AAROHI

Chapter 2

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Four years is a long time. Long enough for silence to become strength. Long enough for betrayal to stop bleeding. Long enough for ashes to cool into steel. Dr. Rhea Goenka steps out of the airport with her head held high, heels sharp against polished tiles, eyes hidden behind sunglasses that reflect everything and reveal nothing. The press is buzzing. Cameras flash. She doesn't smile. She doesn't pause. Her team surrounds her but she walks ahead, untouchable, unfamiliar. The girl who left Udaipur never returned. Only the woman she became did.

The banner outside Birla Global Medical Conference reads Welcome, Guest of Honour: Dr. Rhea Goenka. World-renowned neurosurgeon. Youngest recipient of the International Medical Ethics Award. Keynote speaker. She walks past it without glancing. This moment is not for the world. It's for the ghosts still breathing in that hospital's halls. For the eyes that once looked through her. For the name that once drowned hers.

Birla Hospital hasn't changed much. Same grey walls, same polished pride, same people worshipping the temple of Abhimanyu Birla. But today, the air feels different. Nurses glance at her with awe. Doctors straighten as she passes. Her heels echo in the corridor like a countdown. She enters the auditorium moments before her session. The Birlas sit in the front row. Mahima. Parth. Manjari. And Abhimanyu. Akshara is beside him, hands clasped, smile plastic.

They don't recognize her. Not yet.

The screen flickers. Her introduction begins. Slides of her work flash - brain surgeries across continents, lectures at Oxford, humanitarian work in war zones. The room applauds. She steps onto the stage.

Then she removes her sunglasses.

Silence.

Stunning, suffocating silence.

The eyes that once dismissed her now widen. Mahima stiffens. Manjari gasps. Abhimanyu doesn't breathe. Akshara's face drains of color.

She stands under the spotlight and says nothing. She lets them drown in recognition. In shame. In disbelief.

When she begins to speak, her voice is calm. She talks of neurology. Of ethics. Of integrity in medicine. But every word is laced with quiet revenge. Not a single mention of the past. Not a single jab. Yet every syllable feels like a mirror.

After the session, board members surround her. Praise her. Offer her collaboration. One of them suggests she join the Ethics Review Committee. Another hints at long-term partnership. She agrees with a graceful nod. She never asks. She lets them give.

Outside, Abhimanyu follows her to the corridor. She doesn't stop. He walks faster. Aarohi . His voice is quieter than she remembers. She turns.

There is no slap. No outburst. Just eyes colder than winter.

He stammers. I never meant to hurt you.

She speaks without blinking. You didn't hurt me. You buried me. But darling, I learned how to breathe underground.

He looks at her as if seeing someone he cannot touch anymore. Because he isn't. Not now. Not ever again.

Mahima corners her later in the doctor's lounge. Her tone sharp, defensive. You think you can just walk in and-

She cuts her off with a single glance. I didn't walk in. I was invited. You just didn't read the fine print.

News spreads fast. By the end of the week, she's appointed to the hospital's ethics panel. She walks into board meetings that once belonged to Mahima. She proposes reforms, systems, restructuring. She speaks with clarity and power. She doesn't need validation. She commands respect.

Manjari invites her for tea. Tries to be warm. Tries to say she was just following fate that day. Aarohi sips her tea, nods politely, and leaves without response.

She visits the Goenka house once. Bade Papa opens the door, unsure. Swarna cries. Kairav steps forward to hug her but she steps back. I'm not here for comfort. I'm here because I wanted to see if anyone had learned silence can destroy more than screams.

She doesn't stay long.

Akshara tries to meet her eyes. She fails.

Abhimanyu tries to call. She blocks his number.

Then one evening, during a surgical workshop, she meets Dr. Aryan Rathore. Head of Robotics at a New York hospital. Calm eyes. Steady hands. He doesn't look at her like she's a story. He doesn't ask about her past. He only talks about the present. Their conversations begin over surgical techniques and end in laughter. He doesn't admire her scars. He respects her strength.

Aarohi lets herself breathe for the first time in years. Slowly. Carefully.

One night, as they walk outside the hospital lawn, he tells her she intimidates people because she doesn't apologize for becoming who she needed to be. She looks at him, and for the first time, she doesn't flinch when someone sees her.

But she isn't looking to be saved. She isn't looking to be loved. Not yet. She's still rising.

In another board meeting, her proposal is passed unanimously. Her leadership is praised. Her name is now etched on the walls of the hospital as part of the Ethics Advisory Board.

Mahima walks out without a word.

Abhimanyu watches from the corner. Still silent. Still stuck.

And Aarohi Goenka,walks out into the world she reclaimed. Not as a victim. Not as a rejected bride. But as the woman who returned.

Not for revenge.

But for herself.