AUTHOR'S POV

Hesitation is a cold hand on her shoulder, and for a breath, she holds the world still. Her foot lifts, poised to cross the threshold of the temple gate, then drops. A shuddering sigh escapes her lips as she closes her eyes. She steps inside, a small, involuntary stagger reminding her of the weakness bleeding out of her.

The air smells of sandalwood and marigold. Her gaze drawn upward to the main Ganesha sculpture, tall and serene, adorned with vibrant flowers and offerings of laddoos and modaks. Beneath the main statue sits a smaller one, the same divine figure in miniature, both bathed in the golden light of oil lamps.

"A very violent woman, aren't you?"

The voice freezes her. She turns sharply to find the same guard she had escaped from. Her throat constricts, a painful, dry knot. She takes a slow, backward step, the movement jarring her stomach. A warm, sticky drop of blood hits the stone floor.

His eyes track the crimson stain, and a slow, ugly smirk spreads across his face. He kicks the temple door shut with a solid, echoing thud, sealing them inside, and begins to walk toward her.

Her vision swims, edges blurring with the effort to stay upright, the pain searing, constant spike in her belly. Her energy is draining, leaving her bones hollow. She tries to maintain her retreat but stumbles backward, and with a soft cry, her legs give out beneath her. Her back hits the pedestal of the Ganesha sculpture, and she slides down, landing heavily.

She twists, glancing at the impassive face of the elephant god behind her, then looks back at the man. He stands over her, his expression utterly cold, a predator who has cornered his prey.

Defeat washes over her, she closes her eyes and lets out a silent, internal exhale. There is nothing left. She is done fighting.

He leans in, his breath hot and rancid near her face. "I don't like women who disobey."

A silent, internal scream tears at her. She is too exhausted, too exposed. Instinctively, she presses her palms behind her, a desperate, futile attempt to push herself further away from him. Her hand connects not with the smooth, cool surface of the smaller Ganesha sculpture.

"You're indeed a very beautiful bitch. I understand why Yashwant wanted you and your mother-"

Without thinking, without planning, driven only by a primal, burning rejection of his words and his touch, she brings the solid stone weight up and slams it into the side of his head. The small deity shatters against his skull with a wet, sickening thud. He freezes, his eyes wide with shock and sudden, searing pain. Warm blood immediately wells up and oozes between his fingers as he clutches his head. He stumbles back, then collapses on the floor.

She gasps, breathing in ragged, painful gulps. The world narrows to the man, the blood, the broken god. Shifting slightly, she finds the largest remaining shard, the broken trunk and hand of the statue and, with the last reserve of her strength, brings it down again, hard, onto his head. He lets out a strangled, animalistic scream before his body goes slack. His eyes remain open, vacant and unconscious.

She stares at him for a long moment, the adrenaline slowly giving way to a sickening nausea. Then, her eyes lift to the large, silent Ganesha.

Across the pedestal, a stack of freshly folded red cloth sits neatly. Struggling, she pushes herself up and walks to the clothes, selects one, and lifts the bottom of her ruined top. Wrapping the cloth tightly around her middle, she ties the makeshift bandage with shaky hands before pulling her top back down. A quick glance out of the temple's small window confirms the street is empty.

She turns, staggering slightly, and makes her way toward the door, freedom a painful, inching reality. But she stops and turns back to the tall sculpture.

Slowly, she walks closer and sinks to her knees before the silent god, bringing her palms together. Her eyes blur with the hot sting of tears.

"Thank you...Bappa."

She saw the true meaning of the scattered pieces. The small god had been broken so she could live. It was a profound, terrifying exchange. Her faith hasn't been restored to some childhood innocence, but to a fierce, mature understanding, the divine doesn't shield you from the fight, it just makes sure the means to fight are within your reach when you need them most.

Wiping the last of the tears fiercely with the back of her hand, she pushed herself up. And turned, walked out.

---------------------

"Her location's close. Right nearby." Kabir mutters looking at his tracking pad and points to a barely visible road branching off the main one, toward a village entrance, a single, tired lamppost casts a weak, yellow circle, fighting the dark.

Rudra follows the direction instantly, his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Without a word, he floors the accelerator. The ambulance siren wails somewhere behind them. He slams the car into park at the side of the village road and is out before the engine fully dies. Avyaan and Abhimaan pull up seconds later, their doors open almost in sync.

He spins on the spot, his eyes wide and desperate, scanning the empty blackness. "Where, Kabir? Where is she?"

