⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓𝟏˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
His breath was uneven... chest rising and falling too fast... like he had been suffocating for years and finally broke.
"Ritvika..." his voice cracked, almost unrecognizable. "You wanted to know, right? You kept asking... when I hated you so much, then why... why did I say I love you now?"
He laughed... a painful, hollow laugh.
"Let me tell you. Suno. Just—just listen to me."
His hands were shaking now.
"I wanted to protect you..."
His voice dipped, shattering at the edges.
"...and... and the little bundle of... of joy..." His throat closed. "Tara... my kitten..."
"Protect me... from who, Vidyut?"
Her question seemed simple, but the effect on him was devastating.
Vidyut froze.
Like his entire chest caved in.
He didn't speak for several seconds—he couldn't. His eyes flickered, breath stuttering, and when he finally managed to speak, his voice sounded like it had been scraped across broken glass.
"From everyone," he whispered.
Ritvika felt something cold crawl up her spine.
"Everyone?" she repeated, confused. "Vidyut, that makes no sense... who are you talking about?"
He looked at her then. Really looked.
Exhausted. Haunted. Terrified.
"Divya," he said first.
The name dropped like a stone between them.
He swallowed.
"Siya."
Her breath hitched.
He dragged a shaking hand down his face.
"My past."
Another heartbeat.
"And Atharv."
Ritvika's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs.
"A-Atharv?" she finally managed, voice weak, horrified.
That name wasn't just a shock.
It was a punch.
Her hands began to shake.
"Why Atharv?" she whispered, fear crawling through her bones. "Why would he-"
Vidyut's control snapped.
"Because he wanted to destroy me!"
The pain in his voice echoed through the room.
Ritvika flinched.
He stepped back, breath coming fast, raw emotion shaking his entire frame.
"He wanted me ruined, broken beyond repair. And he knew exactly how to do it. He knew what mattered to me..."
His voice cracked.
Ritvika blinked hard, completely overwhelmed.
But Vidyut wasn't done.
He was on the edge of completely unraveling.
"You wanted the truth," he whispered. "You wanted to know why I said I love you after hating you so much. Why... why now."
He let out a shuddering breath, eyes wet, jaw trembling.
"Let me tell you, Ritvika. Let me finally tell you everything."
She didn't move. Couldn't.
Vidyut stepped closer—slowly, almost cautiously—like approaching her hurt him but staying away hurt worse.
"I wanted to protect you," he said softly.
Each word was a confession carved from old wounds.
"And Tara. My baby. My kitten. The only light I have."
His voice shook again.
"And because..." He paused, fighting his own emotions. "Because I loved you."
Ritvika's lungs locked.
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
He nodded, swallowing hard.
"Yes. I loved you. For years."
She took a step back, stunned.
"W-What are you saying?"
He let out a sound—half laugh, half sob.
"You don't have to believe me. Hell, I wouldn't believe me if I were you. But it's the truth. I've loved you long before you even knew I existed."
Ritvika stared at him like the ground under her feet had vanished.
Vidyut's voice softened into something painfully vulnerable.
"I loved you from your first marriage, Ritvika."
Her heartbeat stuttered violently.
"I couldn't say anything. I had no right. You chose someone else. You married him. And I stayed silent. I stayed hidden."
His eyes were full of regret, shaking with memories he wished he could tear out of himself.
"You asked me if I dug into your past," he said.
"Yes. You asked what connection I had with Roohi."
Ritvika's breath caught.
Vidyut looked like he was about to break apart.
"I met Roohi before your marriage," he confessed. "Because I wanted... I wanted to know if I even had a chance with you. I wanted to know you."
Her eyes widened further, disbelief flooding her.
"It was Roohi who told me you were getting married. She thought I needed to know because..." He laughed bitterly. "Because she realized I was in love with someone who didn't even know I existed."
He looked up.
"Since then, everything started. Every thread of your life somehow got tied to mine. And over time... I fell deeper."
The silence between them pulsed with shock.
Finally, Vidyut whispered the truth that had lived inside him for years:
"I loved you long before you ever knew my name, Ritvika."
Ritvika's voice broke faintly.
"Why... why didn't you tell me?"
His answer was a knife.
"Because I'm protecting you even now."
Her breath caught.
He met her eyes—haunted, raw, stripped of every shield.
"From everyone who has ever tried to destroy me," he said softly.
"And everyone who will now try to destroy you... because you matter to me."
Ritvika's lips trembled as she stared at Vidyut, her mind spinning, her heartbeat hammering painfully against her ribs.
