Chapter 18: The words not spoken

The sterile corridors of the hospital echoed with soft footsteps and occasional announcements over the PA system.

Nurses moved briskly; doctors scribbled notes on charts. But Riya could barely see any of it—her eyes were blurry with tears, her heart pounding like a war drum.

She sprinted through the hallway, turning into rooms, her breath hitching, until—

Room 304, as the receptionist told her.

Her feet halted. Her palms trembled as she slowly pushed open the door.

And there he was.

Sitting upright on the hospital bed, his arm in a sling, a few bruises adorning his temple and jaw—but grinning like a fool who didn’t know the meaning of pain.

“Riyaaa! Welcome to my humble hospital suite,” he said, arms open.

Riya forced herself towards him, in slow steps.

“Look at you. You look like you’ve just survived a zombie apocalypse. Gorgeous!”

Riya’s legs gave up. She staggered forward and collapsed into him, wrapping her arms around his torso, burying her face into his chest.

She didn’t speak.

She just sobbed.

Loud.

Unfiltered.

As if the dam she had built for days had finally shattered.

Kabir’s grin vanished. He gently wrapped his uninjured arm around her, cradling her.

“Hey... hey, jaan… I’m okay. It’s just a scratch. Okay? Nothing serious.”

But Riya only cried harder.

“It had been seven days… since you just left… and I—I couldn’t reach you… and then they called and said you were in the hospital and I—” she choked on her own words.

Kabir tightened his hold, resting his chin on her head.

“I know. I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t allowed to make contact. Protocols. I should’ve called you myself… I was stupid to let that nurse call you.”

She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears, lips quivering.

“Do you have any idea how scared I was? How alone I felt?”

She hit him on his chest with shaking hands, Kabir gently cupped her face.

“Shhh… I’m here now. I’m right here. As handsome as ever.”

Riya placed her hands on his chest, as if to check he was real.

“I thought I lost…”, she ate her words.

Kabir gave her a weak smile.

“I’m not that easy to lose, Miss Mukherjee. You’ve got a clingy one here.”

Despite herself, Riya let out a soft sob-laugh through her tears, punching his chest lightly.

“Don’t joke! This isn’t funny!”

Kabir winced slightly at the impact, but he held her hand.

“Okay, okay! No jokes. Serious Captain Kabir reporting, ma’am.”

He guided her to sit beside him on the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket over her lap.

“What happened while I was gone?” he asked softly, brushing back her hair, noticing the heavy shadows under her eyes.

Riya hesitated.

Her heart clenched.

The threats.

The photo.

The encounter with Lala.

Arjun’s rage.

Her crumbling confidence.

But she said nothing.

She simply shook her head and buried herself into Kabir again.

“Nothing that matters anymore. You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

Kabir wasn’t convinced. He could feel her body trembling. He knew something had broken inside her. But he didn’t push. Not tonight.

He held her closer, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“Riya… whatever it is… you don’t have to carry it alone. I’ve got you, okay? Always.”

Riya closed her eyes, letting herself rest against him.

“Don’t ever go again.”

“I won’t.”, Kabir whispered.

But both knew that wasn’t a promise he could keep.

And still, in that moment, they didn’t need certainty. They just needed each other.

Riya clutched his hand tighter, anchoring herself in his heartbeat.

For the first time in days, her breathing slowed.

And in the quiet of that small hospital room, broken hearts found momentary peace in the arms of love.

--

The sun had not yet kissed the skyline.

Mumbai still breathed in half-slumber, the city unaware of the girl who walked its streets that morning—not to feel the breeze, but to hold herself together.

Riya Mukherjee stepped through the main doors of ETF Headquarters, Kabir’s hoodie wrapped around her own body, as if he could somehow shield her from the world closing in.

She hadn't slept.

Not in the sterile white of the hospital where Kabir lay hooked to IV drips, bruised and stitched. Not in the back of the taxi she’d taken without knowing where to go. Not in the past two days.

She didn’t want to go home. Didn’t want to see herself in the mirror.

So, like muscle memory, her feet took her to the only place she knew—the one place where her mind still held a trace of purpose. The only room that didn’t judge her silence.

The record room.

The heavy door creaked open. The familiar scent of paper and ink surrounded her like a cocoon.

No lights.

Just the faint amber of morning filtering through the high blinds.

