The atmosphere in the hospital room was both heavy and poignant. A dim light filtered through the blinds, casting faint streaks on the pale walls, while the faint hum of monitors added a rhythmic reminder of time passing too quickly. Abhira sat upright on her hospital bed, her frail form draped in a light blue gown. Surrounding her were Krish, Rohit, Dev, and Charu, their faces etched with worry and silent prayers. 

Krish sat at the foot of the bed, while Rohit stood by her side, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a somber quietness. Dev paced nervously near the window, his gaze fixed on the city skyline beyond, unable to look at her for too long. Charu clutched Abhira's hand tightly, her lips pressed together as if sealing away her tears. 

Abhira smiled faintly at each of them, her voice a soft reassurance. “You all look like you’re about to give me a farewell speech. Don’t worry. I’m still here, okay?” Her attempt at lightness cracked under the weight of the moment. 

Krish chuckled nervously. “Haan toh yahin toh rahoge aap, you’re going to be here long after this surgery also to make my life miserable.” 

“You bet,” she replied, her eyes glistening. 

Rohit knelt beside her, his voice choked. “Abhira, you’ve always been stronger than any of us. You’ve got this, just one last fight.” 

She squeezed his hand. “I know and i will try my best, baki joh hoga dekha jayega.” 

Dev stopped pacing and finally turned toward her. “Aur haan Abhira, remember we’re all here for you. Bas jaldi jaldi theek ho ja fir ghar bhi jana hai, ek tu hi toh hai joh mujhe yeh dono bhai behan se bachati hai.” 

"Zada nahi ho raha aapka Mr. Shekhawat," Charu smacked Dev's Shoulder, and then turned to Abhira, “Di hum sab hai aapke sath, sab acha acha hoga, aap bas theek ho jao and sab dheere will fall into its place.” 

As the group exchanged quiet, heartfelt hugs and woshes, Armaan stood apart near the edge of the bed, his posture stiff, his hands clenched into fists. His usually confident brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He watched the scene in front of him—his world, his Abhira, surrounded by people who loved her, all wishing for her to come back safe. A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, and he wiped it away quickly, hoping no one noticed. But his heart felt as if it was being torn apart, gripped by a paralyzing fear he couldn’t admit aloud. 

Sensing his need to be alone with her, Krish spoke up. “Challo Guys, lets waiit outside.” he said gently, gesturing for the others to follow. One by one, they filed out, their footsteps growing faint. 

The room fell into an aching silence, the absence of others amplifying the ticking clock on the wall. Armaan exhaled shakily and stepped forward, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Abhira reached for him instantly, snuggling into his arms, her head resting against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat comforted her, steady and strong, as if tethering her to life itself. Her fingers absentmindedly toyed with the sleeve of his shirt, seeking solace in the familiar texture. 

Armaan wrapped his arms around her delicately, his hands trembling as they brushed through her hair. He held her as if committing this moment to memory, his touch filled with a quiet desperation. 

A soft knock at the door startled them, and the nurse stepped in, clearing her throat. “Abhira, it’s time—” 

“Five minutes nurse, Please.” Abhira interrupted without lifting her head. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the plea was firm. 

The nurse hesitated, then nodded and left. 

Armaan sighed. “Abhira, tum pichle adhe ghante se bas ‘five minutes, five minutes’ kar rahi ho,” he teased gently, though his voice betrayed the crack in his composure. 

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy. “Because these might just be my last five min..” 

“Khabardar, Abhira” he said sharply, cutting her off. “Agar tumne yeh baat puri bhi ki toh.” 

"Main tumhe silly girl bulata hun, uska yeh matlab nahi ki tum aisi silly baten karo." He pulled her out of his embrace, cradling her face in his hands. His lips pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, lingering there as if to transfer all his strength to her. When he pulled back, his hand found hers, and he guided it to his chest. 

“That is where u have built your home, Abhira” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “This heart beats with every breath you take. This heart beats when you look at me and smile.” 

Her tears spilled over, and she nodded silently. 

“Tumhe Koi haq nahi hai Sharma Ji, that you snatch from me the only reason I live for.” He held her gaze, his own eyes fierce with determination. “Tumhe wapas aana hoga, Abhira. Mere liye, apne liye. Humare pass saath bitane ko ek poori zindagi hai. Abhi toh bas shuruat hui hai.” 

She clutched his hand tightly, as if drawing strength from him. “I’ll try, Armaan. Par.. par life hai na, koi Guarantee thodi hai ki..” 

