⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓𝟑˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Morning light had barely touched the curtains when my phone buzzed.
I slipped out of the room quietly, shutting the door just enough so the sound wouldn't disturb them. Tara was tucked against Ritvika's chest, and she needed rest more than anything.
I answered the call, keeping my voice low.
"Yes, Maa?"
Her voice came sharp from the other end.
"I'm coming today. I need to meet Ritvika. It's been too long and—"
"No."
The word left me flat, final.
There was a long pause.
Then—
"Vidyut. Don't start this again. I'm her mother-in-law. I have every right to—"
"Not today," I cut in, my patience thinning. "She just woke up yesterday. She's weak. The doctor said no stress."
"I'm not stress."
I almost laughed.
Almost.
"You and I both know that's not true," I said quietly, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Ma, please. For once, just listen. She's not in a state to talk to anyone."
"You're keeping her away from us, Vidyut."
"I'm protecting her."
There was silence—heavy, accusing.
"So you think I'll hurt her?"
I didn't respond.
Because the answer wasn't simple.
Because her taunts, her venomous tone, the subtle digs she threw at Ritvika every time—they did hurt her.
And I wasn't letting that happen again.
"Maa, not today," I repeated firmly. "I'll let you know when she's better."
Before she could argue again, I ended the call.
A breath escaped me—sharp, tired.
I turned around.
The door was open an inch.
And Ritvika... was awake.
Standing there in the doorway, still in T-shirt, her hair messy from sleep, eyes heavy and confused... and overhearing just enough of the conversation to understand something was wrong.
Her voice came out soft.
Almost hesitant.
"...your mother?"
I froze for a moment, realizing she must've heard my tone, if not the words.
She stepped forward slightly, Tara still asleep in her arms.
"Was she... wanting to come?"
I swallowed.
A thousand things ran through my head—how fragile Ritvika still was, how her breathing last night had trembled against my chest, how she had clutched my shirt in her sleep... how she didn't need any more hurt.
I stepped closer, my voice gentler than before.
"Yes," I admitted. "She wanted to meet you."
Her fingers tightened around Tara instinctively.
"And you..." she whispered, "you told her no?"
There was vulnerability in her voice—like she wasn't sure if she deserved to be protected.
I met her eyes.
"Of course I did."
Something flickered across her face—surprise, confusion... warmth she was too scared to acknowledge.
I lowered my voice even more.
"You're not dealing with anything today. Not until you're strong enough. Not until you want to."
I paused.
"And definitely not her. Not right now."
Her lips parted—but she didn't speak.
Just stared at me with that fragile, questioning look...
...as if she couldn't understand why I stood between her and the world every time.
I didn't tell her why.
Not yet.
For a moment, she stood silently.
Then Ritvika looked up at me, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You... you shouldn't say this," she murmured. "She is Maa. How can you stop her from coming?"
I stared at her, actually stunned.
For a second, I thought I'd misheard.
"You're... okay with her coming here?" I asked, each word slow, disbelieving.
Ritvika blinked, thinking for a moment, then nodded softly.
"Yes. What is wrong in it?"
Wrong?
Everything.
Absolutely everything.
I stepped closer, my tone firm but not loud.
"Ritvika... she wants to meet you," I said again, making sure she understood the weight of it.
But she nodded again, as if it was something simple. "Yes... so what is wrong in that?"
My jaw tightened.
"How can you even say that?" I asked quietly. "You forgot what she said to you? The words she used? The way she treated you the last time?"
Silence stretched between us.
Ritvika lowered her gaze, tightening her hold on Tara for a second before whispering:
"I remember."
Her voice was soft. Clear. "I remember everything."
I exhaled, frustrated, confused.
"Then—"
"But that doesn't mean," she continued gently, lifting her eyes to mine, "that she is not our mother."
Our mother.
The words hit me like ice water.
I felt the ground shift beneath my feet.
Her voice trembled—but her resolve didn't.
"She might not like me," Ritvika said quietly, "she might even hate me... but still, she is your mother. Tara's grandmother. And..." her voice dipped even softer, "I don't want to be the reason you fight with her."
