Riya/Ariya FF: Aakhri Umeed {A/N on p.1 | Update 14} - Page 4

Part 7

The sun was warmer now, its golden rays casting a honeyed glow across the room. The faint hum of the city outside seeped in through the slightly ajar window, but inside—the world remained still.

Riya’s head was still pressed against Arjun’s chest. She could feel the steady, rhythmic thud of his heart beneath her cheek—a soothing lullaby anchoring her in place.

For once, she didn’t want to move.

Her fingers remained loosely curled into his shirt, the fabric crumpled slightly in her grip. She could feel the faint rise and fall of his breathing beneath her palm, steady and warm, grounding her in a way she hadn’t known she needed.

And when she finally shifted slightly, tilting her head upward, she found his eyes already on her.

Arjun was awake.

He had been for a while.

His arms were still wrapped protectively around her, but his eyes—the way they watched her—were softer. His features were relaxed, but there was something deeply tender in his gaze, something achingly raw.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

They simply stared at each other—his dark, penetrating eyes locked with her soft, tear-brightened ones.

Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching in her throat.

And then, with almost painful slowness, his hand came up.

He gently brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face. His fingers skimmed against her cheek, achingly tender, as though afraid she might break.

“Kaisi ho?” he murmured softly, his voice still hoarse with sleep, but laced with unmistakable concern.

Her lips quivered faintly.

She stared at him for a beat longer, searching his eyes. And then, with a voice barely above a whisper, she answered.
“Tum ho na…”

Her voice cracked slightly.
“Bas itna hi kaafi hai…”

Arjun stilled.

For a brief moment, his throat tightened so violently that he couldn’t breathe.

The rawness in her voice—the sincerity—it pierced through him like a blade.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw clenching. His arms instinctively tightened around her, pulling her closer, almost crushing her against him.

“Riya…” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. His fingers tightened against her hair. “Hamesha hoon. Samjhi? Hamesha.”

Her breath caught sharply.

And before she could stop herself, she turned her face into his chest, her fists clenching weakly against the fabric of his shirt.

The tears came again—soft, broken sobs that she had no strength to hold back.

But this time, they weren’t violent.
They weren’t suffocating.
They were cathartic.

And he held her through it all.

***

It was almost noon by the time Riya stirred again.

She slowly blinked her eyes open, the soft rays of light warming her face. For a brief moment, she felt disoriented, her gaze clouded with sleep.

But then she felt the weight of his arms around her.

Her breath hitched slightly, and she turned her face toward him, her cheek brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

Arjun was sitting upright, resting against the headboard. He was fully awake, his gaze fixed on her face.

His eyes were dark and quiet, watching her intently, as though memorizing every detail.

For a fleeting second, she felt self-conscious—the vulnerability of the previous night still fresh in her chest.

Her eyes lowered slightly. Her fingers, still resting against his chest, twitched faintly as though unsure whether to pull away.

But before she could move, Arjun’s hand came down.

His fingers brushed against her cheek.
Soft. Delicate. Steady.

“Thoda sa aur so lo…” he murmured softly, his voice low and tender. “Tum thak gayi ho.”

Her breath caught slightly. She slowly lifted her eyes to his.

And that was when she saw it.

The tenderness.
The rawness.
The care that bled through his eyes, filling the space between them.

It was unlike anything she had ever known.

Her throat tightened slightly, her chest suddenly too full. She swallowed thickly and shook her head faintly.

“Nahi…” her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. She glanced down at her fingers, still lightly curled against his chest, and spoke so softly that her voice almost cracked.
“Abhi nahi so sakti…”

His brows furrowed faintly in concern. “Riya—”

But she cut him off.

Her voice was soft, fragile, but heartbreakingly sincere.
“Abhi so gayi… toh phir sapna lagega… ki tum the hi nahi…”

Her eyes shimmered with vulnerability as she looked at him, her voice trembling with honesty.
“Main abhi nahi so sakti, Arjun…”

For a brief moment, Arjun didn’t move.

