HOPE

1.9K 191 31
                                    

It has been two days

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

It has been two days. I'm still lying in this room, staring at the ceiling, lost in an endless sea of thoughts. The walls feel like they're closing in, but I can't seem to find the strength to step out. I know I need to. I have to leave this room. There's so much to do. So much to confront.

Adhiraj hasn't left my side, not for a single moment. He's been here, tirelessly feeding me, tending to my wounds, massaging my hands and feet as though I'm made of fragile glass. He handles me with such care, as if afraid I'll break again. What he doesn't understand is that I've already broken too many times. The pieces of me shattered so thoroughly that they've turned to dust.

I know I need to move on. I'm dragging this family into my suffering, making them suffer because I can't find the strength to heal. They care for me so much, more than I deserve. They've even stopped eating, their concern etched into their faces with every glance. Be grateful, Tranika. You lost one family, but you found another. A better one.

But the guilt won't leave me.

I didn't have a choice. I had to kill him. I wanted to kill him the moment I found out he was responsible for my grandparents' deaths. He deserved nothing less. And yet, I am the reason they're gone. If I had never been sold, my dadu would never have gone after Mr. Rajvansh. My dadu, the man who betrayed his own son just to save me.

And what about Mrs. Rajvansh? What will I even say to her? How could I possibly face her? She endured so much. She was raped. A victim of violence and cruelty that no one should ever endure. And despite everything, she stood tall.

But....just because she was a victim doesn't mean she had the right to make me one.

I don't want to face Deepender Chaudhary. I can't. I won't. He's not my father. I refuse to call him that. He was a rapist. He raped my mother.

The door creaked open, and I turned to see Adhiraj's grandfather standing there, his eyes soft yet filled with the weight of unspoken words. He stood tall despite his age, his presence always bringing a quiet strength into the room.

"How are you, beta?" he asked, his voice warm but tinged with concern.

"I'm good, Dadaji," I replied, quickly standing up from the bed. My voice betrayed me, though. It cracked slightly, revealing the storm brewing within.

He walked toward me and placed his hand gently on my head, the gesture immediately making me feel like a child seeking solace in the warmth of an elder's touch. "Be strong, beta," he said, his voice steady. "This is for you." He handed me a small, worn envelope, its edges yellowed with time.

"What is it, Dadaji?" I asked, staring at the letter in confusion.

"A letter your grandfather gave me," he explained. "He told me to keep it safe and give it to you one day—on the day you are suffering the most. And I think... this is that day."

His Bleeding RoseWhere stories live. Discover now