• Jaane woh kaise log the jinke pyar ko pyar mila
Humne toh jab kaliyan maangi kaanto ka haar mila •

Riddhima's body seemed to shatter into a thousand pieces as she gazed at Thakral's battered form, her eyes wide with horror. The scene was etched in her mind like a nightmare, The image of Vansh's twisted face, Thakral's broken body, and the putrid surrounding forever seared into her memory. Her body seemed rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to look away.

Vansh's eyes softened as he zipped his pant and turned around to look at Riddhima. Her legs seemed about to give up, her body leaning against the bonnet of the car for support. The moonlight cast an ethereal glow on her face, illuminating the exhaustion etched on her features.

Vansh's gaze roamed over her, taking in the disheveled hair, the smudged lipstick, and the worn-out expression. He felt a pang of guilt.

Looking at her red eyes, and trembling body , Vansh immediately regretted bringing his dirty side in front of Riddhima. This was the real Vansh RaiSinghania. A man without mercy, A man driven by loyalty and a willingness to shed blood for those he loved.  His piercing gaze could freeze blood in veins. Politeness was a luxury he couldn't afford , and empathy a weakness he couldn't indulge.

His enemies trembled at the mention of his name.

His loved ones found solace in his shadow.

And those who crossed Him?

They never lived to tell the tale....

Approaching towards Riddhima, Vansh held her trembling body in his tight grip. Her teary eyes met his as she looked at his face, concerned washed over it.

"Riddhima, listen to me. It's over. You're safe now," Vansh coaxed, his voice soft and soothing, his eyes filled with concern. She was already scared and he didn't intend to frighten her more. Her fragile, delicate, flower like body shook with fear as she remembered his inhuman Act.

She flinched when Vansh stroked her hairs.
His words, meant to calm her, barely penetrated the fog of fear engulfing her.
Riddhima's gaze remained frozen on Thakral's battered body lying on the heap of garbage, her mind reeling from the brutality she witnessed. The stench of garbage and decay filled her nostrils, intensifying her nausea.

Vansh's hand reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm, sending a spark of electricity through her chilled skin. Riddhima looked at Vansh, her eyebrows scrunched. Who was he? Who was Vansh RaiSinghania?
A protector or A Tormentor?

She saw fury and rage in his eyes, but also the determination to protect her. Her mind struggled to reconcile the man she was married to and menacing figure who had just exacted brutal revenge on her tormentor.

Realizing that Riddhima was afraid of him, With his fingertip, Vansh tugged the hair fringes falling on her face behind her ear and then cupped her face. She is his Queen. Ruler of his heart. He should be the last person she fears.

"Hey, Are you Okay? Did that bastard hurt you anywhere?"

He asked softly looking into her eyes and then examined her hands to see any possible injury. Riddhima was confused. She didn't know what to make of this side of Vansh. Part of her was grateful to the fierce protector who would stop at nothing to keep her safe ,but another part was terrified, unsure if she could handle the intensity of his emotions.

Vansh could make out what was going on in Riddhima's mind. He could sense the inner turmoil brewing in her mind, her thoughts racing like a stormy Sea. His eyes locked onto her, and he knew she saw the unappologetic truth etched on his face - No Remorse, No Guilt.

True. There wasn't a single shimmer of guilt on his face for whatever he did. He would do it again if fate demanded. He would do it all again if someone tries to take away his wife from him.  He feared None. No enemy, No danger, No consequences. But there was only one fear that ravaged him, One fear that made his Soul tremble - Losing Her.

Amidst this unyielding conviction, a pang of regret echoed within him. He wished she hadn't witness his Darkness, She hadn't encountered his demons he kept Hidden. He could fall deeply, irreparably in love with her A Thousands times Over,  But he was unsure if she would ever fall for a Monster like him. A man tainted by shadows, forever bound to the darkness that had forged him.

Thakral's Twisted form emerged from the garbage heap, his eyes blazing with malevolent intent. His gaze scanned the surrounding area, spotting a iron rod lying nearby., its rusty surface reflecting the fading light.

Thakral's eyes lit up with excitement as he grasped the rod, its weight feeling satisfying in his hands.

Vansh and Riddhima, oblivious to the danger lurking mere feet away.

"Perfect." Thakral sneered to Himself, grasping the rod with a snarling growl.

"Vansh thinks he's above me? Thinks he will crush me under his feet and I'll do nothing? I'll show him what real power looks like"

"You see, Vansh, life is like a game of chess. And I'm the grandmaster. But you, Vansh...you're not a pawn. You're a strong opponent, a worthy adversary. You've been a challenge to take down, but that's what makes this game so thrilling."

Thakral's eyes gleamed with malevolence as he whispered to himself, "And now, it's time for the final showdown. The king will fall, and I'll reign supreme. But I'll savor this victory, because it's been hard-won."

Just as Vansh took another step closer, Riddhima's instincts screamed warning. Thakral, with a twisted snarl, lunged at Vansh with an iron rod, its rusty surface glinting in the fading light.

Without thinking, Riddhima pushed Vansh aside, her slender frame intercepting the rod's deadly path. The sickening crunch of metal on bone echoed through the air, making Vansh's blood run cold.

Riddhima crumpled to the ground, her body limp as a rag doll, blood gushing from her head like a crimson river that seemed to drain the life from Vansh's very soul.

A tear escaped from her eyes before Her eyes fluttered shut, eyelids pale as moonlight, extinguishing the radiant light that had illuminated Vansh's world. 

Vansh's face contorted in anguish, his eyes blazing with fury as if the very fabric of his existence had been torn apart.  A guttural roar tore through his throat as Riddhima's blood soaked form lay on his lap, a haunting reminder of his failure to protect her.

"You've made a grave mistake," Vansh snarled, his voice low and deadly, his breath hot against Thakral's terrified face.

Thakral cowered, realizing too late that his attempt had disastrous consequences. His eyes locked onto Riddhima's motionless form, his face etched with regret. How could he hurt his own daughter? His own flesh and blood....

His eyes widened in horror, as he stumbled backward, the iron rod slipping from his grasp. A . Thakral collapsed on the ground,his face contorted in anguish.

A crumpled piece of paper fell from his pocket, fluttering to the ground. Thakral's gaze fell upon it, and his eyes scanned the contents with growing dread. It was a DNA report, the words blurring together as his vision tunneled. A report that was the proof of the devastating truth that he came to know just an hour ago... That his own flesh and blood had been victim of his cruelty.

"Riddhima...... My daughter", he whispered, his voice trembling. His body shook, racked by sobs of remorse. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the blood on his hand.

As Vansh's anger boiled over, Riddhima's vision faded, her thoughts dissolving into darkness. Her last thought was of Vansh's words: "I'll protect you at any cost."

Everything went dark.

Vansh's desperate cry echoed through the desolate landscape: "Riddhima! No!"
.
.
.

Vansh's world crumbled as he paced alongside the stretcher carrying Riddhima through the hospital corridors. The fluorescent lights above seemed to flicker in sync with his racing heart, each beat screaming her name. Nurses rushed alongside, their faces etched with concern, their footsteps echoing off the sterile walls.

The RaiSinghania family arrived, shocked and tearful.

"How did it Happen, Vansh? How...How is Riddhima?"

Anupriya hurried towards Vansh and asked him. Words were barely coming out of her throat. She felt like a big lump was forming in her throat making it difficult for her to speak. When Vansh called Angre to inform that Riddhima was injured and he is taking her to a hospital, Anupriya overheard them. So, with her mother in law, Angre and Aaryan, she rushed to the hospital whereas Chanchal was at home to look after Sia .

Vansh's eyes fluttered closed, the memory of that fateful moment flooding his mind.

He recalled the deserted alley, Thakral's menacing figure, the iron rod gleaming in the dim light.

Riddhima pushing him aside, her instincts screaming warning.

The rod's deadly path intercepting her fragile frame.

The sickening crack of metal on bone.

Vansh's heart racing, his screams echoing through the alley.

Riddhima's limp form crumpling to the ground.

Vansh's face contorted in anguish, his eyes still closed.

"Mom..." he whispered, his voice cracking.

Vansh's eyes locked onto Anupriya's, his mind racing with the unbearable truth. His chest tightened, as if squeezed by an invisible vice, suffocating him.

Guilt and shame washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf him. His gaze dropped to Riddhima's blood soaked duppatta in his hand, held tightly in his grasp, like a delicate flower crushed by the weight of his failure.

Memories ravaged his mind: Thakral's menacing figure looming over him, Riddhima's eyes flashing with defiance, the blood-soaked alley echoing with his screams.

Vansh's heart recoiled in horror, reliving the moment. His breath caught in his throat, his lungs burning with anguish.

He felt like he was suffocating, crushed by the weight of his failure. His vision blurred, tears streaming down his face like rain.

His body shook with silent sobs, his shoulders trembling beneath the burden of his guilt. His grip on Riddhima's dupatta tightened, as if holding onto it was the only thing keeping him sane.

Anupriya's concerned expression blurred through Vansh's tears that were threatening to fall...

He was drowning in his own helplessness, suffocating under the weight of his failure. His mind screamed one haunting question:

"Why did she have to save me?"
The words echoed through his consciousness like a curse.

She didn't love him. She shouldn't have loved him. Riddhima, whose life he shattered, whose dreams he had crushed,aand whose soul he had scarred, had given her life for his. She had never loved him, Never cherished him. Yet, she had still chosen to save him. Why did she have to save him? Her every problem would have been solved if he was dead. The torment, the pain, the endless suffering he had inflicted upon her would have all ended.

His world had shattered, leaving only shards of guilt, shame, and despair. The ICU's sterile lights flickered above, casting eerie shadows on the walls, like specters of his own conscience.

Riddhima's machines beeped steadily, a haunting reminder of her fragile existence. Vansh's heart bled with every pulse, his soul screaming in anguish. Her each pulse pierced Vansh's heart like a Knife. He felt Hopeless, Helpless and Crushed. 

The silence was deafening, punctuated only by the steady beep of machines and Vansh's ragged breathing.

After what felt like an eternity to the RaiSinghanias, Dr. Sharma, Consulting Neurosurgeon, emerged out of the Operation Theatre, His weary eyes scanning the anxious faces of the RaiSinghanias. Removing his surgical gown and mask revealed a grave expression, etched with the weight of his words.

Time seemed to freeze as the Family held collective breath. The sterile hospital corridor, once filled with antiseptic smells and hushed murmurs, grew Silent. There was palpable tension in the air.

The Doctor's pause felt interminable. His lips parted, releasing a hesistant sigh.

"Mrs. Riddhima's injuries were extensive.. Intracranial haematoma.." He began, voice measured. "We have stabilized her vital signs, but...." His words trailed, lost in palpable tension.

Vansh's heart sank, his mind racing with dread. His mothers eyes brimming with tears, mirrored his despair. His brother's stoic facade crumbled. What if he lose her, this time....Forever.

The doctor's compassionate eyes softened the blow, but Vansh's grip on hope faltered. His mind reeled as Dr. Sharma continued, "Severe head trauma...high risk of complications...paraplegia, memory loss, or coma." Each word landed like a hammer blow.

Vansh's vision blurred, tear threatening to stream down his face. Desperation clawed at his chest, threatening to consume him. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, his breath knocked out. His legs trembled beneath him, as if the floor had vanished.

"How long?" Vansh managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips trembling. His eyes locked onto Dr. Sharma's, searching for a glimmer of hope.

Dr. Sharma's expression was sympathetic, his voice measured. "Difficult to predict. Hours, days, or weeks. We'll monitor her closely." Vansh nodded, numb, his mind screaming "No!" He couldn't lose Riddhima, not now, not ever.