Her words slammed into his chest with such force that he felt winded.

He stared at her, his breath caught in his throat. His fingers twitched slightly against her skin.

And then, without saying a word, he leaned down.

His lips brushed against her forehead—a lingering touch that was neither hurried nor hesitant.

“Main hoon…” he whispered softly against her skin. “Tumhare sapno mein nahi… tumhare saath. Yahin hoon.”

Her eyes burned instantly, her throat tightening with emotion.

And she believed him.

***

By the time she sat up, her body still felt heavy with exhaustion, but the weight pressing against her chest had eased ever so slightly.

Arjun walked into the room with a mug of tea. He held it out to her without a word.

Riya blinked slightly, her gaze lowering to the cup, and then back to him.

For a moment, her hands trembled slightly as she reached out, but his fingers steadied hers.

“Garam hai. Sambhal kar.” His voice was soft, but firm.

She nodded slightly, curling her fingers around the warm ceramic. The familiar scent of cardamom and ginger filled her senses, soothing her frayed nerves.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

Riya took small, careful sips, her hands trembling faintly against the mug. She could feel Arjun’s eyes on her, watching her closely.

When she finally set the cup down, she exhaled softly. Her hands remained loosely curled around the mug, her fingers tracing the rim absently.

And then, she spoke—her voice so low it was barely audible.

“Tumhe pata hai…” she whispered softly, her eyes fixed on the mug. “Mujhe therapy se pehle kabhi aise baat karne ka mann nahi hota tha…”

Her voice was fragile, almost detached, but it wavered faintly with vulnerability.
“Lekin kal raat… tumhare saath…”

Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers tightened faintly against the mug.

“Mujhe laga ki shayad…” she hesitated, her voice breaking slightly. Her lips trembled faintly, and she exhaled shakily.
“…shayad koi hai jo… sunega…”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Arjun’s breath stilled.

For a moment, he simply stared at her, his throat tightening so violently that he could barely breathe.

And then, slowly, he reached forward.

His fingers gently curled over hers, easing the mug from her trembling hands. He placed it aside carefully.

And then he cupped her face in his hands.

His thumbs brushed softly against her cheekbones, his eyes locked on hers.

And then, with a voice so low it was almost a whisper, he said the only thing that mattered.
“Main hamesha sunta rahunga, Riya…”

Her breath caught violently.

And then, before she knew it, her lips parted.
And she fell into his arms.

Nice update

Love it

Cont soon.

Read both parts one ago sorry for the delay 😔 I was so busy and also here I m roasted like chicken 🍗

The way Arjun supported his Riya was soooo awesome so beautifull thanks for this amazing masterpiece 💯

Man I am in love with this

I love the way Arjun continues to reassure her no matter how many times she needs it

and finally, she is also allowing herself to be comforted by him

Part 8

The afternoon sun slanted through the windows, casting a golden glow across the small living room. The soft hum of the city seeped in from the distance, but inside the apartment, the world remained quiet—serene, almost untouched.

Riya sat on the couch, her knees pulled up against her chest. The oversized blanket Arjun had draped over her earlier was still wrapped around her frame, the fabric swallowing her delicate form.

Her eyes were fixed on the window, lost in the slow sway of the curtain. The sunlight caught in the thin fabric, creating delicate patterns on the floor—a dance of light and shadow.

She was still.
But her heart was heavy.

The morning had been tender. Arjun’s gentle presence, his steady hands, and the rare vulnerability he had shown—it had soothed her in ways she didn’t know she needed.

But now, in the stark light of day, the familiar weight pressed back against her chest.

Her demons were still there.
The bruises on her soul still lingered.
And the darkness still whispered cruelly in the back of her mind.

She exhaled slowly, hugging her knees closer to her chest.

Across the room, Arjun watched her.

