Taqdeer ~ A SOTY FF [Completed] - Page 4

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Aleyamma47 thumbnail
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Posted: 2 days ago
#31

Chapter 8 (Heartstrings and Duty)

Morning After — A Call That Changes Everything

The first light of dawn painted the Singh Mansion in soft gold, illuminating the quiet aftermath of last night’s laughter, whispered confessions, and tender closeness. Rohan woke first, stretching lightly, a contented smile tugging at his lips as memories of the previous night played in his mind.

He leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to Shanaya’s forehead. She stirred, half-awake, murmuring his name softly in a drowsy haze. Her lashes fluttered, a faint smile curling her lips before she drifted back into sleep.

The phone on the bedside table buzzed sharply, pulling Rohan from the warmth of the moment. He picked it up, frowning as he noticed the hospital’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” he answered, his voice still husky with sleep.

“Sir, we’ve found a man… he’s in a critical state. He keeps calling out for your wife,” a nurse explained urgently. “We need someone to identify him, or at least come quickly — it’s serious.”

Rohan blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “My wife?” he echoed. “Who…?”

“We don’t know, sir. He keeps repeating her name over and over. He was found in the streets, injured, barely conscious. We stabilized him, but you need to come.”

Rohan’s gaze shifted to the sleeping Shanaya, her hair tousled over the pillow, her chest rising and falling in gentle rhythm. He swallowed hard, a knot tightening in his stomach. Something about the urgency, the mention of his wife… it felt like a puzzle he had to solve.

He gently pressed a hand to her shoulder. “Shanaya… stay here. I need to go check on someone. I’ll be back soon.”

Shanaya stirred, blinking sleepily. “Who…? Rohan?”

“Someone… in trouble. I’ll explain when I return,” he said softly, trying to keep the concern out of his voice. He rose quietly, careful not to wake her fully, and dressed swiftly.

The drive to the hospital was tense. Rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and reflective, and Rohan’s mind raced with questions. Who was this man? And why did her name come out of his lips?

When he arrived, the nurse guided him through the busy corridors, her voice brisk yet gentle. “He’s in the ICU. We kept him under observation. He’s stable now, but he’s calling her name again and again.”

Rohan’s heart pounded as the doors to the ICU opened. Inside, a man lay in the bed, bandages wrapped hastily around his wounds. His eyes fluttered, half-conscious, lips moving repeatedly in a strained whisper.

“…Shanaya… Shanaya…”

Rohan froze, his pulse racing. The voice, the desperation, the familiarity of that name — it hit him like a thunderclap.

He stepped closer, dread and disbelief warring in his chest. “How…? It can’t be…”

The nurse gave a small nod toward the man, concern etched on her face. “He’s been asking for your wife continuously. We couldn’t get much else from him, sir.”

Rohan’s gaze locked on the man in the bed, shock rooting him to the spot. The world seemed to tilt — the joyous, playful moments of last night at the mansion clashing violently with this new, urgent reality.

Shanaya’s name hung in the air again, a thread connecting hearts across fear, love, and unspoken truths. And for Rohan, the man calling out… could only be one person.

Shock in the ICU — Rohan’s Dilemma

Rohan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the man on the ICU bed. Every instinct screamed at him — that voice, the urgency in which it clung to Shanaya’s name, the slight flutter of recognition in his eyes — it was him. But the injuries, the pallor, the frailty of the man lying there… it was almost impossible to reconcile.

He stepped closer, heart hammering. “Abhimanyu…?” he whispered, though the word felt too loud in the sterile silence of the ICU.

The man’s eyes flickered, recognition and pain mingling in their depths. He tried to lift a hand, reaching out as though trying to grasp the warmth of the world outside the hospital walls. His lips barely moved again: “…Shanaya…”

Rohan’s chest tightened. A thousand questions collided in his mind. How? Why? When? And most importantly — should he tell Shanaya? Could he?

The nurse noticed his hesitation. “Sir, he’s weak. He’s been calling her name continuously. We can’t get him to explain much else.”

Rohan nodded, swallowing hard. He couldn’t linger — he had to act. Yet every step forward felt heavy, loaded with the weight of a secret he now carried alone.

He pressed a hand to the railing of the bed, staring at the man’s fragile form. The pain etched across his face mirrored the desperation he had felt in the streets — the same unwavering devotion that had driven him, that had carried him this far.

