Shackles of Sacrifice

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Shiva's POV

The journey to the hospital felt like an eternity—a suffocating, agonizing ride through my worst nightmare. Every passing second stretched painfully as the weight of fear and guilt crushed me. My Ram is there, in that cold, sterile place, fighting for his life. Fighting for us.

Aadhi was at the wheel, his hands gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He said nothing, the silence between us crackling with tension. I noticed him stealing glances at me, his eyes flickering with unspoken questions. He wanted to ask something—no, needed to—but held back, perhaps sensing the storm raging inside me.

He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes making his sharp gaze even more intense. But beneath that fatigue, there was a fire burning—a fiery rage that would consume whoever dared harm Ram. I knew that fire because I felt it too, a searing need for vengeance clawing at my insides.

And yet, it wasn't enough to quell the gnawing guilt in my heart. This is all because of me. My cowardice, my hesitation—I failed him. I failed us. I should have stood by Ram from the beginning, but instead, I let my fear ruin everything. I destroyed Aadhi's happiness too, keeping him and Shivada apart with my selfishness.

I'm a curse.

But no more. I can't hide any longer. I won't. Ram needs me now, and for him—for the love we share—I'll fight. I'll fight with every ounce of strength I have left.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the road ahead. I clenched my fists, willing them to stay hidden, but they betrayed me, spilling over silently. The car jerked slightly as Aadhi reached over, his hand landing on my shoulder, firm yet comforting.

"We're here," he said, his voice low but steady.

I turned to him, and our gazes locked. He noticed the tears streaking down my face, his brow furrowing in a mixture of concern and determination.

"Nothing will happen to Ram," he said, his words more of a promise than a reassurance. "He's a fighter."

I nodded weakly, swallowing the lump in my throat, and stepped out of the car. My legs felt like lead, but I forced myself to move forward. I had to be strong—for Ram, for my love.

As we approached the ICU, my heart clenched painfully at the sight before me. Shivada sat there, a ghost of the person she once was. Her eyes were glued to the ICU door, wide and unblinking, as if she believed that sheer hope and love could will it to open and bring Ram back to her.

It was a Shivada I couldn't recognize.

She had always been a beacon of light, her laughter contagious, her smile so radiant it could warm even the coldest hearts. But now... her light was dimmed, nearly extinguished. Her hair, usually so carefully kept, hung around her face in wild, unruly strands. She wore a faded, wrinkled dress that looked like it had been pulled from the bottom of a drawer, and her tear-streaked cheeks and swollen eyes told the story of a night spent drowning in anguish.

I couldn't look at her without feeling the weight of guilt pressing down on me. This was the girl who once loved me so fiercely, who smiled through her pain when I rejected her, and who eventually gave all that love to my brother. She loved Aadhi with everything she had. And now, she was breaking, shattering before our eyes.

When her gaze shifted to us, it didn't linger on me. Instead, her eyes locked onto Aadhi as if he were her only anchor in a world that was spinning out of control. She didn't blink; she didn't even breathe.

"Aadhi..." she whispered, her voice a broken echo of itself.

Aadhi moved before she could say another word. He was at her side in an instant, dropping to his knees in front of her, his large hands gently taking hers.

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