they all acted instantly.
Papa lifted Utsav carefully into his arms, and I held onto his uninjured hand tightly, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably.
"You're going to be fine, laddu, okay? Your Di is with you. You're strong, you're my strong boy," I whispered brokenly.
We all rushed out, hearts hammering in terror, carrying Utsav to the car.
We had to save him. We had to.
We raced through the hospital parking lot, the tires screeching to a halt, and as soon as we jumped out, an ugly wall of flashing cameras and shouting reporters swarmed us.
"Miss Choudhury, is it true Utsav Choudhury attempted suicide?"
"Is Utsav Choudhury involved in a rape case?"
"Does this mean the downfall of the Choudhury family?"
Their vicious words hit like knives, but right now, I didn't care.
My baby needed me.
"How the fuck do these vultures get to know every fucking thing?" I screamed in frustration, my whole body trembling with helpless rage.
Gyan bhaiya immediately pulled me into his arms, caging me protectively, his grip firm.
"Ignore them, little star," he whispered in my ear. "Utsav needs you strong, not broken."
I nodded against his chest, clenching my jaw, swallowing the scream that threatened to burst out.
Papa and Bhairava bhaiya cleared a path through the crowd like a storm, pure rage in their eyes, and we all hurried inside, shielding unconscious Utsav carefully.
The moment we entered, doctors and nurses rushed to us.
"Emergency ward - now!" Bhairava bhaiya barked, his voice like thunder.
The doctors immediately took Utsav from papa's arms onto a stretcher.
I held his hand till the very last second, not wanting to let go, but they pulled him away gently, rushing him into the emergency ward.
The doors slammed shut.
The red 'Emergency' light blinked over the doors.
And we were left outside... helpless, praying... desperately waiting for our laddu to come back to us.
The cold, sterile air of the hospital pressed down on me like a heavy weight.
I sat there on the bench, hands clenched on my lap, my throat burning from the hours I had been silently crying.
It had been four hours.
Four hours since they wheeled Utsav away, and no one had come out to tell me if my baby was okay.
Papa and all my bhaiyas had gone off to handle the mess - the press, the lawyers, the useless police - and left me alone here in the waiting area.
I felt so empty.
So scared.
I wiped my cheeks roughly, but the tears wouldn't stop.
Suddenly, I felt it - that same intense gaze, the one that always found me no matter where I was.
I looked around, my heart thudding loudly in my ears - and there he was.
Dattatriya Agnivanshi.
He was walking towards me, his tall, powerful figure cutting through the hospital corridor like he owned the very ground he stepped on.
Before I could even process what was happening, he stopped right in front of me and - to my complete shock - knelt down.
The great, emotionless Dattatriya Agnivanshi knelt on one knee before me.
But right now, nothing seemed strange.
.. because my heart was too heavy with grief to question anything.
He looked into my tear-soaked eyes with his dark, unreadable ones and said, in a voice so low and soft that it made something flutter painfully in my chest:
"He will be fine."
There was no smile on his face, no fake sympathy.
Just a calm, unshakeable certainty.
And somehow... it gave me the tiniest flicker of hope when I had none left.
I nodded helplessly, still crying, my body shaking.
I tried wiping my tears again, but my hands were trembling badly.
Without asking, Dattatriya slowly lifted his hand - so carefully, like I was something fragile - and gently wiped the tears from my cheeks.
I stared at him, my eyes wide, confused, vulnerable.
His fingers were rough, calloused, but his touch was feather-light.
For a moment, it was just me and him in that cold, cruel world.
No mafia, no titles, no ruthless walls between us.
Just a broken girl and a broken man... finding a tiny moment of peace in the middle of the storm.
Just then, breaking the silence, I heard Bhairava bhaiya's steady voice from behind me.
"Thanks for coming, Mr. Agnivanshi," he said, firm but respectful.
Dattatriya, who was still kneeling in front of me, slowly stood up, adjusting his black kurta without any rush.
His expression remained unreadable as he turned slightly towards Bhairava bhaiya.
"We are partners now," Dattatriya said in his deep, emotionless tone, "and if a partner can't help in a time like this, then who will? "
Bhairava bhaiya gave a small nod in return, the silent understanding between two powerful men thick in the air.
At that moment, Gyan bhaiya came quietly and sat beside me, gently pulling me into his arms without saying a word.
I immediately lay my head on his chest, closing my eyes as new tears slipped out, my body finally giving into the exhaustion and fear.
Gyan bhaiya rubbed my back softly, humming something low under his breath, trying to comfort me.
"Where is Dyan bhaiya?" I whispered brokenly against Gyan bhaiya's chest.
Gyan bhaiya leaned closer to my ear and whispered,
"Somewhere... bruising his knuckles."
I didn't react, didn't even flinch.
I knew exactly what that meant.
Dyan bhaiya, my fierce protector, was out there, pouring his rage and helplessness into punching walls or training bags, trying to cope in the only way he knew how.
The hallway fell back into heavy silence, only interrupted by the faint beeping of machines in the distance.
I curled closer to Gyan bhaiya, holding onto him tightly, feeling like if I let go, I would shatter into a million pieces.
Everyone - Bhairava bhaiya, papa, even Dattatriya - stood silently around us, waiting. Waiting for some sign, some miracle.
And then - finally - after what felt like a lifetime, the doors to the emergency ward swung open.
The doctors stepped out, tired but composed, peeling off their gloves.
All of us stood up at once, our hearts in our throats, ready to hear the verdict that could make or break us.
I stood frozen, staring at the doctor as he stepped closer.
I felt it immediately - a strong presence just behind me, tall and unyielding, like a silent wall of strength.
I knew without even turning that it was Dattatriya.
He didn't speak, didn't move - he just stood there, as if shielding me with his mere presence.
But right now, my entire focus was on the man in the white coat standing before us.
The doctor sighed softly, tired eyes sweeping across all of us before finally meeting mine.
"He's stable now," he said, and I almost collapsed on the floor with relief if Gyan bhaiya hadn't held me tighter.
"We were able to stop the bleeding in time.
He needed a few stitches on his wrist, and we've sedated him for now so his body can rest."
I let out a shaky breath I didn't even know I was holding.
Tears of overwhelming relief blurred my vision.
"Can I see him?" I managed to whisper, my voice cracking badly.
The doctor nodded gently.
"Only one person for now. He's still very weak. We'll shift him to a private room in a few hours."
I immediately stepped forward but felt a warm hand briefly brush the small of my back, stopping me just for a second.
It was Dattatriya.
A silent, grounding touch - like he was silently telling me: Go. He needs you.
I nodded slightly without looking at him and hurried after the doctor toward the ICU, leaving behind my family and Dattatriya standing in silent guard.
Every step toward that room felt like a mile.
But I didn't care - my laddu was safe. That was all that mattered.
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