SS:Shattered Bonds

Shattered Bonds

Index

Part 1 Part 18

Part 2 Part 19

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Shattered Bonds – Part One

The Poddar mansion gleamed under a thousand golden lights. Kaveri Poddar’s birthday had to be grand — after all, she was the pride of the Poddars, the woman who built their empire from dust to dynasty.

The guests admired the grandeur, but inside the mansion, a different storm brewed — invisible to the eyes but heavier than any gold they wore.

---

Abhira's POV

I stood quietly, hands clasped in front of me, the silk of my saree whispering against my skin. All around me were smiling faces, laughter echoing from walls that had witnessed too many secrets. But inside me… everything was breaking. I glanced at Kiara — so young, so full of dreams once — now crushed between betrayal and shame.

I had begged them... begged for her freedom. Not for my brother. Not for Charu. But for Kiara. She deserved better than a marriage built on lies. But Armaan…

Armaan only saw betrayal in my words. Not love.

---

When the truth about Abhir and Charu’s affair came out, it was as if time itself froze. Shattered gasps, accusations, cries — all at once.

Kiara collapsed to the floor, her sobs raking through everyone’s hearts. But amidst it, Armaan’s eyes found only one face: Abhira.

Eyes full of disappointment.

Eyes full of hurt.

---

Armaan's POV

I had built my world on trust. And in one evening, it fell. She chose her brother’s side. Divorce — the word felt like a stab through my ribs. Kiara’s tears didn’t move her enough to protect our family?

Was this the woman I married? Was this the woman who promised to stand with me no matter what?

My Abhira?

---

What followed were endless days of arguments.

Silence louder than thunder.

Nights slept on opposite sides of the bed — or not slept at all.

Everywhere Abhira turned, she met Armaan’s cold shoulders.

Everywhere Armaan looked, he saw betrayal where there was only helplessness.

---

Abhira's POV

Every time I opened my mouth to explain, Armaan shut me down with a glare colder than ice. I missed him. Missed the way he once touched my face when I was stressed. Missed the secret smiles we shared in crowded rooms. Now, all I got was silence. Punishment for something I didn’t even do.

All I wanted... was Kiara’s happiness. Why couldn’t he see it?

---

One rainy afternoon at the Poddar Law Firm, a tiny ray of sunshine entered Abhira’s dark world — baby Daksh, Ruhi and Rohit’s precious son.

She played with him in her cabin, his giggles softening her heartache.

For the first time in days, Abhira smiled from her soul.

But fate — cruel and silent — was waiting around the corner.

A missing case file.

An assistant’s carelessness.

One slip.

Daksh got hurt.

---

Armaan’s POV

I saw Daksh’s forehead wrapped in white gauze. My hands trembled. My mind went blank. I heard someone say "minor injury", but anger deafened me.

And then I saw her — Abhira. Standing there, guilty, helpless… or was it careless?

I don’t remember the words I said. Only the way she flinched at my voice.

Only the way her shoulders shook when she tried to hold back her tears.

I yelled.

I blamed.

I broke her… in front of the entire firm.

I didn’t even stop when she begged with her eyes.

---

Abhira’s POV

Every accusation felt like a whip. Every word tore at my skin. But the worst part?

He wasn’t just angry about Daksh.

He was angry about everything — about Kiara, about Abhir, about Charu — and I was the easy target.

In front of everyone… he made me small.

In front of everyone… he forgot I was the woman he once loved.

I ran.

And destiny, heartless as it always is, dealt the final blow.

---

The phone rang.

Armaan’s blood turned to ice.

“Abhira Sharma — road accident. Major head injury.”

---

Armaan’s POV

The world spun.

No, this couldn’t happen.

Not to her.

Not to us.

I ran like a madman through the streets, not even knowing if I was breathing. Rohit’s arms caught me before I collapsed. The hospital doors slammed open — the beeping machines, the blood on her forehead, the lifeless way she lay on the bed…

The doctor’s voice broke through the haze.

“She’s pregnant. Three months.”

Pregnant.

Our child.

Our dream.

Growing inside her.

---

The families gathered in the hospital, prayers on their lips and fear in their eyes.

Manish Goenka — her B Nanu — the man who raised Abhira like his own daughter, slapped Armaan across the face.

And for once, Armaan felt he deserved it.

---

Abhira's POV (subconscious)

In the darkness, I floated. Somewhere far, far away.

Faces I loved called out to me.

A voice — deep, broken, calling my name again and again.

"Come back to me, Abhira..."

"Please..."

---

But destiny was not finished with its cruelty yet.

The baby — the little life they never even got to know — couldn’t survive.

Abhira slipped into a coma.

Six months of endless hospital corridors, of machines beeping, of prayers whispered under broken breaths.

---

Until one morning, Abhira’s eyes fluttered open.