Kabir steps out, holding the tracking pad. "The signal's right here. She's gotta be just inside the village, let's go."

"Rudra!"

He snaps his head to the opposite side of the road and the sight hits him like a physical blow, and his heart stops, then jolts into a violent, hammering rhythm. She is alone, stumbling toward him out of the shadows.

Without a thought he runs. He covers the ground in long, frantic strides. Saanvi sees him, and her breath hitches into a choked, heavy gasp. She keeps moving, still clutching the cloth to her wound, her face streak with tears that catch the dim light. She is weeping, not loudly, but with the quiet, wrenching sobs of exhaustion and terror finally released.

Her hands slowly lift, trembling and waiting. The moment Rudra reaches her she is swept off the ground. He lifts her, folding her into his arms, a guttural, choked sound, half sob, half relief, tears from his throat. He holds her like a fragile, priceless thing he almost lost.

She instantly bursts into heavy, racking sobs against his shoulder, her breath coming in painful, shallow bursts.

He pulls back just enough to look at her, still cradling her weight. The wave of relief falters, replaced by a cold shock. Her face is pale and grimy, but it's the blood, streaks of it on her cheek that steals his breath. Then his eyes widen fully as her hand lifts to cup his face, leaving a sickening smear of crimson across his jaw. He looks down at her middle and sees the dark, fresh blood actively seeping from the wound.

"Pearl... you..." He trails off and looks back at her, her eyes are struggling to stay open.

He doesn't waste another second. Scooping her up securely, he turns. Kabir and Abhimaan already rushing toward them, flanked by the medical staff pushing a stretcher.

Rudra stops only to gently place her onto the stretcher.

"Shit! Is she shot?" Kabir mutters, leaning in, his face etched with immediate concern as he sees the heavy flow of blood dripping from her abdomen.

The medical team works with efficiency, pushing the stretcher into the ambulance, the staff immediately attaching wires and monitors.

Rudra's vision swims, blurring with sudden, hot tears as he watches her. She is gasping, groaning, a low, constant murmur of pure pain.

In that terrible, vulnerable moment, a forgotten memory, a chilling curse, rises in his mind.

"I curse you, Rudra Singhania. One day you will fall for someone so hard, you will want her to fall for you but she never will. You will want her but she won't. You will run to her but she will run away from you. In the end, you will never have her. You will lose her because of your own mistakes, and that day you will feel what I'm feeling right now. Karma will soon come for you."

His eyes slam shut, the tears escaping, hot on his cheeks. His entire body trembles with a primal, sickening fear.

"Rudra!"

Abhimaan's hand clamps down on his arm, yanking him back to the present. He looks at Abhimaan, tears streaming freely.

"Abhimaan, it's all happening because of me. All of it."

"Shut the fuck up! Get in your senses, Rudra!" Abhimaan yells, gripping his shoulders and shaking him hard. His tone softens instantly, his hands moving to cup Rudra's cheek. "Stop crying. It's not your fault, okay? Now go with her. She needs you. Her father and brother are on the way, and if you need anything, anything, call me."

Rudra wipes the tears away only for new ones to immediately well up. "I don't want to lose her, Abhimaan," he says, looking at the fragile shape on the stretcher.

"You won't," Abhimaan states, pulling him into a hug. "Fight, Rudra. Make her fight for you too. Go." He breaks the hug, pushing him toward the ambulance.

Rudra nods, takes a final, shuddering breath, and climbs inside the ambulance, settling beside the stretcher.

He immediately takes her hand, cradling it between both of his. "It's alright. We'll be at the hospital soon, Pearl. You're going to be fine," he mutters, brushing the sweat matted hair back from her temple.

"R... Rudra..." she groans.

A deep, broken sob escapes his lips. The ambulance lurches forward.

"I... I don't know if I would make it or not..."

"Don't. Stop talking like that, right now," he cuts her off instantly, shaking his head fiercely.

"I... really want to live, Rudra," she whispers, her tear filled eyes locked on his. "With you. I don't know what happens next, but know this, I really wanted to live, with you." His heart clenches with crushing terror.

"Nothing will happen to you. I swear," he whispers, leaning in to press a desperate kiss to her forehead, then looking into her eyes. "We both will stay, Pearl. Don't stop fighting."

She closes her eyes for a moment, then parts her lips to speak but winces sharply, a spike of pain overriding the impulse. "I'm scared... to be without you."

"Don't be," he says, his own throat constricting with tears. He tightens his grip on her hand. "I'm not leaving you. Don't give up, Pearl, please..." His tears fall onto her cheek.

