(A/N): Okay... It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written any fanfic. 😭 Writing this story took me a few days, but it’s finally complete.
I hope you enjoy it. ❤️ Happy reading!
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Downstairs in the Tandon house, near the main entryway archway, Dr. Vishwas Tandon paced aggressively, throwing another of his usual tantrums. Aarambhi stood several paces away near the edge of the seating area, standing tall and unimpressed, her hands folded calmly in front of her as she watched him with an icy expression, completely unfazed.
DC came down the grand staircase, holding his phone out in front of his face and trying to keep the camera aligned. His posture was relaxed, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his expression radiating that effortless, unshakeable charm. On the phone screen, Dadi’s face was beaming from her sitting room at the Chawla estate.
“...achha yeh sab chhodo, focus karne do na mujhe apne plan pe,” DC murmured in his trademark low, teasing tone as his feet hit the bottom marble step, looking down at the screen with a smirk tugging at the right corner of his lips. “Bye, Dadi... love you.”
“Love you, beta. Par dhyan se—”
Dadi’s voice trailed off. Sitting in her armchair, she turned her head sharply, her eyes flicking toward the open doorway of her inner study. “Wait, Dhruv... who’s there?”
Through the phone’s speaker, a sharp, metallic clatter echoed from the room next door. Dadi stood from her armchair, leaving the phone in her hand as she walked across the sitting room toward the dark archway. “Is someone in there? Kuldeep?”
DC stopped at the base of the stairs. His smirk vanished instantly as he pulled the phone two inches closer to his face. “Dadi? Dadi, don't go in there—! Dadi, look at me!”
On screen, Dadi rounded the doorframe out of her sitting room and stepped into the darkened study, only to freeze. A masked intruder was crouched by her desk on the far side of the room, holding a heavy iron crowbar. Dadi gasped, taking a sudden step back and raising her hand to point and demand, “Who are you?! What are you doing in my house?!”
Before she could scream for security, the figure lunged across the desk, grabbing her forearm and shoving her back with force. The phone tumbled out of her fingers, spinning mid-air before hitting the floor face-down. But through the phone speaker, the sickening, dull thud of Dadi’s head slamming hard against the sharp edge of the table echoed through the room—followed by complete, terrifying silence.
“DADI!”
The entire living room fell dead silent. Conversations died instantly. Near the door, Vishwas froze mid-gesture, his arm suspended in the air. On the plush sofa, Dimple dropped her porcelain teacup onto the tray with a harsh rattle, and Sunil turned pale beside her.
DC didn't wait for the call to disconnect. He dropped his arm, sprinting straight toward the entryway, his chest heaving with violent, erratic gasps.
“DC?! What on earth is going on? What happened?” Sunil shouted, scrambling up from the sofa and taking two hasty steps forward.
DC reached the entryway console and shakily pulled his car keys from his pocket. He couldn't form proper sentences, his voice cracking into terrified, disjointed fragments. “D-Dadi... she fell—hit her head... she’s not responding!”
A cold wave of horror washed through Aarambhi. Dadi wasn't just DC's grandmother or a major hospital investor—over the months, Dadi had loved Aarambhi like her own grandmother, treating her with warmth, respect, and dignity when no one else in the Tandon family did.
“I’m coming with you,” Aarambhi declared. Snatching her tote bag from the sofa, she cut diagonally across the room toward the foyer.
DC’s head snapped toward her voice for a fraction of a second—he heard her, but the words barely registered through the ringing in his ears. His left hand came up instinctively, his long fingers dragging down his stubble and tracing his beard in a dark, frantic motion as he tried to anchor his breathing.
He didn't wait. He didn't look back. Pushed purely by panic, he turned and sprinted out the front doors into the humid evening air.
“Aarambhi, stay right here! Where do you think you're going?” Vishwas barked, stepping into her path.
Before Aarambhi could even speak, Sunil stepped forward and grabbed Vishwas firmly by the shoulder, shoving him back.
“Vishwas!” Sunil snapped. “Mrs. Chawla is our primary investor and head of the board! Aarambhi is a doctor and surgeon—she needs to go with DC right now!”