She woke.

But not for Armaan.

---

Abhira's POV (awakening)

Where am I?

Why does everything look so strange?

They told her she was married.

They told her she belonged to someone named Armaan Poddar.

But her mind clung to simpler days — law school, her first courtroom dream, her B Nanu and Badi Maa’s hugs.

Not marriage.

Not love.

Not heartbreak.

---

Armaan’s POV

I watched her eyes — once so full of love for me — scan me like I was a stranger.

She didn’t remember me.

She didn’t remember us.

Manish Goenka took her away that same evening.

Cut ties.

Refused to allow even a goodbye.

And Armaan stood alone in the hallway of the hospital, with a heart heavier than the sky itself.

---

(END OF PART ONE)

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Shattered Bonds – Part Two: The Lost Light

Three Months Later

The Goenka mansion was peaceful, but in Abhira's heart, there was a storm she could not name.

Each morning she woke up, surrounded by love and care, but something always felt… incomplete. Her B Nanu smiled with pain behind his eyes. Her Badi Maa whispered prayers when she thought no one was listening. And her Choti Maa — hovered like a shadow of some forgotten sadness.

Abhira’s POV

I see it in their eyes — they’re hiding something. Everyone walks on eggshells around me. They speak gently, avoid certain names, and I… I feel like a guest in my own life.

My reflection shows a grown woman, but my memories stop at the girl I was — passionate about law, dreaming of my first big case. Marriage? Love? A husband? I remember none of it.

And the name Armaan Poddar — when whispered around her — stirred something distant in her chest. Like music heard through a wall.

---

Meanwhile… at the Poddar Mansion

The once lively house now carried a weight it couldn’t shake off. Laughter had become forced. Conversations were shorter. And in Armaan’s room, time had frozen.

He hadn’t gone to the law firm in weeks. His once sharp suits lay untouched. His trophies and awards sat gathering dust.

But every night, he sat by the window — looking at the moon.

Armaan’s POV

She’s out there somewhere. Alive. Breathing. But she doesn’t remember me. Doesn’t remember our mornings, our fights, our kisses under the rain.

How cruel can fate be — to take her memory of me but leave mine of her?

I can still hear her laughter. Still feel her head on my shoulder when she fell asleep reading case files. I can’t lose her… not like this.

---

One day, Armaan visited the Goenka house. Not as a husband, but as a stranger.

Manish Goenka stood firm at the door.

“She doesn’t need you,” he said. “You already gave her more pain than any woman should bear.”

But before the door shut, a soft voice echoed.

“Who is he?”

Abhira stood at the top of the stairs, in a pastel yellow salwar kameez, her eyes curious… and confused.

Their eyes met.

And for a second — just a second — the world stilled.

Abhira’s POV

Why does my heart… ache when I look at him? Why do his eyes carry the weight of a hundred goodbyes?

Armaan didn’t say a word. He just folded his hands and walked away.

---

From that day on, he didn’t force his way back.

But he sent flowers every Friday — white lilies, her favorite.

He sent law books, with underlined passages that once made her smile.

He sent letters — unsentimental, factual — like a colleague helping another lawyer.

Abhira’s POV

These things… they stir something. I don’t remember loving him, but my heart knows kindness when it sees it.

Her curiosity grew. She began reading the letters more carefully.

She found herself underlining his underlines.

She began asking Ruhi — carefully — about him.

Ruhi hesitated, but slowly, she spoke the truth. About their marriage. Their love. Their fights. The accident. The baby.

And Abhira cried for a memory she didn’t even possess.

---

One rainy day, Abhira walked into the Poddar Law Firm again. Dressed in a white kurta, holding a legal file.

Her footsteps echoed down the hallway.

And there he was — in his cabin. Pale. Tired. But still Armaan.

She knocked once.

He looked up. Shocked.

Abhira: “I have a case. A young girl forced into a marriage. I want to fight for her. I need someone to second-chair.”

Armaan (softly): “Why me?”

Abhira (quietly): “Because something inside me… still trusts you.”

He couldn’t speak.

He just nodded.

And that’s how it began — not with a grand reunion, not with a kiss or apology — but with a case. A fight. A shared purpose.

---

Abhira’s POV

Every day I sit beside him, I learn something new — about the man he was, the husband he tried to be, and the mistakes that broke us.

And somewhere, in between court sessions and coffee breaks… I feel my heart waking up again.

---

(END OF PART TWO)

Great second part

Enjoyed reading it

Please update soon

so beautiful written

can't wait to read more.

Shattered Bonds - Part Three: Armaan’s Tormented Heart

Armaan’s POV

Every morning I wake to a hollow silence. The bed beside me is cold; the laughter that once filled these walls now feels like a distant echo. I carry the weight of her tears — silent cries in the night — each one a reminder of how I broke her heart with my anger, how I failed to see her misery until it was too late.

