They were an unbreakable couple since school. Still, he cheated on her.
She loved him with all of her. Still, he broke her into millions of pieces.
She has no one except him. He has someone other than her.
She was tolerating bad behavior of his fami...
Talab aisi ki bahoon me Samaloon tujhe, Kismat aisi ki Dekhne ko bhi tarsu
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The dim lights buzzed faintly above, casting a dull yellow hue over the room. Machines blinked and beeped softly beside the hospital bed. Sterile sheets, stiff pillows, pale walls. Everything around felt... too clean, too lifeless.
And in the middle of it all—him. Adair. Still. Pale. Unmoving.
Mishti stepped inside like she didn't belong there. Her footsteps were light... unsure. Her breath shallow, as if breathing too loud might wake the gods before it woke him.
She stopped near the edge of the bed.
Her eyes stung, but she blinked fast. She had no right to cry now—not after holding it in for days in front of everyone. Not after telling herself that he'd be fine.
But he didn't look fine. He looked like he was floating between two worlds, and one wrong whisper might pull him away from this one forever.
Mishti sat on the narrow table next to the bed, awkwardly, her knees almost brushing the metal railing. She reached out—hesitant fingers curling over his hand. His skin was warm. But not warm enough.
She didn't say anything. She couldn't. The lump in her throat was too big.
Instead, she leaned forward, gently resting her forehead against his hand. And the moment her skin touched his... She cracked.
A sob slipped out. Quiet. Guttural. Her shoulders trembled. The tears she'd buried behind fake smiles, behind helping everyone, behind pretending to be okay—spilled out, soaking the bedsheet and his hand beneath hers.
"You stupid man..." She whispered into his skin like a secret.
"Red light kyu nahi dikhi tumhe... An..." (Why didn't you see the red light... An...)
She froze mid-word. Her lips trembled. Her jaw tightened.
Ansh.
She almost called him Ansh again. Her heart always went there first. But this wasn't him. This was Adair.
She bit her lower lip hard and squeezed her eyes shut.
Why did it feel like she was always losing someone?
And then...
"Tumhare alawa kuch nahi dekha maine." (I didn't see anything except you.)
Her breath caught. She blinked. Hard.
Her head jerked up, neck stiff with disbelief.
He was awake.
His eyes—sleepy, bloodshot, but open—were looking right at her. His gaze didn't waver. Not once.
