Oneshots- S3 (Completed)

44| Ek Mulaqaat

In a small village nestled between lush green hills, where tradition often held more sway than love, there lived two souls whose hearts beat as one-Nischay and Y/n.

Their love was as pure as it was forbidden, a bond forged in the fires of youthful passion but thwarted by the unyielding chains of caste divisions and discrimination.

Nischay, a young man of fierce determination and gentle heart belonged to a lower caste. Y/n, once of radiant and full of life was the daughter of the village head, a man whose pride in his lineage was matched only by his disdain for those he deemed beneath him.

Despite their societal chasm, Nischay and Y/n found solace in each other's arms, dreaming of a future where their love could flourish without fear.

One fateful evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the fields, Nischay and Y/n met in their secret spot by the old banyan tree. The air was thick with anticipation and the scent of jasmine.

"Nischay," Y/n whispered, her eyes reflecting the fading light, "why does the world make it so hard for us to be together?"

Nischay took her hands in his, their fingers interlocking perfectly. "Y/n, no matter what, I will always love you. We will find a way, I promise."

Just as they were about to hug each other, a thunderous voice shattered their reverie. "Y/n!" Her father, a towering figure of authority, stood with his men, rage contorting his features. "How dare you go against me!"

"Papa please try to understand," Y/n pleaded, stepping in front of Nischay. "We love each other. Please try to understand."

But her father's anger knew no bounds. "Love? With him? Never! I do not want to understand anything else." He signaled to his men, and they advanced menacingly towards Nischay.

"Nischay, run!" Y/n screamed, but it was too late. The men descended upon him, fists and kicks raining down upon him with merciless precision.

Desperation fueled Y/n's actions as she threw herself into the facade, trying to shield Nischay with her own body. "Stop! You are killing him! Leave him!" She cried, but her words fell on deaf ears.

One of the men, in a brutal act of cruelty, shoved her aside with such force that her head struck a large rock lying by the road.

Y/n crumpled to the ground, blood seeping from the wound. Her father's fury dissipated in an instant, replaced by horror. "Stop! Leave him!" He ordered, rushing to his daughter's side.

As she was hurriedly taken to the hospital, Nischay lay unconscious on the dirt road, a testament to love's violent struggle against hatred.

In the sterile confines of the hospital, Y/n drifted in and out of consciousness. Nischay, battered but driven by love managed to sneak in, leaving a bloody handprint on the glass door of her room-a silent vow of his enduring presence.

The doctors delivered grim news: the head injury had paralyzed Y/n, confining her to a wheelchair for the rest of her life.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/n's once cheerful spirit withered under the weight of separation from Nischay. Her mother, seeing the light fade from her daughter's eyes took a bold step, not being able to see Y/n's helplessness.

Clutching a container of vermilion, she went to Nischay's house, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Please," she implored, "make her yours forever. I accept you Nischay. I am with you."

Nischay, touched by her plea, resolved to reunite with Y/n, no matter the cost. He set out, heart pounding with a mix of hope and dread. This time, he faced the men who had once overpowered him, fighting back with a ferocity born of desperation.

The battle was fierce, but Nischay emerged victorious-until a knife plunged into his back, wielded by a coward in the shadows. Blood poured from the wound, staining his path as he staggered towards Y/n's house.

The yearly puja celebration was in full swing, vibrant and joyous, a stark contrast to the turmoil within Y/n. As if sensing his presence, she felt a surge of strength and miraculously, stood from her wheelchair.

The crowd gasped as she took her first tentative steps, her eyes searching for Nischay.

When their eyes met, time seemed to stand still. Y/n ran to him, tears streaming down her face and threw herself into his arms. "Nischay," she sobbed, "you are here."

He hugged her tightly, savouring the moment despite the searing pain in his back. "I told you Y/n. Nothing can keep us apart."

But then Y/n felt something warm and wet against her hands. Pulling back, she saw her fingers stained with blood. "Nischay?" She whispered, panic rising in her chest. His eyes fluttered and he collapsed, his head resting in her lap.

"No, no, no!" Y/n cried, her voice breaking. "Stay with me Nischay. Please, do not leave me. I love you and I cannot live without you. Please. Everything is alright now. I am here."

With his last breath, Nischay smiled up at her, his love shining through the agony. "I love you Y/n. Forever."

As the life ebbed from his body, Y/n held him close, her tears mingling with his blood. In the midst of celebration, under a sky filled with fireworks, their love story thought to be for lifetime together reached its heartbreaking conclusion.

Nischay had defied fate and society to be with his beloved, and though their time together was cruelly cut short, their love remained eternal-a poignant reminder of the sacrifices love demands and the strength it bestows.

In the years that followed, the village would remember their tale, a love that transcended boundaries and left an indelible mark on the hearts of those who heard it.

And though Y/n's life would never be the same, she carried Nischay's love with her, a beacon of hope and resilience in a world often divided by hate.

The end🖤😭

-Moonlight✨🎀