Wounded Heart ✔

Chapter- 15

The atmosphere inside Amna Mansion was heavy, every breath weighed down by the sharp tang of blood that clung to Arnav's shirt and stained Aashi and Khushi's trembling hands. The silence that followed their arrival was deafening—broken only by Amira's soft, pain-laced whimpers as she lay limp against her father's chest. Her small body, fragile and wounded, seemed to pull the strength out of everyone present.

Raj's heart clenched the moment his eyes fell on his granddaughter. For a man known for his stoic strength, the sight of her fragile frame pressed against Arnav's protective hold shook him to the core. Without hesitation, he reached out, taking Amira into his arms, his large palms steadying her tiny back as if he could shield her from every storm in the world. She whimpered again, stirring his paternal instincts—ones that had once been buried under years of anger, silence, and broken ties.

The room swelled with panic and concern. Yash's voice cracked when he hurriedly pulled out his phone, obeying Arnav's calm yet commanding words. "Kunal... bring the medical kit. Immediately." His hands shook as he dialed, eyes flickering anxiously between his niece and his brother.

And then came the moment that none of them had expected.
Tanya.

Her presence froze the room. Shock rippled across every face—Pooja's breath caught in her throat, Yash's jaw tightened, Aarti's eyes went wide with disbelief. And Raj... Raj stood as though struck by lightning, his grip on Amira stiffening at the sound of the voice he hadn't heard in fifteen long years.

"Dad..." Tanya's whisper cracked through the silence, trembling, desperate. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she stared at the man who had once been her anchor, her hero—until the day she walked away from him and from home. "I... I'm sorry. It's been years since you looked at me, since you allowed me near you. I know I broke your trust when I ran away, but I'm still your daughter. Please... forgive me."

Her sobs echoed, raw and unrestrained. Pooja's maternal heart screamed to reach for her child, to embrace her after all these years, but Raj's silence was a wall of stone.

The weight of the past clashed violently with the present. Raj's chest rose and fell as his eyes burned—not with hatred, but with the suffocating burden of betrayal and memories that refused to die. Yash's voice broke the storm, low but firm.

"Dad... she's still your Princess. Time has already punished us enough. Forgive her. Bring her back."

But before Raj could find the strength—or weakness—to respond, the fragile cry of Amira shifted everything.

"Mumma..."

The single word, frail and broken, pierced the silence like an arrow. Khushi's eyes flooded as she reached forward, taking her daughter back into her arms. She pressed her lips against the girl's damp forehead, whispering with all the warmth and love she carried in her soul.

"Yes, baby... Mumma's here. Open your eyes, darling."

Amira whimpered again, lost in the haze of exhaustion and pain. The family stood still, their arguments silenced, their hearts chained by the sight of innocence enduring suffering.

And then the door burst open.
Kunal rushed inside, his eyes immediately scanning the blood-stained scene. His gaze landed on Arnav, sharp and urgent.

"What happened? Yash sounded panicked—what's going on?"

The tension in the mansion rose again, but this time, it was anchored by the hope that maybe—just maybe—Kunal's presence would stitch together not only Amira's wounds, but the fractures that ran deep through this family.

"Thank God you're here, Kunal. Amira's hurt—please check her," Arnav's voice cracked, the usual calm steel replaced by something close to panic. He held his daughter as though the very world could collapse around her.