MR & MRS RAJVANSHI

Whispers Of The HEART ❤️

Hey Hi, 👋🏼

By the way today it's going to be Double update.😊😊

The second update I will post around 8pm. 🫡

I know the Target is not reached 😔 but I appreciate those who gave their vote. 🙏

Guys it's Just a vote that Encourages me to write further. And if possible give a vote and comment as well.

Now I will not disturb you..

Happy Reading 😊

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Author's pov:

Shivani sat on the couch, her eyes flickering to the clock on the wall. The hands had crept past midnight hours ago, and now it was 2 a.m., but Abhimanyu still hadn't returned. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, the night chill creeping into the room as her worry grew heavier with each passing minute.

The house was silent, save for the faint ticking of the clock and the occasional rustle of leaves outside the window. She had been waiting since evening, hoping he'd walk through the door and ease the unease in her chest. Despite everything, she couldn't bring herself to stop caring, couldn't stop hoping for even the smallest gesture that he might still care too.

Her eyelids grew heavy, her body weary from the long day and the emotional toll of waiting. Just a little longer, she told herself, but her resolve faltered. Sleep, persistent and unavoidable, began to claim her. Shivani's head leaned back against the couch, her breaths evening out as she finally dozed off, her heart still quietly longing for the man who was yet to come home.

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The club was alive with a chaotic energy that matched the turmoil inside Abhimanyu. As he stepped through the doors, the loud cheers and roaring applause of the crowd filled his ears. The space was packed, with hundreds of spectators glued to the ongoing match. All eyes were on the boxing ring, where two fighters battled fiercely.

In the ring stood a bulky man, barely 5'6" but built like a mountain, his muscles rippling with each move. He was relentless, kicking and punching his opponent with such force that the poor man coughed up blood, struggling to stay on his feet. The match ended swiftly, the bulky man raising his fists in victory, basking in the crowd's cheers with a smug grin plastered on his face.

Abhimanyu didn't flinch. His emotions were locked away, but his resolve was clear as he stepped into the ring. He slid on the boxing gloves with quiet determination, his expression unreadable. Dheeraj stood near the ropes, watching with a mix of concern and respect. He knew Abhimanyu's strength-knew that no one could rival him in the ring. The guards stationed outside awaited orders, unaware of the storm brewing within their boss.

The bell rang, and the fight began. The bulky man lunged first, throwing wild punches and smashing his fists, but Abhimanyu dodged with practiced ease. His movements were fluid, almost graceful, as he evaded every strike. His opponent, growing frustrated, began to falter under the pressure of Abhimanyu's precision. Every punch Abhimanyu landed was sharp and calculated, a reflection of the pain he carried within.

But this wasn't about winning. This wasn't about glory. Abhimanyu wasn't fighting the bulky man-he was fighting himself. With every swing of his fist, memories of Shivani surfaced. Her face, her forgiveness, her silent heartbreak. The guilt he carried consumed him, and for a brief moment, his focus slipped.