Ishq hua (Duet 1)

Chapter 38: Love

Arsh:

She hadn't let go of me. Not even once.

Except for the brief moments when Ma, Varya, and Tara had stepped in, cleaning her wounds, changing her into something soft, brushing her hair with trembling hands, Aira had clung to me like her life depended on it.

Now she lay half-curled against me, her fingers fisted tightly in my shirt as if letting go might pull her back into that nightmare. Her head rested over my chest, the weight of her breaths uneven, shivering, as if the fear hadn't left her body yet.

I sat there, unmoving. Every time I tried to shift, even slightly, her grip tightened again. So I stayed.

The room was quiet, the kind of silence that comes after too much noise. Only the faint sounds of the air conditioner filtered through.

Ma and Varya were in the kitchen, personally preparing her dinner, not even taking any help from the staff. I had caught a glimpse of them earlier and I was more than thankful for that care.

Everyone in the house was just... relieved. I could see it, the fragility in their voices, the extra gentleness in the way they spoke to her. The way Varya had wrapped the blanket around Aira like she was afraid even the air might hurt her. In that one hour since we came back, I realised just how much Aira had become a part of my family, and how terrified they all were of losing her.

I looked down at her.

The bruises on her wrists were faint now, cleaned and treated, but they still stood out against her pale skin. The shadowed mark on her cheek refused to fade. It shouldn't have been there. None of it should have been.

My chest tightened. My hand found its way into her hair, brushing back the strands that clung to her damp face. "I need my Aira back, little wolf," I murmured, my voice breaking somewhere between a plea and command. "This isn't you."

Her fingers twitched against my shirt, the smallest reaction, but she didn't speak. Her breathing was shallow, uneven, like every inhale still carried the memory of fear.

"Please," I whispered again, leaning closer, "talk to me."

Nothing.

The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. I could feel her pulse against me, quick and unsteady, but her eyes stayed shut, her lips pressed together like she was afraid even words might break her apart.

I cupped her face gently, forcing her to look at me. "You can yell at me if you want," I said softly. "Scream. Blame me. Hit me, Aira. Just... say something."

Her eyes flickered open for a second, glassy and empty. The Aira I knew wasn't there. Not the one who met my temper with fire, not the one who never backed down even when she was wrong.

"Come on," I urged again, trying to steady my voice even as my throat burned. "Fight me. You always do."

Still nothing.

And then, barely audible, her voice cracked the air like a whisper of a ghost. "I don't have any fight left in me."

The words landed like a knife in my chest. My breath stilled, my heart stumbling over itself.

I stared at her, at the girl who never stopped arguing with me, never stopped standing her ground, and seeing her like this... broken, quiet, scared - it shredded me from the inside.

I tried to get a hold of my emotions, but a tear broke free before I could stop it. It slipped down, falling against her hair.

I swallowed hard, my arms tightening around her, holding her closer, almost desperate. She didn't notice the tear or maybe she did because she shifted slightly, snuggling closer into my chest, seeking the warmth she had always tried to deny she needed.