A Web of Love and Deceit

Bloodstains of Betrayal

Shivada's POV

Something's wrong... definitely wrong... The words kept echoing in my mind after Ram abruptly cut the call. Dread gripped my heart.

Oh god...

I rushed toward the couch where Amma and Acha were sitting, both of them looking up at me with concern as they noticed my panicked expression.

"What happened, dear?" Amma asked anxiously, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

"Amma... It's Ram... something's wrong. He just called me, said sorry while crying, and then cut the call. We have to go to his house—please, Amma, please!"

Without a moment's hesitation, both Acha and Amma jumped to their feet. We didn't waste another second. The three of us rushed out the door, hearts racing, praying we weren't already too late.

Ram's mother was sitting on the porch, her eyes filled with confusion as she saw us rushing toward her. She stood up abruptly, her brows furrowed.

"What happened, Shivada?" she asked, puzzled.

"Where is Ram?" I demanded, my voice tight with panic.

"He's in his room... why?"

I didn't wait for another word. I bolted past her, my heartbeat thudding in my ears as I reached his door. It was locked.

"Ram! Ram, open the door!" I screamed, banging on the door with all my strength, my voice cracking with desperation.

The silence behind the door chilled me to the bone.

Acha ran up beside me, his face pale with fear. Without hesitation, he threw his weight against the door, over and over until, with a loud crack, it finally gave way.

The door burst open—what I saw next will haunt me forever.

There he was—my Ram, my brother, lying motionless in a pool of blood, his skin pale as death itself. The sight shattered something inside me.

A scream tore from my throat, raw and endless, echoing through the house like a curse. My knees gave way, but before darkness could swallow me, my mother's trembling hands gripped my shoulders, shaking me back to reality.

"Shivada! Help us carry him!" Her voice was thick with urgency and fear.

I stumbled forward, my hands shaking as I cradled his cold, limp body. His blood seeped into my clothes, but I didn't care—I just wanted him to stay with me, to open his eyes and call me Shoebill one more time.

Ram's mother rushed in, a soul-wrenching wail escaping her lips as she collapsed beside him. The grief in her voice clawed at my heart, but we didn't have time to fall apart.

My acha roared from the doorway, "We need to get him to the hospital, now!"

We carried him as fast as we could, his body growing colder with every passing second. The car ride was a blur of prayers and pleading—Stay with me, Ram. Please don't leave me. Just hold on.

The only sound louder than my heartbeat was the deafening silence from Ram.

Throughout the entire journey, Ram's mother wailed in pure agony, her cries echoing the kind of heartbreak only a mother could feel—or so I thought. Between sobs, she begged the gods, Why punish my son? Why punish me? But then her grief twisted into something darker—blame. Why would you do this, Ram? Her words, meant as sorrow, stabbed like knives.

When we reached the hospital, the doctors rushed Ram into the emergency room without wasting a second. I stood frozen in the lobby, my hands and clothes drenched in his blood, the metallic scent clawing at my throat, refusing to let me forget the horror we'd just lived through.