Her Only Saviour

55. Every broken piece

𝕯𝖎𝖑 𝖐𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖐𝖆 𝖆𝖘𝖆𝖗 𝖍𝖆𝖎,
𝕿𝖚𝖏𝖍𝖘𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖔𝖗 𝖏𝖆𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖟𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖆 𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓,

𝕿𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖏𝖆𝖆𝖓𝖊 𝖐𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖆𝖉 𝖇𝖍𝖎,
𝕵𝖎𝖞𝖆 𝖏𝖆𝖆𝖙𝖆 𝖍𝖆𝖎 𝖐𝖞𝖚𝖓...

𝕭𝖍𝖚𝖑𝖆 𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖆 𝖒𝖚𝖏𝖍𝖊,
𝕳𝖆𝖎 𝖆𝖑𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖆 𝖙𝖚𝖏𝖍𝖊,

𝕿𝖚𝖏𝖍 𝖘𝖊 𝖏𝖚𝖉𝖆 𝖍𝖔 𝖐𝖊,
𝖅𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖆 𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖊𝖍 𝖐𝖞𝖆 𝖐𝖆𝖒 𝖍𝖆𝖎...

~~~~~~~~~~~

No one knew where she went.

Not the guards, not the driver, not even her enemies who watched her like a hawk.

And that was exactly how she wanted it.

The streets blurred outside the car's window, not from speed, but from her tears—dry and invisible now, having long dried up on her cheeks.
Her hands trembled in her lap, fidgeting with a rusted key she hadn't touched in months. It cut into her skin, sharp and cruel, yet comforting.
A relic from a time when she still knew what “home” felt like.

The car stopped.
She stepped out, her heels clicking on the stone path now cracked with time.
The house stood like a forgotten soul—quiet, crooked, and wrapped in vines that strangled what little beauty remained.
The nameplate was faded, just faint impressions of what once was.

She hesitated.

Not because she didn’t want to go in.

Because part of her was terrified she wouldn’t come out the same.

With trembling fingers, she pushed the key into the lock. It resisted, then turned with a soft click, almost like a sigh.

The door creaked open.
Darkness greeted her.

She didn’t switch on the lights.
She didn’t need to.

Every corner of this place was stitched into her memories like a painful lullaby. The hallway with the chipped wallpaper. The dusty mirror she used to twirl in front of. The scent of old wood and faint lavender—her scent—still lingered.

But the house wasn’t warm anymore.

It was hollow.

Just like her.

Her steps faltered, but she didn’t stop until she reached the living room. The once vibrant curtains now hung in tatters. The photo frames were crooked, covered in grime. She reached out to straighten one—and her fingers froze over the image.

There they were.

She was.

That face.
That smile.
That hand resting gently on little Nandini’s shoulder.

She tore the frame off the shelf and hurled it across the room.

It shattered into pieces.

Just like her.

“You left!” she screamed, her voice raw, slicing through the silence. “You left when I needed you the most!”

No one answered.
Just the echo of her agony bouncing off the walls.

“You were supposed to stay! You were supposed to protect me! Not leave me with them... not leave me alone in this goddamn world!”

She clutched at her hair, her legs buckling as she collapsed onto the dusty carpet, her sobs now animalistic, guttural. The weight of years, secrets, betrayals—all crushing down on her in one merciless wave.