The Eternal Bond: A Saga of Love and Passion

Chapter - 47

Hello guys this is a comparatively small chapter but I guess an important one yes?

I am uploading today itself as a lot of you are asking for updates, hopefully thi chapter will satisfy you.

I would hereby like to tell you all that the sad and tragic part is over totally and that it's time for the happy times to start again.

Target
Votes: 400+
Comments: 55+

Happy reading 🌸
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3 months later~

Author's pov~

It has been three agonizing months since Shivantika slipped into a coma, and the world had stopped for Dhruv. The once lively and ambitious man now appeared as a shadow of his former self. His face, gaunt and hollow, bore the weight of sleepless nights. Dark bags hung heavily beneath his red-rimmed eyes, and his unkempt beard grew wild, a testament to his neglect of everything outside Shivantika's hospital room.

He no longer went to the office, nor did he care for the life that buzzed on outside. Day after day, he sat by her bedside, his hands gently holding hers, fragile and cold. His once strong voice now trembled, but he spoke to her endlessly, as if she could hear him. He recounted every mundane detail of his day, talked about the weather, or the nurse who had become accustomed to his routine.

“I miss you," he would say softly, staring at her peaceful face,

“Every moment, I miss you more than words can say.”  this was his sole routine from the last three month's, he went home just to take a bath and sometimes to have food but only when his family would force him too, otherwise he would even forget to take his food on time.

Every day without fail, Dhruv brought a bouquet of flowers, fresh and fragrant, always with a small sorry note tucked inside. His heart ached with regret for how he had tried to push her away before the accident, how he'd built walls that now seemed so trivial in the face of this endless silence. He placed the flowers by her side, hoping, wishing, praying that one day her eyes would flutter open, and the first thing he'd do would be to apologize—to pour out his heart and beg for her forgiveness.

His family, once filled with laughter and warmth, was now draped in sorrow. The absence of Shivantika was palpable, like the sun had set and refused to rise again. His parents were heartbroken, their home a hollow shell, void of joy, his once cheerful siblings appear to be sad and worried all the time, them smiling became a rare sight for everyone after Shivantika's accident. Shivantika had been the light of their lives, and without her, the darkness felt unbearable. While her own family was equally devastated, a quiet grief that hung over them like a heavy storm, threatening to break but never quite releasing its fury.

Every day felt like an eternity, but Dhruv held on to a fragile thread of hope, the only thing that kept him going.

It was another day, no different from the others, and Dhruv entered Shivantika’s hospital room, holding a fresh bouquet of red roses in his hand. The flowers seemed almost out of place in the sterile, lifeless room, their vibrant colors mocking the stillness that had become his life. He sat down beside her, his usual spot, and gently placed the bouquet on the bedside table, next to the others that had withered with time.

“Hi,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from weeks of emotional strain. He reached for her hand, clasping it between his own, his thumb gently caressing her pale skin.

“I brought you, your favorite flowers again, you always loved red roses right?” he said with a faint smile, though his eyes were glistening with tears.