Always Yours

we can try....

Ignore grammatical mistake

Please follow me on instagram and stck.me

********************************

A Night of Guilt and Desperation

The clock had just struck 2 AM when Rudra stepped out of his car, his boots crunching against the damp earth. A small, isolated farmhouse stood before him, swallowed by the dense jungle surrounding it. At the entrance, two armed guards stood like statues, their grip firm on their rifles as they gave him a nod of acknowledgment. Without a word, Rudra pushed open the heavy wooden door and walked inside.

The dimly lit room carried an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves outside. On the lone bed, a frail pregnant woman lay, her face pale, her breathing shallow. A female doctor hovered beside her, checking her vitals.

Rudra strode forward, his voice sharp yet laced with concern. “How is she now? And why the hell wasn’t I informed about this?”

The doctor hesitated before answering. “Sir, I did tell her to inform you… but she refused.”

Rudra’s gaze snapped to the woman on the bed. She looked up at him with tired, sorrow-filled eyes and, with a weak grip, caught his wrist. Slowly, she pulled herself up into a sitting position and gestured for him to sit beside her.

“How could I tell you, Rudra?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I know how much pain you’re already in.”

Her grip on his hand tightened as tears slipped down her cheeks. Then, resting her forehead against his knuckles, she broke down completely. “Maybe even God won’t forgive me for what I’ve done. This is all my fault—only mine. If you ever find it in your heart, forgive me. And please… let me go. Free me from this suffocating guilt, from this life that feels more like a prison.”

Rudra stiffened. A shadow of torment crossed his face as he exhaled sharply, pulling away and rising to his feet. He turned toward the window, staring into the pitch-black night. His voice, when it came, was quiet but heavy with emotion.

“I don’t pass my guilt onto others,” he murmured. “This… this is my fault. Because Mahak is my wife. I took seven vows with her, promised to protect her… and maybe—maybe I never even deserved her.”

His fists clenched as his throat burned with unshed grief. “But if God really needs a life in return, then let him take mine—not hers. I can’t live without her.”

A lone tear escaped the corner of his eye. He wiped it away swiftly, but the weight in his chest remained.

Behind him, the woman swallowed back her own sobs. “Don’t say that, Rudra. Please. I’ll pray—I’ll pray with everything I have that both of you make it through this. And I believe Mahak will recover. There must be another way to save her, some other option… Think, Saheb. We can’t give up like this.”

Rudra heard her words. Every single one of them. But he didn’t reply. Without another glance, he turned and walked out of the farmhouse, his footsteps heavy with the weight of a battle he wasn’t sure he could win.

Minutes later, his car came to a screeching halt outside Singh Mansion.

But for the first time in his life, Rudra didn’t know if he had the strength to step inside.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Rudra stepped inside the house. As he made his way to his room, his gaze instinctively drifted toward Gauri’s room—where Neel had his arms wrapped around her.

For a brief moment, Rudra stood still, watching them. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

Reining in the storm within, he pushed open the door to his room and flicked on the lights. His eyes immediately landed on Mahak’s framed photograph hanging on the wall. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he stepped forward and let his fingers trace the outline of her face. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against the cold glass, exhaling a heavy breath.

“This… this isn’t easy,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Seeing you like this.”

With one last lingering look at the photograph, he turned away. After freshening up,
Rudra lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a chaotic mess. The walls around him felt suffocating, holding echoes of a past he couldn't grasp anymore. Mahak’s scent still lingered in the air—soft, familiar, tormenting. It made his chest tighten.

He turned to his side, his fingers absentmindedly trailing over the empty space beside him. It was cold. Hollow. Just like him.

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. You left, but you never really did, did you, Mahak?

Closing his eyes, he let exhaustion take over, but sleep refused to come. Instead, his mind replayed the moment from his and her moments

Rudra shut his eyes, and for a moment, it felt so real—Mahak’s fingers threading through his hair, her touch feather-light yet searing. Her voice, a whisper against his ear, sent chills down his spine.

"Rudra… where are you?"

His eyes snapped open. A cold sweat clung to his skin as he jolted upright in bed. The clock read at 6 AM. Shaking off the eerie sensation, he got up, freshened himself, and headed straight for the hospital.

As soon as he stepped into Mahak’s room, Dr. Malhotra was already there, examining her. Rudra waited impatiently until the doctor finally stepped out.

"I’ve checked everything," Dr. Malhotra sighed. "But there’s no progress. We’re trying our best, but—"

Rudra didn’t let him finish. Ignoring everything else, he walked straight to Mahak’s bedside. His gaze softened as he cupped her hand, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. Closing his eyes, he murmured, "Enough, Babydoll… Don’t punish me like this anymore."

He sat there, watching her, searching for even the slightest sign of movement. But then, something twisted inside him—a suffocating weight in his chest.

Mahak’s voice echoed in his mind.

"Rudra… it’s getting hard to breathe. I—"

A wave of panic crashed over him. His fists clenched as an unsettling fear took hold. Without a second thought, he stormed out of the room and barged into Dr. Malhotra’s meeting.

"Rudra, wait—"

No one could stop him. His patience was hanging by a thread, and the moment he reached the doctor’s desk, he slammed his hands down, voice edged with desperation and fury.

"I want my Babydoll fine—NOW! If you can’t do anything, just tell me. I’ll take her out of this goddamn country if I have to! Do whatever it takes, but I swear to God, fix her. I respect your profession, Dr. Malhotra, but don’t test me. If a week from now, she’s still like this, you won’t be standing in front of me anymore."

Neel grabbed his arm, trying to calm him, but Rudra barely registered it.

Then, out of the tense silence, Dr. Chaudhary spoke up.

"There might be a way," he said carefully. "It’s risky, but worth considering. Based on everything we’ve observed, this could be linked to her past… to her family."

Rudra stilled.

"We need to bring her family to Lucknow. Only after knowing the full truth can we move forward with her treatment."

Without responding to Dr. Chaudhary’s words, Rudra turned on his heel and strode straight to Shivansh. His voice was sharp, unwavering.

"Get a private jet ready. I want Mahak’s family here as soon as possible. If they come willingly, fine. If not… you know what to do."

"Ji, Saheb." Shivansh nodded and left without another word.

Neel placed a reassuring hand on Rudra’s shoulder. "She’ll be fine, Rudra. Just hold on."

The day dragged on—morning bled into the evening. The entire family sat in tense silence, waiting.

Then, Shivansh walked back in, stopping right in front of Rudra.

"Saheb—" he started hesitantly.

Rudra’s sharp gaze snapped to him. "You’re back too soon. Why?"

Shivansh hesitated for a fraction of a second before muttering, "Saheb… woh…"

***********************************
Thank you