you are my destiny

Chapter 52.

~Fragments of the Storm~

The hospital corridor was silent, the sterile scent of antiseptic hanging heavily in the air. Ahana lay in a private room, wrapped in layers of bandages, her body weak but alive. Machines beeped steadily beside her, but it was her eyes—haunted, hollow—that told the real story.

Abhimaan sat quietly beside her, holding her hand gently. His thumb stroked hers as if trying to reassure himself that she was really there. Her mother, Gauri, sat on the opposite side, barely holding back tears. Yash stood by the window, his fists clenched and eyes red. The room was filled with love, but nothing could erase what she had endured.

A lady inspector stood at the foot of her bed, a soft-spoken psychologist next to her. The officer’s voice was gentle but firm. “Ahana... we need your statement. Only if you feel comfortable. We’ll proceed at your pace.”

Ahana hesitated. The memories clawed at her mind. But she nodded slowly. “I… I’ll try.”

Everyone in the room held their breath.

Ahana’s voice trembled as she began.

“I woke up in a dim room. The air was damp, the light from a single bulb too bright. My wrists were tied behind me… my ankles too. There was a gag in my mouth. I didn’t know where I was... or why…”

Her breathing hitched. Abhimaan’s hand tightened slightly around hers, but he didn’t speak.

“Then he came in. He wore a black hoodie, a cap, and a mask… I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel the cruelty in his eyes. He—he sounded calm. Too calm. Like he enjoyed what he was about to do.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as the memory unfolded.

“He spoke softly, telling me how I’d feel everything… how I’d break. He pressed a knife against my cheek, made shallow cuts—just enough to scare me. And then he started talking about how he’d hurt me until I begged him to kill me.”

Ahana looked away, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“He used… so many ways to cause pain. A wooden rod. He hit me until it broke. My ribs… I could feel something crack. Then he poured ice water over me, and left me tied up there. I couldn’t scream. The music was so loud I could barely think.”

Gauri stifled a sob. Yash turned away, wiping his eyes. Abhimaan leaned closer, gently brushing Ahana’s hair back.

“He hung me by my arms... and whipped me with something—something that had spikes. I bled. A lot. Then he brought in burning coals and chili peppers… the smell, the coughing—it burned my lungs. He watched like it was entertainment.”

Her voice was becoming more strained. The psychologist signaled gently, but Ahana shook her head.

“No, I need to finish.

He poured salt water into my wounds. Every cut screamed. He laughed while I cried. He… forced water into my mouth when I was barely able to breathe. And then he stabbed me… my leg. Multiple times. When I tried to run.”

She paused, her face pale. Her next words were a whisper:

“He said he wanted me to suffer. That I reminded him of someone he hated. He didn’t care who I was. I was just... his target.”

Silence followed her words.

The inspector swallowed, visibly disturbed. “Thank you, Ahana. That was… brave. We’ll have a sketch artist come by and talk through any details you might remember—voice, build, movements. You’re safe now.”