Her hand, weak and trembling, slowly lifts and touches his face, leaving a fresh streak of blood. He immediately holds her palm, pressing it tightly against his skin, refusing to let her withdraw.

"I want... to..." She is breathing heavily now, her eyes slowly drooping.

"Sir, don't let her eyes close," the female paramedic warns, adjusting an IV line while another applies fresh gauze to the wound.

"Look at me. Don't close your eyes, Pearl... please." He gently taps her cheek, a soft, desperate motion, fighting to keep her conscious.

"I want to say something, Rudra," she murmurs. "I... choose you..."

"Save it for later. Tell me when you're well. I don't want to hear it now," he says, trying to mask his terror with sternness. But inside, he's screaming, recognizing the dreadful pattern of a final goodbye.

"I... need to confess something, Rudra," she mutters, her eyes almost closed, a last tear slipping out. "I... I really lov-"

Her hand in his suddenly goes slack. His face goes instantly pale. "Pea... Pearl... No! Please..." He cries out, patting her cheeks, shaking her shoulder gently but urgently. "Please don't scare me like this... open your eyes."

--------------

"Sir, please, you need to wait here. You can't go inside."

A hospital staff member blocks Rudra just as the gurney is rapidly wheeled through the wide double doors of the operating theatre. His hand is ruthlessly broken away from Saanvi's slack fingers, the last, fragile connection severed.

"Please, I need to see her! Don't take her away..." he chokes out, lunging forward, his body shuddering with ragged sobs. His eyes are painfully bloodshot, his chest constricting with a frantic, suffocating beat. He feels utterly dismantled, his physical strength dissolving into useless panic.

"Sir, you simply cannot. You have to understand, please," the staff member insists, his hand resting firmly on Rudra's chest, preventing his surge forward.

A few steps away, Dhruv stops dead, having just arrived at the hospital, the sound of the desperate shouting pulling him up short. He turns and sees Rudra, weeping, struggling mess, restrained by two smaller men in scrubs. He walks toward the scene.

"Rudra! Stop! What the fuck are you doing?!" Dhruv grabs him. Rudra keeps his eyes fixed on the closed OT doors desperately.

"It's fine. You two can go," Dhruv says to the orderlies. They retreat instantly, relieved.

Rudra immediately tries to wrench free, stumbling toward the closed doors. "Fucking leave me!" he yells, shoving Dhruv away with furious force.

"For fuck's sake, get in your senses!" Dhruv bellows and slams his fist into Rudra's jaw, a sharp crack ringing out. Rudra stumbles backward, catching himself against the wall.

He stares at Dhruv, breathing heavily, the pain a sudden, cold clarity. Dhruv's own eyes are suddenly glazed with unshed tears. "I know you're terrified, I know you're concerned, but you're not a doctor. They're trying to save her life. You need to stop, sit down, and be quiet. That's the only thing you can do right now."

Rudra's vision swims and he collapses onto chair near the wall. He breaks down completely, folding himself forward, burying his face in his hands. Dhruv watches him, so stripped of control, he remembers Saanvi's quiet, fervent defense of the man during Iraay's naming ceremony. She hadn't been wrong about the man beneath the armor. He takes a long, shaky breath.

"I know my sister is going to make it," Dhruv says. "But the way you are self destructing right now? I'm genuinely not sure you'll be alive for long. You need to get a grip because I care about her, and I don't want to see my sister a widow."

Rudra's voice comes out muffled, choked by his palms. "It's fine. As long as she's alive and safe. After I'm gone, she can remarry."

Dhruv sniffs hard, dragging the back of his hand across his cheek to wipe away a stray tear. "Oh, you idiot. You have the nerve to think she'd move on?" He shakes his head, a wry, painful smile appears. "After the damn speech she gave about you, the way she looks at you? She's a lost case."

That simple, absolute statement breaks Rudra further. A terrible, constricted choke cry claws its way out of his throat, the sound of a man confronting the absolute reality of his fear and love.

A few long hours later, Pranay and Anubhav arrive, their faces etched with travel exhaustion and terror. They stop near the OT, their eyes fall immediately on the two men, Dhruv and Rudra, still slumped in the chair.

Dhruv notices them first and pushes himself up from the chair.

"How is she?" Anubhav asks swallowing the wellspring of tears in his throat.

"The operation is still in process," Dhruv replies.

Pranay looks at the chillingly lit OT sign, then turns to Anubhav, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Don't worry, bhaiya. Our Precious is strong. Nothing will happen."

