The vivid reds in wedding symbols of celebration , Happiness and Joy . But what will happen if the same red colour change into the colour of blood betrayal and the symphony of despair.
Meera sweet little innocent girl end up being the pawn in the d...
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The steady beep of the hospital monitor echoed in the dimly lit room, sharp and rhythmic, but it didn't reassure me. Instead, it felt like every beep was a countdown, reminding me of how fragile Arjun's life was at that very moment.
I stood beside his bed, frozen, unable to take my eyes off him. My Arjun-always so strong, so commanding, so untouchable-looked utterly motionless. His usually sharp, proud face was pale, drained of its fire. White bandages wrapped around his head and chest. His lips were dry, his skin clammy.
It was suffocating to see him like this.
I felt as though the walls were closing in, the air getting heavier with every passing second. My fingers trembled as I reached for his hand, hesitant at first, as if afraid he might slip away the moment I touched him. But the warmth of his skin-faint, but still there-broke me. I clasped his hand tightly, pressing it to my chest as though I could breathe life into him by sheer will.
"Aaru..." My voice cracked, a whisper that carried the weight of all my fears. "Please... wake up. You can't leave me like this. Not like this."
Tears blurred my vision, spilling freely down my cheeks. I bent down and pressed my lips to his hand, kissing it gently, almost reverently. My tears stained his skin as I whispered, "I can't do this without you. You've always been my storm, my chaos... and somewhere, my strength. Don't abandon me now."
For a moment, nothing changed. Just the same beeping, the same stillness. My chest tightened, panic clawing at my insides.
And then-I felt it.
The faintest twitch in his fingers. My heart stumbled in disbelief. "Arjun?" I gasped, staring at his hand. His grip wasn't strong, but there was a small, undeniable motion. He was trying. He was fighting.
Hope surged through me so suddenly that it made me dizzy. I rushed toward the door, flinging it open. "Doctor! Please-he moved! He moved his hand!"
Within seconds, the medical team rushed in. I stood frozen near the wall, my breath ragged, watching them swarm around him. One of the doctors looked at me, calm but firm. "Please wait outside, Mrs. Rajvansh. We'll take care of him."
I just nodded and stumbled into the corridor.
The sterile smell of antiseptic, the cold white tiles, the sound of hurried footsteps-it all pressed down on me, amplifying the storm inside my chest. I paced back and forth, biting my nails, my mind looping through every terrible possibility. What if he slipped back into unconsciousness? What if this was just a cruel tease, a false sign?
Minutes dragged into an eternity. My legs felt weak, but I couldn't sit. Sitting felt too final, too much like surrender. My palms were clammy, and I kept clasping and unclasping them, whispering silent prayers to gods I wasn't even sure I believed in anymore.
