Her Only Saviour

58. Dressed in silence

𝕻𝖆𝖑 𝖇𝖍𝖆𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖍𝖆𝖗 𝖏𝖆𝖆𝖔,
𝕯𝖎𝖑 𝖞𝖊 𝖘𝖆𝖒𝖇𝖍𝖆𝖑 𝖏𝖆𝖆𝖞𝖊,

𝕶𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖚𝖒𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖆 𝖐𝖆𝖗𝖚𝖓…

𝕸𝖊𝖗𝖎 𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖋 𝖆𝖆𝖙𝖆,
𝕳𝖆𝖗 𝖌𝖍𝖆𝖒 𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖆𝖑 𝖏𝖆𝖆𝖞𝖊,

𝕬𝖆𝖓𝖐𝖍𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖊𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖚𝖒 𝖐𝖔 𝖇𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖚𝖓…

~~~~~~~~~~~

The white lights burned softly through her eyelids.

The scent of antiseptic.
The rhythmic beep of a monitor.
The slight weight of a blanket over her.

Nandini stirred, her lashes fluttering open. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was—until the pain in her chest reminded her of everything.

She sat up slightly, wincing.

A rustle came from the chair beside her.

He stood immediately.

“You’re awake,” he said, relief flooding his face.
“Thank God. I was… I mean, you fainted outside the building and I wasn’t sure—”

His words tumbled over each other, rushed but genuine. There was no rehearsed sympathy in his voice—just quiet concern, steady and unassuming.

“I’m fine,” Nandini said, brushing her hair back and adjusting the IV in her hand with practiced indifference. “Really. I just need to leave.”

She pulled the blanket away, already swinging her legs off the bed.

He stepped aside—but not without hesitation.

Just as she reached for her coat, he cleared his throat. “Wait—just a second.”

She turned, her expression unreadable.

He offered a small, almost awkward smile.
“Hi. My name is Aarvik Rastogi.”

The name lingered in the air.

She blinked—slowly, sharply—as if the weight of the moment shifted at that very sound.

He went on, gentler now. “I know you said you're okay, and I won’t pry. But the doctor ran a few standard checks. And… he mentioned something.”

Nandini froze.

Aarvik took a careful step closer, his voice dropping to something almost confidential.
“He said it’s not confirmed, but… there’s a chance you might be pregnant. You should probably do some follow-up tests.”

For a second—just a breath—her face was stone.

And then her hand gripped the edge of the hospital bed like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Pregnant?

Her eyes darted away, jaw clenched, emotions flickering too fast to pin down—shock, fear, heartbreak, something deeper she didn’t dare name.

She didn’t say a word.

And Aarvik… didn’t press.

He just stood there—quiet, grounded, present.

The one stranger in her life who hadn’t yet asked for anything.

She didn’t respond.

Didn’t thank him. Didn’t look back.

Just walked out—hospital bracelet still around her wrist, paper-thin gown rustling beneath her coat, heart thudding in her chest like a silent scream.