I stared at her—this fragile woman wrapped in T-shirt, hair messy, eyes still swollen from crying the night before... and yet speaking with a softness that felt like it didn't belong in this harsh world.
I didn't know what to say.
Didn't know how to tell her she deserved protection.
Not compromise.
And definitely not pain.
But she stood there, fragile and stubborn in her own gentle way... totally unaware of how much that tore me apart.
I opened my mouth to argue again—because she was wrong, because she didn't deserve another wound from her, because I wouldn't let her be hurt just to keep the peace—
—but Ritvika swayed.
It was small at first.
A tiny shift.
A wobble in her stance.
Barely noticeable.
Except my eyes never left her.
"Ritvika?" I stepped forward immediately.
She blinked... once... twice... her lashes fluttering like she was fighting to keep them open.
"I... I don't know..." she whispered, her voice faint. "I just... feel a little—"
Her sentence dissolved.
Her knees weakened.
And before her body could even tilt, my arms were already around her, steadying her.
"Hey—hey, look at me," I said sharply, one hand on her waist, the other cupping the back of her head. "Ritvika."
Her fingers clutched my shirt weakly.
"I'm fine... maybe just—"
"No, you're not," I snapped, panic shooting through me. "You're dizzy. Why?"
She swallowed, breathing uneven.
"I think... I think I stood too long... maybe..."
Her eyes closed for a second too long.
My heartbeat spiked.
"You didn't rest properly," I murmured, pulling her closer. "And your medicines... your body is still weak. Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"
She leaned into my chest, barely conscious.
My throat tightened.
This girl.
This impossible, fragile woman.
"Ritvika," I breathed out, pulling her fully into my arms. "You don't have to faint to make a point."
She let out a small, broken exhale—more exhaustion than sound.
I scooped her up instantly, one arm under her knees, the other around her back.
Her head rested against my shoulder.
"Enough," I said quietly, holding her as if she'd slip away. "No more talking. No more arguing."
I pressed her closer as I walked toward the bed.
"You need rest," I whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. "That's all you're allowed to do right now."
Her fingers curled weakly into my shirt—like she still didn't want to let go of the conversation.
But her eyes fluttered shut.
I laid her down gently beside Tara, who was still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the storm in the room.
I sat beside Ritvika, brushing my thumb lightly over her cheek, worry twisting every part of me.
"You're going to be the death of me someday," I whispered under my breath.
But my hand didn't leave her.
Not even for a second.
Ritvika lay back against the pillows, her breathing slowly evening out, the dizziness fading but not fully gone. I stayed beside her until I was sure she was steady—only then did I exhale.
"Okay," I said quietly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. "First you'll eat something. Then your medicines. And after that, we're going to the hospital. We have your checkup today. No delays."
I started to stand when her hand shot out and caught my wrist.
"Vidyut..."
I paused and looked down at her.
She hesitated, her lashes lowering for a second before she whispered, "We... we can't go today."
My brows knitted. "Why?"
She took a breath, as if preparing herself.
"Today Maa is coming na..."
My entire body stilled.
For a moment, I genuinely thought she was joking.
But the look on her face—soft, uncertain, completely serious—told me she wasn't.
My jaw clenched.
"Ritvika—"
She looked away, fingers twisting the bedsheet. "She... she wants to meet me. We should be home."
A humorless, shocked breath escaped me.
"You're serious," I said slowly.
She nodded.
I sat back down, staring at her like she was speaking in another language.
"Ritvika, listen to me carefully," I said, voice low but firm. "No one—absolutely no one—is more important than your health. Not today. Not ever."
She opened her mouth to protest, but I lifted a hand.
"And she is not coming today," I added. "I'll tell her to come tomorrow."
"Why?" Ritvika whispered. "It's fine... she's Maa. She can come today."
I exhaled sharply.
"You still don't understand, do you?" My voice softened despite the frustration rising in my chest. "I'm not risking your health. Not even for a minute. Last night you fainted in my arms."