Rohan’s mind raced, thinking of Shanaya sleeping peacefully back at the mansion. How could he possibly bring this to her? How could he protect her from the shock, the fear, the possibility of heartbreak?

The man’s whisper — Shanaya’s name again — pulled Rohan out of his spiraling thoughts. His hand clenched into a fist, jaw tight. “I’ll figure this out,” he muttered to himself, voice low, almost inaudible. “I’ll make sure she knows… when the time is right.”

He turned to the nurse. “Please, keep me updated. Don’t let anyone see him calling her. I need time to handle this… carefully.”

The nurse nodded, her eyes sympathetic. “Of course, sir.”

Rohan’s Sacrifice — Love Held at a Distance

Rohan leaned against the cool wall outside the ICU, chest tightening with a storm of emotions. The man inside — injured, frail, murmuring Shanaya’s name with desperate devotion — was proof that their past, their promises, and her heart were all tangled in ways he could never ignore.

The memory of last night — Shanaya’s laughter, the warmth of her skin, the softness in her eyes — pressed against him, sweet and urgent. And yet, each heartbeat carried guilt. He had found love, but it was not his alone to claim.

Rohan’s hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms. He could protect Shanaya, he could stand by her — but at what cost? To take the happiness he had felt, even for a moment, while another man’s life clung desperately to her name, felt like a betrayal he could never forgive himself for.

He glanced back at the ICU bed, at the pale, injured figure whispering her name. A shiver ran down his spine — not of fear for himself, but of the weight of responsibility pressing on his soul. If he pursued his own desires now, he might snatch her away from the man who needed her, the man whose life had somehow been tethered to hers.

Rohan drew in a deep breath, the decision crystallizing with painful clarity. He would step back. He would sacrifice his own love. His heart ached, threatening to break into a thousand jagged pieces, but he knew it was the only choice that could honor both Shanaya and the man whose voice haunted the room.

He turned, his gaze soft but resolute, toward the quiet streets outside the hospital. “I’ll stay close,” he whispered to himself, voice low, almost inaudible. “I’ll protect her, I’ll watch over her… but I won’t be the one who takes her away from him. Not now. Not ever.”

Every step he took away from the ICU felt heavy with longing and restraint. Each beat of his heart screamed her name, yet he swallowed the ache, burying it beneath layers of duty and conscience. He would bear the pain of loving from afar, of watching her happiness exist without him, if it meant honoring what was right.

Returning to Shanaya — Love Held in Silence

Rohan stepped quietly out of the hospital, the sterile scent still lingering in his clothes, the weight of what he had seen pressing on his chest. His hands were cold, his heart a heavy rhythm of longing and restraint. Every instinct screamed to run back to Shanaya, to hold her close, to lose himself in the warmth of her presence — but he could not.

He returned to the Singh Mansion, slipping inside before Shanaya had woken. The house was quiet, the soft morning light spilling across the floorboards and the faint remnants of last night’s closeness lingering in the air.

He found her still asleep, curled on her side, her hair spread across the pillow, a soft smile ghosting her lips. The sight of her — peaceful, untroubled, unaware of the storm outside — twisted the knife of his heart.

Rohan knelt beside her bed, pressing a light kiss to her forehead, lingering in the warmth of her skin. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, a small sigh escaping her lips, but she did not wake. He traced a finger along her shoulder, memorizing the curve of her arm, the softness of her hands, the rhythm of her breathing.

Every moment with her was now tinged with bittersweet pain. He wanted to stay, to hold her, to speak the words he could no longer afford to say. But the memory of the man in the ICU, weak and whispering her name, gnawed at his conscience. He could not — would not — let his desire eclipse the life and love that still clung to her.

With a heavy heart, Rohan rose, careful not to stir her. He adjusted her blanket over her shoulders, smoothing the folds with gentle fingers. “Stay safe,” he whispered softly, voice trembling with the weight of unspoken love. “I’ll always be here… watching, protecting… even if from afar.”

He stepped to the door, pausing as he looked back at her sleeping form. The ache in his chest was sharp, raw, a mixture of love, guilt, and sorrow. Yet in that quiet moment, he made a vow: her happiness would come first, even if it meant sacrificing his own.

Outside, the morning sun warmed the streets, oblivious to the battles of the heart unfolding within the mansion. Rohan slid quietly into his car, the drive to the hospital awaiting him, the path of duty and sacrifice stretching ahead.

