Her Nightmare ✓

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A U T H O R  P O V

The mansion seemed to hold its breath, the silence heavy and oppressive, like a storm teetering on the edge of eruption.

As the charged tension in the living room escalated, the staff wisely withdrew, their retreat soundless, leaving the family to confront the storm brewing within their walls.

Michael, sensing the weight of the moment, silently excused himself, slipping out through the main door. He didn't need instructions to know that this was a family matter and his presence was no longer required.

Anshika's question lingered in the air like a thunderclap that refused to fade. Her tear-streaked face remained fixed on Devansh, her anguish palpable, a mirror of the pain she couldn't contain.

Devansh took a cautious step forward, but Anshika's hand shot up, halting him mid-step. Her voice, trembling with a cocktail of anger and heartbreak, was firm as steel. "Did you really torture my bhabhi?"

The question struck Devansh like a physical blow. His gaze fell under the weight of his shame, his body language speaking the truth before his lips could.

But Anshika wasn't done. Her voice steadied, hardening with determination. "Bhai, I need an answer," she demanded, each word slicing through the suffocating silence.

Devansh's shoulders sagged further under her piercing gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. His guilt seemed to wrap around his throat like a noose, choking his ability to respond.

"Anshi..." Parinidhi began, her voice tentative, but Anshika's sharp retort cut her off like a whip. "I'm talking to my brother," she snapped, her tone laced with an authority no one dared to challenge. "He owes me this answer."

Parinidhi fell back, her lips pressing into a thin line as she retreated into silence. Anshika's unwavering focus remained locked on Devansh, her tears a silent testament to her anguish.

Finally, Devansh raised his head, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of regret and frustration. "Ansh," he said, his voice low, "it's not right for you to speak to Pari like this. She's my wife. She's your bhabhi."

Anshika let out a bitter laugh, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Oh, now you're upset because I was harsh to her?" she asked, stepping closer to him. "Where was this concern when you hurt her, bhai? Did you think about how she felt when you tortured her? Did her pain matter to you at all? You saw what I went through, and you still chose to inflict the same suffering on someone who's family? How could you? How could you do this to her?"

Devansh's lips parted as if to speak, but no sound emerged. Anshika's words hit him like thunder, each syllable stripping away a layer of his already fractured resolve.

"For the first time," she said, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and sorrow, "I'm glad our parents aren't alive to see this. What you've done would have destroyed them. I... I can't even think of you as my brother anymore. I hate you, Bhai... I hate you." Her tears flowed freely, her anguish pouring out in raw, unfiltered waves that seemed to echo off the walls.

Devansh stood motionless, her words slicing through him with a precision that left him paralyzed. His shoulders, which once carried the weight of the world with unwavering confidence, now sagged under the crushing burden of guilt. His own eyes glistened with unshed tears, the regret in them too deep for words.

Mukul, his tone steady but firm, intervened. "Ansh," he said, his voice cutting through the charged silence, "I know you're hurting, but don't rush to conclusions without knowing the whole story." His calm yet authoritative presence was like a lifeline attempting to pull them all back from the edge.