In the days before her accident, Abhira was a beacon of light. She moved through the law firm with fierce determination, her eyes shining as she defended the voiceless. Off the clock, she had a childlike wonder that touched everyone: chasing Laddu through the courtyard, coaxing his giggles with silly faces, and saying, “Imagine if we had a little one just like him.” In those moments, we’d drift into dreams of our future child — a life we both yearned for, painted in pastel mornings and bedtime stories.

But my fury crept in, poisoning our bond. Every snapped word, every harsh reprimand, left her shrinking away. I told myself it was for her own good — that discipline would make us stronger. Instead, I watched her warmth fade and her spark extinguish.

When she woke up with no memory of us, I faced the starkest truth: she no longer knew the man she loved, or the love we once shared. Yet somehow, devotion outlived memory. She came to the firm seeking help with a case — her voice calm, her resolve unwavering. In that moment, I realized how deeply she still trusted me, even without recall of our past.

Reading through her brief, I felt a tide of emotion: regret for every tear I caused, gratitude for her faith in me, and a fierce protectiveness rising in my chest. Here she was, my partner in justice once more, not because of memory but because of an unspoken bond.

As I sat across from her, poring over witness statements, the world outside receded. I pledged silently:

To shield her heart from pain, with patience and understanding.

To rebuild her trust through every case we handle together.

To nurture our shared dream of a family, so that one day we might bring our imagined child into a world healed by our love.

Her strength gave me hope. Her presence gave me purpose. And in the quiet of that office, I vowed to atone for my past by standing unwaveringly at her side.

---

(END OF PART THREE)

Shattered Bonds - Part Four: Abhira’s Unspoken Longing

Abhira’s POV

From the moment he steps into the conference room, I feel its pull—a force I don’t understand but cannot resist. Armaan moves with quiet confidence: the way he sets my case file before me, the measured way he articulates legal strategy, each word chosen carefully, each sentence a steady hand guiding me through unfamiliar terrain.

I don’t remember him—at least not in my waking mind. But in some hidden corner of my heart, I ache for him. When he looks at me, there’s a softness that lingers in my chest long after his gaze moves away.

He mentors me on the case as if it’s both our battle and our bond. He maintains distance—never too close to overstep, never so distant that I feel abandoned. His kindness is deliberate: a reassuring nod when I hesitate, a warm smile when I present an argument well. And through it all, I find myself leaning toward him, drawn like iron to a magnet.

I notice:

The gentle way he corrects my phrasing, never making me feel small.

The subtle humor in his eyes when he teases me about overanalyzing facts.

The care in his tone when he asks if I’ve eaten, sensing my long hours at the firm.

My heart flutters whenever he reaches out to hand me a fresh cup of coffee, steam swirling between us. He does not force my hand; he waits for me to accept it, as if respecting the fragile space I inhabit.

At times, I catch him watching me when I’m not looking—his expression a blend of pride and longing. I wonder if he, too, feels the magnetism that pulls us together, even when memory keeps us apart.

Despite everything, there’s a promise in his presence: a promise that one day, this intangible bond will translate into words, into memories, into something I can hold. Until then, I live in these moments—his mentorship, his quiet devotion, his respect for my pace—and feel my heart stir with a hope I cannot yet name.

And though I cannot recall our past, I know this truth in my bones: I am safe with him. And in that safety, something beautiful begins to grow again.

---

(END OF PART FOUR)

Part Four: Abhira’s Unspoken Longing

Abhira’s POV

From the moment he steps into the conference room, I feel its pull—a force I don’t understand but cannot resist. Armaan moves with quiet confidence: the way he sets my case file before me, the measured way he articulates legal strategy, each word chosen carefully, each sentence a steady hand guiding me through unfamiliar terrain.

I don’t remember him—at least not in my waking mind. But in some hidden corner of my heart, I ache for him. When he looks at me, there’s a softness that lingers in my chest long after his gaze moves away.

He mentors me on the case as if it’s both our battle and our bond. He maintains distance—never too close to overstep, never so distant that I feel abandoned. His kindness is deliberate: a reassuring nod when I hesitate, a warm smile when I present an argument well. And through it all, I find myself leaning toward him, drawn like iron to a magnet.

I notice:

The gentle way he corrects my phrasing, never making me feel small.

The subtle humor in his eyes when he teases me about overanalyzing facts.

The care in his tone when he asks if I’ve eaten, sensing my long hours at the firm.

My heart flutters whenever he reaches out to hand me a fresh cup of coffee, steam swirling between us. He does not force my hand; he waits for me to accept it, as if respecting the fragile space I inhabit.

At times, I catch him watching me when I’m not looking—his expression a blend of pride and longing. I wonder if he, too, feels the magnetism that pulls us together, even when memory keeps us apart.