As Shanaya stirred, blinking against the morning light, she felt a strange emptiness, a subtle absence she could not name. But Rohan was gone, leaving behind only the faint echo of his presence — the warmth of a touch, the softness of a kiss on her forehead, and a heart that loved her more than words could ever hold.

-----

To be continued.

Aleyamma47 thumbnail
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Posted: 2 days ago
#32

Chapter 9 (Shadows of the Heart)

Rohan’s Silent Battle

The sterile hum of the ICU was deafening in its stillness. Machines beeped rhythmically, a mechanical heartbeat that seemed to echo the chaos in Rohan’s mind. He stepped inside cautiously, eyes scanning the monitors, the pale bandages, and the fragile figure of the man who had once been a constant in Shanaya’s life.

Abhimanyu’s eyes flickered open as he sensed movement. Weak, weary, but burning with a quiet intensity, he tried to lift a hand, murmuring:
“…Shanaya…?”

Rohan’s chest tightened, and he swallowed, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Hey… easy there. You’re safe now. The doctors have taken care of you.”

Abhimanyu’s gaze, though tired and clouded by pain, sharpened as recognition flitted across his features. “I… I need… Shanaya…” he whispered, each word a fragile plea.

Rohan nodded slowly, crouching beside the bed without touching him. Every instinct screamed to rush forward, to tell him the truth, to bridge the chasm between past and present—but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not when every secret he held could shatter the fragile thread keeping Shanaya’s world intact.

“You’re strong, Abhimanyu,” Rohan said carefully, his tone soft but controlled. “The doctors said you were lucky. You need to rest, okay? Shanaya… she’s safe. That’s what matters right now.”

Abhimanyu’s lips quivered. “Safe… she… she doesn’t know… I can’t…” His voice trailed off, pain and fear mingling.

Rohan felt a stab of guilt that nearly broke him. He wanted—no, needed—to tell him everything. To confess that Shanaya’s heart had moved, that last night she had laughed, that she had… leaned on him. But each word he refrained from speaking was a dagger to his own soul.

“You need to focus on healing,” Rohan continued gently. “Everything else… can wait. You have time.”

Abhimanyu blinked, a flicker of hope and confusion in his eyes. “I… I can’t… I can’t forget her. Even a moment… every breath, every heartbeat… Shanaya…”

Rohan closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, feeling the weight of his love, his guilt, and the impossible choice he had made. He had promised himself he would protect her happiness, even if it meant living in silence. His own heart screamed for her, but here, in this sterile room, he swallowed that longing, folding it into quiet duty.

“I know,” he said softly. “That’s why I’m here. I’ll make sure she’s protected… watched over. You rest now. That’s your first priority.”

Abhimanyu’s eyes lingered on him, searching, wary yet trusting. “You… you know how is she?”

Rohan’s pulse jumped, his mind whirling. He couldn’t lie outright, but he couldn’t reveal too much either. “I’ve seen her… she’s remarkable,” he said carefully, keeping his tone neutral, almost detached. “That’s all you need to know for now.”

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. Machines hummed, monitors beeped, and Abhimanyu’s shallow breaths filled the air with fragile uncertainty. Rohan’s hands itched to reach out, to soothe, to comfort—not as a bystander, but as the man who had shared her heart, even if only for a night.

But he didn’t. He could not.

“I’ll check on her again,” Rohan murmured after a long pause. “You focus on resting. I’ll be nearby.”

Abhimanyu nodded weakly, eyes closing once more, surrendering to sleep. And as the steady rhythm of his breathing returned, Rohan lingered by the bed, a silent sentinel torn between love and loyalty.

Outside the ICU, he leaned against the wall, his thoughts a whirlwind. The night with Shanaya—their laughter, their tenderness, the intimacy—they were his now in memory alone, but not in reality. She belonged to the world beyond him, tangled with a past he could never erase.

Every heartbeat echoed with the same painful refrain:
Protect her. Keep her safe. Stay in the shadows.

And yet, in the quiet of the hospital, Rohan allowed himself one fleeting thought, one quiet torment:
I love her. I always will. But she can never know… not now. Not like this.

The storm inside him raged on, silent, invisible, and unrelenting. Outside, the sun climbed higher, indifferent to the battles of the heart unfolding within.

Rohan stayed. Watching. Waiting. Loving in silence.

Love in Shadow

Rohan returned to the Singh Mansion just as the soft golden light of morning filtered through the windows. The house smelled faintly of last night’s warmth—her perfume lingering on the sheets, the subtle scent of her hair, the quiet echoes of laughter and whispered confessions.

