Drishti's hand shook violently as she again held the phone to her ear. The voice of Inspector Sharma, calm and methodical, seemed distant and surreal amidst the cacophony of her racing thoughts. Her mind refused to process the gravity of the situation, clinging instead to fragments of denial and disbelief.

"Please... tell me he's going to be okay. He has to be." She spoke, her voice cracking.

"I wish I could give you better news. He's in a critical condition. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it's serious." Inspector Sharma spoke, his voice quiet but firm.

The words felt like icy daggers, piercing through the thin veil of her composure. Drishti's breathing quickened, each inhale sharp and ragged. Her vision swam with tears, blurring the room around her. She felt as if she were falling into an abyss, the reality of Rakshit's peril dragging her deeper with each passing second.

"Where are you? What hospital? I need to be there." she uttered, her voice rising in desperation.

"We're at City Hospital as I stated before. The emergency room is on the second floor. Please come as soon as you can."

Drishti's grip on the phone tightened. Her mind raced through a haze of fragmented thoughts-each one a sharp reminder of her recent actions and the bitter truth she had uncovered. The guilt that had been a gnawing presence in her heart now felt like an insurmountable weight, crushing her from all sides. She had been so focused on proving Rakshit's guilt that she had never imagined she might end up here, confronting the possibility of losing him.

"I... I'm coming. I'll be there right away." her voice stammered as her mind wandered into the worst conclusions possible.

She ended the call and stared at her phone, her heart pounding in her chest like a trapped beast. The room seemed to close in around her, the walls pressing inward as if to contain the storm raging inside her. Her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps as she struggled to steady herself.

With a jolt, she pushed herself up from the floor, her legs feeling like lead as she stumbled towards the door. Her mind was a blur of urgent thoughts, each one more frantic than the last.

Drishti's footsteps echoed through the empty hallway as she rushed towards the grand staircase leading to Mahima's wing of the mansion. Every step felt like a lifetime, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and urgency. She knew Mahima despised her-had always viewed her with suspicion and disdain-but none of that mattered now. Rakshit's life was hanging by a thread, and she had to tell his mother, no matter how much it pained her.

She reached the door to Mahima's sitting room and hesitated for a brief moment, steeling herself for what she had to do. Taking a deep breath, she knocked quickly and then pushed the door open without waiting for a response. Mahima was seated in her armchair, flipping through a magazine, her expression indifferent until she saw Drishti.

"What do you want, Drishti? I have no time for your games." She spoke coldly.

Drishti's breath caught in her throat at the icy reception, but she forced herself to speak, her voice cracking under the weight of the news she was about to deliver.

"Aunty... Rakshit's been in a terrible accident. He's in critical condition at City Hospital." She spoke urgently, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and regret.

For a moment, Mahima stared at Drishti as if the words hadn't registered. Then, like a dam breaking, the color drained from her face, and the magazine slipped from her hands.

"What did you just say? What have you done to him?" Her voice held a hint of panic and fear.

"I didn't do anything, Aunty. He... he was in a car crash. They're trying to save him, but it's bad. I'm leaving for the hospital right now." She shook her head, tears dropping continuously from her eyes.

Mahima's initial shock morphed quickly into a ferocious glare, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and fear.

"This is your fault, isn't it? Ever since you came into his life, nothing has been the same! Get out of my sight, Drishti, before I lose whatever little control I have left!" She rose from her seat, her voice venomous.

Drishti flinched at the accusation, the sting of Mrs. Shergill's words cutting deep, but she knew there was no time to argue, no time to defend herself.

"Please, Aunty, I'm going to the hospital. I just wanted you to know. You should come too."

Drishti pleaded, her voice filled with desperation as she faced Mahima. She needed to see Rakshit-her husband. The words hung heavy in the air, a plea wrapped in fear and regret. She wanted to make sure he was okay, to somehow undo the pain she had caused. The regret settled deep in her heart, a weight she could barely bear as she waited, hoping for a flicker of understanding, even from a mother who despised her.

Mahima's expression faltered for a brief moment, the deep worry for her son breaking through the icy exterior. She clenched her fists, trembling with a mixture of rage and maternal fear.

"If anything happens to him, Drishti, I swear you'll regret the day you set foot in this house. Now get out of my way."

Without another word, Mahima stormed past Drishti, leaving the younger woman standing alone in the doorway. The words of anger and blame echoed in Drishti's mind, but she forced herself to focus on what mattered-getting to Rakshit as quickly as possible. Brushing away the tears that threatened to spill, she turned and hurried down the stairs, her only thought now on reaching him before it was too late.

She grabbed her keys, her hands fumbling as she tried to get them into the ignition. Her thoughts were a chaotic whirlpool of fear, regret, and a desperate hope that she might still make it in time. Mahima sat beside her, her expressions stoic as she refused to even look at the younger women sitting beside her.

