Aarav and Nisha arrived at the hospital, pushing through the tense crowd gathered around the entrance. The flash of cameras was blinding, and the cacophony of voices, all calling his name, was overwhelming. Reporters from various news channels surrounded them, shoving microphones toward Aarav, desperate for a statement.
"Mr. Malhotra! What brings you back to India so suddenly?"
"Aarav, who's this woman with you? Is she your wife?"
"Is it true that you've been secretly married? Or is she your girlfriend?"
Aarav ignored the onslaught of questions, his face a mask of cold determination as he kept his arm wrapped protectively around Nisha, shielding her from the chaotic scene. She stayed close, her heart pounding, barely able to process what was happening. Her focus was solely on reaching Meera, and the tension between her and Aarav matched the urgency of the moment.
Finally breaking through the crowd, they hurried down the corridors until they reached the waiting room outside the ICU. There, Rohit and Meera's parents were seated, faces pale and tear-streaked, their expressions a heartbreaking combination of grief and fear. As soon as Rohit saw Aarav, he got up, but Aarav's fury had already overtaken him.
Without a second thought, Aarav stormed toward him, grabbing him by the collar. "What happened to her, Rohit?" he demanded, his voice low yet dangerously intense. "What did you do to her?"
Rohit's eyes widened in terror, his hands trembling as he tried to shake his head. "I-I didn't do anything, Aarav!" he stammered, his voice laced with fear. "I was the one who admitted her here. My friend is a doctor, and I brought her in when I found her..."
Aarav's grip slackened slightly, his chest heaving with anger and fear. Nisha placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to step back. Just as he released Rohit, a young woman in a white coat, Rohit's friend, emerged from the ICU. Her expression was grave, her face carrying the burden of news no one wanted to hear.
"Mr. Malhotra, you should sit down for this," she said gently, looking between Aarav and Nisha. Aarav shook his head, unable to bear another moment of silence.
"Just tell me," he demanded.
The doctor, Disha, took a deep breath, her voice solemn. "Meera's condition is severe. When she was brought in, she had bruises and significant injuries. It appears her head was hit against a table and...someone slapped her and there are injuries in her body I think someone has beaten her . But there's something more..." She hesitated, visibly struggling with the weight of her next words. "There's evidence to suggest that she was...violated. Sorry to say this she was raped "
Aarav's face went ashen, his mind reeling. The words crashed over him like waves, suffocating and drowning him in shock and disbelief. His legs felt weak, and he took an involuntary step back. "No… this can't be," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Tears began to fill his eyes, blurring his vision, and he didn't try to hold them back.
Nisha's reaction was instant. She fell to her knees, her hands covering her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. The horror and sorrow twisted in her chest as she tried to process the unimaginable. Her best friend, her sister in spirit—this was a nightmare that felt surreal, impossible.
Disha continued quietly, her tone full of sympathy. "Because of the trauma—both physical and psychological—she's gone into shock. Right now, she's unresponsive, and we're monitoring her closely. If she doesn't regain consciousness by tomorrow…" Disha's voice broke, and she had to pause before continuing. "If she doesn't wake up by then, she may slip into a coma."
A silence, thick with grief and despair, filled the room. Rohit and Meera's parents cried softly on the seats, their bodies wracked with sorrow. Aarav reached out to Nisha, helping her up from the floor, and she leaned into him, sobbing against his chest. His hand stroked her back, comforting her, though he, too, was barely holding it together.
Aarav's mind raced with a torrent of emotions: helplessness, anger, sorrow, and a burning need to know what happened to Meera. He felt Nisha shaking in his arms, and he held her tighter, whispering softly. "We're here for her, Nisha. She'll feel our presence, she has to fight through this."
Aarav's gaze drifted to the closed door of the ICU. He wanted to go in, to see her, to tell her to fight through, but he could barely keep himself together as it was. The helplessness was eating away at him, every second feeling like an eternity as he waited for some miracle to pull her through.
Aarav stood, his body tense, face cold and hard as stone. His jaw clenched, and his fists curled at his sides as he faced Rohit. The rage simmering in his eyes could have melted steel. He took a step closer, his voice dangerously low. "Who did this to my sister?" he demanded, each word like the edge of a blade. "Who the hell would dare touch her?"