Dr Sharma's words still lingered in air when Vansh, his voice cracking, asked, "Doctor, May I see her?"
.
.
.

In the ICU, Riddhima lay motionless, her pale face framed by tangled hair. Tubes and wires snaked from her body, beeping machines surrounding her like sentinels. Vansh's heart shattered into a million pieces. He collapsed into the chair beside her bed, grasping her hand.

Her fingers felt fragile, her skin cool to the touch. Vansh's eyes locked onto hers, willing her to wake.

"Come back to me, Riddhima," he whispered, his voice cracking.

"Please, don't leave me." Tears that he was holding till now, streamed down his face as he watched her chest rise and fall with each mechanical breath. How did it happen? How did he let it happen? How did he committed the mistake of underestimating Thakral, especially after humiliating him like that?

Vansh's tears slowed, his sobs subsiding. Gazing at Riddhima, a fiery resolve ignited within. His shoulders squared, jaw clenched, and eyes blazed with unyielding conviction.

"I am Vansh RaiSinghania," he declared, voice low and steadfast.
"Weakness is not my legacy. Hopelessness is not my fate."

Memories of his family's resilience and strength surged. His father's words echoed: "A RaiSinghania never falters, never surrenders."

Vansh's grip on Riddhima's hand tightened, his touch imbuing a promise.

"I won't lose you, Sweetheart. " he whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "I won't lose myself. We'll rise above this darkness."

Desperation gave way to determination. Vansh's face set in unwavering resolve. Even if there 1% chance of Riddhima's recovery, He will convert that 1% into 100% . He won't lose hope. Not now... Not ever.

"For you, Riddhima, I'll battle fate. For us, I'll conquer despair."

His words became vows, sealed with every beat of his heart. This is the last time. From now on, Riddhima will shed no more tears, Bear no more pain , and make no more sacrifices for him....

Riddhima's stillness seemed to stir his unyielding passion. Vansh's love, now tempered with steel, would overcome any obstacle.

As night fell, the hospital room grew darker, the only sound the steady beep of machines. Vansh's eyes never left Riddhima's face, his soul pleading for her return. The dim lighting cast shadows on her face, making her seem even more fragile.

Vansh's grip on her hand tightened. "Don't leave me, Riddhima," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I need you." The machines beeped on, a steady heartbeat, but Vansh's own heart hung in the balance.

.
.
.

"Mom, You should Go Home and Rest. I'm here with Riddhima."

Vansh said in a gentle voice, taking his mother's warm hand into his cold ones.  Anupriya looked up at Vansh and shook her head in denial. How could she go to mansion and rest, when Riddhima ,who is like a daughter to her, is in the hospital fighting for her life.... How would a mother even think about abandoning her daughter.... Tears pricked at the corner of Anupriya's eyes as helplessness and anguish wrestled within. Her grip on Vansh's hand tightened.

"Mom, please understand. It's not safe here.  Those who have attacked Riddhima, can target you too, to get back to me. I won't risk any family members's safety again..."

Vansh's grasp tightened, his voice cracking....

"But....."

Anupriya's face contorted in distress, fear creeping into her eyes.

"I've already lost Dad. I won't lose you or Riddhima. Please Mom, go Home. Let me handle this."

Anupriya's lips trembled. Tears streamed down her face when Vansh mentioned about his dad, her Late Husband Ajay. The memory of the day she lost Ajay was still etched in her mind, like a scar that refused to heal, its pain still searing and raw.

"Angre, Increase the security around the hospital. I'm going to drop Mom and Dadi home. Till i come back, ensure Riddhima's protection and keep me updated on her condition. Inform me when the police comes to take the statement."

Vansh's voice was firm, commanding attention. Angre nodded, phone already in hand, dialing swiftly.

"Consider it done, Boss. Hospital security will be airtight."

Anupriya's worried gaze lingered on Riddhima's hospital room. Fear mingled with desperation, etched her face. Turning to Vansh, her eyes pleaded.

"Bring Riddhima Home , safe. My heart can't take more"

Vansh's reassuring smile faltered, revealing deep seated anxiety. His voice cracked.

"I Promise Mom"

Supporting Dadi's frail hand,  Vansh guided Anupriya out.  Hospital corriders, once sterile, now echoed with unspoken fears.

In the car,  tension was palpable.

Anupriya's tears flowed freely. "My child.....so fragile."

Dadi's eyes moistened, her silence speaking volumes.

Vansh's jaw clenched, resolve etched on his face. His eyes fixed on the road ahead as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

He won't let his family fall like ahouse of cards, crumbling under the weight of danger and uncertainty. Once Riddhima is back home, He will eliminate the threat from their lives, securing their haven, no matter the cost.
.
.
.

Vansh hastened to his room , shedding his worn shirt soaked in his sweat and Riddhima's blood, revealing the tension lined shoulders. Refreshed in a crisp white shirt, he exited only to be halted by whispers from his Dadi's bedroom.

His mother's slender body shook with sobs, her delicate hands covering her face as she cried out in pain. Her dark hair was disheveled, her eyes red and puffy from hours of crying. She sat on the edge of the bed, her legs trembling beneath her. The soft light filtering through the window highlighted the anguish etched on her face.

"Mummy jii, it's my fault Priya's gone... I'm the reason Riddhima's alone," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her words hung in the air like a challenge, accusing herself of a crime she couldn't forgive.

Her mother-in-law, seated beside her, wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. Her face was etched with concern, her eyes filled with empathy. She wore a simple white sari, its elegance understated, but her presence was a beacon of strength.

"Anupriya, speak slowly... others might hear," she cautioned, glancing around the room as if fearful of being overheard. The walls, adorned with family photos, seemed to close in, witnesses to Anupriya's grief.

But Anupriya's emotions poured out like a burst dam. She rocked back and forth, her body wracked with sobs. "I was so caught up in my own sadness... I didn't see the truck coming. I didn't see Priya crossing the road." She relived the horror, remembering the loud crash, the broken glass, and Priya's lifeless body. The images haunted her, refusing to be extinguished.

Memories of Ajay's passing still hurt, a fresh wound that wouldn't heal. Finding comfort in her new friend, she had let her guard down, allowing herself to feel again. But that fateful day, her distraction proved deadly. That day, she was engrossed in a phone conversation with her friend while driving. Her attention was divided, and she failed to notice the truck barreling towards her.

Paralyzed with fear, Anupriya froze, unsure which way to turn. In a desparate bid to avoid her car, the truck driver swerved, but lost control. The vehicle veered off course, striking Priyanka, who was crossing the road, with a deafening crash.  Time slowed, and she watched in helpless terror as the vehicle hurtled towards Priya. The impact, the screams, the silence... it haunted her every waking moment. The sound of shattering glass still echoed in her mind, a constant reminder of her failure.

Anupriya's mother-in-law wrapped her arms around her, holding her close as she wept. "Anupriya, forgive yourself. You didn't mean for it to happen."

But Anupriya's guilt wouldn't let go. "I should have been more careful... I should have been more alert. Priyanka would be alive today, Riddhima would have her mother... and I wouldn't be living with this unbearable pain." Her words trailed off, lost in the sea of her sorrow.

Her mother-in-law's arms tightened around her, holding her close as she sobbed uncontrollably. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, lost in their grief.

Anupriya's eyes wandered to a photo on the nightstand, a happy memory of Priya and little Riddhima smiling together. She felt a fresh wave of pain wash over her, her heart aching with longing.

"If only I could turn back time," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "If only I could undo that mistake."

Her mother-in-law stroked her hair, offering what little comfort she could. "We can't change the past, Anupriya. But we can honor Priyanka's memory by taking care of Riddhima, by giving her the love and support she needs."

Anupriya nodded, knowing she was right. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, but the pain still lingered, a constant reminder of what she had lost.

Anupriya's eyes welled up with tears as she gazed at the photo of Priyanka with little Riddhima.

"That's why I adopted Riddhima, Mummyji. I couldn't save Priyanka, but I could give her daughter a home, a family, and a love that would never fade."

Her mother-in-law nodded, understanding the depth of Anupriya's emotions. "You've been an amazing mother to Riddhima, Anupriya. You've loved her with all your heart, and she's brought so much joy to our lives."

Anupriya's voice cracked as she spoke. "I loved her more than my own children, Mummyjii. I know it sounds strange, but Riddhima was a part of Priyanka, and I felt like I was keeping a piece of my friend alive through her."

Her mother-in-law wrapped her arms around Anupriya, holding her close. "It's not strange, Anupriya. It's beautiful. You've kept Priya's memory alive through Riddhima, and you've given her a love that will last a lifetime."

Anupriya smiled through her tears, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. "I just hope Priya knows how much I love Riddhima, and how much I've tried to take care of her."

As she spoke, Anupriya felt a gentle breeze rustle the leaves outside, as if Priya's spirit was whispering words of comfort, letting her know that she was always with her, watching over Riddhima, and guiding Anupriya through the ups and downs of life.

She remembered the day she adopted Riddhima like it was yesterday - the tiny, fragile girl with big brown eyes, clinging to her like a lifeline. She had poured all her love, all her grief, into this little girl. She had become her reason for living.

"I just hope Riddhima recovers soon. God forbid, if something happens to her, How will I face Priyanka in heaven.... "

Anupriya sobbed, unaware of the fact that their conversation was heard by pair of ear...
.
.
.

Vansh slid to the bathroom floor , his back against the cold bathroom tiles, as the weight of his realization crushed him. The dim light above the sink cast eerie shadows on the wall, echoing the darkness within him.

His body shook uncontrollably as tears streamed down his face, dripping onto the bathroom floor.
He buried his face in his hands, feeling the anguish and fear he had been holding inside finally release. The sound of his own sobbing was foreign to him, but he couldn't help it.

Vansh, the strong and stoic one, had finally cracked. He was always the rock, the one who kept everything together, but in this moment, he was alone, and his emotions had finally caught up with him.

He wept, releasing all the pent-up emotions he had been carrying for years, his body wracked with sobs. The strong exterior had cracked, revealing a fragile and vulnerable interior, one that he had kept hidden for so long.

"Why did it take me so long to realise that Riddhima didn't snatch my mother from me? It was my mother who snatched....."
Vansh couldn't complete the sentence. He sobbed, his voice cracking with anguish...

"How could I have been so blind, so stupid?How could I blame her all my life for something she wasn't guilty of ?"

He slammed his fist against the bathroom counter, the sound echoing through the room.

Vansh's eyes welled up with tears as the truth finally sunk in, like a tidal wave crashing against his soul. His mind reeled, memories of his childhood replaying with newfound understanding, each one a razor-sharp stab to his heart.

He remembered how his mother's attention had shifted after Riddhima's arrival, like a ray of sunlight redirected from him to her. He recalled feeling neglected, abandoned, and unloved, the ache of those emotions still festering.

"All my life I have been blaming the girl who lost her mother because of my mother's mistake...." he whispered, his voice shaking, laced with anguish and regret.

"All my life," Vansh repeated, his voice cracking, "I've been blaming an innocent child for my own pain."

His eyes welled up with tears, as the weight of his misunderstanding settled upon him.

"My mother's guilt, my own anger...I directed it all at her," he whispered, shame and remorse etching his face.

Vansh's fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms. The bathroom counter creaked under his grip.

"How could I have been so cruel?" he asked himself, his voice laced with self-loathing.

Vansh's eyes welled up with tears as memories flooded his mind. He remembered the day Riddhima walked into his life wearing a pink frock...., an 8-year-old girl with innocent eyes and a bright smile.

