His Grumpy Wife

haasshh

Aniket's Pov

The world spun, a dizzying blur of fragmented memories and a crushing sense of unreality. One horrifying scene bled into another – Alisha, fragile and beautiful, cradled in my arms, the stark crimson blooming on her white dress a nightmarish contrast. Then, the sterile walls of a hospital, my own body on autopilot, carrying her broken form bridal-style.

My mind, overwhelmed by the trauma, refused to acknowledge the present. It clung desperately to the horrifying past, replaying the events in a relentless loop. I was trapped in a mental maze, no matter how I clawed at the walls, I couldn't escape. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, yet my emotions remained numb.

A horrifying self-loathing gnawed at me. My body, strong and capable in the past, had failed me now. The image of Krishiv with the gun, the deafening crack, and then Alisha, her selfless act of shielding me – it was seared into my very soul. In that critical moment, when action was paramount, I had frozen, a useless spectator in the face of her bravery.

Shame, a bitter pill to swallow, choked me. The accusations in my head were relentless. "Coward," it taunted, "a spineless weakling who could only offer empty promises."

The voice, though cruel, held a sliver of truth. The memory of the scene played on repeat – Alisha, taking the bullet that was meant for me. The guilt was a suffocating weight, threatening to crush me.

Arti Aunty, her eyes red-rimmed but resolute, enveloped me in a comforting embrace. Arti aunty sat beside me and cradled my in her arms. She urged me to lay my head on her lap, a silent permission to unleash the torrent of emotions dammed within me. Her gentle fingers combed through my hair, a soothing balm on my troubled soul. I sobbed, a raw and anguished cry that echoed in the sterile silence of the room. With each choked sob, a sliver of the emotional burden lifted. Apparently she knew very well the trouble a soul goes through when their loved one is in pain

"Aniket, beta," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion, "ro lijiye, kehte hai ki dukh bhi prem ka ek hissa hai " Her words resonated deep within, offering a strange sort of comfort.

My voice, hoarse with choked sobs, broke the silence. "Hum.. hume" i couldn't even form a single sentence

Through the blur of tears, I felt a soft touch on my forehead. Arti Aunty, a silent understanding in her eyes, leaned down and pressed a comforting kiss to my forehead. She combed my hairs with her soft finger tips and was trying to calm me down

"Aniket, beta," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion, "aise nahi rote kuch nahi hua hai. Dekhiye abhi thodi der mein Alisha aa jayegi aur fir apse jhagda karegi ki apne unki matashree ke god mein apna saar kyun rakha hai  ." A weak smile tugged at the corner of her lips, a valiant attempt to lighten the mood.

Her words, filled with hope, pierced through the fog of despair. I looked up at her tear-filled eyes, a flicker of strength igniting within me. She, too, was hurting, yet she held herself together for everyone else.

"hum toh ek doshi hein phir ap humse itne pyaar se kaise baat kar rehi hain ," I croaked out, my voice raw with emotion. "Hum toh gunegaar hein, humne  toh kasam khayi thi ki hum unhe humesha surakshit rakhange par hum apne  iss ek kartvye mein  bhi nisafal hogye "

A gasp escaped my lips as a new voice sliced through the air. Shyla, her voice trembling with fury, stood before me. Aradhaya, her face etched with concern, struggled to hold her back.

"Yes, Aniket Maheshwari, you are at fault," a sharp voice cut through the air. Shyla. Her words were laced with a raw pain that mirrored my own.