𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬♛ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧⚚

39⚚ Hers & His

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Author POV:

Viraj moved his jaw slightly, feeling the sting of her slap, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He forced himself to look at her again, but she still wouldn't meet his gaze.

Just when he was about to speak, her voice cut through the silence—soft yet sharp, like a blade sinking into his soul.

"This slap isn't for betraying me," she whispered, her voice trembling yet steady. "Not for keeping secrets from me. Not even for hiding the truth about my father."

She finally lifted her head, and the moment their eyes met, Viraj felt his breath leave his lungs. He had seen her in every state—pouting, laughing, crying, even furious—but this... this shattered emptiness in her eyes?

This hollowness?

It was something he had never seen before.

"It's for lying to me, Viraj."

He sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body tensing. She had called him Viraj.

Not Vijulu. Not Raj. Not my love. Just Viraj.

His throat clenched, and a lone tear slipped down his cheek, but he didn't wipe it away. He deserved it.

He gulped, trying to find words, trying to say something. "Bab—"

"Don't," she cut him off, her voice barely above a whisper. "You owe me two wishes, don't you?"

Viraj's heart pounded violently in his chest. His head spun with dread.

"Before you even try to speak," she continued, her voice breaking, "I want you to grant me a wish now—"

She took a shaky breath, her hands clenching into fists.

"Don't stand in front of me. Don't look at me. Don't talk to me. Don't touch me. Don't love me, Viraj," she whispered, her voice barely holding itself together.

"Just leave me alone."

Her breath hitched as she clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear you. I don't want to feel you. So, please... if you ever truly loved me, just go."

Her voice cracked on the last word, but she held back her sob, refusing to let him see her break again.

Viraj felt like the ground beneath him had crumbled.

His ears rang, his breath hitched, his knees nearly gave out.

This was worse than any wound, worse than any pain he had ever endured. Because for the first time in his life, his baby—his everything—was pushing him away.

And the worst part?

She has right to do it.

His lips parted, desperate to argue, to beg her to take it back, but she only looked at him, her expression unreadable.

"You promised me, Viraj," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of a thousand shattered dreams. "You said you will grant me any two wishes. This is one of them."

Viraj's entire world collapsed in that moment.

His chest ached with an unbearable weight, his heart hammering in protest, screaming at him to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

But he had made her a promise.

And he had already broken so many.

With his jaw clenched so tight it hurt, he gave her one last look—trying, pleading—for her to see how much this was destroying him.