The hospital room felt like a mausoleum, the weight of grief settling into every corner. Samaira sat by Advait’s bedside, his once-powerful frame now fragile, his breaths shallow. Her trembling fingers ran through his hair, brushing strands from his blood-streaked face. She held his hand tightly as if her touch alone could keep him tethered to this world.

“You can’t leave me, Advait,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Not now. Not when we’ve fought so hard, not when things were finally falling into place. You promised you’d stay with me.”

His eyes fluttered open, and though dim, they still carried that familiar spark—the one that had drawn her to him. “I’m still here,” he murmured, his voice weak yet teasing, “but not for long, Mrs. Shekhawat.”

“Don’t say that,” she cried, her tears streaking her face. “You’re going to be fine. You’ll survive this. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Advait gave a faint chuckle, his lips curving into a shadow of his usual smirk. “Ever the fighter, aren’t you?” he whispered. “But this time, I think… the fight’s over.”

“Stop it!” she snapped, her anguish spilling out. “You’re not going anywhere. You can’t! I need you, Advait.”

He tilted his head weakly toward her, his gaze softening. “Do you?” he asked, his teasing tone barely masking his pain. “I thought you were stronger than this, doctor, sorry I mean Mrs. Neurosurgeon.”

Her chest heaved as fresh tears poured down her cheeks. “I’m strong because of you! You made me strong, Advait. But I can’t do this without you. I won’t.”

His thumb grazed her hand, the touch feather-light but grounding. “You don’t need me anymore,” he said softly. “You’re stronger than you know, Samaira. Strong enough to carry everything—even my darkness.”

Her lips quivered as she leaned closer. “I don’t want to carry it without you. I don’t want this life without you.”

He smiled faintly, his eyes glistening. “You’ll do it for me,” he whispered. “Promise me… you’ll live. Even if it’s for me.”

She shook her head furiously, her sobs choking her words. “I can’t… I can’t do this without you, Advait. I love you.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he gave her a weak smile. “Isn’t this the perfect day?” he murmured. “I finally finished my enemy. Took revenge for my father’s death. And now… my Mrs. Advait Singh Shekhawat finally says she loves me.” He paused, his breath hitching. “But… it’s sad that it’s the last day of my life.”

“Don’t you dare say that!” she shouted, gripping his hand tightly. “You’re not leaving me, Advait. Do you hear me? You’re not allowed to leave me!”

He gave a small chuckle that quickly turned into a weak cough. “Always so stubborn,” he whispered. “You were my light, Samaira. Even in the darkest corners of my life… you made it bearable. You… were my only solace.”

His breathing slowed, his voice barely audible. “Live… Samaira. Live for me.”

And then his eyes closed, and his hand went limp in hers.

“Advait!” she screamed, shaking him. “No! No, no, no! Don’t leave me!” Her cries echoed through the room, a raw and piercing sound that shattered the hearts of everyone around her.

But he was gone.

One Month Later

Samaira stood in Advait’s office, her figure shrouded in black. Her once-vibrant presence had dulled, her body frail, her eyes lifeless. The empire he had left behind—the legitimate businesses and the underworld connections—was now hers to manage. She had resigned from the hospital and have decided to fulfill the tasks advait left behind.

She walked to the large window overlooking the city, the skyline blurred by her tears. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the small mangalsutra carefully tucked inside her collar, the only tangible piece of him she had left.

She could still hear his voice, his teasing remarks that always left her flustered.

“Mrs. Shekhawat,” he’d say with a mischievous grin, “you’ll never get away from me.”

Or the way he’d smirk and quip, “Admit it, doctor. You’re falling for me.”

The memories stabbed at her heart, but they also kept her alive.

Rhea entered the room, her face shadowed with concern. “The shipment’s secure,” she said quietly.

Samaira nodded but didn’t turn. “Good,” she replied curtly.

Rhea hesitated, then stepped closer. “Samaira, you need to rest. You’re going to break if you keep pushing yourself like this.”

“I can’t rest,” Samaira said, her voice cold. “There’s too much to do.”

Rohit appeared in the doorway. “Samaira,” he said gently, “we’re here for you. But you need to let yourself grieve.”

She turned to face them, her expression steely. “I don’t have time to grieve,” she snapped. “Advait didn’t leave me that luxury. He left me this empire. This darkness. And I’ll honor him by making sure it doesn’t consume anyone else.”

Rhea placed a hand on her shoulder, her voice soft. “You’re becoming him, Samaira.”

Samaira shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not doing this for myself. Advait wasn’t just about power or profit. He built this empire to save the innocent, to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. I hated this world, but now… I understand him.”

She turned back to the window, her voice trembling. “I’m living, Rhea. But only for him. Only with his memories.”

Late at night, in the solitude of her room, she sat with a photograph of Advait, her tears falling silently. She ran her fingers over his face, her voice breaking as she whispered, “You said I’d be fine without you. But I’m not. I’ll never be.”

The next morning, Samaira stood on the balcony of her mansion, the wind tugging at her hair. She closed her eyes, letting the memories of him wash over her. His laughter, his strength, his love.

“I’ll keep your legacy alive,” she whispered to the wind. “I’ll live for you, Advait. Even if it kills me.”

And as the first light of dawn broke across the city, Samaira stood tall. Broken, but unyielding. Because even in death, Advait had left her with one undeniable truth:

She was his, and he was hers. Forever.

"Which moment stood out to you the most? Let me know in the comments below!"👇