She swallowed hard.
"Vidyut..." she whispered. "What danger do we have from Atharv? Why would he come after us? What does he even want?"
Vidyut closed his eyes for a second—like the question itself hurt.
When he opened them again, they were tired. Defeated. Terrifyingly honest.
"He wants my name," Vidyut said quietly.
"He wants everything I have—my identity, my place, my legacy."
Ritvika frowned, confused and scared.
"Why?"
Vidyut laughed under his breath—a bitter, humorless sound.
"Because he's always hated me. Always. He thinks he deserved everything I got. He thinks my position should've been his. And when he couldn't take it directly... he found another way."
Ritvika's breath shook.
"What way?"
Vidyut took a step closer, voice dropping to something cold and sharp.
"He planned to destroy me through the two people he knew I would die protecting."
Her entire body froze.
"Tara," he said first.
The name cracked something inside her.
"And you, Ritvika."
Her knees felt weak.
"He watched. He waited. He studied our weaknesses. Every move he made was calculated—every smile, every polite word, every harmless visit. He came into this house to break me from the inside."
Vidyut's eyes grew darker, filled with a fury and helplessness that made Ritvika's stomach twist.
"He knew that hurting your peace... hurting your mind... hurting your spirit... would break me faster than hurting my body. And that man—" Vidyut's jaw clenched hard, "—that man doesn't stop until he gets what he wants."
Ritvika's chest tightened painfully.
Her breath turned uneven.
"So you... you were protecting me... from him?" she whispered.
Vidyut nodded.
"And from Divya. And from every ghost in my past that still wants me to bleed."
The room began spinning around her.
Her throat closed.
Her palms turned cold.
This was too much.
Too much truth. Too much fear. Too much pain in his eyes.
Too many shadows in the words he was speaking.
She shook her head slowly.
"Stop... please..." she breathed out, voice cracking. "I can't... I can't process all of this. I don't know what to do with this. Vidyut, why didn't you tell me? Why did you hide all this? Why—"
Her voice collapsed into a sob.
She staggered backward, her body trembling violently.
Vidyut moved a step forward instinctively.
"Ritvika—"
"Don't," she whispered, hands lifting shakily between them. "Don't come closer. I... I need to breathe. I need... space. This—this is too much."
Her vision blurred as tears spilled uncontrollably.
"You loved me... Atharv wanted to destroy you... Divya hates you... Siya... her condition... your past... everything—" She held her head, dizzy, suffocating. "I can't breathe, Vidyut... I can't—"
"Ritvika, please—"
"Don't," she repeated, this time breaking completely. "Just don't talk right now. Please. I can't."
She stumbled toward the door.
He reached out instinctively—but stopped himself mid-air, his hand curling helplessly.
Ritvika didn't look at him again.
She stepped out of the room, her breaths harsh and unsteady, tears falling silently down her face. Her whole body felt cold. Numb. Shaken.
She walked down the corridor blindly, her legs barely holding her up, until she found the nearest guest room.
She pushed the door open, stepped inside, and shut it behind her.
Then she locked it.
The click of the lock echoed like a gunshot.
On the other side of the door, Vidyut froze.
He didn't knock. Didn't push. Didn't force.
He simply pressed his forehead to the door quietly... the weight of everything he confessed crushing him all over again.
Inside, Ritvika slid down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, sobbing into the darkness.
And for the first time—
Both of them broke in separate rooms.
I don't know how long I stayed sitting on the cold floor.
Minutes.
Hours.
Maybe a lifetime.
The air in the guest room felt heavy—too heavy—pressing against my chest until breathing became a punishment. My throat burned from crying. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Everything he said... everything I heard...
It kept replaying in my mind like a nightmare that refused to end.
Divya. Siya. Her trauma.
His ruined reputation.
His innocence.
His family's desperate protection.
The world calling him a monster.
And then—
Atharv.
That was the part that hit me like a slap I wasn't prepared for.
Atharv... who wanted Vidyut destroyed.
And to destroy Vidyut, he came for me.
For Tara.
For the only two things that could break him.
I pressed my palms to my temples, trying to stop the spinning in my head.
How long had he been pretending?
Smiling?
Observing?
Studying?
Planning?
Why didn't I see it?
Why was I so blind?
A shiver ran through me. My stomach twisted.
My breath came out in a gasp.
He wanted to hurt Tara.
My tiny girl. My little star.
Her innocent eyes flashed in my mind—her smile, her giggles, her tiny arms hugging my neck.
My heart clenched painfully.