“Mujhe koi aur possibility ke baar main sonchna hi nahi hai,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, his lips brushing against her skin with a love so profound it left her breathless. 

“Armaan,” she murmured softly, her voice trembling but resolute. “Promise me… you won’t let this be our final goodbye,” she whispered, her grip tightening around his hand. “Promise me, Armaan.” 

“This is not a Good Byee,” he said, his voice breaking but his resolve unshaken. His throat tightened, the words lodging in his chest. He paused for a moment, then leaned down, his forehead touching hers, “Not now, not ever. Tum mere pass wapas aayogi, Abhira. You will have to because I can’t do any of this without you, Abhira.” 

Her lips quivered as she nodded, her free hand reaching up to cup his face, her thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “You’ll wait for me?” 

“For a lifetime and more,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

The nurse returned, more insistent this time, and Armaan stepped back reluctantly, his heart aching with every inch of space between them. As she was wheeled away, he stood rooted to the spot. The attendants gently nudged the bed forward, and Armaan had to let go of her hand. He clenched his fists, his chest tightening painfully as the distance grew between them. But then Abhira reached out again, her hand hovering in the air. 

He rushed forward, capturing her hand in his once more, his steps matching the slow roll of the bed. 
The double doors of the operating theater loomed ahead, a stark reminder of the uncertain battle they were about to face. Before they could part ways, Abhira pulled his hand close to her chest, holding it against her heart. “I love you, Armaan. I always will.” 

His vision blurred, but he leaned down, his lips brushing against her temple with every ounce of his love, fear, and hope. “Iska jawab main tumhe surgery ke baad dunga, Meri Stationary ki Dukaan.”  

The nurse gently touched Abhira’s shoulder, smiling at the couple. “She’s in good hands, sir.” Armaan nodded, his gaze never leaving her.

The attendants gently pulled the bed through the doors, and for a fleeting second, their hands slipped apart. Armaan stood frozen, his hand still outstretched as the doors that were about to be swung shut, leaving him staring at the small gab between the doors. 

Just before the doors closed, he called out to her, his voice filled with raw, aching vulnerability. “Oye, Sharma ji,” he whispered, squeezing her hand with a gentle firmness. “Intezaar karunga tumhara… aab aur nahi tadpana mujhe.”

She looked back at him, her heart swelling with a love that felt eternal, and for a moment, she saw their future—the one he was holding onto, the one he had promised her, and the one they both so desperately wanted to claim.

As the silence of the empty corridor enveloped him, he placed a hand over his chest, feeling the thudding of his heart. “You’re in here Abhira, Safe and Alive.” he whispered to himself, his voice breaking. “As long as I’m breathing, so are you.”

His lips moved in a silent but fervent prayer:

Bring her back to me. Let her fight and win. Let her come home.

________

The sterile, cold corridor outside the operation theater seemed endless, its emptiness amplifying the weight in everyone’s hearts. Armaan sat on one of the chairs lined against the wall, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers locked together in a tight grip. His jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on the glowing "In Operation" sign above the double doors. 

Krish paced back and forth, his hands shoved into his pockets, his usually playful demeanor nowhere in sight. Every now and then, he’d glance at Armaan but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. The heaviness in the air made words feel futile. 

Rohit stood against the wall, his arms crossed, his head bowed. His lips moved silently, as if reciting a prayer he didn’t even know he remembered. Charu sat beside Armaan, her hands clasped together tightly, her lips pressed into a thin line. 

Dev leaned against the far wall, his hand gripping the back of his neck as if trying to release the tension building inside him. “This waiting is killing me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. 

Charu finally broke the silence. “She’ll come back. She’s strong. Abhira di’s a fighter,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. 

Rohit looked up, his voice cracking as he added, “She has to. We need her.” 

Armaan didn’t say a word. He couldn’t. His mind was consumed with memories of her—the way her laughter filled every room, the warmth of her hand in his, the determination in her eyes when she promised she’d fight. But even as he clung to those memories, his heart was gripped by an unbearable fear that whispered dark possibilities. 

His hands trembled, and he tightened his grip to steady them. He closed his eyes, trying to drown out the beeping of monitors he could faintly hear from beyond the doors. Every sound felt like a countdown, every second an eternity. 

Krish finally stopped pacing and sat down in front Armaan. He placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “She’ll make it, Armaan Bhaiya. Bhabhi loves you too much to never let you go.” 