She walked past the shelves, past the files. Her hands trembling as she traced the edges of a cabinet, as if anchoring herself to something solid.

Then slowly, she sat down—her back pressed to the cold metal drawers, her legs drawn to her chest.

And then… silence.

A moment.

Then another.

And then the storm broke.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just soft, ragged, gut-wrenching sobs, like pieces of her soul falling apart in the stillness.

She didn’t wail.

She didn’t scream.

She simply... unraveled.

What she didn’t know… was that she wasn’t alone.

ACP Arjun Rawte had arrived early too—earlier than anyone else.

Haunted.

Restless.

His demons hadn’t let him sleep either.

He had come to clear his head. Or perhaps, more truthfully, to escape his own heart.

But when he passed by the record room, a sound—faint and broken—stopped him in his tracks.

He turned his face towards the barely ajar door… and saw her.

He had come here to avoid people, to avoid her.

But now… here she was.

Crumbled.

Raw.

Broken.

Riya, huddled in the corner, her frame trembling, her face buried between her knees, trying to quiet a cry that refused to stay inside.

And something inside Arjun cracked.

He gripped the edge of the wall for balance.

He shouldn’t be here.

He should leave.

He wasn’t supposed to see this.

But his feet were frozen.

Because her pain—it looked like his own, from years ago.

He had held Roshni’s blood on his hands.

He had screamed in helpless rage after her body turned cold.

But this… this silence? This quiet collapse?

It terrified him more than all of that.

Because Riya wasn’t just grieving something past.

She was breaking in the now.

And he hated that he couldn't go to her.

He hated that he wanted to.

That he longed to kneel down, touch her shoulder, and whisper—

"You don’t have to carry it all alone."

But he didn’t.

Because if he opened his heart even a little, he knew—

She would undo him.

Because if he did, he would shatter too.

So he stood still.

Watching.

Burning.

Yearning.

Instead, he pressed his back against the wall, closed his eyes, and let her sobs pierce straight through the armor he wore so carefully.

He couldn’t protect her from this world.

He couldn’t protect her from himself.

So he did the only thing he knew—

Nothing.

Even though his soul was crying with hers.

--

A soft vibration broke the air.

Riya’s phone lit up in the dim room. She wiped her face quickly, blinking away tears, trying to compose her breath.

Kabir.

Her lips parted in surprise. Relief flooded her eyes.

She stood up.

Gathered herself, adjusting her shirt, brushing the dust from her clothes.

Arjun watched from the shadows, unmoving. Still gripping the wall so tightly, his knuckles had turned white.

She didn’t notice him.

But he couldn’t look away.

She walked out of the record room, the faintest strength returning to her shoulders, her spine straight once again.

As she moved out of the ETF office, she answered the call, trying to find her voice.

“Hey… You are up?”

Kabir's cheerful voice reached her ears, “Where the hell did you vanish? I wake up looking like a war hero, wounded, and there’s no pretty girl at my bedside. Betrayal!”

A teary laugh bubbled out of her. Genuine. Raw.

“I—I just came out for a morning walk. Will be back in 10 minutes.”

“Liar. You hate mornings.”

“People change.”, Riya smirked through tears.

“Yeah? Then change fast and get back here. Your soldier demands soup. And kisses. In that order.”

“Coming naa! In ten!”

“Ten? That’s nine minutes too long. Hurry back. My wound needs your magic touch.”

“Oh, so now you’re milking your injury?”

“Excuse me, I’ve been shot. Show some sympathy.”

“Drama Queen.

“Jaldi aa!”

Her smile lingered, despite the tears still drying on her cheeks.

Riya whispered. “Aa rahi hoon, baba!.”

She ended the call.

She would be fine.

Because someone was waiting.

Because someone loved her enough to bring her back.

And Arjun—he stood in the dark, the echo of her sobs imprinted on his soul, fighting the impossible war between memory and feeling.

--

The sun had just begun to set as the cab pulled into the hotel driveway. The clouds overhead threatened a drizzle, mirroring the turbulence inside Riya’s heart.

Inside the cab, Kabir sat beside her, one arm still bandaged but his energy slowly returning. He leaned his head back with a dramatic sigh.

“I should start collecting stamps for every injury. MEMORABILIA!”

Riya chuckled faintly but didn’t respond.