Vishwas stumbled back, jaw agape, looking at his father in utter disbelief. Aarambhi didn't waste a microsecond. She shot Vishwas a cold look of complete disdain and rushed out the front doors right behind DC. Behind them, Dimple narrowed her eyes, watching Aarambhi race out into the driveway with a quiet, suspicious glare.
Outside in the driveway, DC yanked the car door open and collapsed into the driver's seat, his face pale, beads of cold sweat forming across his forehead. He started the engine and locked his hands onto the steering wheel—but they were shaking too violently to drive.
“DC, sir!”
Aarambhi rounded the front hood of the car, opened the driver’s door, and stepped firmly into the space between the open door and his seat. She recognized the signs immediately: rapid, shallow breathing, tremulous hands, and a fixed, unfocused stare.”
“DC, sir, please step out of the car and let me drive.” Her voice dropped into a calm but authoritative pitch.
“I can... I have to reach her, Aarambhi...” he stammered, his fingers still desperately shaking against the wheel, his voice cracking as his usual dominant posture utterly shattered.
“Dhruv, look at me!” Aarambhi reached into the car, took both his trembling hands into hers, and squeezed his fingers firmly to break his trance. “Look at my eyes. You are hyperventilating. If you drive right now, you won't make it to her. Step out. Now.”
Sensing the grounding force in her grip, DC yielded. He let go of the wheel and backed out of the driver's seat like a man running purely on survival instinct. Aarambhi kept her hand on his forearm, guiding him around the front of the hood to the passenger side. Once he was seated, she closed his door, slid behind the wheel, shifted into drive, and pulled out into the night.
The six-mile drive to NeoPulse Hospital was suffocatingly quiet. Inside the car, the atmosphere was thick and heavy. DC leaned his head back against the leather headrest, staring blankly out the passenger window, his hands clenching into tight fists on his lap until his knuckles turned paper-white.
“She’s all I have, Aarambhi,” he choked out, his voice a low, broken rasp echoing in the closed car. “Dadi is my whole world. If something happens to her... if I lose her...”
Aarambhi, keeping her right hand firm on the steering wheel, reached across the center console with her left. She wrapped her warm fingers tightly over his white-knuckled fist.
“Dhruv, breathe,” she said softly, keeping her eyes glued to the traffic ahead while her thumb rubbed over his knuckles in a steady rhythm. “Just breathe. Dadi is strong. We are almost there, and I am not leaving your side.”
DC didn't pull away. He opened his tight fist, flipping his palm over to lace his long fingers tightly through hers, clinging to her touch.
Neither of them spoke. Aarambhi kept her eyes fixed on the road, but every nerve in her hand burned with acute awareness. In the car's quiet darkness, DC’s thumb moved once, pressing softly against the side of her hand. She didn't draw back. She simply tightened her grip over his until the red siren lights of the emergency entrance broke the night.
NeoPulse Hospital - Trauma Wing
By the time Aarambhi pulled the SUV into the ER ambulance bay, the estate's emergency transport vehicle was already parked, its rear doors wide open.
They arrived just as the gurney was rolling Dadi through the sliding glass doors. Aarambhi didn't waste a second, parking swiftly and stepping out of the car. DC exited right behind her, his movements tense and unsteady.
Two ER residents jogged alongside the moving bed, calling out vitals and medical terms, but DC stopped three paces inside the automatic doors, paralyzed, looking completely out of his depth for the first time in his life.
Aarambhi bypassed him, her medical training taking over instinctively.
“I’m Dr. Aarambhi Chaudhary,” she announced, matching the gurney's pace on its right side, her index and middle fingers immediately pressing against Dadi’s neck to check her carotid pulse. “Give me the baseline.”
“GCS is 10, Doctor,” the lead resident panted, pushing the gurney down the hallway. “Eyes open to voice, verbal response is confused, and she localizes to pain. Deep parietal laceration on the left side. Blood pressure 140/90.”