Anubhav takes a deep, shaky gulp to force back his own tears. His gaze falls on Rudra, who hasn't moved. Rudra is leaning his head back against the cool wall, utterly motionless, his eyes a dull, swollen red, tears tracking silently and endlessly from the corners toward his temples.

"Pranay, Dhruv, inform Mr. Singhania and Vikram that we've arrived and update them on Saanvi's condition." Anubhav instruct.

Dhruv frowns slightly. "They didn't come?"

Pranay shakes his head. "Mr. Singhania advised it was not safe to leave the ladies alone, given the situation. They're staying back with them."

Dhruv nods slowly in understanding.

"We'll be back soon, bhaiya," Pranay says softly, patting Anubhav's shoulder again. He and Dhruv turn and walk away, leaving Anubhav standing alone.

He looks over at Rudra for a long moment, then slowly lowers himself into the chair next to him. "You look scared."

Rudra wipes the endless stream of tears from the corner of his eye with the back of his hand. "She said... she wants to live." His voice cracks halfway through the sentence.

Anubhav's head turns slightly toward Rudra. The raw despair in those words is achingly familiar, and they pierce the shield around his own grief.

"I wanted to live, Anubhav, I swear I wanted to live with you..."

He takes a deep, ragged breath.

"It's so unfair," Rudra sniffs, his lip trembles violently. "Destiny is trying to take her away the moment she finally decides to live. And it's hurting, it's hurting so much. Her pain, her screams... I can't even think straight. This fear keeps killing me, this fear of... losing her." He lets out a small, broken cry, closing his eyes. "It's killing me even thinking about a world without her. I just want to hold her so tightly and bury my face in her hair and tell her..." He breaks down, the words seizing in his throat. "...Tell her that I'm scared, I'm terrified to lose her. I want to save her and keep her with me all my life."

Anubhav closes his eyes, letting his own tears fall freely at the echo of desperation. He remembers standing in a similar situation, whispering the same doomed words.

"Suhana, I'm scared. Please... tell me what to do. I want to save you...tell me how to save you... Just don't leave me. Please. It's so terrifying to even think about a world without you. Please, I beg you, don't stop fighting..."

He presses a hand to his chest, swallowing down the profound, echoing ache.

"I have always prayed that no man ever has to feel this kind of pain, not even my enemy," he places a firm hand on Rudra's shoulder, grounding him, maybe grounding himself too. "She'll make it. You won't lose her."

Rudra shuts his eyes, his lips moving silently, as though every breath is a prayer.

Anubhav watches him for a long moment, he wipes the tears from his face and looks at Rudra. Rudra's voice, his eyes glassy and unfocused and for a second, Anubhav isn't in the same hospital anymore. He's somewhere years ago, a different hallway, a different place, the same sound of machines trying to keep someone alive.

"You won't lose your amber eyes," he murmurs, more to himself than to Rudra as if he's saying it to convince both of them that this time, the story will end differently.

The doors swing open, and two figures in green scrubs emerge. Rudra and Anubhav spring up simultaneously.

"Doctor... my wife... How is she?" Rudra asks. His heart hammers so violently he can hear the frantic, wet rhythm pounding in his ears.

The lead surgeon smiles. "Calm down. She's fine." A small, reassuring smile touches his lips. "The procedure was successful. We managed to stop the internal bleeding and repair the damage. She's unconscious now, in recovery. She should wake up by morning."

Anubhav closes his eyes, a shuddering breath of pure relief escaping him, and he collapses back into the chair with a dull thud, suddenly boneless.

Rudra takes a sharp, gasping breath, feeling the frozen core of his terror finally thaw. It's as if his soul, which had fled his body hours ago, has rushed back in. "Thank you," he mutters, the simplest of words for the gift of her life. "Can I meet her? Please."

"She's still being monitored and stabilized-"

"I just want to see her," Rudra cuts him off, his need urgent, overriding all protocol. "I won't touch her. Just let me, please."

The doctor hesitates, taking in the man's red eyes and palpable distress. He nods. "Alright. We'll take her to recovery now. You can see her through the glass once she's settled."

He scrubs the remaining tears from his face with a trembling hand, nodding his thanks, and follows the staff toward the recovery bay.

Anubhav remains slumped in the chair, his gaze fixed on his wallet, which he slowly extracts from his pocket. He opens it to the familiar, slightly worn picture of Suhana. Tears well up, blurring the image. "Our precious is safe." He closes his eyes, tears finally falling, he smiles in relief. "She will live. She and Rudra will have the life we couldn't have, Suhana."

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