Armaan opened his eyes and turned to look at Krish. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “What if love isn’t enough this time?” 

“It has to be,” Krish replied, his voice firm. “It just has to.” 

The words hung in the air, both a comfort and a plea. Krish reached up and hugged his brother. "Hum hai Bhaiya, Bhabhi ke sath on every step."

Armaan did not know what took over him but he held onto Krish like a baby in that moment, hugging him even tighter letting his emotions out. Slowly Charu, Rohit and Dev joined the hug. Each of them trying to give Armaan the strength he needed.

A nurse stepped out of the operating theater briefly, and everyone’s attention snapped to her. Armaan stood up immediately, his heart racing. “How is she?” he asked, his voice urgent. 

The nurse gave a small, reassuring smile. “The surgery is progressing, but it will take time. The doctors are doing everything they can.” 

Armaan nodded stiffly, his legs threatening to give out as he sank back into his seat. The nurse disappeared back inside, leaving them with nothing but the sound of their own breaths and the faint ticking of the wall clock. 

Charu reached over and placed a comforting hand on Armaan’s. “You need to stay strong for her, Bhaiya. She needs to know you’re waiting for her.” 

Armaan turned to her, his eyes red but determined. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until she’s back in my arms.” 

The minutes dragged on, feeling like hours. Everyone sat in silent solidarity, each lost in their thoughts, each praying in their own way for the woman who had brought so much light into their lives. 

Armaan’s gaze never wavered from the doors, his lips moving silently as he whispered over and over again, “Aur kitna time Sharma Ji. Come back to me, Abhira. Please.”

After what felt like an eternity, the double doors of the operating theater swung open. Armaan shot to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest as Dr. Mehra stepped out, still clad in his surgical gown and cap. His face bore a mix of exhaustion and guarded optimism. 

Everyone gathered around him, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Armaan’s voice trembled as he asked, “Doctor, how is she? Is Abhira okay?” 

Dr. Mehra took a deep breath, his expression somber but steady. “The surgery was successful. It was a delicate procedure, but we managed to excise the tumor via the transsphenoidal surgery itself  without causing additional damage to surrounding tissues.” 

A collective sigh of relief escaped from the group, but the doctor’s hesitance didn’t go unnoticed. Armaan stepped closer, his voice urgent. “What else, Doctor? There’s something you’re not saying.” 

Dr. Mehra nodded gravely. “Abhira's thrombocytopenia—that complicates her recovery. Her platelet count is dangerously low, which makes her vulnerable to excessive bleeding and increases the risk of complications like infection or delayed healing.” 

Armaan’s world tilted for a moment. He steadied himself, his hands gripping the edge of a nearby chair. “What does that mean for her, Doctor? Is she out of danger or not?” 

The doctor’s expression softened. “She’s stable for now, but the next 24 to 48 hours are critical. We’ll need to closely monitor her platelet levels and overall recovery. A transfusion may be necessary, and she’ll require constant care to minimize any risks.” 

Rohit’s voice broke the tense silence. “Is there a chance… she might not make it?” 

Dr. Mehra hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “We’re doing everything we can. She’s young, and her body is strong, but thrombocytopenia is unpredictable. What she needs most right now is rest and positivity from all of you.” 

Armaan swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Can I see her?” 

Dr. Mehra nodded. “She’s being moved to the ICU for observation. Unfortunately you can't meet her now for she’ll be sedated for the next 24 hours or more to aid her recovery.” 

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Armaan’s shoulder. “She fought through the surgery. Now, she needs your strength to help her through this. Post operative recovery will also take a lot from her—finding her motor skills, her balance will take effort not just from her but from you as well.” 

Armaan nodded, his jaw tight as he fought back tears. “I’ll be there for her. Always.” 

As Dr. Mehra walked away, the group fell into a heavy silence. Charu sank into a chair, tears streaming down her face. Krish leaned against the wall, his head bowed, while Rohit placed a comforting hand on Dev’s shoulder. 

Armaan stood frozen for a moment, staring at the closed doors of the ICU. His mind raced with memories of Abhira’s laughter, her resilience, her promises to fight. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. This isn’t the end. It can’t be.

Turning to the group, he said with quiet determination, “She needs us now more than ever. And I’m not letting her go.” 

________

The hours outside the ICU dragged painfully, each second feeling heavier than the last. The family had taken over the small waiting area, their presence a quiet testimony to their collective worry. The antiseptic smell of the hospital mingled with the faint hum of machinery beyond the closed doors, creating a suffocating atmosphere. 