"How could I have been so heartless?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

He recalled how he'd lashed out at her, his anger and resentment boiling over.

"Get away from me!" he'd shouted, his young voice echoing with malice.

Riddhima's tears had fallen like rain, but he'd hardened his heart.

"I was a monster," Vansh whispered, self-loathing etched on his face.

He remembered the dolls he'd broken, their necks twisted in a cruel gesture.

"Why did I have to destroy her happiness?" he cried out.

The mehendi designs she'd proudly shown him, only to have him intentionally smear them.

"Her smile...I extinguished her smile," Vansh sobbed.

"You're a thief!" he'd accused, his voice dripping with venom, when Ishani's lipstick went missing.

No proof, just blind hatred.

Vansh's face contorted in anguish.

"What did she ever do to me?" he whispered, his voice cracking.

He pictured Riddhima's frightened face, her tears, her discomfort around him.

"Why didn't I see her pain?" he wailed.

The bathroom seemed to close in around him, the weight of his past mistakes crushing.

Vansh's body shook with uncontrollable sobs, his heart shattered into a million pieces.

Vansh's mind flashed to memories of Riddhima's frightened face....The way she'd flinch when he raised his voice.....The way she'd avoid eye contact, her gaze dropping to the floor.....The way she'd tremble when he came near....The way her eyes would widen, like saucers, when he yelled... The way her tiny hands would shake, grasping her dolls tight....  The way her voice would tremble, whispering "sorry" even when she'd done nothing wrong.

The memories sliced through Vansh's heart like a razor.

He saw Riddhima's fragile form, cowering in fear.

Her tiny feet would step back, as if seeking escape. Her shoulders would slump, weighed down by his cruelty. Her smile, once radiant, would fade, replaced by tears

"I ruined her childhood because of a stupid assumption" he whispered, tears streaming down his face.

"I crushed her spirit."

His cries echoed off the bathroom tiles, a haunting reminder of his shattered emotions.

Vansh stood in the bathroom, surrounded by sterile white tiles and the faint scent of soap. His mind wandered back to the dusty storehouse, where his mother had locked him in. The memory still evoked a deep sense of shame and regret.

His eyes overflowed with tears as he recalled the heart-wrenching moment when little Riddhima, with a compassion beyond her years, came to rescue him from the darkness of the store room, only to be met with his venomous rejection.

"Mom had locked me in, but Riddhima's innocent heart saw only my pain," he whispered, his voice cracking beneath the weight of shame.

The storehouse, with its creaking wooden door and faded grey paint, had seemed liked a prison.

Riddhima, just a child herself, opened the creaky door, her small face etched with concern.

She'd stood there, a beacon of hope, her almond eyes shining with tears.

Her big brown eyes, filled with empathy, met his. For an instant, his anger wavered, and he felt drawn to her innocence.

Riddhima's tiny hands were clenched into fists, and her delicate features trembled with emotion. A flutter stirred in Vansh's chest, a mix of emotions he couldn't quite untangle.

That day, for the first time, his gaze lingered on Riddhima's trembling lips, and he felt an inexplicable urge to kiss her. The desire was strong, almost overwhelming. He leaned in, his heart racing with anticipation.

But just as suddenly, reality hit him like a ton of bricks. Riddhima was just 8 years old. The realization was like a slap in the face, and Vansh pulled back, his anger and frustration boiling over.

What was wrong with him? He was not suppose to feel this way. Vansh's eyes narrowed, and he clenched his fists, trying to shake off the unwanted emotions.

His anger and hurt had blinded him to her kindness.

"Get out!" he'd shouted, his words slicing through her tender soul like a razor.

He remembered how Riddhima's face crumpled, her eyes welling up with tears, her tiny body shaking with sobs.

Yet, she'd stayed, trying to comfort him, to heal his wounds.

And how did he repay her selflessness?

Vansh's face contorted in anguish as the memory consumed him.

"I walked out, locking her in, condemning her to the very darkness she'd feared," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling like leaves in an autumn breeze.

Little Riddhima, fragile and frightened, had been trapped, her cries echoing off the cold walls.

The image of little Riddhima, afraid of darkness, trapped in the storeroom, haunted him.

"I left her alone, scared, and broken," Vansh wailed.

His body shook, wracked with guilt, as the weight of his past crushed him.

Her tiny figure, silhouetted against the faint light seeping under the door, forever etched his mind.

"Why did I do that?" he cried out.

Memories of Riddhima's tiny hands on the door, pleading to be let out, haunted him.

Vansh's thoughts seared with self-blame, his conscience writhing in agony. He crumpled to the floor, overwhelmed by the weight of his past mistakes.

"Why did I torment Riddhima?Why did my conscience never stopped me? " His mind lamented, his voice cracking beneath the burden of guilt.

She never wronged him or his family, never uttered a harsh word or cast a malicious glance. Yet, he lashed out, again and again, driven by a toxic mix of insecurity and ego. He reveled in her tears, fed on her fear, and found solace in her silence. But at what cost? Riddhima's shattered dreams, her wounded heart, and her stifled sob echoed through his mind.

Vansh's eyes welled up with tears as memories flooded his consciousness. He recalled each cutting remark, each scornful glance, and each heartless rejection. He relived the moments he'd crushed Riddhima's spirit, stifled her voice, and shattered her trust. His chest heaved with sobs, his body shaking with the force of his regret.

And yet... Riddhima never complained about him to anybody. She never wished ill about him, despite everything.

Despite the labyrinth of pain he'd constructed around her, Riddhima had courageously stepped forward, placing herself in harm's way to save his life. The image of her fragile form intercepting the iron rod, mere inches from his skull, seared itself into his mind, a testament to her unwavering compassion.

How could she, the one he'd hurt most, risk everything to shield him from harm? The paradox ravaged his soul, igniting a maelstrom of emotions within him. Self-loathing wrestled with gratitude, shame with humility.

Vansh's thoughts swirled, seeking answers to the enigma that was Riddhima. Her love, a boundless ocean, had swallowed the toxicity he'd spewed, transforming his darkness into a beacon of hope. Today, she'd proven that even the most shattered hearts could heal, that redemption was within reach.

"I'm so sorry, Riddhima," he whispered, his voice trembling with contrition, as the weight of his regret threatened to consume him. "For every hurt, every tear, every moment I made you feel worthless."

Tears streamed down his face, a deluge of shame and gratitude, as he realized that Riddhima's love was his only solace, his only chance at redemption.

Vansh's eyes finally met his reflection in the mirror, and he flinched at the stranger staring back at him. His eyes were sunken, his face gaunt, and his skin pale. He looked like a shadow of his former self.

He turned away, unable to bear the sight of his own vulnerability. His gaze fell on the bathroom door, and he remembered the life he had been living, the secrets he had been keeping.

He stumbled towards the door, his heart heavy with emotion. As he opened it, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his living room, but it felt different now. It felt empty.

Vansh collapsed onto the couch, his body wracked with sobs once again. He buried his face in his hands, feeling the anguish and fear he had been holding inside finally release.

For a long time, he sat there, crying, trying to release all the emotions he had been holding back. The strong exterior had cracked, revealing a fragile and vulnerable interior.

As the tears finally began to subside, Vansh got up, his movements mechanical and jerky. He walked to the window, staring out into the darkness, trying to make sense of his emotions, trying to find a way to move forward, alone.

As Vansh stood before the window, the twilight horizon stretched out before him like a canvas of shattered dreams. Shadows danced across his face, reflecting the turmoil that ravaged his soul. Riddhima's smile flashed in his mind, radiant and warm, a beacon that pierced the darkness that had long consumed him. Yet, the contrast between her luminous spirit and his own dark personality was a chasm too vast to bridge.

His thoughts wandered to the moments they shared, moments he had callously discarded like discarded trash. Riddhima's laughter echoed through his empty halls, a melodic symphony that had briefly brought warmth to his frozen heart. Her gentle touch had ignited sparks in his long-dead soul, and her compassion had healed the deepest scars etched on his being. But he had repaid her kindness with cruelty, his words cutting her deep, his glances freezing her smile, and his threats shattering her trust.

Vansh's face contorted in anguish as the weight of his regret crushed him. Tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless, a deluge of guilt that threatened to drown him. His body shook, wracked with sobs, as the shadows closed in, suffocating him with the darkness he had long embraced.

"I never deserved you," he whispered, the words barely audible over the storm raging within him.

In that moment, Vansh realized that Riddhima was not just a person but a manifestation of hope, a ray of light that had pierced the darkness that had long shrouded his existence. Her love was unconditional, unwavering, and unrelenting, a beacon that guided him through the labyrinth of his own making. And in that realization, a glimmer of hope flickered to life within him, a chance to redeem himself, to prove his love, and to bask in the warmth of her radiance...

Vansh's tears slowed, replaced by an unyielding determination that burned within his soul. Though he knew he didn't deserve Riddhima's unwavering love, he couldn't bear the excruciating thought of losing her - of surrendering to the darkness that had once consumed him.

"No," he whispered, his voice low and resolute, echoing off the bathroom's sterile walls. "I won't let you slip away, Riddhima. I won't let the shadows reclaim me."

His gaze locked onto the floor, as if the tiles held the secrets of his tortured heart, the weight of his regret and longing etched on his face like a sorrowful sculpture.

"I'm selfish enough to keep you bound to me forever," he confessed, his words dripping with conviction, his voice trembling with emotion. "Your love is my lifeline, my redemption, my only motive, my reason for being."

Vansh's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white with resolve, as if physically grasping for the threads of their tangled fate.

"I'll do whatever it takes," he vowed, his eyes blazing with determination. "I'll shatter the chains of my past, silence the demons that haunt me, and prove my love to you."

Vansh rose, his eyes locked onto the mirror, confronting the reflection of a man haunted by his past, yet determined to claim his future.

A man torn between darkness and light.

A man desperate to redeem himself.

He wiped away his tears, his fingers tracing the contours of his face, as if rediscovering himself.

And began to smile.

A slow.

Sinister.

Smile.

That sent shivers down his own spine.

For Vansh knew.

He would stop at nothing.

To keep Riddhima forever.

His gaze lingered on his reflection, the smile twisting into a grimace.

A visual representation of his inner turmoil.

A declaration of his unyielding resolve.

He came out of his reverie when his mobile lying carelessly next to him on the couch, beeped.
As Vansh's gaze scanned the screen, his eyes widening in alarm, he was met with a barrage of messages and missed calls from Angre, each one a stark reminder of his dereliction of duty, and the vulnerability of the woman he loved.

"Boss, Officer Kabir and his sister came to meet Riddhima," one message read, the words searing themselves into Vansh's mind like a branding iron, fueling his anxiety and igniting a firestorm of protective instincts.

"Boss, are you coming back to hospital?" another message pleaded, the urgency and concern etched in Angre's words echoing the turmoil that ravaged Vansh's own heart.

The hospital's sterile corridors, once a symbol of safety and recovery, now seemed treacherous and unforgiving, as Vansh envisioned Riddhima lying alone and defenseless, exposed to the whims of those who sought to harm her.

Vansh's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding in frustration and self-loathing, as he berated himself for his momentary lapse into emotional turmoil, locking himself away in the bathroom while Riddhima needed him most.

How could he have abandoned her, even for a moment? he thought, the weight of his guilt crushing him.

The memory of Riddhima's fragile form, her porcelain skin marred by the faint bruises of her ordeal, her eyes pools of shimmering gold that held a deep well of pain, flashed before his eyes, and Vansh's heart shattered anew.