I curled forward and sobbed into my knees.
Why do bad people always look for the easiest targets?
Why children? Why her?
Another painful thought struck me—
Why me?
Why was I always the one who people used, manipulated, broke from inside?
My first marriage...
The betrayal...
The humiliation...
And now this?
Atharv wanted to ruin me to ruin Vidyut.
My mind throbbed, aching under the weight of everything.
And somewhere... in the middle of all the chaos... another memory replayed.
His voice. Broken. Shaking. Raw.
"I loved you from so many years..."
The moment those words echoed inside me, I felt my entire body freeze.
No.
No.
No.
No.
That can't be true.
"He's lying," I whispered into the empty room, though it sounded weak—desperate—even to my own ears.
"No one loves me. No one ever did. Why would he?"
But the more I tried to deny it... the more my mind wandered back to the way he said it.
Not demanding. Not manipulating. Not forcing.
But like a confession he had buried for too long... until it carved him open.
His voice shaking.
His eyes glistening.
His hands trembling like he was exposing every wound he had.
"I loved you from your first marriage..."
"I met Roohi before your marriage..."
"I couldn't do anything..."
"I loved you..."
A sharp, terrible, overwhelming pain filled my chest.
If he was lying... why did he look like he was breaking apart every time I stepped back?
Why did he look terrified of losing me?
Why did he look like a man begging for one breath of relief after drowning for years?
My tears spilled again—hot, unstoppable.
What do I do with this?
What do I do with a love I never asked for?
A love I never expected.
A love I don't know how to trust.
I hugged myself tighter, trying to hold the pieces of me that felt like they were falling apart.
My mind kept flashing back to moments—small, meaningless at the time—but now they made too much sense.
The way he always protected me without admitting it.
The way he always snapped at others but softened—just slightly—around me.
The way he stepped in front of me during every chaos.
The way he looked at Tara... like she was something precious, something irreplaceable.
And Tara...
Oh God.
My vision blurred again.
If Atharv ever—
I squeezed my eyes shut, chest heaving.
I can't let that happen.
I can't let anyone hurt her.
I can't let anything touch her innocence.
A sudden, overwhelming fear washed over me.
What if everything changes now?
What if danger is still around us?
What if I lose him... lose Tara... lose the little world I'm trying to build?
My heart trembled.
Because for the first time—
I realized I don't want to lose Vidyut.
Not his anger.
Not his madness.
Not his darkness.
Not even the broken man who confessed his love with shaking hands.
I wiped my tears with trembling fingers.
Maybe... maybe he really does love me.
Maybe he has been loving me quietly, painfully, secretly.
Maybe that's why he pushed me away, pulled me close, screamed at me, protected me, saved me...
Maybe that's why he breaks so easily around me.
A small, painful sound escaped my lips.
I don't know what to believe.
I don't know what to do.
But one thing I know—
Tonight... my heart learned something I was not prepared for:
Vidyut loves me.
And that truth terrifies me more than anything else in this world.
I don't remember when I sat down outside her door.
Five minutes ago...
Or five hours.
Time stopped making sense the moment she stepped back from me like she'd been burnt.
The lock clicking from inside was the final blow.
A small sound.
Barely a click.
But it felt like someone pressed that lock against my chest... and turned the key inside me instead.
I rested my head back against the wall, inhaling sharply. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Did I do something wrong? Did I say too much?
Was I supposed to stay quiet... hide everything... pretend?
But she asked.
She wanted the truth.
She wanted to know what I've been hiding.
Why I behave the way I do.
Why people from my past keep coming like shadows.
I told her everything.
And now she's behind this door, shattered because of my truth.
I dragged my fingers through my hair, pulling hard at the roots — trying to breathe... trying to stay sane.
Will she hate me now?
More than before?
Is she sitting inside that room thinking I'm cursed?
Thinking she should run away from me?
I shut my eyes.
Her face flashed in front of me — shocked, terrified, broken.
The way she said Atharv's name... the way her voice cracked... the way her legs trembled.
I didn't want her to know that part.
I didn't want to bring that darkness near her.
But she kept asking...
"Protect me from who?"
From everyone.
From everyone who wants to destroy me — and through me, destroy her.
I exhaled shakily, pressing my palms to my face.
Atharv.
Divya.
Siya's past.
The entire twisted circle.
And me.
I'm part of the danger too, aren't I?
My anger.
My unpredictability.
My obsession with protecting her.
My inability to stay away from her even when I tried.
What if she thinks I'm just like them?