Armaan hadn’t moved from his spot by the glass partition that separated the waiting room from the ICU corridor. His eyes remained fixed on the door to Abhira’s room, as if willing it to open. The pale blue scrubs of nurses and the occasional white coats of doctors passing by barely registered in his mind. 

Krish approached him with a coffee cup, holding it out. “Armaan Bhaiya, you need to eat or drink something. It’s been nearly a day.” 

Armaan shook his head without looking at him. “I’m fine.” 

Krish sighed, setting the cup on a nearby table. “You’re not fine. None of us are. But you’re no use to her if you collapse here.” 

Armaan finally turned his head, his bloodshot eyes meeting Krish’s. “She hasn’t woken up, Krish. It’s been a day. What if—” 

“Don’t,” Krish cut him off firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t get to think like that. She’s fighting, Armaan. Just like she promised you she would.” 

Charu sat a few feet away, her hands clasped tightly together, silently praying. Rohit paced back and forth, his agitation evident in his clenched fists and furrowed brows. Dev stood by the window, staring blankly outside, the sunlight doing little to lift the gloom in his heart. 

Every time a nurse exited the ICU, Armaan would stand abruptly, his hope soaring, only to deflate when the nurse shook her head or walked past without stopping. The waiting was unbearable, each passing hour gnawing at his resolve. 

By the evening of the second day, Dr. Mehra appeared in the waiting room. All eyes turned to him, a mix of desperation and fear etched on every face. 

“She’s stable,” the doctor began, and a collective sigh filled the room. “But she hasn’t regained consciousness yet. It’s not unusual after such an intense surgery, especially with her condition. Her body is taking its time to heal. The good news is that her vitals are improving, and we’ve managed to stabilize her platelet count with the transfusion.” 

Armaan nodded, his hands trembling slightly. He sank back into the chair, relief mingling with the gnawing fear that refused to leave his chest. 

As the night wore on, the waiting room fell into a heavy silence again. Krish eventually dozed off in a chair, his head resting against the wall. Charu and Rohit exchanged quiet words of comfort, while Dev offered to grab some food for everyone. 

But Armaan remained at his spot, his mind replaying every moment he had spent with Abhira before the surgery. Her laughter, her stubbornness, her warmth—all of it felt like a lifeline he couldn’t afford to lose. 

“You promised,” he whispered to himself, his fingers gripping the armrests of his chair tightly. “You promised me you’d fight. Don’t break that promise, Abhira.”

As the first rays of dawn crept into the waiting room, Armaan stood and moved closer to the ICU doors, pressing his palm against the cold glass. His reflection stared back at him, weary but determined. 

“Wake up you kumbhkaran ki second cousin,” he murmured, his voice resolute. “Aur wait nahi ho raha mujhse.” 

The third morning arrived with a quiet stillness, broken only by the faint hum of the hospital machinery. Armaan was pacing just outside the ICU corridor when a flurry of activity inside Abhira’s room caught his attention. His breath hitched as he pressed his hands against the glass pane, his heart thundering in his chest. 

Inside, he saw a nurse and a doctor surrounding Abhira’s bed. One of the nurses leaned over, carefully removing the oxygen tube that had been inserted to facilitate her breathing during her post-surgery recovery. Armaan flinched instinctively at the sight, his hands curling into fists. It was an ordinary procedure, but seeing her vulnerable and subjected to such measures tore at his heart.  

A soft gasp from Charu brought everyone’s attention to the ICU window. “She moved,” she whispered, clutching Krish’s arm. “Her fingers just moved.” 

All eyes turned to Abhira’s form. Her eyelids fluttered, and her fingers twitched slightly against the white hospital sheet. A faint murmur escaped her lips, though her voice was too weak to form words. 

“She’s waking up,” Rohit said, his voice trembling with relief. 

Armaan froze, his breath caught somewhere between disbelief and hope. He took a step closer, his forehead almost pressed against the glass. “Abhira…” he whispered, his voice cracking. 

The doctors inside the room began their routine checks, speaking in hushed tones. One of them looked up, meeting Armaan’s gaze through the glass, and offered a reassuring nod before turning back to Abhira. 

The moments stretched unbearably as the family stood together, their collective anticipation palpable. Charu clasped her hands together in silent prayer, while Krish placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. Rohit and Dev exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of relief and nervousness.   