With a newfound sense of urgency, Vansh swiftly composed himself, wiping away the tears that had betrayed him, straightening his shoulders, and squaring his jaw, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

For Riddhima.

For their future.

Together.
.
.
.

Vansh strode into Riddhima's hospital room, his heart racing with a mix of anxiety and protectiveness,  as if the very fabric of his existence was threatened by her fragile state. His eyes scanned the space for any signs of danger or distress,his instincts on high alert.

Surrounded by the machines in the I.C.U, Riddhima lay motionless, her porcelain skin pale and fragile, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths that whispered secrets to the silence.

The soft glow of the hospital lights cast an ethereal halo around her, illuminating the delicate contours of her face, the gentle curve of her lips, and the vulnerable column of her neck.

Vansh's soul stirred with a deep-seated longing to shield her from harm, to envelop her in his arms and chase away the shadows that loomed over her.

He approached her bedside, his footsteps echoing through the silent room like a solemn promise, the soft beeping of the monitors and the quiet hiss of the oxygen the only sounds that broke the stillness.

Vansh's eyes locked onto Riddhima's, his heart bleeding with emotion, his chest heavy with the weight of his love for her.

He reached for her hand.

His fingers intertwined with hers.

As Vansh's fingers enveloped unconcious Riddhima's delicate hand, a tidal wave of emotion crashed over him, threatening to engulf him in its depths.

A jolt of electricity coursed through him, igniting a fire that illuminated the darkest recesses of his soul.

Time stood still, suspended in the amber glow of hospital lights, as Vansh's gaze devoured Riddhima's peaceful face.

Vansh's gaze lingered on Riddhima's serene face, bathed in the soft, golden light of the hospital room, her beauty piercing his soul like a dagger.

But suddenly, memories assaulted him, a tidal wave of recollections crashing over him, threatening to engulf him in their depths.

Flashes of her laughter, her tears, their childhood, and his torture tormented him, each memory a razor-sharp shard cutting through his conscience.

The weight of his actions crushed him, a boulder of guilt pressing upon his chest, making every breath a struggle.

Vansh's eyes widened in horror, his pupils dilating as the darkness of his own depravity stared back at him.

The memory of Riddhima's innocent face, scarred by his unrelenting cruelty, seared his conscience like a branding iron, leaving an indelible mark that would haunt him forever.

At merely eight years old, Riddhima's vulnerable, trusting soul had been mercilessly tormented by his own hands.

Vansh's mind recoiled in utter revulsion, as if struck by a poisonous serpent, its venom coursing through his veins, infecting every fiber of his being.

He beheld the ravaged landscape of his own soul, a barren wasteland of shattered dreams, crumbling hopes, and festering regrets.

Riddhima's melodious laughter echoed in his mind, a haunting melody that mocked his monstrous deeds.

Her radiant smiles.

Her heart-wrenching tears.

Each memory a razor-sharp shard.

Cutting through his defenses.

Exposing the monster he had become.

Vansh's breath came in ragged, desperate gasps.

His chest heaved.

As if the weight of his guilt.

Would crush him.

Annihilate him.

Eradicate the very essence of his being.

His heart bled.

His soul wept.

Tears of remorse.

Tears of shame.

Streaming down his face.

Like a torrent of self-loathing.

He stumbled backward.

His legs trembling.

His vision blurring.

The hospital room.

A distant haze.

As the darkness closed in.

A suffocating shroud.

That threatened to engulf him.

His breath caught in his throat, a ragged gasp escaping his lips as the gravity of his mistakes ravaged his soul.

He felt suffocated, trapped in a prison of his own making, the walls closing in on him like a vice.

With a strangled cry, Vansh wrenched his hand free from Riddhima's, the sudden movement sending monitors beeping in protest.

He stumbled backward, his legs trembling beneath him, as if the very foundation of his existence had been shattered.

He turned, his eyes scanning the room for an escape, a refuge from the torment that ravaged his mind.

And fled.

Out of the hospital room.

Leaving Riddhima behind.

Alone.

Unprotected.

Vulnerable.

The door swung shut behind him, a stark reminder of his own cowardice, the sound echoing through the corridor like a death knell.

Vansh's footsteps echoed down the deserted corridor, a haunting rhythm of shame, regret, and self-loathing.

His shadow loomed on the walls.

A specter of guilt.

Haunting him.

.
.
.

The city lights twinkled below him, a reminder of the world outside his own personal struggles. Vansh's mind raced with thoughts of his past, his mistakes, and his regrets. He felt like he was drowning in his own emotions, unable to escape the weight of his secrets.

As he stood there, lost in thought, the silence of the room was broken by the sound of his own voice, whispering words he never thought he'd say out loud: "I'm so tired of pretending. I'm so tired of being strong."

Tears streamed down his face once again, as he finally allowed himself to confront the truth. He was tired of living a lie, tired of hiding behind a mask of strength and courage. He was tired of being alone.

The darkness outside seemed to closing in on him, and Vansh felt like he was staring into the abyss, unsure if he had the courage to take the next step. But he knew he had to try, for his own sake, to find a way to heal, to find a way to be whole again.

With a heavy heart, Vansh turned away from the window, and began to walk towards the unknown, one step at a time.

He walked slowly, his feet heavy with the weight of his emotions. Every step felt like a struggle, as if he was fighting against his own demons. But he kept moving forward, driven by a glimmer of hope that things could be different.

As he walked, the darkness around him began to dissipate, replaced by a faint light that seemed to grow brighter with each step. It was a small spark, but it was enough to guide him forward.

Vansh didn't know where he was going, but he knew he had to keep moving. He had to keep searching for a way to heal, to find a way to forgive himself and move on from his past.

The light grew brighter, illuminating a path that wound through the darkness. Vansh followed it, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing with possibilities.

And then, suddenly, he saw it - a glimmer of hope on the horizon. A chance to start anew, to leave his secrets and his shame behind and forge a new path forward.

With a newfound sense of determination, Vansh quickened his pace, his feet pounding the ground as he raced towards the light. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was ready to face whatever lay ahead, knowing that he had finally found the courage to take the first step towards healing and redemption.

As he reached the light, Vansh saw a figure waiting for him. It was a woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile. When he looked at the woman closely, he saw her taking the form of Riddhima... His Riddhima. She reached out a hand and took his, leading him towards a new path.

"Welcome, Vansh," she said. "I've been waiting for you. You've been carrying a heavy burden for a long time. It's time to let go."

Vansh looked at her, unsure of what to say. He had so many questions, but he couldn't find the words.

"Don't worry," she said. "You don't have to say anything. Just trust Us. Trust the process."

And with that, she led him towards a new beginning. A beginning where he could leave his secrets and his shame behind. A beginning where he could find forgiveness and redemption.

Vansh took a deep breath and let go of his doubts. He trusted her, and he trusted the process. And as they walked together, he felt a weight lifting off his shoulders. He felt free.

For the first time in a long time, Vansh felt like he could finally breathe again. He felt like he could finally be himself, without fear of judgment or rejection.

And as they walked towards the horizon, Vansh knew that he would never go back to his old life. He knew that he had found a new path, a path towards healing and redemption. And he was grateful.

Vansh's eyes snapped open, and he sat up on the bench, his heart racing. He looked around the hospital corridor, disoriented. It was just a dream, he told himself. But the emotions lingered, feeling so real.

He didn't realised when his exhausted form collapsed onto the bench outside Riddhima's hospital room last night.

He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the vivid images. The woman, the light, the feeling of freedom – it all felt so tangible. But it was just his subconscious mind playing tricks on him.

Vansh layed back on the cold bench and wiped the sweat on his forehead, trying to calm his racing thoughts. But he couldn't shake off the feeling that the dream was trying to tell him something. That there was a part of him that was still trapped, still carrying the weight of his secrets and shame.

He sighed, knowing he had to face his demons eventually. But for now, he just closed his eyes and let the darkness take him back into its embrace.

As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered what other secrets his subconscious held, and when they would finally be set free.

Hours ticked by, unnoticed, their silent passage marked only by the steady beat of the hospital's clock, its ticking heartbeat echoing through the deserted corridors like a mournful dirge.

The world outside moved on, its vibrant rhythms unfolding with indifference, as sunlight burst through the windows, painting the hospital corridor in warm, golden hues that danced across Vansh's slumbering form.

The hospital's corridors, once a hive of frenzied activity, now echoed with muted conversations, footsteps, soft beeps, and distant alarms, a symphony of life continuing unabated, unfazed by Vansh's turmoil.
.
.
.

Two Days Later :

Riddhima's eyelids fluttered open, her dark lashes trembling like butterfly wings, as she slowly emerged from the depths of unconsciousness, banishing the darkness that had shrouded her for three interminable days. The ICU's sterile air hung heavy with anticipation, the beeping machines surrounding her hospital bed pulsating with an otherworldly rhythm.

Nurse who was noting Riddhima's vital in the file, sat beside her, monitoring the vital signs with an intensity that bordered on prayer. Her eyes locked onto the BP monitor, her brow furrowing as Riddhima's blood pressure spiked. With swift, practiced movements, she pressed the nurse's call button.

Vansh, pacing outside, sensed something amiss. His rugged features creased with worry, his eyes scanning the ICU doors like a man searching for a lifeline. His broad shoulders seemed to bear the weight of a thousand fears.

The Nurse rushed to the nurse's station, her voice low and urgent. "Doctor, come quickly!" she urged.

Vansh's heart sank, his world telescoping to a single, terrifying thought: losing Riddhima. He felt like his heart was sinking....that something would happen to him. Without wasting a second more, He burst into the ICU, his frame filling the doorway like a dark, avenging angel. He needed to see Riddhima....His Riddhima.

Riddhima lay on the bed, struggling to sit up, her slender frame trembling with effort. Her dark hair spilled around her shoulders like a wild, tangled waterfall. Strands stuck to her damp forehead, and her usually vibrant locks appeared dull and lifeless.

The hospital gown, a faded blue, hung loosely on her petite frame, accentuating the sharp angles of her collarbone and shoulders. Her hands, once adorned with intricate henna designs, now lay still and pale, IV tubes snaking from her veins.

Despite the frailty, Riddhima's beauty still shone through, a haunting vulnerability that tugged at Vansh's heartstrings.

"Riddhima!" Vansh exclaimed, rushing to her side. His arms enveloped her, holding her close as if he'd never let her go. His chest heaved with relief, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Riddhima" he whispered, his voice trembling. "Thank God" He whispered, his lips brushed against her forehead.

Riddhima's gaze faltered, confusion etched on her delicate features like a fractured puzzle. Her eyes, once bright and radiant, now seemed lost and unfocused.

Vansh squeezed her more, burying his head in the crook of her neck, his hot tears wetting her shoulder blades. His ragged breaths sent shivers down her spine.

Riddhima's eyes widened, alarm sparkling within their depths. She tried to push Vansh away, but her frail arms trembled beneath his weight.

"Let...let me go," she stammered.

Vansh's grip tightened.

"Riddhima, please," he whispered.

His tears soaked through the hospital gown, warm droplets trickling down her skin. Riddhima's heart quickened.

The doctor rushed in, concern etched on his face.

"Mr. RaiSinghania, gently," he cautioned.

Vansh loosened his grip, though his eyes never left Riddhima's. Her dark hair, once a luscious mane, now spilled around her shoulder, framing her heart shaped face.

When Vansh tried to gently tuck a stray hair strand behind her ear, Riddhima's instincts kicked in. Gathering all her strength, she slapped Vansh's hand, the sound echoing through the ICU like a crack of thunder.

"Don't...touch me!" Riddhima exclaimed, her voice shaking with fear and vulnerability, as if Vansh's touch had awakened a deep-seated terror within her, shattering the fragile calm that had enveloped her since awakening from the darkness.