Rohit stood from his seat, his face twisting with anger, then shifted his gaze toward Nisha. The words that left his lips were like venom, each syllable laced with accusation and fury. "This woman here… her father is the one responsible. That bastard did this to my Meera," he spat, his voice trembling before he broke down, covering his face with his hands as tears overtook him.
Nisha froze, staring at Rohit in shock, shaking her head in disbelief. "No… no, you're lying," she whispered, her voice cracking. Her mind raced, every part of her resisting his words. "You're lying! My father would never… No! No! He would never do this!"
Her hands balled into fists as she took a shaky step forward, her voice rising, growing more desperate with each word. "You're lying, Rohit! He couldn't! My father would never… How could you even say that?"
Aarav tried to comfort her, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder, but Nisha shrugged it off, reeling back, lost in her horror and disbelief. Aarav's expression turned even darker as he faced Rohit again, his gaze sharp as a hawk's as he took several predatory steps forward. Rohit's face paled, shrinking slightly under the weight of Aarav's deadly calm.
"Don't lie, Rohit," Aarav hissed, his voice a deadly whisper. His hands gripped Rohit's collar with enough force to lift him from the floor. "I want the truth. Uncle could never—would never do this. Who did this?"
Rohit's hands shook as he tried to steady himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "Aarav, I'm telling the truth…"
"Don't. Lie. To me." Aarav's voice was cold, and he shook Rohit violently, his rage making it difficult to control himself. His fingers tightened, every muscle in his body coiled and ready to explode. "Tell me the truth, or I swear, I'll—"
At that moment, Meera's father, Suresh, stepped forward and pulled Aarav away, his face a mask of grief and anger. His voice, a tortured yell, echoed in the sterile hallway.
"Yes, yes! Her father did this!" Suresh cried, his words spilling out in anguish. "When Rohit came to home… he found him there, covering her with a blanket! That's the truth. He did this… he's the reason my daughter's in this condition!"
Nisha's legs went weak, and she took several steps back, her vision blurring as the room began to spin. Her mind reeled, fragments of memories, of times spent with her father, flashes of his kind smile, his reassuring words. All of it clashed with the accusations now burning in her ears.
"No…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. She backed away further, her hands covering her mouth as she shook her head violently, her breaths growing shallow. "No… no… my father could never… He wouldn't! He… he wouldn't!"
The walls felt like they were closing in, the disbelief and horror of the moment compressing her chest until she could barely breathe. Her vision darkened around the edges as she stumbled back, pressing herself against the wall, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. Every beat of her heart was a painful reminder that this nightmare was real. Her father's name… intertwined with a horror she couldn't accept.
"Nisha!" Aarav's voice cut through her mounting panic as he reached for her, his tone filled with worry. He watched as her eyes glazed over, her breaths ragged and uneven. She was slipping, spiraling into a panic attack.
Before she could take another step, her legs buckled, and she fell toward the ground. Aarav's arms wrapped around her just in time, lifting her up as her unconscious form went limp in his grasp. He held her tightly, his voice frantic as he called out, "Doctor! Someone help!"
A nurse and a doctor rushed forward, pulling a stretcher as Aarav gently placed her down, his own heart heavy with guilt, anger, and helplessness. He stayed by her side as the doctor checked her vitals, making sure she was stable. His fingers ran through his hair as he looked down at her peaceful yet troubled face.
His chest tightened as he tried to reconcile everything. Nisha's father—the man who had been a pillar of respect in her life, someone who had shared family gatherings, who had seen them grow—was now the accused, the man suspected of shattering Meera's life.
Aarav clenched his jaw, the grief threatening to break through, and he swore silently to himself. Whoever had done this to Meera would pay. He would make sure of it, but for now, he needed to stay strong. He needed to be there for Nisha and for Meera, to pull them both through this nightmare.
As they wheeled Nisha into a nearby room to recover, Aarav's gaze was cold, his heart like a stone. He would wait until she woke up, until she could finally let him help her process this overwhelming truth.
Author's Note:
And so, the story truly begins here. As Aarav and Nisha face this unimaginable crisis, everything they thought they knew about trust, love, and loyalty will be put to the ultimate test. But the question remains—did Nisha's father really commit this terrible act, or is there someone else lurking in the shadows, responsible for this tragedy?
The truth is shrouded in darkness, and each answer may bring only more questions. So, tell me, dear readers—what do you think? Could it truly be her father, or is there a hidden enemy pulling the strings?
Buckle up, because the journey has just begun.