"Rudra Malhotra naam toh suna hoga ?"
Rudra is the epitome of charisma-outgoing, charming, and unabashedly playful. He has an infectious laugh and a quick wit that makes him the life of the party. His flirty nature often leads to playful banter and...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My mind was a canvas, splattered with fragmented memories like shattered glass. Rahul's twisted face loomed, a dark storm cloud that unleashed a torrent of pain. The knife's deadly kiss had left an indelible scar, a gash that ripped through my soul.
As I struggled to regain consciousness, Rudra's desperate voice was a lifeline, a beacon of hope in the tempest. "Ruhanika, stay with me. Don't leave me." But our child, our tiny, delicate flower, had withered away. Its petals once held promise, now crushed by the cruel hand of fate.
Tears rained down, a deluge of sorrow that threatened to drown me. My heart was a hollowed tree, its branches shattered, its roots severed. Where was I? Why did I hurt? Why couldn't I remember the moments after the attack? A gentle touch on my hand, warm as sunlight, brought me back to the present.
"Rooh, can you hear me?" Rudra's voice, a melody of worry and longing, cut through the haze. I opened my eyes, squinting against the bright light that pierced my soul like a thousand daggers. Rudra's face swam into focus, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, his skin pale as moonlight.
Tears streaked his cheeks, tracing paths of sorrow that seemed to deepen with every passing moment. "Rudra..." I whispered, my voice barely audible, my throat dry as the desert. My mouth felt cottony, my lips cracked and sore, like the pages of a worn book. Rudra's grip on my hand tightened, his fingers intertwined with mine in a desperate hold.
"My love," he whispered back, his voice cracking with emotion. "Welcome back." But something was wrong. A nagging sense of loss, a hollow ache within me, like a missing puzzle piece. "Rudra..." I said, my voice shaking, my heart racing with foreboding. "Our child...?"
Rudra's face crumpled, his eyes welling up with tears that spilled down his cheeks like a river. "I'm so sorry, Ruhanika," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Sorry. Sorry it wasn't enough. Our child was gone. The words echoed in my mind, a cruel refrain that repeated itself with every beat of my heart.
Gone. Our baby. Our future. The thought shattered me, leaving me breathless and broken. I screamed. And screamed. And screamed. Until darkness claimed me again, a merciful silence that enveloped me like a shroud. But even in the darkness, the pain lingered. A gnawing ache. A hollow void. A loss that could never be filled.
I clutched my stomach, doubled over in anguish, as if trying to hold onto the life that was lost. My body shook violently, convulsions of grief racking my frame.
"Nooooooo! My baby!" I wailed, my voice shredding my throat, leaving it raw and bleeding.
Tears streamed down my face, a torrent of grief that couldn't be contained. They flowed like rivers, filling the space around me with salty sorrow.
I lashed out, flailing my arms, sending hospital equipment crashing to the floor. Monitors beeped wildly, their alarms silenced by the chaos of my sorrow.