She lowered her gaze.
"You're still dizzy. Your body is weak. And you want to entertain someone who..." I stopped myself before the bitterness spilled out. "...someone who hasn't treated you the way a mother should."
She didn't meet my eyes, but her voice was barely audible when she whispered, "Still... she's our mother."
My chest tightened painfully.
She was impossible.
Soft-hearted to the point of breaking.
And somehow I loved her for it.
I sighed, long and defeated.
"No," I murmured. "She won't come today. I'll tell her to come tomorrow. There's no discussion on that."
She blinked, surprised at the gentleness in my tone.
I cupped her cheek, thumb brushing softly.
"And today," I said, leaning closer so she couldn't look away, "we go for your checkup. No risks. No compromises."
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to argue again, but exhaustion pulled at her features.
I straightened.
"Sit properly," I murmured, adjusting her pillow. "I'll bring breakfast in a minute. And no getting out of bed."
She nodded quietly.
I brushed her hair once more—unable to stop myself—before turning toward the door.
"Good," I whispered. "Now rest. I'll be right back."
And for the first time since morning, she actually listened.
He set the tray on the bedside table and adjusted the pillows behind her again.
"Sit up properly," he murmured, almost instinctively.
She obeyed without arguing this time.
He scooped a small spoonful and held it out to her. "Eat."
Ritvika hesitated for a second... then opened her mouth quietly.
He fed her slowly, patiently—watching every expression, every swallow, making sure she wasn't feeling nauseous or dizzy again. By the time she finished half the bowl, he exhaled in relief, as if she'd just passed some medical test.
"Enough," he said gently. "Now drink this."
She took the glass from his hand and sipped.
When she was done, he picked up the strip of medicines and placed one pill in her palm, offering the water again.
"Take them."
She swallowed the medicines obediently, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
Only then did Vidyut sit down beside her, letting out a breath he'd been holding far too long.
"Ritvika..." he began, voice softer than he intended. "You're still not feeling good. I think... I should call the doctor home today. No point taking you out when you can barely stand properly."
Her fingers tightened around the blanket, and she shook her head immediately. "No."
His brows rose. "No?"
"We can go to the hospital," she whispered. "It's okay. I can manage."
"Ritvika—"
She met his eyes, steady for once. "Really. I can go."
Vidyut stared at her, searching for even the slightest sign of hesitation.
There was none.
But there was a quiet determination—a softness mixed with stubbornness—that always disarmed him.
He exhaled slowly.
"You shouldn't push yourself," he said, trying one last time.
"I'm not," she replied simply. "I'm just... okay to go."
He rubbed a hand across his jaw, torn, frustrated, worried—and then finally gave in because her resolve wasn't breaking.
"Fine," he muttered, standing. "But I'm not taking my eyes off you for a single second."
She blinked, surprised.
Vidyut picked up the tray and turned toward the door.
"Get ready slowly," he added without looking back. "And call me if you feel even slightly dizzy."
His voice was firm.
But beneath it, the fear was unmistakable.
:)
Vidyut sat on the living-room couch, his laptop open, shoulders tense as he spoke into the headset. An important meeting had come up last minute, and he had no choice but to attend. His voice was sharp, controlled, his attention fully swallowed by the numbers and projections on the screen.
He didn't notice the soft shuffle of footsteps behind him.
He didn't notice Ritvika standing at the top of the staircase, one hand gripping the railing, the other holding Tara's tiny fingers.
He didn't notice Tara clutching her mother's hand too tightly, her little feet uncertain as they tried to match Ritvika's slow steps.
He didn't notice the way Ritvika paused, inhaled sharply as a wave of dizziness washed over her again — the same dizziness she had been pretending wasn't getting worse.
He noticed nothing.
Until it happened.
Ritvika's foot missed the next step.
Her slipper slid.
Her balance vanished.
Her vision blurred for a split second — and in that split second she lost every bit of strength in her legs.
The world tilted.
Her cry tore through the silence of the house, raw and terrified.