"Who are you? And how could you touch me like this? Get away from me..." Riddhima shouted, her words cutting through Vansh's soul like a razor-sharp blade, leaving him bleeding and shattered.

Vansh's face contorted in anguish. He knew she didn't think high of him, But he didn't expect to get this reaction from her. How could she slap his hand like he was some dirt and she was dusting it off? As if his touch was filthy, unworthy.

"Please. Don't shout. You are not well.."
He whispered, his voice trembling.

Riddhima's eyes blazed.

"You're a stranger! Don't pretend to know me!"
She commanded, her tone an icy fortress guarding her emotions. Vansh was taken aback. Though her voice was weak yet its impact was powerful. He felt a wave of pain wash over him. How could she say that? How could she reduce him to a stranger in a day? 

"Lady, Can you hear me?" the doctor intervened.

Riddhima nodded. Her gaze flicking between  the doctor and Vansh, fear evident in her eyes.

"Why is this man still standing here?" Riddhima panicked, her voice rising.

"Who is he?" She demanded, her eyes darting between the doctor and Vansh.
Time suspended as their gazes met, his weary eyes locking onto hers. Once radiant, her stare now swirled in confusion.

"Who is he? " Riddhima repeated, her voice dropped to a barely audible question. Her eyes scanned Vansh's every feature, every curve and contour, but her mind remained stubbornly blank.

Vansh's eyes, filled with desperation and longing, locked onto hers.

"Lady, Can you tell me your name?" The doctor asked hooking the pen behind his ear.

The doctor's question hung in the air, awaiting a response that never came. Riddhima's face scrunched in concentration, her eyes scanning the blank slate of her mind.

"I...I don't know," she stammered, her voice laced with frustration and fear.

As the doctor asked Riddhima basic questions, Vansh's anxiety grew. When Riddhima struggled to recall her own name, her address, even about her parents....Vansh's heart sank. He felt a wave of desperation wash over him, mixed with a deep sense of helplessness. His eyes fixed intently on Riddhima, willing her to remember, to respond. But as the silence stretched out, Vansh's frustration mounted. He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of anger and despair. How could this have happened to her? Why couldn't she remember? The questions swirled in his mind, taunting him with their lack of answers.

The doctor's expression softened, empathy etched on his face. "Don't worry, it's okay. Memory loss is common in cases like yours."

But Riddhima's gaze drifted away, lost in the void of her own identity.

"Who am I?" she whispered, the words echoing through her hollowed-out soul.

"I don't ...don't know..." her voice barely audible, her lips trembling.

Panic set in, Her chest heaving like a wild animal trapped in a Cage.

"I don't remember....anything" She confessed,
her eyes wide with terror.

Riddhima's eyes welled up with tears, her face contorting in anguish as the crushing weight of her forgotten identity threatened to consume her entirely.

Vansh's face crumpled, his eyes welling up with tears, his heart shattering into a million pieces as he witnessed the woman he loved struggle to recall even the simplest details of her own existence.

"Who am I?" she whispered again, desperation creeping into her voice like a slow-rising tide, echoing through the hollowed-out chambers of her soul, where memories of their life together should have resided.

Vansh's hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening, his entire being tensed with the effort of restraining the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

"I don't know my name, my face, my life," she stammered, each word a painful acknowledgment of her erased identity, a stark reminder of the chasm that yawned between her past and present, a void that seemed to grow wider with each passing moment.

Vansh took a step closer, his eyes blazing with emotion, his face etched with a deep-seated longing, his voice trembling with urgency.

"No, don't say that," he implored, his words hanging in the air like a desperate plea.

The doctor's expression turned grave, his eyes filled with compassion, as he struggled to comprehend the depths of her despair.

"We'll help you. You'll be fine," The Doctor said gently, his voice a lifeline thrown into the turbulent sea of her uncertainty.

Riddhima shook her head, her hair disheveled, her eyes wild with fear, as if the very fabric of her existence was unraveling thread by thread.

Vansh's face contorted in anguish, his eyes locked onto hers, filled with desperation.

Riddhima's piercing gaze scanned the unfamiliar room with a desperation that threatened to consume her very soul, as the weight of her forgotten past hung precariously in the balance.

"Who am I?" she whispered, her voice trembling with anguish, laced with fear of the unknown, anxiety that gnawed at her mind, desperation that clawed at her heart, and panic that set in like a slow-rising tide, obscuring her thoughts and shrouding her identity.

Tears streamed down her face, a torrent of sorrow that carved rivulets through her pale skin, as she grappled with the devastating reality of her memory loss, her emotions swirling in a maelstrom of frustration, helplessness, despair, longing, and yearning.

Her heart ached for memories forgotten, and identity erased, while her soul trembled with uncertainty, fear, and desperation, as if teetering on the precipice of a bottomless abyss.

Vansh's grip on her hand tightened, his fingers intertwining with hers like tender vines clinging to a crumbling facade, but even his love and support couldn't pierce the veil of her amnesia, leaving her feeling isolated and alone.

"You're Riddhima," he whispered softly, his voice infused with a love and longing that only served to deepen her despair, but the name felt hollow, empty, and meaningless, a label devoid of context or connection.

Riddhima's gaze drifted, lost in the void of her forgotten past, as fear clawed at her chest with razor-sharp talons, and panic set in, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps that left her lightheaded and reeling.
.
.
.

Vansh entered the doctor's cabin, his heart heavy with concern, weighed down by the uncertainty that had been gnawing at him since Riddhima's accident. He closed the door behind him and approached the doctor's desk, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of hope or reassurance.

The doctor's office was dimly lit, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioner. The scent of disinfectant lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the hospital's sterile environment. Vansh's eyes locked onto the doctor's, searching for answers.

The doctor, seated behind his desk, looked up from the MRI report in front of him.

The doctor's expression, was grave, his face etched with a somberness that seemed to deepen the lines on his forehead, and his voice, when he spoke, was laced with a caution that only added to Vansh's growing unease.

"Mrs. Riddhima's condition is complex." the doctor began, his voice measured and deliberate. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk, his hands clasped together. "Her memory loss is retrograde amnesia, caused by severe head trauma, which means she's lost memories of her past, including her life with you and it's as if the very fabric of her identity has been torn apart."

Vansh stood opposite the doctor, his back straight, his shoulders squared. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, his breath knocked out of him, and his mind reeling with the implications of the doctor's words. He grasped the back of the chair in front of him, his knuckles white.

"How long...how long will it take for her to regain her memory?" Vansh asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his words trembling with urgency, as if the answer held the key to unlocking the future of their relationship.

The doctor hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor, before meeting Vansh's gaze again, his expression a mixture of empathy and caution.

"Recovery varies from person to person, Vansh," he explained, "it could take weeks, months, or even years, and there's no guarantee she'll fully recover, no promise that she'll ever remember the life you shared, the laughter, the tears, the moments that made your story." Vansh's face fell, his heart sinking, as if the weight of those words was crushing him.

"What can I do to help her?" Vansh asked, desperation creeping into his voice, his eyes pleading for any shred of hope.

The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm, reassuring. "Be patient, supportive," he advised, "help her recreate memories, stimulate her mind, and maybe, just maybe, she'll find her way back to you. But Remember not to pressurize her or trigger any bad memory as it may hinder her progress " Vansh nodded

He took a deep breath, determination etched on his face. "I'll do whatever it takes to help her"

The doctor nodded. " I know you will. We are shifting her to the Private ward. Now you can be with your wife. She needs you".
.
.
.

"Riddhima..." Vansh called, entering the room of the private ward Riddhima was shifted to, yesterday..  

But Riddhima's expression remained vacant, her eyes focused on the mirror in her hand.

Riddhima's gaze wandered over her reflection, her eyes lingering on the dressing covering the wound on her head. She looked puzzled, her brow furrowed in concentration. She reached up a tentative hand, gently touching the dressing as if trying to stir up a memory. But her expression remained blank, her eyes clouded with confusion. She had no recollection of how she got hurt, no memory of the events leading up to this moment. It was as if her mind had drawn a complete blank, leaving her with more questions than answers.

Vansh's heart sank, a chill running down his spine as the realization dawned on him that she didn't even recognize her own name.

She didn't flinch, didn't react, didn't even acknowledge the syllables that had once been synonymous with laughter.

"Riddhima," he repeated, his voice trembling with urgency, each iteration a fervent prayer that she would somehow, miraculously, recall her identity.

Still, no response.

Riddhima's gaze remained fixed on her reflection in the hand mirror, her eyes scanning every contour, every feature, as if searching for a glimmer of familiarity. Her fingers traced the outline of her face, the curve of her cheekbones, the shape of her lips.

Who was this person?

She turned her face slightly, studying the angle of her jaw, the slope of her nose. Her eyes, once bright and sparkling, now seemed dull and lifeless.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she gazed at the stranger in the mirror.

Riddhima's grip on the mirror tightened, her knuckles white.

Why couldn't she remember?

A cold dread crept over him, its icy tendrils wrapping around his heart like a shroud.

Did she truly not remember?

Or was it just her memory playing tricks, hiding their life together behind a veil of fog?

"Riddhima, look at me," Vansh begged, his eyes burning with intensity.

Her gaze drifted toward him, their eyes meeting in a fleeting instant.

Vansh's hopes soared, only to be dashed upon the rocks of reality.

For in her eyes, he saw nothing.

No recognition.

No spark.

Just emptiness.

"I'm nobody." she whispered looking at her reflection in the mirror , the words echoing through the silence like a haunting refrain.

The middle aged nurse entered the room, her bright smile a contrast to Riddhima's turmoil. "I gave you the mirror and brush so you can comb your hair, Riddhima," she said, eyeing the untouched items on the bedside table.

Riddhima's gaze shifted from the nurse to the mirror in her hand, her eyes filled with a mix of guilt and frustration. Her hands, weak and trembling, held the mirror as if it were an anchor to her lost identity.

The nurse's expression softened. "Do you need help, Riddhima?"

Vansh, sitting beside Riddhima, intervened. "I'll do it," he said gently, taking the mirror from Riddhima's hand.

With tender care, Vansh picked up the brush and began to comb Riddhima's tangled locks. His touch was soothing, calming. Riddhima's eyes closed, her body relaxing into his gentle ministrations.

As Vansh worked out the knots, Riddhima's thoughts drifted.

Vansh's fingers deftly braided her hair, his hands cradling her head. "You're beautiful, Riddhima," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

Riddhima's eyes fluttered open, meeting Vansh's gaze.

The nurse smiled, her eyes misty. "You two are meant to be," she said, quietly exiting the room.

As the door closed, Vansh's eyes locked onto Riddhima's. "You're going to be fine, Riddhima" he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "You are going to be discharged tonight. We will go to our home. Everyone is waiting for you in the Mansion."

Riddhima's gaze locked onto Vansh's, her eyes widening in terror as she recoiled away from him, her slender frame trembling beneath the hospital's sterile sheets. The fluorescent lights above cast eerie shadows on her pale face, accentuating the fear etched on her features.

"How can I go with you? You are a Stranger." she stammered, her voice barely audible over the steady beep of the heart monitor, her words hanging in the air like a desperate plea. Vansh's expression faltered, his eyes clouding with hurt and concern, his chiseled features creasing with anguish.

"You are my wife Riddhima" Vansh said, his voice low and husky.

The doctor entered, his white coat a symbol of authority, his gentle smile a reassuring presence in the tense room. "Time to go, Mrs. Riddhima," he said, his voice soft and soothing, but Riddhima's grip on the bed tightened, her knuckles white with determination.