He found Shanaya still curled up on her side, eyelids heavy, the small rise and fall of her chest a delicate rhythm he had memorized. For a moment, he simply watched her, memorizing every detail—the softness of her hands, the curve of her lips, the gentle flutter of her eyelashes. His heart ached at the thought that, no matter how close he had been to her last night, he could never truly claim her—not while Abhimanyu still lived and still held her name in his own fragile, desperate grasp.

“Morning,” he said softly, forcing a lightness into his voice. Shanaya stirred, blinked sleepily, and offered a half-smile.

“Morning… you’re back early,” she murmured, stretching slightly, her hair falling in a messy cascade across the pillow.

Rohan nodded, smiling gently. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay. Everything’s fine here.” He leaned over, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, pressing a light kiss to her forehead—careful, tender, but restrained.

Shanaya’s eyes met his, warm and trusting, and something inside him twisted painfully. I can’t be what she thinks I am. I can’t be hers… not really.

He stayed with her through breakfast, the conversations light, playful, almost normal—but beneath each smile and each casual touch, a storm raged inside him. Every laugh he shared with her felt like a betrayal, every gentle glance a temptation he could not afford.

That evening, he made his first visit to the hospital. Abhimanyu was awake now, still weak, still haunted by pain, but alert enough to ask about Shanaya.

“She’s… okay?” Abhimanyu’s voice was hoarse but steady, desperate for reassurance.

Rohan nodded, keeping his expression neutral, controlled. “She’s fine. Resting, eating well, even laughing. You don’t need to worry. I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

Every word was a dagger to his own heart. He watched Abhimanyu’s eyes soften, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. And yet, Rohan said nothing of the nights he had shared with Shanaya, nothing of the tenderness he had allowed himself. That truth could never reach Abhimanyu—not if he wanted to keep her happiness intact.

Returning home late each night, Rohan’s behavior toward Shanaya began to shift—subtle at first, almost imperceptible. He teased less, laughed less freely, even argued over trivial things, a faint edge in his tone. Small frustrations, deliberate mistakes, quiet provocations—each one carefully crafted to create distance.

Shanaya noticed, of course. Her brow would crease in confusion. “Rohan… what’s wrong with you?” she would ask softly, hurt flickering in her eyes.

He would smile, but it was distant, almost cold. “Nothing… just tired,” he would reply, leaving her with a sense of unease he could not dispel.

Every night, as she lay asleep, he would return to his vigil at the hospital. Each update about her laughter, her meals, her small daily joys—he delivered them faithfully to Abhimanyu, his heart cracking with each smile he reported, each bit of news that reminded him of what he had to give up.

Inside, he battled a tempest of longing and guilt. He was watching her, loving her quietly, but always from the shadows. Each word he spoke to Abhimanyu, each careful omission of his own closeness to Shanaya, reinforced the wall he had built between them.

Rohan knew the truth he carried could destroy everything. He knew that if Shanaya ever learned of his feelings—or his closeness to her—while Abhimanyu lay recovering, it would shatter her trust, and maybe her heart. So he forced himself into a role she would never want him in—distant, frustrating, sometimes sharp—an image designed to push her away.

And yet, every time she frowned, every time her small, hurt glance met his, he felt the ache anew. He was sacrificing not just his love, but her perception of him, all to preserve the life and heart of another man.

The days passed like this—delicate balances of care, distance, and silent longing. Rohan became a ghost in her life, present yet absent, close yet unreachable. And each day, the truth became clearer: some loves were not meant to be claimed; some hearts were meant to protect, even at the cost of their own happiness.

And in that painful realization, Rohan vowed silently, fiercely: he would lose Shanaya to Abhimanyu. He would bear the weight of love unspoken, desire restrained, and a heart broken in quiet devotion—because some sacrifices were too sacred to ignore.

------

To be continued.

Aleyamma47 thumbnail
Monsoon Magic MF Contest Participant Thumbnail Love-O-Rama Participant Thumbnail + 3
Posted: 2 days ago
#33

Chapter 10 (A Love Too Long Held)

Birthday Shadows

The days had stretched into a rhythm of quiet vigilance. Abhimanyu’s strength returned steadily, each heartbeat growing surer, each word more coherent. Rohan had been there every step, guiding him through recovery, keeping him updated on Shanaya’s wellness—her laughter, her routines, her small daily joys—while at home, he maintained the carefully crafted distance that pained him most.

