Her Only Saviour

73. Sin by sin

𝕭𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖑𝖎 𝕸𝖔𝖍𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖆𝖙 𝕶𝖎
𝖄𝖊𝖍 𝕶𝖍𝖚𝖘𝖍𝖇𝖚𝖞𝖊 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖓

𝕳𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖔𝖓 𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖎 𝕳𝖚𝖎
𝕮𝖍𝖍𝖚 𝕶𝖆𝖗 𝕸𝖚𝖏𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖆𝖏

𝕸𝖆𝖍𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝕶𝖆𝖗 𝕷𝖔
𝖁𝖔 𝖄𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖎𝖓 𝕸𝖊𝖗𝖎 𝖀𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖍𝖚𝖎
𝕬𝖎𝖘𝖆 𝕸𝖎𝖑𝖆𝖓 𝕻𝖍𝖎𝖗 𝕳𝖔 𝕹𝖆 𝕳𝖔...

~~~~~~

The evening shadows deepened, Anirudh found himself in the living room, a cup of untouched tea cooling in his hands. The house felt different — quieter, more fragile — like it too was holding its breath.

Dadi came to sit beside him, her wise eyes searching his face.

“She’s softening,” she said quietly.

He shook his head, “She still hates me. I don’t blame her.”

Dadi smiled gently, “Love isn’t about forgetting pain. It’s about showing up when it hurts the most.”

Anirudh looked down at his hands.

“I’m scared I’ll lose her again.”

Dadi reached over, placing a wrinkled hand over his. “You won’t. Not if you keep trying.”

He nodded.

That night, Anirudh lay awake, replaying the sound of that tiny heartbeat.

A new rhythm beating not just inside Nandini—but inside him as well.

A fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, they could rebuild.

••

The next morning broke like every other—a sky draped in pale grey, clouds that threatened rain but didn’t deliver.

Anirudh stepped into his office building mechanically, greeting no one, his mind echoing with the sound of a tiny heartbeat he’d heard the night before.
It haunted him. Not in a cruel way, but in a tender, devastating one.

That sound had filled the nursery.

It had filled him.

But the space beside him—the woman carrying that heartbeat—still wasn’t his.

Not really.

He didn’t expect forgiveness. But today… it hurt more than usual.

---

𝘖𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘪 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴—

He pushed the door open to his private cabin, locked it behind him, and stood still for a moment.

Everything looked the same. The mahogany desk. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The leather chair he never really liked.

But inside him, something had shifted—broken.

He walked to the window and stared at the city below, bustling and unaware.

And then, without warning, he dropped into the chair, bent forward, and let out a sound no one should ever hear from a man who had carried the world on his shoulders.

A choked, guttural sob.

The kind that came from the soul.

Just then after sometime.

Rudransh entered the office unannounced, holding two coffees and a frown.

He froze.

Anirudh’s head was in his hands, his shoulders trembling, his face blotched and wet with tears he hadn’t wiped away. Not the composed, sharp strategist the world knew. Just… a man unraveling.