Her Only Saviour

88. Home

𝕵𝖆𝖆𝖔 𝖑𝖊 𝖏𝖆𝖆𝖔 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖎
𝖀𝖋𝖋 𝖓𝖆 𝖐𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖊 𝖍𝖚𝖒

𝕵𝖔 𝖑𝖊 𝖏𝖆𝖆𝖔𝖌𝖊 𝖐𝖍𝖜𝖆𝖆𝖇 𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖊
𝕿𝖔𝖍 𝖐𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊 𝖏𝖎𝖞𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖊 𝖍𝖚𝖒

𝕵𝖊𝖊𝖓𝖆 𝖍𝖚𝖒𝖐𝖔 𝖆𝖆𝖙𝖆 𝖍𝖎 𝖓𝖆𝖍𝖎
𝕿𝖊𝖗𝖎 𝖘𝖆𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖐𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖛𝖆

𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖆 𝖇𝖍𝖎 𝖆𝖇 𝖓𝖆 𝖒𝖚𝖒𝖐𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖆𝖎
𝕿𝖊𝖗𝖎 𝖇𝖆𝖆𝖍𝖔𝖓 𝖐𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖛𝖆

~~~~~

The car ride back was silent, but not tense. Just... settled.

Nandini rested her head against the window, eyes half-closed, the streetlights painting soft shadows across her face.
Anirudh sat beside her, not touching, not speaking—just present. Steady, like he had been through the storm, like he would continue to be.

When the car pulled into the Oberoi mansion, the front doors opened almost immediately.

Dadi stepped forward first, relief rushing over her wrinkled features the moment she saw them. “Thank god" she whispered.

Shivaay’s shoulders eased. Omkara gave Anirudh a short nod. Gauri reached for Nandini’s hand.

But Nandini didn’t say anything—she simply offered a small, tired smile.
Enough to quiet their worries. Enough to suggest she was healing. Enough to make them believe the worst had passed.

None of them asked questions. None of them noticed the slight trembling in her fingers or the dull red on her knuckles, half-hidden beneath her dupatta. They assumed the pain in her eyes was fading, not refueling. They believed the shadows would now recede.

Anika stepped closer. “Are you ok beta?,” she said softly.

Nandini nodded. “I’m… tired. Just need to rest.”

They didn’t press. Not tonight.

Anirudh’s hand grazed the small of her back, guiding her gently up the stairs. Silent promises passed between them with every step. He opened their bedroom door and let her walk in first.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, the weight hit her.

Not in screams. Not in fury. But in the quiet unraveling of a soul that had held on too long.

She stood in the center of the room, back facing him, unmoving.

Then her voice cracked.

“I thought… once they suffered… I’d feel peace.”

Anirudh walked closer, slow and quiet.

“I thought it would be enough,” she whispered, her voice trembling now.
“But nothing I do will bring my baby back.”

Her body shook as the grief she had dammed all this time finally poured through. “I never even got to see her face, Ani. Never held her. Never—” Her voice broke completely. “She’s gone. And I can’t bring her back.”

Anirudh reached her in two steps, wrapping his arms around her from behind, holding her as she collapsed against him. Her fists clenched into his shirt as the sobs came—silent at first, then raw and broken, the kind that left your chest hollow.

He didn’t shush her. Didn’t tell her it would be okay. Because it wasn’t.

Instead, he pressed his lips against her hair and whispered, “Cry. You don’t have to hold anything back. Not with me.”