"I won't go," she declared, her voice rising, her dark hair disheveled from the hospital bed, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Who is he?" she demanded, pointing at Vansh, her slender finger trembling.

The doctor's expression softened, his eyes filled with empathy. "Vansh is your husband, Mrs. Riddhima," he explained, but she shook her head, her denial vehement, her eyes widening in horror.

"No," she whispered, her voice cracking, her face contorted in anguish. "Can't be." She shook her head again, her dark locks spilling around her shoulders. "I don't know him." Vansh's face crumpled, his eyes welling with tears, his broad shoulders slumping in despair.

Riddhima's voice rose, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "I won't go with him. I don't know him. I'm scared."

The doctor intervened, his calm demeanor a balm to the tense atmosphere.
"Okay, let's calm down," he said, his voice soothing. "We'll figure this out." But Riddhima's chest heaved with fear, her breath coming in short gasps, her eyes darting wildly around the room.

"I won't leave this hospital," she declared, her voice firm. "I feel safe here." Vansh's face etched with despair, his eyes pleading, but Riddhima turned away, her gaze fixed on the cold, impersonal wall.
.
.
.

Riddhima's chest constricted, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of Vansh's words settled upon her, casting a dark shadow of uncertainty that threatened to engulf her fragile existence.

Fear crept in, its icy tendrils wrapping around her heart, squeezing tight with every passing moment, as she grappled with the unsettling realization that her life was no longer hers to control.

She feared the unknown, the unseen forces that had stolen her memories, leaving her with a gaping void that seemed impossible to fill.

She feared Vansh, this stranger who claimed to be her husband.

She feared her own mind, fragmented and unreliable, a puzzle with missing pieces that refused to fall into place.

Riddhima's thoughts swirled in a maddening vortex:

What if she never remembered the life she had built, the love she had shared, the dreams she had chased?

What if Vansh's talks were a lie, a cleverly crafted facade designed to manipulate and control?

What if she was trapped in a prison of her own making, with no escape from the suffocating dread that had become her constant companion?

Panic clawed at her, threatening to consume her, its razor-sharp talons ripping apart the fragile threads of her sanity.

Riddhima's gaze darted around the hospital room, searching for an escape from the suffocating dread that had become her reality.

But there was no escape.

Only the haunting question that echoed through her mind like a relentless refrain:

Who was she, really?

Riddhima's thoughts careened wildly, like a runaway train, as she struggled to reconcile the fragments of her shattered identity.

Vansh's words echoed in her mind: "You're my wife, Riddhima."

But what did that even mean?

Trapped in a sea of uncertainty, Riddhima's mind wrestled with the nagging question: Was she truly Vansh's wife, or merely a pawn in a game shrouded in forgotten memories? The hospital room, once a sanctuary, now felt suffocating, its sterile scent and antiseptic silence closing in around her like a vice.

Her gaze darted towards the door, a desperate bid for freedom from the emotional turmoil brewing within. Her heart racing, Riddhima's palms grew sweaty, her breath catching in her throat. The urge to escape became overwhelming, a primal instinct to flee from the unknown.

Every glance at Vansh sparked a flurry of emotions: confusion, gratitude, and a deep-seated longing to remember. But what if her memories never returned? What if their bond was built on shifting sands, vulnerable to the tides of her forgotten past?

Riddhima's thoughts swirled, a maelstrom of fear and uncertainty. She felt lost, suspended between two worlds: one where she was Vansh's wife, and another where she was a stranger, adrift in a life she couldn't recall.

But where would she go?

Who would she turn to?

The questions swirled, a maelstrom of uncertainty.

Just then, the door creaked open, and a gentle voice interrupted her turmoil, shattering the fragile silence that had enveloped her.

"Riddhima, we are going home," Vansh announced, his words hanging in the air like a promise, filled with an unspoken assurance that seemed to calm the storm brewing within her.

Riddhima's eyes met Vansh's warm smile, a radiant beacon that illuminated the darkness shrouding her memories. His gaze held hers, a tender connection that bridged the gap between past and present.

"Home," she whispered, the word echoing in her mind like a distant memory, a concept both familiar and foreign. What did that mean? A place she couldn't remember? A life she'd forgotten? The faces, the laughter, the tears – all lost in the void of her amnesia.

Vansh's smile faltered for a moment, as if he sensed the trepidation creeping up her spine, the fear of confronting a past she couldn't recall. But then, his expression softened, his eyes filling with empathy and understanding.

"Our home, Riddhima," he said, his voice soft and reassuring, painting a picture of warmth and belonging. "The place where you grew up, where every moment, every laugh, and every tear is etched in the walls, waiting for you to remember."

Riddhima's mind reeled, her thoughts tangling in a web of uncertainty. Was she ready? Ready to face the unknown? Ready to confront her forgotten past and reclaim her identity?

Vansh's hands grasped hers, his touch warm and familiar, sending a spark of electricity through his veins. He felt a rush of emotions - longing, concern, and above all, love. He yearned to reconnect with the woman he adored, to bridge the gap created by her forgotten past.

Riddhima, however, felt a flutter in her chest, her heart racing with uncertainty. Vansh's touch, though gentle, unnerved her. She sensed the depth of his emotions, the intensity of his gaze, and it scared her. Memories, fragmented and elusive, teased her mind, making her question everything.

She released her hand from his grasp quickly, shifting back, her eyes avoiding his. The distance gave her a semblance of control, a fragile barrier between them.

"Trust me, Riddhima," Vansh whispered, his breath caressing her ear, sending shivers down her spine. His voice trembled with emotion, his words infused with conviction. "I'll be with you every step of the way, through every joy and every struggle."

Riddhima's heart skipped a beat. She felt vulnerable, exposed, yet drawn to Vansh's words. His promise wrapped around her like a warm blanket, comforting and reassuring. Still, fear lingered, a persistent shadow.

Vansh's eyes never left hers, his gaze burning with longing. He sensed her turmoil, her inner struggle, and it broke his heart. He wanted to hold her close, to chase away her fears, but he restrained himself, giving her space.

"Trust me," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Riddhima's gaze met Vansh's, her eyes searching for answers. Could she trust him? Could she trust herself?
The questions swirled, but Vansh's unwavering gaze steadied her.

Vansh's words dripped with conviction, his eyes shining with emotion as he painted a vivid picture of a life Riddhima couldn't recall. "You have a big family, Riddhima, who is waiting for you, a family that was once the epicenter of your universe, and who loved and cherished you with every fiber of their being."

Riddhima's mind reeled, her thoughts tangling in a web of uncertainty as she struggled to reconcile the stranger's words with her own fragmented memories. The notion of a family, a sprawling network of loved ones who had once been integral to her existence, now seemed like a distant dream.

Vansh's face contorted in anguish, his voice cracking with emotion as he continued. "My mother Anupriya, whom you fondly call Anu Maa who had always been your rock, your guiding light, and your safe haven; my siblings, Aryan and Sia, who had shared countless laughter-filled moments and tears with you; and my dadi, chachi and your Favourite chachu, who had brought unparalleled joy to your life , and not to forget our Baby Ruby– they all miss you terribly."

Riddhima's heart twisted, a pang of guilt stabbing at her like a sharp knife, as she grappled with the weight of Vansh's words. Baby? She had a baby with him? Should she remember? Should she feel something? Was it normal to feel so disconnected from the people who had once been her everything?

Vansh's hands grasped hers, his touch warm and reassuring. "They'll be overjoyed to see you, Riddhima," he whispered softly. "They'll help you remember, and together, you'll rebuild the life you once knew."

Riddhima's gaze searched Vansh's face, seeking answers to the myriad questions swirling in her mind. Could she trust him? Could she trust herself? Was this family he spoke of truly hers? Was the baby he spoke of truly hers

"Tell me about them" she whispered, her voice barely audible, as she longed to recall the memories that had once defined her.

Vansh's face lit up with a soft smile. "Why don't you come home and meet them?"

With a deep breath, she nodded, a sense of resolve settling within her. "Okay," she whispered.
.
.
.

As Riddhima stepped into the Mansion, she felt an overwhelming sense of disconnection, like a puzzle piece that refused to fit. Her mind reeled with frustration, desperation, and longing, as she struggled to recall even the slightest memory of the people surrounding her.

Aaryan, her bestie, approached her with a bright, reassuring smile, his dark brown hair  perfectly messy, and his green eyes sparkling with hope. "Oh Riddhima !" he exclaimed  enveloping her in a warm, comforting embrace. Riddhima's eyes darted, Her initial instict was to pull back, her mind racing with discomfort.

Dadi, her grandmother, cradled Riddhima's face, her wrinkled hands adorned with age-old jewelry, her eyes shining with tears of joy and concern. "Riddhu, my child, you're home, safe and sound."

The weight of unfamiliarity pressed upon Riddhima,  making her heart ache with sadness. She felt lost, disconnected, and uncertain, torn between the desire to reconnect with her family and the crippling fear that she might never regain her memories.

The sound of her mother-in-law, Anupriya's, tearful voice, "Welcome home, Riddhu" echoed through the hallway, tugging at her heartstrings, yet failing to bridge the gap between her past and present.

As Anupriya's arms enveloped Riddhima in a warm, comforting embrace, the scent of familiar perfume, wafted through the air, transporting Riddhima to a time and place she couldn't quite recall, yet felt deeply ingrained in her being.

Anupriya's tears streamed down her face, glistening like diamonds in the soft glow of the chandelier above, as she whispered, "My child, you're home, Riddhu, where you belong."

Riddhima's heart swelled with emotion, her eyes welling up with tears that threatened to spill over, as she gazed into Anupriya's loving face, etched with lines of worry and concern.

Anupriya's hair, styled in a elegant bun, framed her gentle features, while her warm, honey-brown eyes, red-rimmed from crying, shone with unwavering love and support.

Riddhima's gaze drifted to the familiar yet alien surroundings: the cream-colored walls adorned with family photos, the plush sofa in a rich, burgundy hue, and the intricately patterned rug that added warmth to the spacious living room.

"Thank you, Aunty" Riddhima replied, her voice barely above a whisper, using the term of endearment that felt foreign yet comforting, as she nestled into Anupriya's embrace.

Anupriya's eyes locked onto hers, filled with understanding, patience, and a deep-seated longing to reconnect with the daughter she cherished.

"We'll get through this together, Riddhu," Anupriya promised, her voice infused with conviction. "You're home now, surrounded by people who love you unconditionally. Slowly, You'll remember everything."

The guilt of not recognizing her loved ones, especially her mother's tearful smile and Aryan's hopeful gaze, suffocated her. Riddhima's thoughts swirled in chaos, plagued by questions: "Why can't I remember? Who am I, really? Will I ever find myself?" The uncertainty threatened to consume her, leaving her feeling fragile, vulnerable, and desperately seeking a lifeline to cling to.

As they guided her through the house, Riddhima struggled to recall even the slightest detail. Every step felt like a journey through uncharted territory. Her gaze wandered, searching for a spark of recognition amidst the unfamiliar surroundings, but every room, every corner, and every object seemed foreign, like a carefully crafted set in a stranger's home, leaving her feeling disoriented and disconnected from the life she once knew.

The elegant chandelier in the foyer, its crystals refracting shards of light, and the vintage vase on the living room mantle, its delicate patterns a testament to forgotten memories, all seemed to belong to someone else's story, a narrative she couldn't quite recall.