And now, the day had finally arrived—the night before Shanaya’s birthday. The night had settled softly over the Singh Mansion, casting long shadows and bathing the rooms in the gentle glow of flickering candles. Shanaya had thought her birthday would be quiet, simple, distant and cold owing to Rohan’s recent strange behavior but Rohan had other plans.

When she entered the drawing room, her eyes widened at the surprise. The space was transformed: flowers lined the walls, fairy lights sparkled along the curtains, and a small table bore a delicate cake, its candles glowing like tiny suns. The only sounds were the soft rustle of silk and Rohan’s steady breathing beside her.

“For me?” she whispered, awe threading her voice.

Rohan smiled, a mixture of pride and tenderness in his gaze. “For you,” he said, stepping closer. “Tonight is just yours, Shanaya. No one else. Just you… and me.”

Shanaya felt her heart flutter, warmth spreading through her chest. She reached for his hand, letting him guide her to the center of the room. “Rohan… this is…” she faltered, unable to find the words.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I promise you a birthday to remember,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “And tomorrow… I’ll give you the best gift you could ever imagine.”

Her brows furrowed in playful curiosity. “The best gift? Rohan… what is it?”

He smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ll see… tomorrow,” he said, voice carrying both mischief and something far deeper. “Tonight, I just want to celebrate you. You deserve to feel loved… completely, without any distractions.”

The night unfolded in quiet magic. They laughed, reminisced about little moments only they shared, and indulged in simple pleasures: feeding each other cake, dancing slowly to the soft music that filled the room, and letting themselves be completely present. Every glance, every touch was electric, charged with the tension of emotions long held in check.

As the candles flickered low, Shanaya rested her head against Rohan’s chest, the rise and fall of his heartbeat grounding her. “Rohan… I don’t want this night to end,” she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, voice rough with emotion. “It doesn’t have to end… not completely,” he murmured. “Tonight is yours. Tomorrow… I promise, I’ll give you a gift that will make everything else fade away.”

Her eyes searched his, trying to read the unspoken depths behind his words. But Rohan only smiled, a mixture of longing and restraint, holding her close as if to etch every detail into memory.

And in the quiet of that private celebration, as the night wrapped around them like a soft blanket, Rohan’s heart both soared and ached. He had given her this night, this stolen moment of joy and love—but tomorrow, the reality would change everything.

That night, after the celebrations had ended, Shanaya lingered near him, her hand finding his, her warmth pressing close. “Rohan… stay with me tonight,” she murmured, voice soft and tender.

The pull inside him became impossible to resist. Years of longing, nights of silent sacrifice, days of hidden desire—all collided in that single, fleeting moment. He could no longer hold back.

He drew her into his arms, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat against his chest, the soft warmth of her body pressing close. Their lips met, first hesitant, then urgent, driven by months of unspoken yearning.

“I can’t… I can’t lose you,” he whispered against her lips, voice rough with emotion. “Not like this. Not ever.”

Shanaya’s hands clung to him, her eyes wide with surprise, then melted with trust as he kissed her with everything he had held back—the longing, the love, the pain of restraint. Every touch, every movement was imbued with both passion and tenderness, a release of months of suppressed emotion.

They moved together with an intensity that was both fierce and gentle, a desperate claim of love that had been denied too long. The world outside—the celebrations, the coming discharge of Abhimanyu, the consequences awaiting—faded to nothing. There was only them: two hearts finally meeting after months of unspoken devotion.

As they lay entwined in the aftermath, Rohan held her close, pressing gentle kisses along her hairline, along her shoulders, memorizing every curve, every breath.

“I wanted… to celebrate you in a way you’d always remember,” he murmured, voice low and trembling. “Even if… even if I have to step back tomorrow, I wanted tonight to be ours.”

Shanaya’s eyes shone, filled with a mixture of love, wonder, and warmth. “Rohan…” she breathed, her fingers tracing the lines of his face.

And in that quiet, fragile space, Rohan let himself feel what he had denied for so long. He let the love, the desire, and the heartbreak coexist in the same moment—knowing full well that tomorrow, the world might demand he step aside.

But tonight… tonight, they belonged to each other, fully, completely, in a way that neither time nor circumstance could erase.