Aarambhi leaned over the moving bed, shining her pocket penlight briefly into Dadi’s eyes, her voice calm and clinical. “Her airway is intact, and her pupils are reactive. She’s hemodynamically stable. Given the altered level of consciousness and mechanism of injury, we need to rule out an intracranial bleed immediately. Order a non-contrast STAT CT scan of the brain and call neurosurgery down for a consult right now. Prep Trauma Room 2.”
She pulled back as the orderlies steered the gurney into the trauma bay, turning back to face the entrance where DC was still standing motionless, his arms hanging limp at his sides.
Aarambhi walked back to him and gently took his hands. DC wasn't looking at her, his dark eyes unfocused and wide with panic.
“DC? Dhruv! Look at me.” Aarambhi reached up and cupped his cheeks with both hands, forcing his focus directly onto her. “She’s stable right now, but we're going to get imaging done to see exactly what we're dealing with. Let the team do their work. I’m staying right here with you.”
DC stared down into her eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily as tears shined in his dark eyes, completely overwhelmed by her presence. “Thank you... thank you, Aarambhi.”
While Dadi was taken into the radiology suite, DC paced back and forth across the quiet holding area, his footsteps heavy against the linoleum. Aarambhi sat on the edge of a vinyl waiting chair nearby, watching him carefully.
“Why is it taking so long?” DC asked, halting mid-stride and looking at her, his voice tight.
“Because they’re being thorough,” Aarambhi answered gently, keeping her gaze steady on his. “A proper scan and consult take time. That’s a good thing, DC.”
DC looked down at her, the rigid tension in his posture softening just a fraction. “How do you do that?” he asked quietly.
“Do what?”
“Stay calm when everyone else is falling apart.”
A faint, comforting smile touched Aarambhi’s lips. “Someone has to.”
Before DC could answer, his Personal Assistant, Kuldeep, came sprinting through the main sliding doors, drenched in cold sweat and holding a tablet in his left hand.
“Sir!” Kuldeep panted, stopping in front of DC. “I just came from the estate. The police have cordoned off the house.”
DC let out the breath he'd been holding, his posture shifting instantly as his voice dropped to an icy, dangerous register. “What happened, Kuldeep?”
“Sir... it wasn't a standard break-in,” Kuldeep whispered, raising the tablet. “The security cameras went offline for exactly seven minutes.”
DC’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Seven minutes?”
“Exactly, Sir. Long enough for someone to get into her study and smash open the safe.” Khanna paused, glancing hesitantly toward Aarambhi and choosing his words carefully in her presence.
A heavy silence stretched between the two men in the waiting area. DC slowly turned his head, his gaze settling on the heavy double doors leading to the radiology wing. He didn't utter a word of revenge. His absolute, motionless stillness was enough.
Two Hours Later - ICU Private Balcony
The long wait had stretched into the night. The neurosurgery team had officially reviewed the imaging and sutured Dadi’s laceration. Although the CT showed no acute intracranial injury, neurosurgery wanted her monitored overnight because of her initial altered level of consciousness.
While the attending doctors finished updating her chart inside, DC quietly slipped away, pushing open the heavy glass door at the end of the corridor and stepping onto the secluded, open-air balcony attached to the second-floor ICU wing.
Aarambhi stepped through the same glass door moments later.
DC stood near the stone balcony, his back half-turned to her.
As she took two quiet steps closer, she caught the heartbreak in his silhouette: his shoulders trembled once before he raised the back of his hand to wipe at his eyes, trying desperately to pull his composure back together before anyone noticed.
Aarambhi stopped a few feet away.
She had seen this man put his own body between danger and her son, Vihaan, without a second's hesitation. She had watched him stand beside her when Vishwas had humiliated her, holding her head high when her world felt like it was breaking.
When she had been afraid, DC had always been there. Always. He had never asked her to be strong; he had simply become strong enough for both of them.
Tonight, no one stood between Dhruv Chawla and his fear.
“DC, sir?” Her voice was a gentle, quiet murmur.
