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The sight of Aisha's limp body in my arms sent a chill down my spine that I'd never felt before. The woman who had challenged me, defied me, and ignited emotions within me that I thought I was incapable of feeling, was now unconscious, vulnerable, and so fragile in my arms. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Her breaths were shallow, her skin pale, and her usually vibrant eyes were closed, hiding the fire that always seemed to burn within them.
I had known fear before-on the battlefield, in the cutthroat world of business-but nothing had ever terrified me like seeing Aisha in this state. I had been prepared for her anger, her hatred even, but not this. Not the possibility that my actions, my decisions, could cause her harm. The realization struck me hard, a heavy weight settling in my chest. I had done this to her. I had pushed her too far.
"Aisha," I whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. There was no response, only the faint rise and fall of her chest. I couldn't lose her. The thought was unbearable, more than I could handle.
I needed help, and fast. Without wasting another moment, I carefully scooped her up in my arms, carrying her out of the secret room. The documents, the photograph-everything that had led her to this moment-lay scattered on the floor, but they were the least of my concerns now. All that mattered was Aisha. I had to make sure she was okay, had to do whatever it took to bring her back to me.
As I carried her through the dimly lit hallways, my mind raced. I had to think clearly, had to act quickly. There was no time for hesitation or doubt. Reaching my study, I placed her gently on the leather couch, her body so light and lifeless. It was a stark contrast to the fiery woman I had grown to care for, the woman who had turned my world upside down. I knelt beside her, my hand lingering on her cheek, the warmth of her skin doing little to ease the cold fear gripping my heart.
I pulled out my phone with a shaky hand and dialed a number I rarely used. My brothers, Viraj and Yashraj, were the only ones I could trust with this, the only ones who could help me navigate this nightmare. As the phone rang, I found myself praying-something I hadn't done in years-that they would answer, that they would know what to do.
"Yuvraj?" Viraj's voice came through, calm and steady as always, but with an edge of concern that told me he sensed something was wrong.
"Viraj," I breathed, trying to steady my voice. "I need you. I need both of you. It's Aisha... she's... she's unconscious, and I don't know what to do. Please, just come."
There was a brief pause, and then I heard the rustling of movement on the other end. "We're on our way. Hang tight, Yuvraj. We'll be there in a few minutes."
I ended the call, my hands still trembling. It was unlike me to lose control, to feel so helpless, but Aisha had always had a way of unraveling me, of making me feel things I thought were long buried. I looked down at her, lying so still, and my heart ached in a way I couldn't comprehend. I had never cared for anyone the way I cared for her, and that realization was as terrifying as it was profound.