With each step, the weight of her forgotten past pressed upon her, suffocating her slowly, like a gentle but relentless tide rising to consume her. The silence between her and her family grew thicker, heavy with unspoken emotions, as Aaryan's gentle touch on her arm, Chachi's reassuring smile, and Dadi's comforting presence – all felt like gestures from strangers, no matter how well-intentioned, further exacerbating her sense of isolation.

Riddhima's mind reeled with questions, each one a tantalizing thread leading nowhere: "Was I happy here?" "Did I laugh in these halls?" "Did I love this life?" The more she struggled to recall, the more her memories seemed to slip away, lost in the fog of amnesia, leaving her with a desperate longing to reconnect with her past and reclaim her identity.

As Anupriya inquired, "Where's Vansh?" Riddhima's expression faltered, her brow furrowing in confusion, her eyes scanning the room with a desperation that bordered on panic.

"Vansh?" Riddhima repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, the word feeling foreign on her lips, like a language she'd never spoken, echoing through her hollow memories.

Aaryan's smile hesitated, and Chachi's eyes filled with concern, their faces reflecting the unspoken question: How could she not remember the man who had spent three sleepless night in the hospital, sitting near her?

"Your husband, Riddhima," Anupriya clarified, her tone gentle yet laced with worry, the weight of Riddhima's forgotten past hanging precariously in the balance.

Riddhima's face went blank, her mind racing with fragmented thoughts, struggling to conjure up even the slightest memory of this person, Vansh.

Just then, the door swung open, and Vansh walked in, his eyes locking onto Anupriya, and a warm smile spreading across his face, illuminating the room with a sense of hope.

"Mom, I'm here," Vansh said, his deep voice filling the room, resonating with a love and longing that Riddhima couldn't quite grasp.

Anupriya's expression turned stern. "Where were you? We were worried."

Vansh chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I was just collecting medicines from the car. Guess I was too slow! Riddhima beat me to the door."

Riddhima's heart skipped a beat as their eyes met, the intensity of Vansh's gaze piercing through her foggy memories, stirring a deep sense of longing.

Vansh's eyes filled with warmth and expectation, but Riddhima's gaze faltered, her feelings tangled in confusion, her heart torn between the desire to remember and the fear of never recalling.

The room fell silent, heavy with unspoken emotions, the weight of Riddhima's forgotten past threatening to crush them all.

Vansh's smile faltered, but he quickly recovered. "It's okay, Riddhima. We'll get through this together," his voice a beacon of hope in the darkness.
.
.
.

As Vansh sat on the sofa, Anupriya's piercing gaze drifted to Vansh, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the dark circles under his eyes, like shadows cast by the weight of his worries. The faint lines etched on his forehead, the pallor of his skin, and the subtle droop of his shoulders all whispered tales of sleepless nights spent beside Riddhima's hospital bed.

Aaryan and Chachi exchanged concerned glances, their faces reflecting the same thought, their brows furrowed in sympathy. The warm glow of the lamp beside them cast a golden light on their faces, but even its radiance couldn't dispel the worry etched on their features.

"Vansh, beta, you look exhausted," Anupriya said, her voice laced with worry, her words hanging in the air like a gentle rebuke.

Vansh's smile faltered for a moment, his lips curving downward, before he recovered, his expression smoothing into a mask of reassurance. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little tired," he said, his voice low and soothing, but his eyes betraying the truth.

But Anupriya knew better. She had seen the same look on his face before - the look of sleepless nights, of worry, of fear. She remembered the countless times he had sat beside Riddhima's bed, holding her hand, praying for her recovery, his eyes red-rimmed from fatigue.

"Three nights, Vansh?" Anupriya asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her words echoing through the silence like a gentle breeze. "You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

Vansh's eyes dropped, his shoulders sagging slightly, as if the weight of his secrets was crushing him. "I couldn't leave her, Mom. Not when she was...like that," he said, his voice cracking, his emotions raw and exposed.

The room fell silent, the weight of Vansh's words hanging in the air like a challenge. The ticking clock on the wall seemed to slow, as if time itself was pausing to acknowledge Vansh's devotion (or guilt).

Anupriya's gaze lingered on Vansh's face, noting the dehydration lines around his mouth, the dryness of his lips, and the faint tremble of his hands. "Vansh, have you eaten? Had water?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

Vansh hesitated before nodding. "I...I had some coffee, Mom."

Anupriya's expression turned stern. "Coffee isn't enough, Vansh. You need rest, food, and water."

Chachi stepped forward, her eyes filled with empathy. "Let me get you some water, beta."

Aaryan nodded. "And I'll bring you some food."

Vansh's eyes met Riddhima's, his heart aching with longing. He would wait for her, for as long as it took, for her to remember, to love him.

Riddhima, still lost in her foggy memories, looked up at Vansh, her gaze drawn to the dark circles under his eyes. Something stirred within her, a spark of recognition, of gratitude. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met, and the world around them melted away.

But it was fleeting, lost in the haze of her forgotten past.

.
.
.

As they reached her bedroom door, Riddhima's heart skipped a beat, her palms growing damp with anticipation.

"Your room's still the same," Mrs. D'Souza said, her voice soft, but the words felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of all that Riddhima had forgotten. The door creaked open, revealing a space frozen in time, a snapshot of a life she couldn't remember.

"Ye Kapde....."

Riddhima whispered picking up the black shirt lying carelessly on the bed. Her fingers brushed against the subtle scent of his cologne. Her eyes drifted to the bedside table, where a framed picture of Vansh sat. Vansh's intense gaze seemed to pierce through the photograph, his dark eyes burning with love.

Riddhima's heart skipped a beat. She felt his presence as if he stood beside her, watching her every move.

"Vansh Baba ke hain..."

Mrs. D'Souza said, taking the shirt from Riddhima's hand and folded it.

"Ye uska kamra hai? Hum dono ek kamre me....."

Riddhima couldn't complete the sentence as she felt extremely uncomfortable. For everyone, he was her husband, but for her... He is a Stranger. The man she married, the one who might have shared her bed, felt like a stranger... Unfamiliar, Unknown.

"No.... I won't stay in this room. Mai nahi rahungi yaha...Ek lamhe ke liye bhi nahi rahungi.  Mera samaan kisi aur kamre me shift karwaade please"

Riddhima's voice trembled as she addressed the househelp, her eyes brimming with tears. She couldn't bear the thought of staying here, with Him.

The househelp, Mrs. D'Souza looked taken aback. "Lekin beta, ye Vansh baba ka room hai.... Tumhara room hai"

Riddhima's face contorted in distress, voice trembling... "Kaun Vansh? Nahi jaanti mai unhe.... He is a stranger to me. "

Suddenly, the door cracked open. Vansh stood in the doorway, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. Riddhima's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat.

"You don't have to stay here." Vansh said, his deep voice low and measured. " Mrs.D'Souza will move your luggage to another room."

Riddhima's eyes darted to Mrs. D'Souza, who nodded sympathetically before slipping out of the room.

The silence between them hung heavy, like a challenge. Vansh's gaze never wavered, his eyes searching for a glimmer of recognition.

Riddhima's eyes dropped, avoiding Vansh's piercing gaze like a fragile leaf escaping a raging storm. Her heart raced, every nerve screaming to escape.

Vansh felt a pang in his chest, his heart heavy with longing. He yearned to hold her, to reassure her, to bridge the distance between them. The thought of losing her again was unbearable. He felt like she wasn't just moving out of his room, but out of his life too.

"Thank You." She whispered, her voice barely audible, a gentle breeze on a summer's day. Her words hung in the air like mist.

Vansh's soul ached at her words. Those two simple words conveyed detachment, her unwillingness to talk to him, her unwillingness to acknowledge their marriage.

Vansh's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with pain.

Riddhima's mind reeled, her thoughts tangled in confusion. Why did Vansh's presence evoked both fear and familiarity? She felt like she was torn between two worlds, unsure which one was hers. She felt lost, alone, and scared.

"Riddhima Please...."
His voice cracked, longing and desparation etched on his face like lines on a worn parchment. His eyes burned with unshed tears. He wanted to hold her, Hug her.... Just for once.

Riddhima took a step back. She felt trapped, unsure how to escape. She flinched, her hands trembling like quivering leaves. She raised a palm, halting his approach, a fragile barrier against the tempest. The engagement ring on her finger glinted in the dim light.

Vansh's eyes locked onto the ring, a symbol of their marriage, now a reminder of his failure to protect her.

"Don't" She said, her voice though firm ,laced with fear.

"I don't know you." The words spilled out,a desperate plea to maintain the fragile barrier between them.

"You are nothing but a stranger for me" Riddhima continued, looking straight into his eyes, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. The words hung in the air, a stark reality that sliced through Vansh's soul.

He felt as if she'd ripped his heart out, leaving him gasping for air. He struggled to comprehend, how the woman he ruined, he scarred, insulted every now and then, the woman he married and caged in his room, could regard him as a stranger. How could she forget what all he has done to her?

Riddhima's hands trembled, her fingers intertwining in a desperate bid for control. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape from the suffocating tension.

Vansh's gaze followed hers, his heart heavy with longing. He yearned to hold her, to reassure her, to chase away the fear that gripped her. He felt a stinging sensation, as if she'd pierced his soul. He struggled to contain his emotion, to respect her boundaries, but it was like drowning in his own despair.

Mrs. D'Souza reappeared.

Vansh's gaze lingered on Riddhima, his eyes pleading her to recognize him. Unable to face him even for a second more, she turned away.

Vansh nodded curtly and stepped aside, allowing Mrs. D'Souza to enter the room. Her efficient hands swiftly packed Riddhima's belongings, each item reminder of her presence in his life.

"Vansh Baba, I'll take care of everything". Mrs. D'Souza said gently.

Vansh nodded, his eyes never leaving the bags. Riddhima's absence felt like a chasm, a voice that threatened to suffocate him. He felt lost, alone and abandoned.

As Mrs. D'Souza opened the drawer, A photo album lay open, their wedding picture staring back at him.

Vansh's heart twisted, memories flooding his mind.

"Mrs. D'Souza," Vansh said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, sir?"

"Leave that." Vansh pointed to the album.

Mrs. D'Souza nodded, her eyes filled with compassion.

As Mrs. D'Souza zipped the last bag, His gaze shifted to Riddhima's dresser. The place that used to be filled with her moisturizers, suncreams, lotions, perfumes, jwellary box, Bangles, Now stood bare.

Vansh's heart sank, the emptiness echoing Riddhima's absence. He remembered the countless times he'd watched her get ready, mesmerized by her beauty.

The empty spaces seemed to mock him, a harsh reminder of what he'd lost.

Vansh's thoughts swirled in despair. Would he ever see her smile again? Would she ever wear those bangles, those earrings, that radiant smile, for him again?

His eyes lingered on the dresser, memories flooding his mind:

Riddhima's smile as she applied lip balm, her eyes sparkling.

Her delicate hands adorning herself with jewelry.

The intoxicating scent of her perfumes.

The soft glow of her moisturizer-kissed skin.

Vansh's soul ached, his heart heavy with longing. He yearned to turn back time, to hold onto those moments, to keep her by his side.

Mrs. D'Souza's gentle voice broke the spell.

"Sir, shall I take the bags downstairs?"

Vansh nodded, his voice caught in his throat.

"Wait...Ridd...." Vansh's voice cracked, his words barely audible.

Riddhima paused, her hand on the door handle, her fingers tightening around it as if grasping for support. Slowly, she turned to face him, Her gaze locked onto his. For a fleeting moment, Vansh saw a glimmer of hesistation, a flicker of uncertainity in her eyes.

But then, her expressions hardened and she turned away, her slender figure disappearing as walked out of the room.

The door closed behind her with a soft click and Vansh felt like he had lost his last grip on hope..