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor opened the ICU door and stepped into the waiting area. His face carried a calm, reassuring expression as he addressed them. 

“She’s regained consciousness,” Dr. Mehra said, his voice steady. “The fact that she’s awake and responsive is a very positive sign. Her vitals are stable, but she’s still weak and needs rest. We’ll continue monitoring her closely over the next 24 hours to ensure no complications arise.” 

Armaan’s knees nearly buckled with relief. He leaned against the wall, exhaling deeply, as his heart finally slowed from its relentless pounding. 

“Can we see her?” Charu asked, her voice quivering. 

The doctor smiled gently. “Yes, but only one person at a time for now. She’s very tired and might not be able to talk much. Keep it brief and calming.” 

Without hesitation, Armaan stepped forward. “I’ll go first.”  No one protested. They all knew how desperately he needed to see her, to reassure himself that she was still his Abhira, fighting and alive. 

The beeping of the monitors was steady, a comforting rhythm amidst the tension that had gripped Armaan’s heart for days. The nurse led him into the ICU, her steps soft, but Armaan barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on the figure lying on the bed, fragile and pale, yet so heartbreakingly familiar. 

Abhira’s eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The bandages on one side of her face stark reminder of the battle she had fought and was still fighting. The once vibrant spark that defined her seemed dimmed, but even in her frailty, she was the most beautiful thing Armaan had ever seen. 

As he reached her bedside, she stirred, her eyelashes fluttering like delicate wings. Her lips parted slightly, and then her eyes opened—a hazy brown meeting his ocean of green. 

“Armaan…” Her voice was a faint whisper, but it carried the weight of her love and their shared agony. 

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “I’m here,” he managed, his voice thick with emotion. He sank into the chair beside her bed, his hands trembling as he reached out to gently cradle her frail hand in his. 

Tears filled her eyes, but she smiled—weak, yet genuine. “You look terrible,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. 

A choked laugh escaped him, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her hand. “And you look mine.” he replied softly, his voice breaking. 

Her fingers moved slightly, brushing against his cheek. “I told you I’d fight,” she said, her words slow but filled with determination. 

“You did,” he whispered, lifting his head to look at her. His own tears spilled over, but he didn’t bother wiping them away. “You scared the hell out of me, Abhira. I thought…I thought I’d lost you.” 

Her expression softened, and she squeezed his hand with the little strength she had. “You’re stuck with me, Armaan,” she said weakly, her lips curving into the faintest smile. 

He laughed through his tears, his hand moving to cup her face gently. His thumb brushed against her cheek as though he were trying to memorize the softness of her skin. “I’ll take being stuck with you over anything else in this world.” 

They stayed like that for a while, the world beyond the ICU fading away. For the first time in days, Armaan allowed himself to hope, to believe that she would come back to him fully. 

“Armaan,” she said after a moment, her voice trembling slightly. 

“Yes, my love?” 

Her gaze held his, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of the vibrant woman he adored. “Thank you…for not giving up on me.” 

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as if sealing a silent promise. “You’re my life, Abhira. Giving up on you was never an option.” 

The nurse reappeared, clearing her throat softly to signal that his time was up, but he didn’t move immediately. Instead, he leaned close, his lips brushing against her ear. 

“You rest now, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice filled with tender resolve. “Because we’ve got a lifetime ahead of us, and I need you strong for it.” 

As he pulled back, her fingers tightened around his hand for a fleeting moment before her eyelids grew heavy again. He stood, reluctant to let go, but the peaceful expression on her face gave him the strength to step away. 

Armaan stepped out of the ICU, his heart heavy with a mix of relief and lingering fear. The family was waiting anxiously in the corridor, their eyes trained on him as soon as he emerged. Charu rushed forward, her hands clasped tightly together, while Krish and Rohit stood close, their expressions filled with hope.  Dev placed a hand on Armaan’s shoulder, his grip firm but silent, conveying a shared relief.

"Did she say anything?" Charu asked through her tears, her voice trembling. 

Armaan nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "She told me I looked terrible," he said, a soft chuckle escaping despite the overwhelming emotions. 

Charu laughed through her tears, and the tension in the corridor seemed to ease slightly. For a moment, the weight of uncertainty was replaced by a shared gratitude that Abhira was still with them. 

_________

3 weeks later the day of discharge arrived with a sense of quiet triumph. The hospital room, once filled with beeping monitors and the sterile smell of antiseptics, now echoed with the subdued excitement of a fresh start. Abhira was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a soft cotton suit that Charu had brought for her. She looked fragile but radiant, her face carrying a faint glow of determination. 