The Gift She Never Expected

The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains of the Singh Mansion, casting golden streaks across the polished floor. Shanaya awoke slowly, the events of last night—a private celebration of laughter, love, and whispered promises—still vivid in her mind. The memory of Rohan holding her close, the soft warmth of his embrace, and his teasing promise of the “best gift” made her heart flutter even now.

She stretched lazily, expecting a quiet morning, when the soft chime of the doorbell caught her attention.

Rohan appeared almost instantly, his expression carefully composed, hiding the storm of anticipation and nervousness behind a casual smile.

“Happy Birthday again,” he said, holding her gaze for a moment longer than usual. “Ready for your gift?”

Shanaya laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Rohan… you already gave me so much last night. What more could there be?”

He stepped aside, a dramatic pause giving way to the sight behind him. A wheelchair was quietly rolled in, and seated there was a figure she almost couldn’t believe her eyes would ever see again.

“Shanaya…” Rohan’s voice trembled slightly, though he tried to keep it steady. “I told you… you’d get the best gift.”

Her heart stopped. The man in the wheelchair—pale, but unmistakably him—looked up with weak, blinking eyes that shone with recognition and overwhelming relief.

“…Shanaya…” came the faint, strained whisper, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

Rohan gently guided her forward, his hand brushing hers for support. “He’s home now. The doctors cleared him. He’s safe.”

Shanaya’s hands trembled as she reached out, her voice barely audible. “Abhimanyu… is it really you?”

The room felt suspended in time—two heartbeats, two worlds colliding. Shanaya’s emotions surged uncontrollably: relief and disbelief flooded her as she held Abhimanyu’s hand, but beneath it all, a quiet, gnawing tension tugged at her heart. She glanced at Rohan, standing a few steps back, his composed expression belying the storm she knew must be inside him.

Tears prickled at her eyes, and she laughed softly, a mixture of joy and confusion. “Abhimanyu… you’re really here,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Yes… I’m here,” he said, smiling weakly, exhaustion still etched into his features.

Shanaya’s heart swelled at the sight of him, the man she had feared lost forever, yet another part of her longed for Rohan, for the quiet comfort, the stolen moments, the unwavering presence he had given her through all these days. She wanted to throw herself into Abhimanyu’s arms, yet at the same time, a pang of guilt and longing rose in her chest for the man who had loved her silently, who had made her last night unforgettable.

She looked at Rohan, her voice faltering. “Rohan… you… you did all this?”

He smiled softly, brushing the back of his hand across her hair. “I promised last night… your gift would be unforgettable. And you deserved it.”

Shanaya’s lips trembled as she smiled at him, gratitude and love swirling together. Yet even as she laughed and cried with Abhimanyu, part of her heart ached with the memory of Rohan’s warmth, his touch, and the quiet devotion she had begun to feel for him.

Her eyes shifted between the two men—one she had loved and longed for, the other she had almost lost and could never forget. Her chest tightened, torn between overwhelming relief and the stirrings of feelings she didn’t yet know how to reconcile.

For the first time in days, Shanaya realized that her heart was not so simple. It could hold gratitude, love, and loyalty all at once—and it ached to do so. She smiled shakily, her fingers still entwined with Abhimanyu’s, and gave Rohan a glance full of unspoken words: a silent acknowledgment of the debt of love and devotion he carried, and the quiet, impossible longing that she could not yet name.

------

To be continued.

coderlady thumbnail
Posted: a day ago
#34

While Rohan and Shanay court the beginnings of love, Abhi is trying his best to survive. He calls out and she hears it.

coderlady thumbnail
Posted: a day ago
#35

Rohan and Shanaya have crossed a bridge. They took steps that can not be undone now.

coderlady thumbnail
Posted: a day ago
#36

How did the hospital know who Abhi was talking about? He must be very close. Close enough that Rohan gets the call and he goes.

coderlady thumbnail
Posted: a day ago
#37

How long will Rohan wait to tell Shanaya? There is never the right time. It never comes.

coderlady thumbnail
Posted: a day ago
#38

Our heart breaks for Rohan. He lost and waited for years in pain. When he finally had hope, it came crashing down.

coderlady thumbnail
Posted: a day ago
#39

Rohan has made his decision. An honorable one. He only had one choice. The tough choice is Shanaya's. She is again on the same crossroad.

coderlady thumbnail
Posted: a day ago
#40

Its painful to be in Rohan's shoes. He is putting his own feelings aside and taking care of both Shanaya and Abhi.

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