He looked at her and nudged her shoulder gently.

“You’ve barely smiled since morning. Still worried I’ll sneeze and dislocate a lung?”

“NO, your pea-sized brain!”, she retorted not even looking at him.

He huffed in reaction.

Riya shook her head, managing a small smile.

“But, if you start dancing with that bandage again, I’m calling your CO.”

Kabir grinned. “Fair enough.”

--

The door clicked softly shut behind them.

Inside the hotel room, the quiet was heavy—not empty, but dense, like it was holding its breath.

Kabir winced slightly as he dropped onto the couch, his muscles still sore from the hospital bed and bruises hidden beneath his T-shirt.

He kicked off his shoes with a sigh and looked around the room, trying to feel at home again.

Riya moved silently across the room.

She didn’t speak.

Didn’t glance his way.

She unzipped the hospital bag and began sorting the contents methodically—medicine, a wrist brace, a spare shirt—placing each one in its place like her order could restore the chaos inside her mind.

But Kabir was watching her.

Every move.

Every hesitation.

Every time she blinked a little too long, like trying to hold back tears she hadn’t cried yet.

And then, with a deep breath, he spoke—gently.

“You haven’t told me everything yet.”

Riya froze.

She didn’t turn.

“Told you what?”

Kabir didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out and tugged her gently by the wrist until she stumbled into his lap.

“Ri,” he said softly, cupping her cheek, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Where did you go this morning? What’s haunting you so badly you can’t even look me in the eye?”

The dam cracked.

She held his gaze, her lip trembling, and finally—she told him.

About the missing files.

The classified reports.

The forbidden truth.

About how Arjun caught her digging.

About how he snapped and made her feel like an outsider again.

Then about Pathan Lala—how she’d walked into his den like a naïve soldier and listened to his venomous words about the three women who didn’t survive the ETF.

Lisa. Sakshi. Ayesha.

How their deaths were coated in silence and regret.

How every word Lala spoke etched fear into her spine and anger into her bones.

How she came back… not the same.

Kabir listened, unmoving.

No interruptions.

No comfort.

Just silence.

When she finished, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His voice, when it came, was calm—too calm.

“You went after this. Alone.”

Riya nodded faintly.

“I had to,” she whispered. “I had to know the truth.”

Kabir stood up.

The space between them stretched—not in distance, but in emotion.

“No,” he said, voice tight. “You didn’t have to. You chose to.”

Riya blinked, startled.

“Kabir—”

“You chose to walk into hell. Again. For what? To prove something to a team that still doesn’t see your worth?”

His words were like knives—too sharp to ignore, too close to truth.

Riya’s voice cracked, hurt surging to her face.

“You used to believe in me.”

Kabir’s expression flickered.

“I still do. But I also know how easily this job eats people alive.”

He turned to her, his eyes no longer soft. They were weary. Scared.

“This job? This life? You’re not ready for it, Riya. And that’s not weakness—it’s the truth.”

“So you think I can’t handle it.”

Her voice was hollow now. Defeated.

“I think you shouldn’t have to handle it.”

He stepped closer, struggling for words, voice almost trembling.

“You have a heart that still believes people can be saved. You still cry for strangers. You still smile after being shot. That heart?” He placed a hand on his own chest, “…this world breaks it.”

His voice broke next.

“And I can’t… I won’t stand by and watch it happen to you.”

He turned away, fists clenched at his side, jaw set.

“I can’t lose you, Riya.”

The silence after those words was a scream between them.

Riya stood still. Her breath caught in her throat.

That should have been enough. It was supposed to mean love.

Protection.

But to Riya… it felt like doubt.

“I thought,” she whispered, “…you were the one who truly saw me. Not as fragile. Not as a burden. But as someone who mattered.”

Her voice trembled. She shook her head slowly.

“I’m not asking you to protect me, Kabir. I’m asking you to stand by me. That’s all.”

She stepped back as he reached forward.

“You, of all people, giving up on me—” Her voice cracked. “I wasn’t ready for that.”

She turned.

Kabir called her name softly, but she didn’t stop.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Kabir alone.

Alone with his guilt.

With his fear.

With the echo of her steps still haunting the room.

And the question that broke him more than anything else—

Had he stopped believing in her… or had he just started believing more in his own fears?