What if she thinks my love is another burden on her shoulders?
Love.
The word hits me like another punch.
I told her.
I actually said it.
Not once, not twice... but like a man who had no more strength left to hide anything.
"I've loved you for years."
And the moment the words left my mouth... a fear swallowed me whole.
Because what if she never loves me back?
What if she always fears me?
What if she always sees me as the man who ruins lives unintentionally?
I press a fist to my chest, trying to calm the burn.
God... I've ruined everything, haven't I?
I drop my head, staring at the floor.
I want to knock.
To call her name.
To tell her I'm sorry.
But what right do I have?
She must be crying.
Because of me.
Because of the world I carry on my back.
Because my past is a poison that touches everything — including her.
"Tara..."
The thought of her tiny voice makes something in me break.
What if Ritvika thinks I can't protect Tara?
What if she takes the child away from me one day?
My throat closes.
No.
I can't lose them.
Not her.
Not Tara.
Not my little family that I never admitted I wanted until now.
I inhale deeply, my chest hurting.
Is she thinking about leaving me?
Is she planning to walk out tomorrow morning?
Is she packing her bags right now?
No. No, she wouldn't...
But how well do I even know her fears?
Her breaking points?
Her limits?
I rub my forehead, feeling a sting behind my eyes I rarely let myself feel.
I never wanted her to see this version of my life.
This mess. This filth. This darkness.
Maybe she deserves someone clean... someone untouched by danger.
Someone who doesn't bring hell to her doorstep.
But then a voice inside me whispers —
What if she leaves?
My entire body tenses.
I wouldn't survive that.
Not now. Not after finally saying everything.
Not after finally knowing she matters more than my own damn life.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and whisper into the empty corridor—
"Please... don't hate me. Not you. Anyone but you."
A tear slips down before I can stop it.
I checked the time.
Evening.
She hadn't eaten a single bite since morning.
Hadn't touched lunch.
Hadn't taken her second dose of medicines.
She only took the morning ones before the argument... and nothing after that.
I felt panic twist in my chest.
Her condition wasn't stable.
The doctors were clear—no stress, no emotional pressure.
And what did I do? Gave her exactly that.
What if her breathing became difficult again?
What if her chest hurt again?
What if she fainted again like last time?
I stood up immediately and knocked—soft at first.
"Ritvika... open the door."
No sound.
Not even a shift.
Just silence.
My voice cracked as I leaned my forehead against the door.
"Please... at least say something. Just... just tell me you're okay."
Still nothing.
I swallowed hard. The fear hit deeper.
This wasn't about her anger anymore.
This was about her health—her safety.
"Ritvika, listen to me," I said, louder this time.
"If you don't want to see my face, fine.
.. I won't come near you. I swear I won't."
My hand trembled against the wood.
"But you need to open the door a little.
Just enough for me to give you your medicines, okay?
You haven't eaten anything. You haven't taken the evening dose. "
My chest tightened painfully.
"You... you were in a coma yesterday," I whispered, voice breaking. "You can't skip medicines. Not like this. Please don't do this to yourself because of me."
Still no sound.
Only the ache in my throat grew sharper.
"Ritvika..." I nearly pleaded. "You hate me now, I know. Maybe I deserve that. But you can't punish yourself for my mistakes. Your health... it can't handle this much stress."
Another long silence.
I felt like I was sinking.
What if she really never wants to see me again?
What if I lost her completely in that one moment of confession?
What if telling her the truth meant she walks away forever?
"Please," I whispered, almost to myself now. "Just... open the door. Just take the medicine. If you want me gone after that... I will go."
My voice shook.
My hand slipped down the door.
And I sat there again... knees pulled up, head dropped forward.
.. suffocating in the fear that I broke her again.
That she would never look at me the same way.
That she would never let me near Tara again.
That in trying to protect them, I ended up hurting them.
The worst part?
I deserved every bit of this pain.
But she didn't deserve any of hers.
And if she didn't open the door soon... I didn't know what I was going to do.
Then
The lock clicked—just once, soft and hesitant, almost broken. My head snapped up immediately, breath catching as the door opened an inch, then another, until Ritvika finally stood there. Small. Fragile. Shattered.
The sight punched the air straight out of my lungs. Her eyes were red and puffy, faint wet lines still marking her cheeks. It felt like someone wrapped their hands around my chest and squeezed until something cracked.
I did that.
I caused those tears.
I gave her fear instead of safety, pain instead of peace.