He had barely left her side all morning. Every time she stirred, he was there. Every time her eyes dimmed with memories too heavy to bear, his hand was there—holding hers, grounding her.

But now, she was slipping away again.
He could see it—the distance in her eyes.

The way her gaze remained fixed on the window, her expression too vacant, too still.

His throat tightened faintly. He slowly walked over and sat beside her.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything.
He simply sat with her—close, but not imposing.

And then, with a voice so soft it was barely above a whisper, he asked,
“Kya soch rahi ho?”

Her fingers twitched faintly against the blanket.

For a brief moment, she didn’t answer. She simply kept staring at the window, her lips slightly parted, but her voice lost.

And then, after a beat, she whispered,
“Pata nahi…”

Her voice was hoarse, as though it hurt to speak.
“Bas… thak gayi hoon.”

Arjun’s chest tightened instantly.

He didn’t say anything.
He simply reached over and slowly curled his fingers over hers, easing her trembling hand into his.

“Pata hai?” he murmured softly, his voice low and steady.
“Mujhe bhi kabhi-kabhi aise hi lagta hai…”

Her eyes flickered faintly, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“Jab Roshni gayi thi…” His voice was rough, but low.
“Mujhe laga tha… ki saari roshni chali gayi. Aur main… usi andhere mein reh gaya.”

His eyes darkened slightly with the memory.
“Bohot baar laga tha ki… main bhi chala jaoon…”

Riya’s breath caught sharply.

Her eyes snapped to his, the hollow ache in his voice piercing through her chest.

She hadn’t known this side of him.

The rage, the bitterness, the anger—she had seen all of it. She had seen him fight and burn and drown in his grief.

But she had never seen him like this.
So raw.
So stripped of his armor.
So vulnerable.

Her lips parted faintly, her throat tightening painfully.

For a long moment, she simply stared at him—her eyes brimming with something she couldn’t name.

And then, with a trembling breath, she whispered,
“Tum… tum theek ho gaye?”

Arjun exhaled softly, his lips curving faintly into a sad smile.

He shook his head slowly.
“Nahi, Riya…” he murmured softly, brushing his thumb over her hand again.
“Lekin ab sambhal gaya hoon.”

His voice was low, but steady.

And when his eyes met hers, they were dark and honest, but achingly tender.
“Aur ab… main tumhe bhi sambhal loonga.”

Her chest constricted violently.

Her eyes burned with the weight of his words, and her fingers tightened against his.

For the first time in a long time, she believed him.

***

The sun was beginning to set by the time Riya finally allowed herself to exhale.

She was still sitting beside Arjun, their hands loosely entwined. The blanket had slipped off her shoulders slightly, pooling around her waist.

The room was quiet—no words were needed.

For a long while, she simply sat there, her head resting against his shoulder.

And then, softly, she spoke.

“Tumhe pata hai…” her voice was low, barely above a whisper.
“Bachpan mein… mujhe yaad nahi padta ki kabhi maa ne mujhe bina daante… bina dukh ponchaye gale lagaya ho.”

Arjun’s breath stilled.

Her voice was so soft, so fragile, but each word cut into him like a blade.

“Main… har baar baat man leti thi…” she continued softly, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
“Lekin phir bhi galti hoti thi… kyunki main Riya hoon na…”

Her lips trembled faintly, and she exhaled shakily.
“Troublemaker Riya.”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Arjun’s jaw clenched faintly, his grip on her hand tightening instinctively.

But she didn’t stop.

Her voice was trembling now, hoarse and breaking, but she didn’t stop.

“Jab school mein bully kiya jaata tha na… toh ghar pe shikayat karne ka mann nahi hota tha.”

Her eyes burned violently, her throat constricting.
“Kyunki jab bhi mai roti thi na… toh mummy papa haste the… bolte the—‘Tum hi ne kuch kiya hoga.’”