With a groan, Vansh paced across the room, his footsteps echoing off the walls. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had just let Riddhima create a distance between them.

As he reached the window, he gazed out into the night, the city lights blurring together in a kaleidoscope of color. His heart ached, his soul felt empty.

"Riddhima," he whispered, his voice lost in the darkness.

The door creaked open, and Vansh's heart skipped a beat. But it was only the wind, whispering secrets he couldn't quite hear.

With a sigh, Vansh turned away from the window and collapsed onto the bed, his thoughts consumed by the woman who had just walked out of his room.....

.
.
.

As Riddhima stepped into her room, she was immediately enveloped in a sea of pink. The curtains, the bedspread, the walls - everything was a varying shade of the bright, cheerful color. But instead of feeling cheerful, Riddhima felt a growing sense of frustration. Mrs. D'Souza informed her that this room had been hers since childhood, right up until her marriage to Vansh.

Riddhima didn't know why everything was pink. Did she like the color? She couldn't remember. But now, surrounded by the overwhelming pinkness, she felt a strong sense of dislike. It was as if the color was closing in on her, suffocating her. Riddhima's eyes scanned the room, searching for something, anything, that might spark a memory. But everything seemed foreign, alien. She felt like a stranger in her own room.

Her gaze fell upon the neatly arranged luggage in the corner of the room. Mrs. D'Souza, the housekeeper, must have unpacked her bags and put everything away. Riddhima vaguely remembered Mrs. D'Souza's warm smile and gentle manner as she helped her settle in. But now, the housekeeper was gone, leaving Riddhima alone with her thoughts and her frustratingly blank memories.

Riddhima's gaze wandered around the room, taking in every detail. She saw a collection of stuffed animals on a shelf, all of them wearing pink bows. Her eyes landed on a shelf in the corner, where a collection of teddy bears of various sizes sat, all of them a bright, bubblegum pink. There was a giant teddy bear that looked like it had been won at a fair, a few medium-sized ones with sweet expressions, and even a tiny one that looked like it belonged on a keychain.

Riddhima felt a pang of confusion. Who had given her all these teddy bears? And why were they all pink? She didn't remember being particularly fond of the color pink, or teddy bears for that matter. But as she looked at the shelf, she felt a strange sense of nostalgia. It was as if she had looked at those teddy bears a thousand times before, but couldn't quite remember when or why.

There was a desk in the corner, with a pink laptop and a stack of pink notebooks. Even the carpet was a pale shade of pink.

As she scanned the room, Riddhima's eyes landed on a few framed photos on the wall. She saw pictures of herself with a woman who looked familiar, but Riddhima couldn't quite place her. There were also photos of herself with a group of friends, all of them smiling and laughing.

Riddhima's frustration grew as she gazed around the room that was supposed to be hers. Everything felt foreign, like she was walking into someone else's life. The pink walls, the frilly curtains, the stuffed animals on the shelf, teddy bears - it all seemed so...not her. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was living in someone else's skin, that this life wasn't hers to claim. Riddhima's hands clenched into fists as she felt a wave of desperation wash over her. Why couldn't she remember? Why did everything feel so...lost?

Her eyes wandered around the room again, searching for something, anything, that might spark a memory. But everything seemed to blend together in a haze of unfamiliarity. She felt like a stranger in her own life.

With a growing sense of desperation, Riddhima began to search the room more frantically. She opened drawers, rummaged through closets, and even lifted up the mattress, hoping to find something that might trigger a memory. But every search ended in disappointment.

As the minutes ticked by, Riddhima's frustration turned to despair. She felt like she was losing herself, like she was disappearing into a void of forgotten memories. She collapsed onto the bed, her body shaking with sobs. Why couldn't she remember? Why was everything so...lost?

As the tears streamed down her face, Riddhima's body began to succumb to exhaustion. She lay on the bed, her sobs gradually subsiding into quiet whimpers. Her eyelids, heavy with tears and fatigue, slowly drooped, and she drifted off to sleep, her body still shaking with occasional sobs.

The room fell silent, the only sound the soft whisper of Riddhima's labored breathing. The pink walls, the frilly curtains, and the stuffed animals and teddies on the shelf seemed to loom over her, a constant reminder of the life she couldn't remember. As she slept, Riddhima's mind was a jumble of fragmented thoughts and forgotten memories, her subconscious struggling to piece together the shards of her shattered past.
.
.
.

Vansh wandered the empty halls of their home, his footsteps echoing off the walls, the silence a haunting reminder of the laughter that Riddhima shared in his home. He paused outside Riddhima's door, his hand hesitating on the doorknob, unsure if he should knock, unsure if she would even welcome his presence.

The uncertainty gnawed at him, a relentless pestering that refused to let him sleep, his mind racing with doubts that threatened to consume him. He wondered if Riddhima's memory loss had erased not just their past but also their future together. He wondered if she would ever look at him with love and adoration.

Did her amnesia erased the bad memories too? If Riddhima's amnesia had erased the bad memories too, he would be thankful to God. The thought of her reliving the trauma they had faced together was unbearable. He hoped that she would never regain those memories, that she would never have to experience that pain again.

"Why does she need space?" Vansh asked himself, the question swirling in his mind like a vortex. "Does she not want me in her life anymore? Does she not remember our marriage?" The questions haunted him, refusing to let him find peace.

Vansh's brow furrowed in concern as he wondered if Riddhima had taken her medication. He reminded her to take medicine before going to bed but with her memory loss, he couldn't be sure if she was following the routine.

He quickly got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen, where he had left the pill box. He opened it and checked the contents. The pills for the day were still there, untouched.

Vansh's heart sank. Had Riddhima forgotten to take her medication again? He knew how important it was for her to take it regularly, especially with her condition.

He decided to check on her and made his way to her room.
He gently pushed open her door, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat. Riddhima lay on the bed, her back to him, the moonlight streaming through the window casting an ethereal glow on her face.

Vansh's eyes drank in the sight of her, his soul aching with longing. He approached her quietly, not wanting to disturb her, his footsteps light as a feather. As he reached the bedside, he saw Riddhima sleeping in a uncomfortable position.

Vansh's eyes filled with tender concern as he gazed at Riddhima's sleeping form. He gently reached out, his hands hovering over her shoulders, hesitant to disturb her. With a soft sigh, he carefully adjusted her position, gently turning her onto her back and tucking a pillow beneath her head. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a spark of electricity through his body. As he drew back, his eyes lingered on her peaceful face, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions - love, care, and a deep longing to protect her.

Vansh stood in the doorway, watching Riddhima sleep peacefully. He knew she needed the rest, and he didn't want to disturb her. He had been worried about her forgetting to take her medication, but he decided to let her sleep for now.

He would wake her up later, when it was time for her next dose. For now, he just wanted to let her rest. He smiled softly to himself, feeling a sense of protectiveness towards her.

As he turned to leave, his eyes fell on the teddy bears on the shelf. He remembered how Riddhima used to love them, how she used to cuddle with them and talk to them. A pang of nostalgia hit him, and he felt a lump form in his throat.

He took a deep breath and composed himself, reminding himself that Riddhima was going to be okay. She just needed time, rest, and care. And he was going to make sure she got all of that.

Vansh quietly slipped out of the room, leaving Riddhima to her peaceful slumber.
.
.
.

He made his way to his study, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting a warm light on the darkened space. He settled into his chair, running a hand through his hair as he let out a deep sigh. The silence of the room enveloped him, a welcome respite from the turmoil of emotions that had been swirling inside him all day. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting shut as he let the stillness wash over him.

But his eyes refused to stay shut, his mind refusing to quiet. Thoughts of Riddhima swirled in his head, her fragile form, her lost memories, and her brave little heart. He couldn't shake off the feeling of responsibility that had settled on his shoulders, the need to protect her, to help her remember.

With a quiet sigh, Vansh opened his eyes and reached for the notepad on his desk.

Vansh sat in his dimly lit study room, surrounded by shadows that seemed to echo his emotions. His notebook lay open on his lap, the blank page staring back at him like an unspoken challenge.

He picked up his pen, the nib gliding across the paper as he began to write.

"Riddhima," he scribbled, her name etched deeply into the page.

With a frustrated sigh, Vansh crumpled the page, the sound echoing through the silence. He tore it out of the notebook, the ripping sound a cathartic release.

He turned to a new page, the blank slate beckoning.

"I'm like a turbulent sea, forever battling the storms that rage within me. For so long, I stood alone, afraid to let anyone near, pushing away those who dared to approach. I was proud of my resilience, thinking I was powerful enough to weather the tempests alone.

But then I saw you, a delicate twig floating serenely on the calm river's surface - A twig from the tree that grew on the shore of my ocean, nourished by the waters I thought were mine alone . I, the mighty sea, seethed with resentment towards its gentle presence. How dare it thrive in the same waters that ravaged me?

I envied you because the tree that sustained you seemed to take my water to nourish you leaving me feeling drained and barren. I  wondered, if your growth came at my expense.

I loathed how the twig's slender form seemed to defy my fury, its fragile limbs unbroken by the waves that crashed against my shore. Its leaves danced in the breeze, a carefree spectacle, while mine wrestled with the undertow.

Your peaceful existence was a beacon of hope, a reminder of the tranquility I'd never known. I envied your freedom, your joy, and your beauty.

As our paths converged, my waves crashed against you, threatening to engulf the fragile twig. I was notorious for drowning mighty yatchs. You were just a tiny twig, fragile and delicate. And I wondered How long would you float? I was sure my turmoil would snap you in two, that you'd be lost in the depths of my ocean.

Yet, you persevered, your resilience awe-inspiring. With each wave that tossed you aside, you returned, unbroken and buoyant..

My depths grew darker, my currents more treacherous, as I sought to claim the twig as my own. I would drag it down, drown it in my abyssal darkness, and rid myself of its infuriating serenity. Yet, with each wave that crashed against it, the twig remained unbroken, its resilience a taunt to my fury.

Amidst my turmoil, I began to see the twig in a different light. Its determination, its refusal to yield, stirred something within me. Perhaps, I thought, this fragile thing wasn't my enemy, but my opposite – a balance to my chaos.

I let you float, not because you conquered my storms, but because you brought calm to my chaotic sea. Your gentle touch calmed my raging storm. You brought solace to my troubled heart. Your determination drew me to your light. In your eyes, I saw a peaceful shore, a refuge from my endless roar. I found myself falling for the tiny twig that braved the fury of my heart.

I was lost, but you found me in the depths of my own turbulent sea. You showed me that even in the darkest depths, there's hope, there's light, and there's love. And now, I'm willing to change, my waves calming, my heart beating for you alone. "

As he drifted off to sleep, his pen slipped from his fingers, leaving a small blot of ink on the page. His notepad slid off his lap, landing softly on the floor.
______________________________________

Next Chapter :

"I think it would be better if we part ways." Riddhima said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vansh's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched in determination. "Not happening," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Riddhima's face contorted in frustration, her voice rising to a scream. "Why don't you understand?! I don't want to carry the burden of this marriage, which I don't even remember doing! I don't remember us, I don't remember anything! Please Free me...."

______________________________________

A/N : I'm back with a brand new chapter! I apologize for my absence, but life got busy with exams and I struggled with writer's block after taking a long break.

As we dive into this new chapter, you'll notice a fresh direction in the story. I'm excited to explore this new track, and I hope you'll join me on this journey.

I value your feedback, so please don't hesitate to share your thoughts. Whether you love the new direction or find it's not quite your cup of tea, I want to hear from you!

Don't forget to Vote and Comment as it motivates me to write more...