Despite everything, there’s a promise in his presence: a promise that one day, this intangible bond will translate into words, into memories, into something I can hold. Until then, I live in these moments—his mentorship, his quiet devotion, his respect for my pace—and feel my heart stir with a hope I cannot yet name.

And though I cannot recall our past, I know this truth in my bones: I am safe with him. And in that safety, something beautiful begins to grow again.

---

(END OF PART FOUR)

Originally posted by: 8Lucky88

Great start

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Part Five : Fragments of Truth

The soft golden light of dusk filtered through the Goenka mansion windows. The room was quiet, filled only with the muffled chirping of birds and the occasional rustling of the curtains in the breeze.

Abhira sat on the floor of her old room, cross-legged on the floral carpet she’d grown up on. A warmth filled her chest—faint memories fluttering like half-remembered dreams. Her fingers brushed against the pages of a photo album, but her eyes were vacant.

She looked up as Ruhi entered, holding a tray with tea and a plate of her favorite noodles.

Abhira smiled faintly. “You still remember.”

Ruhi sat beside her, placing the tray down. “Of course I do, pagli. You’re still my little sister, even if your memory’s playing hide and seek.”

There was a pause. The air felt heavy.

Then softly, Abhira asked the question that had haunted her for weeks.

“Ruhi… tell me the truth. About Armaan. About me. About everything that happened before… before the accident.”

Ruhi stiffened for a moment. Her eyes dropped to her lap. Then, gathering courage, she took a deep breath.

“Armaan loves you, Abhira. Madly. Deeply. The kind of love that makes the world fade around him when you walk into a room.

He used to wait hours just to have lunch with you. He remembered every little thing—your preferences, your favorite courtroom pens, your habit of tying your hair in a knot when you were angry.”

Abhira’s eyes softened.

“But,” Ruhi continued, her voice breaking slightly,

“After the mess with Abhir and Charu… something in him snapped.”

Abhira’s brows furrowed.

Ruhi placed a hand over hers gently. “It wasn’t your fault. You never supported Abhir in what he did. Neither did I. But the entire Poddar family… they thought we were covering up for him, just because we were quiet. Just because we didn’t scream at him in public.”

She swallowed hard.

“Rohit was also angry at me. But he’s soft-spoken. He kept distance, but didn’t wound me with words like Armaan did with you.”

Abhira blinked back tears.

“What did Armaan do…?”

Ruhi hesitated. Then said softly, “He changed.

He started venting every frustration on you. Every little mistake—even forgetting a file, or being late by five minutes—took a toll on him.

And you… you just kept taking it, thinking it would pass.”

There was silence.

“Why didn’t anyone talk about Abhir bhaiya and Charu? Why pretend like it never happened?”

“Because it’s easier to blame you,” Ruhi said bitterly. “Charu’s part of the Poddar Bloodline. You… you and I were always an outsider to them, even after marriage. And when Kiara was hurt, they blamed you and me.

Abhira closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Ruhi wiped it gently. “I wanted to scream at them. I wanted to shake you and make you see what was happening. You, who used to fight the whole world when someone was wrong. You were the strongest person I knew. But slowly… I saw your spark fading.”

“And the accident?”

Ruhi’s eyes brimmed. Her voice shook.

“You were at the office, playing with your Laddo baby our Daksh. You love him so much… always call him your ladoo like he’s yours.”

Abhira smiled faintly through tears.

“You gave him to your assistant for just two minutes while you looked for a file. She got careless. He had a small injury… but Armaan—he lost control. He screamed at you in front of the whole office, blamed you like you were careless, irresponsible.”

Abhira’s lips trembled.

“He mishandled you, Abhira. I wasn’t there, but the others said he shattered you that day. You left in tears. Distraught. And then the accident happened.”

Abhira’s hands went cold. Her voice barely came out.

“Why would he do that… if he loved me?”

Ruhi gripped her shoulders.

“Because he hated himself. And didn’t know how to deal with his own guilt. He was already drowning in the pain of Charu’s betrayal, of Kiara’s heartbreak, of the family’s constant judgment—and he made you the punching bag for all of it.”

Abhira turned her face away, crying quietly.

Ruhi continued, her voice cracking.

Ruhi said, holding back her own tears. “He asked me to tell you everything.

Every good memory. Every ugly truth.

He doesn’t want to hide his mistakes from you.

He wants you to know everything, and then decide if you even want him in your life.

He says… he doesn’t deserve you. But still, he’s waiting—like a man drowning in guilt—hoping you’ll heal even if it means walking away from him forever.”

Abhira broke down. Completely.

Sobs tore from her chest as she leaned into Ruhi, who wrapped her arms tightly around her.

---

(END OF PART FIVE)Text