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तू भागीरथी सा हो जा मैं अलकनंदा हो जाऊँ
कर तुझे खुद मे समर्पित.. फिर मैं गंगा हो जाऊँ
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Adhiraj's voice was low, chilling in its finality as he repeated, "Everyone died... the death they deserved. Death befitting their sins."
The words reverberated through me, each syllable heavy with an unspoken storm of anguish and rage. My body shivered—not from fear but from the weight of his torment. Sitting there, wrapped in his arms, I felt as though I was cradling a man who had fought battles no one should ever endure. Battles that had stripped him of his peace, leaving him haunted by ghosts that refused to rest.
I couldn't let him stay buried in that darkness. Raising my hands, I cupped his face, forcing his gaze to meet mine. The depth of pain in his eyes was staggering. "And what about you, Raj?" I asked softly, though my voice trembled. "Did you feel anything when they died? Satisfaction? Relief?"
His silence was deafening, stretching out like a chasm between us. Then, at last, he spoke, his tone hollow, like a man recounting a story that had long since broken him. "No. There was no satisfaction. No relief. Only emptiness. Because nothing—nothing—could bring her back."
His words slammed into me, stealing the breath from my lungs. My heart ached for the boy he once was, trying to hold onto a promise that fate cruelly shattered. Tears stung my eyes, and I had to force myself to speak, my voice quivering. "Then why do you keep punishing yourself for something you couldn't change?"
He let out a bitter laugh, sharp and broken. "Because it was my duty to protect her. And I failed." His words cracked like thunder, raw and unrelenting. "I swore I would keep her safe, and I let her slip through my fingers. How can I forgive myself for that?"
I stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of his guilt. What could I possibly say to a man who had carried this burden for so long? My fingers trembled as I brushed his cheek, silently pleading for him to let me in. But then his voice dropped, softer now, as though he was confessing a wound he had never dared share.
