Her Only Saviour

72. When Men Cry in Silence

𝕭𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖍𝖉𝖊 𝕭𝖍𝖎 𝕳𝖆𝖒 𝕵𝖔
𝕶𝖆𝖇𝖍𝖎 𝕽𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖓 𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓

𝕿𝖔 𝕾𝖆𝖓𝖌 𝕾𝖆𝖓𝖌 𝕽𝖆𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖎 𝕾𝖆𝖉𝖆
𝕶𝖆𝖉𝖒𝖔𝖓 𝕶𝖎 𝕬𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖆𝖟

𝕾𝖚𝖓 𝕶𝖊 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖎
𝕿𝖚𝖒𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝕷𝖔𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖎 𝕾𝖆𝖉𝖆..

~~~~~~

It was 3:14 a.m.

The Oberoi mansion was asleep. Peaceful, warm, safe.

But not him.

He sat on the kitchen floor, back pressed against the cabinets, elbows resting on bent knees, face buried in his palms.
The marble felt cold under him—almost grounding. The silence was suffocating. Or maybe it was just the weight of everything he hadn’t said.

He had checked on her an hour ago.

Nandini had been curled on her side, arms protectively around her bump, her lips parted slightly in sleep.
She looked serene. Ethereal. Like peace dressed in skin and heartbeats.

He didn’t deserve to see her like that.

Not after what he’d done.

Anirudh squeezed his eyes shut.

His hands were shaking.

Why now? Why this wave of grief when things were finally getting… bearable?

Because she had smiled yesterday.
Laughed, even. Tolerated his presence.
Let him touch her back. Let him stay.

And yet—it still wasn’t enough.

Because no matter how close he got, he could still feel the wall in her eyes. The one he built.

He remembered the words she said on the stairs.

"Some men remind you what love shouldn’t feel like."

He was that man.

A guttural, broken sob tore from his chest as his body folded into itself. Not the dramatic kind.
The quiet, ugly kind—the kind men choke on because the world never taught them how to bleed without making it look like failure.

His voice cracked into the darkness.

“I’m so sorry, Nandini…”

He clutched at his shirt like he could hold his heart in place.

“I was scared… of how much I loved you. Scared of becoming vulnerable. Of being wrong. And I destroyed the only thing that ever made me feel whole.”

The tears wouldn’t stop.

“I wake up every day praying to see you smile. And I go to sleep hating myself for the days I stole that from you.”

He punched the floor once.

Softly. Uselessly.

“I hate what I did. I hate how I walked away that day and called it strength. I hate that when our baby is born, they meet a version of us that’s trying to rebuild instead of the one that was so damn beautiful.”

He pressed his forehead to his knees, gasping for air between sobs.

“I’m not asking for your love back. I’m not even sure I deserve to hold her the day baby’s born. But God—if I could take your pain and wear it like skin, I would. If I could rip my chest open to show you how sorry I am…”