Her voice cracked violently.
“Koi nahi poochta tha ki… sach mein kya hua tha…”

Her shoulders shook faintly.
“Bas bolte the… Riya hi galat hai.”

And then she choked on a sob, her body trembling.

Arjun’s chest caved violently.

Without a word, he pulled her into his arms.

“Bas…” he murmured hoarsely against her hair. “Bas Riya… please…”

But she clung to him desperately, her fingers twisting into his shirt. Her body shook violently against his, her breath ragged and broken.

“Main… thak gayi hoon Arjun…” she sobbed brokenly.
“Bohot thak gayi hoon…”

And Arjun held her.

His arms tightened around her trembling frame, his hand pressing against the back of her head, holding her to his chest as though anchoring her in place.

“Main hoon…” he whispered hoarsely, his lips brushing against her temple.
“Bas… main hoon Riya… yahin hoon…”

Her sobs slowly began to ease, but she didn’t move.

Her arms remained tightly wound around him, her face buried against his chest, her breath still shaky against his skin.

And Arjun simply held her.
He didn’t let go.
Not even for a second.

You are really into stir people's childhood trauma lol ..a compliment though.

Like dr house said we are all screwed up by our parents. Our first friend sister brother etc. we are also their trial runs, sometimes some people just shouldn't be parents. They are damaged themselves but society brainwash them for marriage and kids and they ruin other people's lives. Then these damaged broken kids go on with their hurtful hearts in the world and hurt others.

For Riya she's dying inside and her going back and forth between 'i don't want to live anymore to bear this hurt' and baby steps towards light is quite realistic. Just because Arjun is there supporting and baring his soul doesn't mean she's fixed magically ready to move on. Also family is a hard topic for people. I liked how Arjun was raw about his own struggles, not much stories touch upon his hurt broken heart don't wanting to live after roshni

There is a show the newsroom. I think it had a quote/story about a man who fell in a ditch then other getting in to rescue him. First person was like you will be stuck here too. Second person was like i know how to get out of here. Remembered it when Arjun said he's been through it too.

Awesome

Love it

Continue soon

Part 9

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a faint amber haze that stretched across the sky. The living room was illuminated only by the warm glow of a small floor lamp in the corner. The light was soft—gentle, almost hesitant—as if afraid to shatter the fragile calm in the room.

Riya was still nestled in Arjun’s arms, her body slack with exhaustion. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear was the only sound she could focus on, grounding her, keeping her from slipping back into the void she had fought so hard to crawl out of.

Her breath was uneven, but her sobs had finally quieted. Her fingers, which had been tightly fisted into his shirt, slowly loosened their grip, but she didn’t let go.

Arjun’s hand remained tangled in her hair, his touch slow and deliberate, trailing through her locks with steady, soothing strokes. His other hand was splayed protectively across her back, holding her against him with a quiet desperation, as though he was afraid she would slip away if he loosened his grip.

Neither of them spoke.
They didn’t need to.

At some point, her breathing evened out.
Her trembling slowed.
And she finally grew still.

Arjun shifted slightly, leaning back against the couch, his arms still securely around her. He lowered his chin slightly, resting it against her crown, and exhaled softly.

“Riya…” he murmured hoarsely, barely above a whisper.

She didn’t respond.

Her breathing was steady now, slow and even, and when he glanced down, he realized she had finally slipped into sleep.

His chest tightened faintly.

Even in sleep, her expression was taut. Her brows furrowed slightly as though she was still battling her demons in her dreams.

His arms tightened around her.
And he pressed his lips against her forehead.

The touch was featherlight, barely a whisper, but something within him cracked violently at the contact.

“Tumhe phir kabhi akele nahi chodunga, Riya,” he whispered against her skin, his voice low and rough with quiet conviction.
“Chahe jo bhi ho… main hamesha yahin rahunga.”

***

When Riya finally stirred, the first thing she became aware of was warmth.

There was a weight draped around her—a steady, secure warmth that anchored her in place.