At the same moment—
Tara screamed in panic, her little hands letting go as Ritvika's fingers slipped from hers.
The crash of her body hitting the steps echoed like a nightmare.
Vidyut's blood ran cold.
His head snapped up, eyes widening, his heart seeming to stop in his chest.
The laptop slid from his lap to the cushion with a soft thud — forgotten, unimportant, meaningless.
"Ritvika!"
He shot to his feet so fast.
All he saw was his wife tumbling down the stairs, helpless, her arms trying to shield herself, her hair flying, her breath knocked out of her with every step she hit.
All he heard was Tara's sobbing scream.
All he felt was pure horror.
And then —
He ran.
Hard. Fast. Without a single thought except reaching her before the next impact.
Vidyut made it to the base of the staircase just as Ritvika's body hit the last step and collapsed onto the floor. The thud echoed through the living room — sharp, terrifying, wrong.
"Tara—stay there!" he shouted, voice shaking as he dropped to his knees beside Ritvika.
Tara didn't stay.
She stumbled down the last few steps, crying loudly, her tiny hands reaching for her mother.
Vidyut cupped Ritvika's face, his thumbs trembling as he brushed the hair away from her forehead.
"Ritvika... look at me. Hey—open your eyes."
His voice wasn't steady anymore.
She blinked, struggling to breathe, shock spreading across her features as pain radiated through her body. Her first instinct was to look for Tara.
"I'm... fine..." she whispered, though her voice broke with every word.
"No. No, you're not fine."
His tone was rough, but the panic underneath made it shake.
"What were you even thinking? Why did you—"
He stopped mid-sentence, swallowing tightly, because she winced again when she tried to move.
He ran his palm down her arm, checking for injury, for bruises, for anything.
And then he whispered, voice barely holding itself together:
"Jaan nikal di thi tumne meri..."
("You almost took my life away...")
His thumb traced the side of her jaw, relief and terror mixing in his eyes.
"For one second I thought—" His voice cracked. "I thought something would happen to you."
Tara's cries grew louder.
"Mummmaaaa..." she wailed, throwing herself onto Ritvika's side.
Ritvika exhaled shakily, pain stabbing through her, but she still lifted her arm to hug Tara.
"I'm okay, baby... I'm okay..."
Vidyut watched that — the way she comforted their child even while trembling — and something inside him combusted.
"Stop moving," he said softly but firmly.
He slid an arm behind her back and the other under her knees.
"Vidyut... wait... I can—"
"No, you can't."
He lifted her carefully.
"You just fell down an entire staircase. I'm not letting you walk. Not even one step."
She swallowed nervously. "I'll... be okay... just give me a minute—"
"No." His voice hardened, pain flashing in his eyes.
"You scared me today. Really scared me."
Tara clinged to his leg now, crying harder.
He held Ritvika closer, as if one wrong move would break her.
Vidyut's hands were still shaking, but Ritvika kept insisting, "I'm fine... really. It's just a small slip."
"No, you're not fine," he muttered, but he still carried her to the couch when she refused to go upstairs.
He gently made her sit and immediately checked her ankle.
The moment he touched it, she hissed.
"Sprain," he said through clenched teeth. "Perfect."
Ritvika bit her lip. "It's not that bad..."
He glared. "Not that bad? You were trying to climb down the stairs alone! Why would you do that when you're dizzy since morning?"
"I thought... I could manage," she mumbled, eyes lowering.
"Thought?" Vidyut scoffed, disbelief and worry mixing badly.
"Ritvika, you are being careless. Extremely careless."
She stayed quiet.
He rubbed his forehead, trying to calm down.
"Bas. Enough."
His tone softened, but only a little.
"We were already going to the hospital. Now this sprain just added up."
He stood up and picked Tara into his arms.
"Chalo. We are leaving right now."
Ritvika nodded silently while he grabbed his keys.
Within minutes, they were headed out the door...
To the hospital.
The hospital smell always made her stiffen.
Ritvika sat on the examination bed, fingers curled into the bedsheet, while Tara blinked around the room from Vidyut's lap — curious, confused, and quiet for once.