Armaan stood by her side, his hands instinctively reaching out to help her wear her slippers and steady her as she attempted to rise. “Take it slow,” he murmured, his voice gentle but firm. 

Abhira nodded, gripping his arm for support as she carefully planted her feet on the floor. The simple act of standing felt like an uphill climb, her body wobbling slightly as she tried to find her balance. Her legs felt like jelly, unsteady and unreliable, and a wave of frustration washed over her. 

“I can’t do it Armaan,” she muttered as she sat back, her tone tinged with defeat. 

Armaan crouched slightly to meet her gaze, his eyes soft yet unwavering. “You don’t have to be so harsh, Abhira,” he said. “Let me help you.” 

Before she could protest, her knees buckled slightly, and Armaan was quick to scoop her into his arms. “Armaan!” she gasped, her hands clutching his shirt instinctively. 

“Shh,” he soothed, his voice low and tender as he adjusted her in his arms. “You’re not falling, not on my watch.” 

Her cheeks flushed, and she turned her face into the crook of his neck, her breath warm against his skin. “This is embarrassing,” she mumbled, her words muffled. 

He chuckled softly, his chest vibrating against her. “It’s not embarrassing. It’s me taking care of the woman I love.” 

The corridor outside the room was lined with nurses and staff, many of whom smiled warmly as they saw the couple. Abhira peeked out briefly, her embarrassment growing as she noticed the attention they were receiving. She quickly buried her face in Armaan’s neck again. 

“Stop hiding,” he teased gently, his lips brushing against her temple. “Everyone’s just happy to see you go home.” 

“I’m happy too,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “But I wish I could walk out of here like everyone else.” 

Armaan stopped for a moment, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and resolve as he looked at her. “You’ll walk again, Abhira. This is just a temporary stop. For now, let me carry you, okay? Let me be your strength until you find yours again.” 

Her arms tightened around his neck, her fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt. “You already are,” she murmured, her voice cracking. 

The family was waiting at the entrance, a small group of their loved ones ready to take her home. Aaryan and Kiara had joined them, Armaan had dmade it happen. 

“You two are going to make everyone cry,” Aryaan muttered, though his own eyes glistened. 

Armaan ignored them, his focus entirely on the woman in his arms. As they stepped outside, the fresh air hit Abhira, and she sighed, the scent of freedom mingling with the comfort of being in Armaan’s embrace. 

He walked slowly toward the waiting car, his steps steady and deliberate, as if ensuring she felt every ounce of security in his arms. Abhira remained nestled against him, her face still pressed into his neck, the warmth of his skin grounding her. 

As they reached the car, he gently lowered her onto the seat, careful not to jostle her. “Comfortable?” he asked, crouching beside her. 

She nodded, her hand reaching for his. “Thank you, Armaan,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Thank me when we’re home,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “Because that’s where our real journey begins.” 

_________

Abhira’s recovery phase was a journey of resilience, patience, and unwavering support from her loved ones, especially Armaan. The first few weeks were the hardest. Abhira struggled with even the simplest tasks, her body weak from the toll of surgery and the long hospital stay. 

Armaan had turned her bedroom into a haven of comfort and care. Soft cushions lined the bed, and a tray of essentials—water, medication, and her favorite books—was always within reach. Sunlight streamed through the windows, bringing warmth to the room, and a vase of fresh flowers sat on the bedside table, a touch of beauty amidst the struggle. 

“Good morning, girlfriend” Armaan greeted her everyday as he walked into the room with a tray of breakfast. “Your poha is ready, and don’t worry, it’s not as bland as hospital food.” 

Abhira smiled weakly, her strength still far from what it used to be. “You’re spoiling me,” she murmured, her voice soft but warm. 

He sat beside her, setting the tray on the bed. “That’s the point,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Now, eat. Doctor’s orders.” 

Abhira tried to sit up, her movements slow and deliberate. Armaan immediately moved to support her, his arm wrapping around her back. “I can do it,” she said, though her words lacked conviction. 

“I know,” he replied gently, helping her adjust anyway. “But you don’t have to do it alone.” 

Her eyes softened as she looked at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“You’ll never have to find out,” he said firmly, his gaze locking with hers. 

Armaan took charge of Abhira’s physical therapy, often working with the physiotherapist to ensure she was comfortable during the sessions. When she struggled to lift her arms or take a single step, his encouraging words filled the room. 