As Drishti drove to the hospital, every red light and slow-moving car seemed to mock her urgency. The city lights blurred past, merging into a streak of colors that mirrored the chaos inside her. The weight of her recent mistakes pressed heavily upon her, making each moment of delay feel like an eternity. Her heart ached with a profound sense of helplessness, and the prospect of facing Rakshit in such a dire state made her stomach churn.

Arriving at the hospital, she rushed inside, her movements frantic. She barely registered the reception desk, her eyes scanning the area for any sign of Rakshit. She approached a nurse with hurried, breathless questions.

"Where is he? Rakshit Shergill-please, I need to see him." Drishti spoke, urgently.

The nurse directed her to the elevator, and as she rode up to the second floor, the reality of the situation settled over her like a shroud. Each step towards the emergency room was a step deeper into a nightmare she had only begun to comprehend.

When she finally reached the ER, the sterile, cold environment seemed to contrast sharply with the storm of emotions inside her. She saw Inspector Sharma waiting by the entrance, his expression solemn. Drishti's heart sank further as she approached him, her voice barely a whisper.

"How is he? Please, tell me something." She asked, her eyes searching for answers--- positive answers which might calm her racing heart down.

"The doctors are still working on him. They haven't given us any updates yet. You can wait here, but be prepared... it's going to be a while." Inspector Sharma spoke and walked away.

Drishti nodded numbly, sinking into a chair in the waiting area. The harsh reality of the situation began to set in, mingling with the crushing weight of her guilt and regret. As she sat there, her eyes fixed on the doors of the emergency room, she could only hope against hope that she would get another chance to make things right with Rakshit.

She sat in the cold, sterile waiting area of the hospital, her heart heavy with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. The walls, painted in a dull shade of blue, seemed to close in on her, amplifying the emptiness that gnawed at her insides. Her eyes, red and swollen, stared blankly at the tiled floor, unable to focus on anything but the unbearable silence that filled the room.

She clutched the ends of her dupatta, twisting it in her trembling hands as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. The memories of the last few hours played in her mind on an endless loop, each one more painful than the last. The image of Rakshit, lying still and lifeless on that hospital bed, pierced through her like a dagger, leaving her gasping for breath. She had always seen him as indestructible, a force of nature that could never be defeated. And now... now he was fighting for his life, and she was powerless to help him.

A sob escaped her lips, breaking the eerie silence of the waiting room. She bit her lower lip, trying to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to consume her. But it was a futile effort. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks, each one carrying with it a fragment of her shattered heart.

"Why?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "Why did this have to happen? I was so wrong about you... so wrong. I thought I knew everything... I thought I was doing the right thing."

Her thoughts drifted back to the confrontation, the moment she had accused him of being her mother's killer. The anger, the hurt in his eyes when she had thrown those disgusting words at him, the way she pushed him away-it all came rushing back, choking her with regret. She had been so blinded by her desire for revenge, so consumed by the need to find justice, that she hadn't stopped to consider the possibility that she might be wrong.

"I should have listened... I should have trusted you..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "But I was too stubborn, too angry. And now... now you're lying in there because of me."

Her body shook with the force of her sobs as the guilt overwhelmed her. She felt as if she were drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into a sea of despair with no hope of resurfacing. All the sharp words, the accusations, the bitter exchanges-they had all been for nothing. Rakshit was innocent, and she had been the one to push him away, to hurt him beyond repair.

"Please..." she whispered, closing her eyes as if in prayer. "Please, Mr. Shergill... you can't leave me like this. Not now. I don't know if you can hear me... but I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Her voice trailed off into a broken sob, her body curling in on itself as she buried her face in her hands. The tears fell like rain, soaking through the fabric of her clothes, but she didn't care. All she could think of was the pain she had caused, the care she had refused to acknowledge, and the emptiness that now stretched before her like an endless abyss.

Time seemed to stand still in that waiting room. Minutes felt like hours, and hours like an eternity. Every passing second was a cruel reminder of the uncertainty that hung over her, of the life she might have destroyed with her own hands. And in that moment, Drishti realized that nothing else mattered. Not the past, not the lies, not even her quest for justice. All that mattered was Rakshit's life, the one she had nearly destroyed in her blind pursuit of the truth.

"Please, God..." she whispered, her voice hoarse and filled with desperation. "Please, don't take him away from me. Not now... I-I need him. I care about him."

The words slipped out before she could stop them, a truth she had kept buried deep within her heart for far too long. And as they hung in the air, Drishti felt a strange sense of peace wash over her, even amidst the chaos of her emotions. She cared about him. She had always cared about him, even when she couldn't admit it to herself.

But now, it might be too late. And that thought was more unbearable than any pain she had ever known.

━━༻❁༺━━

A

s Drishti sat in the waiting area, She suddenly heard hurried footsteps approaching. Before she could look up, a sharp voice sliced through the silence like a knife.

"This is all your fault, Drishti!"