For a long second, I couldn't move. I just stared at her, frozen, guilt crawling beneath my skin like needles. "Ritvika..." I managed to whisper, but the sound cracked in a way that felt like begging.
She didn't answer. She didn't even look at me properly. She simply stood there, exhausted, scared, hollow in a way that made me hate myself more than any enemy ever could.
I blinked hard, forcing myself out of the fog of guilt before it swallowed me whole. "Wait—wait," I said quickly, taking a clumsy step toward her. "Let me... let me get your medicines, okay? Just one minute." I didn't wait for her reply;
I couldn't trust myself to stand still under that kind of silence. I ran down the hall, grabbed the strip of medicines and a glass of water—nearly dropping both—and rushed back.
She had already gone inside, sitting on the edge of the bed with her head lowered, fingers clasped tightly together as if scared that even breathing too loudly might hurt her.
I froze in the doorway, suddenly terrified of stepping inside, terrified she would flinch or cry again, terrified even my shadow would feel like too much for her.
I swallowed hard and took a step forward, only to stop halfway. "Don't... don't take them yet," I said quickly, realizing how useless I sounded. "Your stomach's empty. Let me get something for you to eat first." And again, before she could react, I left.
Because looking at her for another second—broken because of me—would have destroyed whatever was left of me.
I rushed to the kitchen, grabbed the first warm thing I could find: a simple bowl of hot soup, light and gentle enough for her trembling throat. I almost tripped on the way back, my heart beating faster with each step until I reached her room again.
She hadn't moved. She sat exactly the same way, hands still, eyes empty in a way that frightened me more than anger or tears ever could.
I approached more slowly this time, measuring every step. "Here," I said softly, holding the bowl out with both hands. "I brought soup. It'll be easier to eat."
She didn't look at me, but she lifted her hands to take the bowl. They trembled hard enough to make my chest hurt.
Instinctively, I started to reach forward to steady it—then stopped myself mid-air. I didn't have the right to touch her. Not now.
Not when I was the reason she was shaking like a leaf. Not when I was the reason she had locked herself away, eyes swollen from tears.
I let my hand drop slowly, jaw tightening as she finally wrapped her fingers around the bowl.
Her hands shook again, just a little, but enough to break another piece inside me. I stood there, unable to look away, barely able to breathe.
Every second felt like walking on glass—terrified that even one wrong move would push her further away.
All I could do was stand there in silence, heart lodged painfully in my throat, guilt drowning me completely... and pray. Pray she would eat.
Pray she would take her medicines. Pray she wouldn't hate me beyond repair.
She lifted the spoon with trembling fingers, trying to eat. One small sip. Then another. But halfway through, her breath began to wobble—shallow, shaky, uneven. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold herself together, trying not to let the storm inside spill out.
But it did.
Her lower lip trembled first.
Then her eyes filled again.
Then the spoon slipped from her hand and clattered softly against the bowl.
She didn't look at me. She didn't say a word. She just stared down, breathing too fast, too fragile, like her ribs were struggling to hold her heart in place.
"Ritvika...?" I whispered cautiously, terrified of another wrong step.
She didn't answer.
Instead—without warning—she placed the bowl aside with unsteady fingers, stood up slowly... and crossed the distance between us in two broken steps.
And then she did something I never expected.
Never imagined.
Never even dared to hope for.
She threw her arms around me.
Not gently.
Not carefully.
But desperately.
Her body collided with mine as she hugged me with a force that stole my breath. Her fists clutched my shirt so tightly the fabric scrunched painfully against my skin. And then her tears—warm, uncontrollable—soaked into my chest as she pressed her face against me and sobbed.
For a second, I couldn't even move.
I just froze.
My heart... stopped. Everything inside me stopped. Shock slammed into me so hard it felt like I forgot how to breathe.
She was hugging me.
She—who had every reason to fear me, avoid me, hate me—
was holding onto me like I was the only solid thing in a collapsing world.
Her sobs shook through her shoulders, her entire body trembling against mine. I felt every broken breath, every shiver of panic, every crushed piece of her falling against me like she was finally letting herself collapse.
My hands hovered uncertainly for a moment—because I didn't know if I should touch her, if I even deserved to, if she would regret this when she realized it.
But when her fingers tightened in my shirt even more, as if begging me not to move away—
something inside me shattered.
My arms lifted slowly, hesitantly... and then I wrapped them around her. Carefully at first, terrified of hurting her again. But she only clung harder, burying herself deeper against me, and my restraint crumbled.
I held her.
I held her like she was the most breakable thing in my world.