“That’s it, one more,” he’d say, holding her hands as she tried to stand. “You’re stronger than you think, Abhira. Just a little more.” 

The days were long, but every small victory—whether it was her managing to brush her hair or taking a few steps with support—was celebrated like a milestone. 

Aaryan and Kiara were frequent visitors, their presence bringing laughter and lightness to the otherwise challenging days. Charu often cooked Abhira’s favorite meals, ensuring she ate well, while Krish regaled her with funny stories from work. Rohit, too, stopped by often, bringing books and puzzles to keep her mind engaged. 

But Despite the love and care, there were moments when Abhira’s frustration boiled over. On any tough day, she burst into tears after failing to grip a glass of water properly. 

“I hate this,” she sobbed, her hands trembling. “I hate feeling so helpless.” 

Armaan knelt before her, his hands gently cradling hers. “Abhira,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “You’re not helpless. You’re recovering. And recovery takes time.” 

“I’m tired, Armaan,” she admitted, her voice filled with despair. “What if I never get back to normal?” 

He took her hands and placed them over his heart. “Then we’ll redefine normal,” he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “As long as you’re here with me, that’s all the normal I’ll ever need.”

The day Abhira walked unassisted for the first time, the family gathered for a small celebration. Charu baked a cake, and Krish brought a banner that read, “To Our Warrior.” 

As Abhira took her first steps across the living room to Armaan, his eyes never left her. When she reached closer to him, he stood rooted to see what she would do and with all the strength she could master she pulled him into a tight embrace, his tears finally falling. 

Their recovery journey wasn’t just about physical healing—it was about rediscovering their strength as individuals and as a couple. Together, they had faced the darkest moments, and together, they would step into the light of a new beginning. 

________

One eveing Armaan had called abhira to her resort in Mussoorie, she stood in front kf the doom, the same place where they had shared thier first accident kiss.

The evening was painted with hues of twilight, as the soft glow of fairy lights and candles bathed the room in a warm, golden light. Abhira stood at the base of a staircase, her breath caught in her throat. The steps, adorned with petals of every color, were bathed in the soft glow of candles flickering gently in the evening breeze. The air was thick with anticipation, and each step seemed to whisper promises of a love too grand for words. She could feel the warmth of Armaan's love guiding her forward as her eyes met the first step.

On the third step, a photograph of the two of them caught her attention. Armaan had captured a memory of them laughing together in the garden. She smiled at the image, and on closer inspection, a note was attached beneath it. The playful handwriting was unmistakable—Armaan's.

"Stationary ki Dukaan"
It read, followed by a small heart. 

"I remember the first time we met, you couldn’t hold still for more than five minutes, running around, tripping over everything. But it was that badbad, your beautiful chaos, that made me fall in love with you. You were a storm, but somehow you made me feel safe. Your energy is my energy, your light, my light. You’re my forever chaos, Abhira. No one else could ever make me feel the way you do. You are my heart, my soul, and my life."

"~Tumhara Khadusmaan"

A

bhira's eyes moistened as she read the message, her fingers trembling slightly as she moved to the next step. Another picture of them from a rainy day—her hair drenched as Armaan shielded her with his jacket. Her heart skipped a beat as she read the note attached to the picture.

"Hulk ki Mamaeri Behan"
She chuckled softly at the nickname. 

"I never thought anyone could be as fierce as you—one moment, you’re all smiles, and the next, you’re fighting for those you love. Your strength, your fire, it burns through me, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t take my breath away every single time. But beneath all that strength lies the most beautiful, vulnerable heart. The heart I want to spend the rest of my life with. A heart that taught me ki har baar perfect hona zaroori nahi hota."

"~Tumhara BHB."

A few more steps up, and another photograph of them—this time from a quiet evening when Armaan had comforted her after a long day. On this step, the note read.

"Ms. Clumsy"
"From the moment you tripped into my life, I knew there was no turning back. You’ve brought nothing but love, laughter, and joy into my life, Abhira. You make everything feel so right, even when it’s all wrong. You’re the piece I never knew was missing, and now that I have you, I never want to let go. Your love has been my anchor, and I can’t wait to spend forever with you, my love. You are the woman I want by my side for every step of this journey."

"~Yours Truely Majnu Poddar"

Abhira’s heart soared as she moved forward, feeling the weight of the words and the love behind them. On the next step, she saw a picture of Armaan and her, standing side by side at their favorite café.