Drishti's head snapped up to see Mahima, Rakshit's mother, standing before her. Mahima's eyes were blazing with fury, her face contorted with anger and grief. She looked as though she had aged years in just a few hours, her usual composed demeanor shattered by the weight of her son's critical condition.

"Mahima mam... I-" Drishti tried to speak, but Mahima cut her off, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Don't you dare say a word!" Mahima spat, her hands clenched into fists. "Since the day you walked into Rakshit's life, nothing but misfortune has followed! You're a curse, Drishti! My son was fine before you came along, but now... now he's fighting for his life because of you!"

The words hit Drishti like a slap, leaving her stunned and speechless. Mahima's accusations echoed in her mind, each one sinking into her like a stone. She had expected anger, maybe even hatred, but nothing could have prepared her for the raw, seething bitterness in Mahima's voice.

"Mahima mam, please... I never meant for any of this to happen." Drishti whispered, her voice shaking as she tried to hold back her tears. "I know I made mistakes, but I never wanted to hurt him."

"Don't lie to me!" Mahima's voice rose, drawing the attention of a few passing nurses. "You ruined everything! Rakshit was happy before you, successful, respected! And now look at him-lying there, fighting for his life! You brought nothing but bad luck and pain to this family!"

Drishti felt her chest tighten, the guilt she had been struggling with now amplified by Mahima's harsh words. The weight of it was unbearable, crushing her under its force. She wanted to defend herself, to explain that she had been trying to protect him, to find justice for her mother, but the words wouldn't come. How could she possibly explain that the man she had accused, the man she had almost destroyed, was now the one she couldn't live without?

"I'm sorry..." Drishti whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry doesn't bring my son back!" Mahima's voice cracked with the depth of her pain, her tears finally spilling over. "You don't deserve to be here, Drishti. You're nothing but a curse-a curse that has brought nothing but suffering to my son!"

Each word struck Drishti like a dagger, leaving her bleeding with guilt and sorrow. The pain in Mahima's eyes, the heartbreak in her voice, it was all too much. Drishti wanted to sink into the ground, to disappear, to escape from the truth that she had caused this, that she had been the one to bring Rakshit to this point.

But as much as she wanted to run, she knew she couldn't. She had to face the consequences of her actions, no matter how painful they were. She had to endure Mahima's accusations because, deep down, she knew they were rooted in truth. She had been reckless, driven by anger and grief, and now Rakshit was paying the price.

Mahima's sobs echoed through the hallway, and Drishti could feel her own tears welling up again. But she didn't move, didn't try to defend herself. She just sat there, taking it all in, knowing that she deserved every word, every ounce of anger and blame.

"Get out, Drishti." Mahima finally said, her voice cold and cutting. "I don't want you here. I don't ever want to see you again. You've done enough damage."

Drishti's heart shattered at those words, but she nodded slowly, unable to argue. She had lost the right to be by Rakshit's side, and she knew it. With a heavy heart, she slowly rose to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her.

"I'll go... But I won't leave the hospital... I need to make sure he's fine..." she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "But please, mahima mam..... please believe me when I say that I care about Mr. Shergill. I never wanted this to happen. I... I just want him to be okay."

Mahima didn't respond. She simply turned her back on Drishti, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The sight of it was almost too much to bear, and Drishti felt her own tears slipping down her cheeks as she took a step back, then another.

With one last look at the closed doors of the operating room, Drishti turned and walked away, each step feeling like a leaden weight dragging her down. The pain in her heart was overwhelming, but she knew she couldn't stay. She had to leave, for Rakshit's sake, for Mahima's sake.

Drishti sank back into her seat near the corridor of 1st floor, away from Rakshit, the tears she had wiped away returning with a vengeance. The words Mahima had thrown at her echoed in her mind, each one a painful reminder of the burden she now carried.

But despite the pain, despite the guilt, Drishti knew she had to stay. Rakshit was still in there, still fighting, and she owed it to him to be there, even if it was from a distance. No matter what happened next, she would remain by his side, waiting, hoping, and praying for a miracle.

And as she sat there, the weight of Mahima's words heavy on her shoulders, Drishti whispered a silent plea to the universe, her heart aching with every beat.

"Mr. Shergill... please come back to me. I promise... I'll never hurt you again." She whispered, each word a desperate plea to the God-- her Kanha ji-- and to Rakshit.

A sudden spark of anger flared through her as she dig her nails into her palms until it started bleeding.

"Please, Mr. Shergill, just be okay. I swear, if you survive this, I'll hunt down everyone who tried to hurt you-myself included, if need be."

She would tear down the world or sacrifice herself for her loved ones, and, For Rakshit Shergill, the only man who ever mattered to her, she'd unleash hell or walk through it herself.

As the night wore on, Drishti's tears finally dried, leaving behind a hollow ache that consumed her. All she could do now was wait, clinging to the fragile hope that the man she cared about might still return to her, though she feared it was already too late.

All she hoped for was his recovery, his survival, even if it meant losing him forever.