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Tere hone se hi toh mera hona hai Tujhko khona hai jaisa khudko khona hai To jo hai toh main hoon Tu jo hai toh main hoon
Viaan's POV
She didn’t cry in the hospital.
Not when her fingers hovered inches above her father’s motionless hand.
Not when the ventilator made that soft, heartless sound of regulated breath.
Not even when the doctor explained how long he had been in a coma. How many times they almost pulled the plug before I stopped them.
She didn’t cry.
But I saw it.
In the way she stood—rigid, like if she moved, she’d shatter.
In the way her eyes stayed locked on his face, not blinking, like if she dared to, he’d disappear again.
And now, in the silence of the car ride back, I could hear the echo of everything she didn’t say.
Grief is never loud. It is the quiet that stays behind.
She stared out the window like the world outside didn’t belong to her anymore. Her face was pale, makeup smudged, hair sticking slightly to her cheek. I wanted to tuck it behind her ear. She wouldn’t let me.
Not yet.
The tires crunched softly as we pulled into the driveway. The night air was thick—too warm, too still. I parked the car, but she didn’t move.
“Babygirl,” I said gently.
No response.
I got out first, walked around, and opened her door. She didn’t look at me, didn’t say a word. Just stepped out like her body was moving without her soul.
She walked straight inside the house and disappeared into the dark hallway, leaving the door open behind her.
I closed it softly, locking it.
I didn’t follow her right away.
She needed a moment.
But not too long. She was the kind of woman who’d bury herself alive just to pretend she wasn’t breaking.
I found her in the living room. The lights were off. Just the flickering blue glow of the fish tank and the soft clink of glass as she poured herself a drink.
She didn’t drink.
At least not when she was sober with her pain.
I stood in the doorway, watching her pour the amber liquid into the glass, hands trembling, but her jaw was tight.
“Mia,” I said again.
“Don’t,” she snapped. Her voice was too calm. It was the kind of calm that scared me.