"My Love"
"People say i was cold, distant, unapproachable. But you know better than anyone, Abhira, how wrong they were. Underneath that tough exterior, that ‘Khadus’ persona, there’s a man who would do anything for the ones he loves. You see me, the real me, the man who’s always loved you from the moment we crossed paths, but was a idiot to not admit it. In your eyes, I find the love I’ve always craved, and I’m ready to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much you mean to me."

"~Tumhara Silly Boy"

With each step, Abhira could feel the weight of his affection, his love, wrapped around her like a warm embrace. On the next step, another photograph, this time taken during a picnic.

"My Protector"

"I used to think I was the one who needed to protect you, but what I didn’t realize was how much you were protecting me. You became my calm in the chaos, my reason to be better, to love more fiercely. You taught me how to truly care, and that’s something I will never take for granted. With you by my side, I’m ready for whatever comes next. You’ve been my partner in every sense of the word, and now I want to be yours, forever."

"~Tumhara aur Sirf Tumhara Armaan."

The last step was in sight, and her heart raced as she saw the final picture—the one she had always cherished. Armaan had taken it on a lazy afternoon when they were lounging in their living room, laughing together at something silly.

"Soon to be Mrs. Armaan"
"You’ve made me richer than any amount of money could ever make me. Rich in love, rich in joy, rich in the promise of a future we will build together. I’d be a fool not to love you with all my heart, with all my soul. You’ve taught me what real wealth is, and that’s something money can’t buy. I want to be your partner in everything. My heart is yours, Abhira, now and forever. And today, I promise you, as your that I will love you in ways no one else could ever."

"~Soon-to-be husband"

As Abhira reached the final step, she was overwhelmed with emotion. Armaan was standing there, waiting for her, the man who had captured her heart with every little moment. He held out a ring, his eyes shining with all the love he had written in those notes.

“Abhira,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “Tumne mujhe aapna dil diya hai and i will protect it with all my life”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she, stepped into his arms.

“Dekho Jawab toh tumhara haan hi hai, lekin fir bhi last time puch raha hun Ms. Abhira Sharma, kya aap is boring, zarurat se zada mature, khadusmaan poddar ke sath aapni zindagi bitana pasand karengi ?” Armaan asked holding a finger and bending on one knee.

“Ek baar firse bolna” Abhira asked, her voice heavy with emotion.

“Abhira Sharma, kya aap aapni life mere sath bitana pasand karengi.” Armaan chucked looking at her expression. “Will you Marry Me Abhira ?”

She nodded to emotional to even form words.

And as he slipped the ring onto her finger, the world seemed to disappear around them, leaving only the love that had blossomed between them—timeless, deep, and eternal.

Armaan’s hand, warm and steady, cupped her cheek, his thumb grazing over the soft skin there. He gently tilted her chin upward, his gaze locking onto hers. “We’ve come through so much, Abhira. And I’ll never let you go. This is forever—no matter what.”

The promise hung between them, as tangible as the air they breathed. His lips hovered close to hers, their breaths mingling, but neither of them moved, taking this moment in. The world could wait. Their love had already written its story.

Abhira smiled, a quiet, serene smile that reached her eyes. “Forever,” she repeated, her voice trembling with the weight of those words, as though sealing it in her heart. “Forever, Armaan.”

And with that, as the moonlight casted a soft glow around them, Armaan closed the final distance between them. He pressed his lips to hers, tender and slow at first, as if savoring the promise they were making to each other. It was a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken words between them—the pain, the healing, the battles, and the victories. It was a kiss that said—I will always be here.

The kiss deepened, a vow sealed not just in words, but in the touch of their lips, in the way their hearts beat in time with one another. It was a kiss full of everything they had been and everything they would become—a kiss that meant the world to both of them.

And as they finally pulled away, breathless but content, Armaan gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering as though he never wanted to let go.

“I love you, Abhira,” he whispered once more, his voice full of warmth, his forehead resting against hers. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

She leaned into him, the world outside forgoten, their hearts intertwined in the quiet promises they had made to each other.

"Through storms and trials, through every twist of fate, they proved that even crossed stars could align when love was strong enough to rewrite destiny."

_THE END_

The final Chapter.
I hope you people enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing this.

Well your author is officially on X now @/TheLostSoul716 is the ID. You can connect for spoilers and Sneak Peaks.

See you guys on 3rd of December with the next update.

~TheLostSoul