Posted:
Warning: This is tragic. I promised Shabz a tragic story on PremHeer. So this one is for her.
And don't say I didn't warn you!
The full title is 'Woh Miley The, Bichadne Ke Liye', but that wouldn't fit in the subject folder. And yes, it is taking the tagline of KavyAnjali, but don't you agree that it suits the story? And I love the title song of KavyAnjali. Not that anybody asked. 😆
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Heer let Meher and Ashlesha guide her down the stairs, distracted. She knew in her heart that Gaurav Sharma was Prem, her Prem, but that he genuinely did not recognise her. So today, she would put her love and faith to the test. If her love was true, if she and Prem were meant to be as she had been told all her life, as she had felt when their hands first met, he would come today, whether he remembered her or not. He would come, and he would stop this wedding. She could not but help regret how her actions had distanced her from her sister though, as she looked at Meher. She knew Meher did not really believe she had changed, but Meher was upset that she had chosen not to confide in her. Where they had always told each other everything, today, Heer was taking such a big step, and she was not telling her sister why. Heer steeled herself. Her fate would be decided today, and after, she would mend the rifts with her sister.
She took her seat next to Rishab Rampal. As they completed the first few rasams, her eyes flickered to the door again, and again. She refused to let herself think about the steps she was taking, refused to allow herself to dwell on the present, refused to let herself feel Rishab's hand on hers. It took all her willpower not to yank it away. They stood up as the priest instructed, and the rasams continued.
~~~~~
Gaurav could not understand why he felt so uneasy, why he could not bring himself to walk over to the counter and hand his ticket over. The face of that shattered girl kept coming to mind. Heer, her name was. But what was his relation to her? She was getting married today, what could he do? He was not her Prem.
He gave up on arguing with himself, and stalked back out the airport doors. He got into a taxi, and angrily spat the address of the Juneja Mansion at the driver. He fumed at himself. What was he doing? But he knew, he could not let her marry Rampal. He could not allow it.
~~~~~
Heer's heart was racing with each step she took around the fire. She kept glancing at the door, waiting for her Prem to rush in and stop this wedding. She could feel him coming. He would not let her be anyone else's. Her love and faith would win in this test. Their love and faith would win.
She could tell that both Preet and Meher were anxious for Prem's arrival. She had seen her sister looking towards the door too, telling her that Meher knew, she had always known. And Heer's burden lessened.
Each step she took was one more step to her destiny. One more step to Prem coming home, to her.
~~~~~
Gaurav told the driver to hurry, worry bubbling in the pit of his stomach. What if he was too late? He shoved that thought out of his mind. He could feel that he was not. But he had to hurry. She was waiting for him.
They were almost at the Mansion, and Gaurav knew he still had a little time, but anxiety was taking over him. He again told the driver to hurry. Neither driver nor passenger noticed the semi-auto careening down the road, the driver too busy concentrating on the road and Gaurav's exhilaration and anticipation growing with each passing second.
~~~~~
Heer stilled. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She could not breathe. It felt as though her heart were being ripped from her chest. Rishab was glaring at her, but she did not care. She could not focus on anything other than the pain in her chest that was spreading through her entire being. Her breaths were coming out in short gasps. She was so very afraid. Where was Prem? Why was he not here yet?
She turned to the door, willing Prem to appear so she could reassure herself that he was okay; nothing could happen to her Prem. Nothing could happen to him. She was hyperventilating. A figure hurried into the room, and her breath caught. Panic flared in her as she recognised the security gaurd.
"Sir, there was an accident outside! Woh log bohut zakhmi hai sir!"
Heer fled out the door before anyone else could react. Prem, her Prem needed her. He needed her. She did not see the others run out after her, did not hear Rishab swear angrily, knew nothing but the pounding of her heart keeping time with her feet as she ran out to the gate where she spotted Prem lying on the floor, blood pooling around him.
She collapsed next to him, silent tears flowing down her cheeks. She stroked his cheek. "Prem," she whispered. "Prem, tu aa gaya. Main jaanti thi ke tum aaoge."
She smiled through her tears as his eyelids fluttered. He peered at her, and a soft sigh escaped his lips. "Heer."
A sound emitted from her, a cross between a sob and a laugh. "Prem." She gently pulled his head into her lap, and wrapped one hand around his bloodied one, the other stroking his hair. "Prem." The mehndi on her hands were stained with his blood.
"Heer," he repeated it as though it was his mantra. She could read recognition in his eyes, the recognition she had ached to see when she had seen him before. He remembered, and he regretted. Regretted forgetting, regretted leaving her, regretted not believing her, regretted coming too late, and regretted leaving her again. She could see tears making their way down his cheeks, through the blood that covered his face. She laid her forehead one his.
"Prem," she sobbed.
He took a shuddered breath. It was taking all his energy to keep his eyes open. "Heer," and then he stopped moving. His eyes were glassy, his hand was limp. She kept her head on his and cried. She could not bring herself to move, it felt as though she were physically hurt. She took comfort from the fact that he had left her with her name on his lips, the way she hoped to leave someday.
The family surrounded her, trying to pry Prem away from her. She let them, turning to bury her face in Preet's chest. Meher stroked her hair, trying to keep strong. When they pulled her up to walk into the house, they all paused to stare in shock.
Her maang was filled with Prem's blood.
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Love,
Radz
Mannat Har Khushi Paane Ki
Cricket