Dr. Maheshwari adjusted his glasses as he finished checking her vitals.
"So," he began, voice professional but gentle, "waking up from a coma after six months... it's expected that your body will take longer to regain strength. The dizziness is a major symptom of dilated cardiomyopathy worsening. Her heart is struggling to pump properly."
Vidyut nodded stiffly. "What about the sprain?"
"It's minor," the doctor assured. "A few days of rest, pain medication, and no pressure on the ankle."
Ritvika exhaled quietly.
But Vidyut wasn't done.
"What about fainting spells? Her breathing? Why is she often tired? Why is she not eating properly?" His questions shot out like bullets.
Ritvika's eyes widened slightly at his panic.
Dr. Maheshwari lifted a palm to calm him.
"All of that is because her heart is weaker than before. Stress will worsen her condition. She needs strict monitoring, proper medication on time, and..."
His gaze shifted to Ritvika.
" No exertion. No emotional distress if possible."
Vidyut clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around Tara's waist protectively.
"And the future?" Vidyut asked, low and controlled. "Any worsening signs I should be aware of?"
The doctor hesitated.
"If she experiences chest pain... breathlessness... bluish lips or fingertips... immediate admission. No delays."
Ritvika swallowed, fingertips trembling.
Dr. Maheshwari scribbled on the prescription pad, tore the sheet, and handed it to Vidyut.
"Follow this exactly. Come back for weekly checkups."
Then the doctor paused... his tone shifting.
"And I hope, Mr. Rajvansh..."
his gaze sharpened just a little,
"...you have thought about your decision."
Vidyut's eyes flickered — tense and unreadable.
Ritvika looked between them, confusion clouding her face.
"Decision? What decision?" she asked softly.
No one answered her.
Silence settled thick and heavy in the room.
The drive back was too quiet.
Tara had already fallen asleep in her car seat, tiny palms curled near her face. Ritvika kept glancing at Vidyut, worry tightening every line of her expression.
Finally, she couldn't hold it in anymore.
"What... what was the doctor talking about?" she asked, voice low but trembling. "What decision?"
Vidyut's fingers stiffened on the steering wheel.
"Nothing," he muttered.
She frowned. "Please don't lie to me."
A muscle jumped in his jaw — a crack in his control — but he didn't answer. Instead, he pulled into a parking area near a store and unbuckled his seat belt.
"We have to buy some things for Tara," he said abruptly. "For her school."
Ritvika blinked. "School? But—"
"You just wait here."
His voice was firm now. Final.
"I'll be back in ten minutes."
Before she could protest, he stepped out and closed the door gently but with tension radiating from every movement.
Through the windshield, she watched him walk away — shoulders rigid, hands curled into fists.
Her pulse pounded.
The doctor's words echoed in her mind.
Decision... about what? About whom?
She looked back at Tara sleeping peacefully...
...and fear coiled inside her like a living thing.
—---------------------------------
Cliffhanger? Hehee
no polls because of those 3 percent people;)
Guyss short Chapter hai ik but I can't do anything (koi nhi bolega ki itne din wait krne ke baad short chapter bcz aaplog ne target complete nhi kiya tha toh......)
Do you want me to do some discount discount on chapter 54 and 55 on Scrollstack......if you want I can combine the chapters for 14 rs instead of 20 (save 6 Rs ??)
Do you want? Jaldi batana aur jisne already purchase kr liye hai dono chapter uska koi loss nhi hua because they were updated on ss from many days so........
Byeee sweethearts ??
Your author loves you so much ??
And yeah Happy 2M+ to us.....sorryyyyy mai bhul jaati hu many of you are not on insta ??
Yaarrr tum log upset mat hoya karo ek toh yeh exams mera sar kha rahe hai isliye mai Wattpad bhi kam kholti hu (ek toh VPN se connect krne ka jhanjhat)
Toh pleaseeee I apologize and and one more thing I love reading your comments too much
So keep commenting ?????????
Loveeeeee youuuuu puchkussss??