--

The record room was in flames.

Screams echoed through the ETF hallways.

Arjun was running.

“RIYA!”

He pushed open a door and found her—tied to a chair, blood trailing from her forehead. Her eyes searched for him, terrified.

“You’re late.”, she whispered.

Pathan Lala appeared behind her, smirking, holding a knife.

Arjun raised his gun. But it wouldn’t fire.

Click.

Click.

“You couldn’t save them… you won’t save her.”, Lala mocked.

And in a flash, the blade slashed across her stomach.

“NOOO!”

Blood.

Arjun ran, but the ground slipped beneath his feet. Her eyes never left him.

“You let me die too, Arjun…”, she whispered, her voice becoming Roshni’s.

“You let us all die.”

--

Arjun sat up with a violent jolt, breath ragged, sweat soaking through his shirt. He staggered to the sink and splashed cold water on his face.

His reflection in the mirror was barely recognizable.

Haunted.

Red-eyed.

He reached blindly for a towel, but instead, his fingers brushed against something soft—

Riya’s scarf.

Still on the table.

Forgotten after the mock drill.

Still stained from the day she almost bled out on the ground.

He stared at it.

Then at the photo beside it—Roshni.

He clenched his fists. But the ache in his chest throbbed harder.

Because now… now he wasn’t just afraid of losing her.

He was afraid of what she was beginning to mean.

And what he was willing to do to push her away.

Because it was safer to hate her… than to let her come closer and lose her too.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands.

And for the first time in years, Arjun Raute felt powerless.

Not because he couldn’t protect someone.

But because he couldn’t protect himself…

From her.

--

That night was a long one.

Not because anything happened.

But because too much had already happened.

--

The dim night lamp cast soft golden light over the small room.

On the bed, Riya lay curled up on one side, her back to Kabir, whose silhouette faced the opposite direction.

They were close enough to feel each other’s presence.

But far enough to feel the silence between them.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them slept.

The covers between them may as well have been a wall.

Kabir blinked up at the ceiling, jaw clenched. His ribs ached—bandaged and bruised—but it wasn’t the physical pain that kept him from sleep.

“Why did I say all that to her? Why couldn’t I just let her in?”

He had told her she was too soft for this world. That she couldn’t handle the job.

What he really meant was: “I can’t handle losing you.”

But that truth never left his lips.

He turned slightly, looking over his shoulder—only to find her motionless.

She was awake.

He could feel it.

Just like him.

Riya, on the other side, held the edge of the blanket tightly, her fingers trembling.

Her eyes were open.

But dry.

She had cried enough in the bathroom earlier, muffling her sobs in a towel so he wouldn’t hear.

“Why can’t he just tell me what’s breaking him? Why does he think I’m too fragile?

Does he really believe I can’t love him fully? That I won’t fight beside him if needed?”

They had spoken of everything that night—fear, pain, mission, memory—but somehow, love had been the thing they left unsaid.

And now?

Now they just lay there—two hearts aching under the same roof, reaching across a space neither was brave enough to close.

--

The light in Arjun’s room still burned.

Arjun sat hunched at his desk, both palms pressed against the table as if bracing himself against some storm.

Her voice haunted him.

She had looked at him—not with defiance—but with heartbreak.

And he hated that he had no answer.

He had screamed at her earlier, lashed out for what she did.

But it wasn’t just because she walked into a trap.

It was because she reminded him too much of the ones he’d already lost.

Roshni. Sakshi. Ayesha. Lisa.

Each one. Brave. Gone.

And now, Riya, walking down the same path.

But with more spark.

More madness.

More heart.

And it scared him.

He dropped into the chair, breathing hard. He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.

He didn’t know what to call this restlessness, this ache that began the moment he saw her cry in that record room.

But whatever it was—it wasn’t just professional.

It never had been.

He hated her vulnerability because it mirrored his own. And he hated even more that he felt drawn to it.

Drawn to her.

No. No, this can’t happen again.

He looked over at Roshni’s photograph on the side table. His voice broke in a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

Because part of him had already betrayed her.

--

That night, Mumbai slept.

But not Riya, not Kabir, not Arjun.

Each of them lay in their beds—

Together in heartbreak.

Alone in their fears.

One longing for love.

One breaking beneath its weight.

And one… trying to bury it before it begins.