Her tears kept soaking through my shirt, hot and heartbreaking, each one cutting through me like a blade. She shook in my arms, sobbing without sound at times, like she didn't even have the strength to cry properly anymore.
"Ritvika..." I whispered into her hair, my voice shaking, "please... don't—don't cry like this..."
But she didn't let go.
And I didn't either.
I tightened my hold ever so slightly, my heart pounding so violently it hurt, terror and relief crashing together inside me. She was breaking, yes—but she was breaking in my arms.
For the first time... she wasn't running away.
She wasn't locking the door.
She wasn't pushing me back.
She chose me.
Even if it was through tears... even if it was through fear... even if it was only for a moment—
she chose me.
And I stood there, holding her trembling body close, shocked to my core, terrified to even breathe, praying silently that this fragile moment wouldn't slip away from my hands.
Her sobs only grew harsher, shaking through her like she was fighting for air. I felt her nails curl into my shirt, anchoring herself to me like she was terrified I might disappear if she loosened her grip even a fraction.
"Ritvika..." My voice came out rough, uneven. I swallowed hard and lifted one hand to her hair, brushing trembling fingers along her head. "Please... don't cry like this. You just woke up yesterday, you can't—your body can't take this stress."
But she only shook her head violently against my chest, her breath hitching in painful, jagged bursts.
I wiped her tears with my thumb, clumsy and desperate, tilting her face back slightly just enough to see her—but she refused to lift her gaze. She clung to me with a panic that sliced straight through every wall I'd ever built.
"Ritvika... look at me," I whispered.
She finally lifted her face a little—just a little—and the sight gutted me completely. Her eyes were swollen, wet, pleading. Her mouth trembled as though her words were barely holding together.
"Don't... don't leave me," she choked out, so broken I almost lost my breath. "Please... don't leave."
My entire body stilled.
Those three words didn't come from confusion.
Or weakness.
Or fear.
They came from a place so raw... so wounded... so starved of love...
that it felt like someone had carved the plea directly into my bones.
I cupped her cheeks gently. "Hey... hey, look at me. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever."
She gave a sob so small, so childlike, it shattered whatever fragile control I had left. I couldn't stand there passively any longer. I pulled her closer—tighter—my arms wrapping around her waist as I guided her backward, slow and careful, until I sat on the bed and brought her with me.
She didn't resist.
She didn't question.
She simply folded into me, collapsing into my lap as if her entire body no longer knew how to hold itself up. She curled against my chest, her forehead pressed against the curve of my throat, her fingers gripping the front of my shirt as though I was the only solid thing she could trust.
I held her—that small, trembling body—right against my heart. My hand slid to her back, rubbing slow circles, trying to calm the storm tearing through her.
"Shh... I've got you," I murmured into her hair, pressing my cheek against her head. "I'm right here. You're safe. You're okay. I promise you... nothing will happen to you. Not while I'm breathing."
But she kept crying—silent, shaking sobs that felt like they were breaking her from the inside. Every tear soaked into my chest, searing through the fabric, soaking into my skin, burning deeper.
Her voice broke again—small, strangled.
"You won't leave... right? You won't leave me... even if... even if I'm too much?"
Too much.
God.
If only she knew how long I had waited just to hold her like this—how many nights I had stayed awake imagining what it would feel like to be someone she trusted enough to fall apart in front of.
I tightened my arms around her, crushing her to my chest like she was the heartbeat I had been missing all my life.
"You could never be too much," I whispered fiercely. "Never. You're not a burden. You're not something I'll walk away from. I'm not leaving you... Ritvika, I'm not even capable of leaving you."
She cried harder at that—quiet, shaking, uncontrollable.
I lifted her face gently again, wiping every tear I could, pressing her back against my chest when she trembled.
"You don't have to be scared of me," I whispered against her forehead. "You don't have to hide from me. If you fall apart... I'll hold you together."
Her fingers fisted tighter in my shirt, trembling.
I wrapped one arm fully around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head, pulling her closer until her ear was pressed to the frantic thud of my heartbeat.
She let out a faint sob at that, burying herself deeper into me—so deep it felt like she was trying to merge her pain into my skin.
And I held her, rocking her gently, my chin resting on her hair, my arms anchored around her so firmly it felt like I was holding the world together.
Her tears kept falling.
My heart kept breaking.
And in that moment—her body curled in my lap, her breath shaking against my throat, my arms wrapped around her like a shield—I knew one thing with terrifying clarity.
I would burn the whole damn world before I let her feel abandoned again.
—-------------------------------------------------------
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