DC froze. He quickly dragged his cuff across his cheek once more and turned around, desperately trying to force his familiar, stoic mask back over his features. “Aarambhi... I... is Dadi alright? Did something—”
“The CT is clear,” she said softly, taking one step toward him. “No intracranial hemorrhage. No skull fracture. Her vitals are stable, and the neurosurgery team is satisfied with the scan. She’s going to be okay.”
DC’s gaze drifted down to her wrist. He reached out half a step, his fingers gesturing toward the hem of her right sleeve. “You’ve got blood on you.”
Aarambhi looked down at her forearm and noticed the faint red smear on her white cuff for the first time. “It’s Dadi’s.”
DC reached closer, his thumb gently brushing against the edge of the dried stain on her sleeve. Aarambhi didn't pull her arm away. Instead, she reached up with her left hand and gently took his wrist.
“Dhruv.”
He lifted his gaze to her face, his thumb still resting near her cuff.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
A quiet stillness settled between them. In the dim yellow glow of the balcony light, neither of them moved. Aarambhi looked at him—really looked at him—realizing how close they were standing. For the first time since she had met him, DC wasn't trying to hide behind a smirk, an order, or that impossible, dominant confidence he carried into every room. He just looked tired. Human.
DC looked down at her face, his eyes tracing the faint shadows of exhaustion around her eyes, a loose strand of hair that had fallen from her clip, her small hand resting on his wrist.
“I was scared, Aarambhi,” he choked out, his voice dropping to a raw, broken rasp. “I’ve never been that scared. When I heard her hit that table... I couldn't move. I just kept thinking... please don't take her too.”
Aarambhi’s chest tightened. Instinct took over before her mind could filter it.
She released his wrist, reached up, and gently brushed a wet tear from the corner of his cheek.
DC went completely still under her touch.
So did she. Her hand remained resting softly against his cheek for one heartbeat too long. Realization rushed back, and her fingers curled instinctively. Her breath hitched, and she began to pull her hand away.
Before her hand could drop, Dhruv’s fingers closed gently around hers.
He didn't pull her closer, nor did he force her hand to stay. He simply held her hand in his palm, stopping her in mid-air. Their eyes locked. Neither of them spoke.
Then, the last remnant of his composure broke.
Dhruv let go of her hand, stepped straight into her space, and pulled her into his arms.
Not carefully. Not politely. Not like the controlled, calculating man she knew. He wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He held onto her as though his body had made the decision before his mind could stop it, his shoulders shuddering as he finally released the breath he'd been holding all evening.
Aarambhi froze in place.
Her hands remained suspended in the air, her heart hammering against her chest. Dhruv Chawla was holding onto her. Dhruv Chawla. The man who had always held everyone else together.
As his chest heaved against hers, her fingers tightened into a fist. She couldn't cross that line. DC was so close. She closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the gesture and the knowledge that this was the man who had always stood between her and the world.
After a long moment, Aarambhi loosened her right hand and rested her palm flat against the center of his upper back, offering him the steady, unshakeable support he needed.
DC felt the grounding warmth of her palm through his shirt. He slowly unclasped his arms and stepped back half a pace. His hands lingered briefly on her arms before slipping down to his sides.
“I’m sorry,” DC said, straightening his shirt before stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Um... I just don't know what I'd do without her,” he whispered, his voice rough as he looked down at her.
“You don't have to think about that tonight,” Aarambhi replied softly.
DC looked down at her, a sudden touch of hesitation in his eyes. “You're really staying? You should go. It’s late, and Vihaan—”
Aarambhi stopped him gently. “Saundharya is watching Vihaan. Dr. Sunil knows I am here. I'm not going anywhere.”
DC felt an impossible weight lift from his shoulders as her words settled deep into his soul.
“Thank you,” he murmured softly, his dark eyes searching hers. “I needed you tonight.”
Aarambhi didn't offer a dramatic speech or try to fill the quiet. She simply met his gaze, letting him know he had been heard. Then she turned gently, pushed open the heavy glass door, and walked back inside toward the ICU room.
DC stood beneath the balcony light for another moment, watching the glass door through which she had disappeared.
Then, for the first time that night, he didn't feel the need to control what happened next.
Aarambhi was inside.
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