Eternal Love ♡

04 ♡

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The morning sunlight crept through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room as Anaya slowly opened her eyes. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, and then her gaze shifted to the man beside her—Abhimaan. In sleep, his harsh features softened, and for a fleeting moment, he looked almost gentle, peaceful, like the person she wished he could be. Yet, she reminded herself of the cold words he’d spoken last night, hardening her resolve as she quietly slipped out of bed, determined to face the day on her terms.

Anaya tiptoed to the bathroom, freshened up, and dressed in a simple yet elegant saree, hoping to make a good impression. She brushed her hair and began twisting it into a neat bun, glancing at herself in the mirror, gathering courage for whatever lay ahead. She was about to leave the room when Abhimaan stirred awake. He watched her silently for a moment, taking in her appearance, his gaze unwavering.

Abhimaan: “Kahaan ja rahi ho?”

Anaya turned, surprised by the sudden question. She hesitated before responding, trying to keep her tone steady. “Woh… neeche jaa rahi thi. Pehla din hai shaadi ke baad, toh rasmein hoti hain na?”

He scoffed, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Kis se pooch kar yeh sab kar rahi ho? Yeh koi love marriage nahi hai jo tum typical ‘bahu’ banne ki koshish mein lagi ho. Mere maa-baap tumhe pasand nahi karte. Aur main toh tumhe nafrat karta hoon.” His words struck her like a blow, and she forced herself to keep her composure, swallowing the pain.

Without another word, she left the room, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. Behind her, Abhimaan watched her leave, feeling a strange pang of irritation. Did she just ignore me? He clenched his jaw, making a mental note to deal with it later. He got up to start his morning, brushing off the unsettling thoughts.

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Anaya descended the stairs, finding the grand hall empty. Feeling slightly lost, she made her way to the kitchen, where a maid helped her prepare a small breakfast. As she sat alone at the table, she asked the maid where everyone was.

Maid: “Ji, sab subah hi kahin chale gaye. Breakfast toh sirf aapka tha.”

Anaya tried to hide her disappointment. So they didn’t even care to have breakfast together. She nodded, finishing her meal quietly. Just as she was about to head back upstairs, she saw Abhimaan coming down the staircase, already dressed for the office and talking on his phone. He glanced her way, his gaze flickering over her before he ended the call.

Abhimaan: “Hogaya breakfast?”

Anaya nodded, “Hanji, hogaya.”

As she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm, his grip tight enough to make her wince. She gasped, “Abhimaan, yeh kya… please, haath chhodiye… dard ho raha hai.”

He leaned close, his voice dangerously low. “Mujhe dobara ignore mat karna, samjhi? I don’t like being dismissed.” He released her with a forceful push, leaving her momentarily shaken.

What did I do wrong? she thought, clutching her aching arm as she watched him walk out the door.

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The rest of the day passed in an unsettling silence. Anaya kept herself busy, trying to ignore the loneliness that crept up on her. By evening, she was in her room reading, but the solitude and silence felt oppressive. Feeling thirsty, she reached for the water jug on the side table, only to find it empty. She headed downstairs to grab a water bottle from the kitchen.

As she approached the main hall, Shalini, who had just returned home, spotted her. Shalini’s eyes narrowed with distaste, and an idea formed in her mind. She filled a glass with water, then deliberately spilled it on the floor, shattering it with a subtle kick.

Anaya, unaware of the shards, continued walking and suddenly felt a sharp, excruciating pain as her foot landed on the broken glass.

Anaya: “Aahhh!” She screamed, clutching her foot as blood trickled from the cuts. Tears filled her eyes as she collapsed to the floor, struggling to lift herself, the pain searing with every movement.

From a window upstairs, Shalini watched, smirking with satisfaction. “Sochti thi meri bahu banegi. Shakal toh dekho, akal bilkul nahi,” she muttered before turning away.

Downstairs, Anaya continued to cry softly, unsure of how to help herself with the wound throbbing in pain. Just then, she heard footsteps approaching quickly.

Abhimaan: “Anaya? Kya hua?” He rushed over, his voice laced with concern as he took in the sight of her tear-streaked face and bleeding foot.

She looked up, surprised by the unexpected tenderness in his voice. “Abhimaan… woh… pair…”

Without another word, he knelt down, gently lifting her foot to examine the wound. “Itna khoon… tum thik ho?” he muttered under his breath. Then, he scooped her up into his arms, carrying her to the sofa, his expression unreadable.

Anaya: “Mujhe dard ho raha hai…” she whimpered, her hand clutching his shirt for support.

Abhimaan: “Bas chup, kuch nahi hoga.” He retrieved the first aid kit and sat down beside her, carefully tending to her wounds. His hands were surprisingly gentle, and for a brief moment, Anaya forgot all the bitterness between them.

Hen then gently took her in her arms went up to his room make up lay on the bed did her first said and as so she was tired she slept.
Abhimann thought something and decided to watch the cctv .

As Abhimaan watched the CCTV footage, disbelief settled into anger. He rewound it a few times, trying to process what he'd just seen—his mother, Shalini, deliberately breaking the glass and setting a cruel trap for Anaya. His jaw clenched, and a bitter taste filled his mouth. This wasn’t just about disliking Anaya; it was calculated cruelty.

He looked back toward the bed, where Anaya lay sleeping peacefully, unaware of the truth. Her face, though pale from exhaustion and pain, held a quiet innocence that made him feel an unfamiliar pang of protectiveness.

"How could Maa do this?" he murmured, his voice low but laced with fury. He hadn’t imagined his mother could stoop to such a level, no matter how much she resented Anaya. This crossed every line, and the realization gnawed at him, sparking an unexpected surge of guilt.

He walked over to Anaya, carefully tucking the blanket closer around her, watching as her brow furrowed slightly, even in sleep. Her foot was still bandaged, and he noticed the faint tear marks on her cheeks. The image was hard to shake—how vulnerable she looked, and how much he’d contributed to her pain.

"Anaya," he whispered to himself, his voice softening, "I never thought it would come to this."

Turning back to the monitor, he clenched his fists, anger boiling just beneath the surface. "… you will regret this ma . "
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