She blinked slowly, disoriented, her lashes fluttering faintly against her cheeks. Her eyes cracked open, bleary and heavy with sleep.

For a moment, she was confused.

Her face was pressed against something solid and warm. Her fingers were loosely curled against soft fabric, and a slow, steady heartbeat thrummed softly beneath her palm.

She shifted slightly, her breath hitching faintly, and slowly tilted her head upward.

Her eyes met Arjun’s.

He was already awake.

His gaze was soft but alert, his eyes heavy with a quiet concern as he studied her face. His hand was still in her hair, his fingers lightly brushing through the strands.

“Subah ho gayi?” she murmured groggily, her voice hoarse with sleep.

He exhaled softly, his lips curving faintly.
“Haan,” he murmured, his voice low and tender.
“Tum thodi der aur so sakti ho.”

Her eyes flickered slightly, her lids heavy, but she didn’t move.

For a moment, she simply stared at him, her gaze hazy with sleep, but warm.

And then, without warning, her eyes clouded slightly.

She blinked slowly, her throat tightening faintly as the memories of the previous night flickered through her mind—the storm she had broken under, the flood of pain she had unleashed.

Her breath caught faintly, her eyes burning with the sudden, unwelcome sting of tears.

But before she could spiral again, Arjun’s hand slid down to her jaw, his fingers gently cupping her face.

“Riya…” his voice was low, rough, but infinitely soft.
“Dekho mujhe…”

Her eyes lifted to his reluctantly.

His gaze was steady, unwavering.
And achingly tender.

“Tum theek ho,” he whispered softly, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone.
“Tum mere saath ho. Tum theek ho.”

Her chest clenched painfully, her throat closing up.

“Mujhe… dar lagta hai, Arjun,” she confessed brokenly, her voice barely a whisper.
“Kabhi kabhi… bohot zyada.”

His hand tightened slightly against her cheek.
His eyes darkened faintly, but his voice remained steady.

“Mujhe bhi lagta hai,” he admitted quietly.
“Lekin main tumse wada karta hoon, Riya…” his voice lowered slightly, rough with conviction.
“Ab se tumhe akela nahi ladna padega.”

Her lips parted faintly, her breath catching violently in her throat.

And then, without thinking, she shifted closer.

Her fingers curled against his chest, her knuckles brushing against the fabric of his shirt.
And slowly, hesitantly, she buried her face against him.

Her arms wound loosely around his torso, her body pressing into his.

She didn’t speak.
She didn’t need to.

And Arjun didn’t let go.
He simply wrapped his arms around her again, holding her tighter, as though he could shield her from every fragment of pain that still lingered in her chest.

***

Later that day, the ETF office was unusually quiet.

Riya sat at her desk, absently fiddling with a pen, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular. She was back at work, but her mind was still elsewhere—somewhere far, somewhere dark.

But she wasn’t alone.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Shree glancing at her occasionally, his fingers tapping absently against the keyboard. His usual playful banter was missing today.

Chotu sat a few desks away, pretending to read a file, but his eyes drifted toward her every few minutes.

And Sameer, though seemingly immersed in a call, kept his gaze flickering toward her through the glass window of his cabin, his eyes heavy with silent concern.

And then there was Arjun.

He hadn’t left her side all day.

Whenever he moved across the room, his eyes instinctively sought her out.
Whenever she grew too quiet, he brushed against her shoulder, a silent reminder that he was there.

And she felt it.
The warmth.
The silent presence of her family.

Her real family.
The one she had chosen.

Her chest tightened faintly.

And slowly, without meaning to, her lips curved slightly.
The faintest, softest smile.

And for the first time in years, she felt it.

A tiny flicker of light.
A sliver of hope.
Still fragile, still small.
But there.

And it was enough.

Sometimes glimmer of hope pulls u thru the worst times and ri has found it

Nice update

Loved it

Update soon