A Web of Love and Deceit

Fractured Bonds

Shivada's heart pounded violently in her chest as she sprinted through the hospital corridors, her vision blurred by tears. The sterile smell of antiseptics filled the air, but her mind was too clouded with panic to notice. When she finally spotted Aadhi sitting outside the ICU, his head hung low, her breath caught in her throat. Blood stained his shirt and hands—a haunting sight that sent a chill coursing through her.

It felt as though the ground beneath her was giving way. She stumbled to him, her voice trembling as she clutched his hands. "Aadhi, what happened?" she sobbed, her eyes searching his face for answers. "What happened to Ram? Why is he in the ICU?"

Aadhi lifted his gaze, his bloodshot eyes reflecting his anguish. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her shoulder.

"He's fine, baby," Aadhi finally whispered, but his broken voice betrayed his words.

"No! No, he's not fine!" Shivada cried, her fists clutching his shirt as if her grip alone could make the pain go away. "If he's fine, why is he in the ICU? Tell me, Aadhi! Please, I'm scared!"

Tears streamed down her face as Aadhi held her closer, his silence louder than any explanation. She felt his body trembling against hers, and the raw vulnerability in his embrace only deepened her fear.

Her sobs grew louder as the weight of the unknown pressed down on her chest. Her parents and Ram's parents arrived moments later, their expressions a mix of worry and confusion. Yet Shivada didn't look up. She couldn't tear herself away from Aadhi's arms, as if staying there would somehow protect her from the truth.

"Ram is strong," Aadhi murmured against her hair, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. "He's going to fight through this, Shivada. I swear he will."

But as she clung to him, the blood on his shirt and the haunted look in his eyes told her that whatever had happened to Ram wasn't something they would forget easily. And for the first time in her life, Shivada felt utterly powerless.

Maya's soft yet firm voice broke through the heavy silence. "Shivada," she said gently, her voice trembling with a mother's pain. Tears glistened in her eyes, but a fierce determination burned behind them. Ram wasn't just her nephew; he was her son in every way that mattered. And the thought of someone inflicting such cruelty on him made her blood boil.

She wiped her tears with trembling hands and crouched beside her daughter, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Honey, listen to me," Maya said, her voice steadier now. "Your dad and I need to ask Aadhi what happened. We need to find those bastards and make sure they pay for this. Ram deserves justice."

Maya's eyes flicked to Jayaram, who stood by the corridor, his phone in hand. "Did you call the police?" she asked, her tone sharpening with resolve.

Jayaram nodded grimly. "Yes, I called them. They're on their way." Being a respected judge, he had already set the wheels of justice in motion. The officers, aware of his stature and unwavering sense of fairness, promised swift action.

Jayaram's jaw tightened as he paced the corridor. "They won't get away with this," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

Shivada hesitated for a moment before nodding and letting go of Aadhi's hands. Her heart felt as though it was breaking into a million pieces, but she trusted her parents to fight for Ram. She walked away slowly and sank into a chair, her body trembling as the weight of the night pressed on her.

In a corner of the waiting area, Ram's mother sat in stunned silence, her face pale and expressionless. She hadn't said a word since arriving, and the sight of her son lying unconscious behind the ICU doors seemed to have drained her of all emotion.