The cold December air in Mussoorie carried a sharp bite, chilling everything it touched. The quiet town was wrapped in a blanket of fog, with only the faint hum of distant winds and the occasional rustle of dry leaves breaking the silence. The night sky stretched endlessly above, the vast expanse speckled with stars that glimmered like scattered diamonds. Wisps of clouds danced across the heavens, sometimes veiling the moon that shone brightly, casting an ethereal glow over the snow-dusted hills. Constellations dotted the canvas, their patterns weaving ancient tales against the midnight blue.

Armaan sat on the rocking chair in the veranda of his hotel room, the old wood creaking faintly beneath him as he swayed. The icy breeze brushed against his face, but he barely noticed it, his eyes fixed on the mesmerizing night sky. The familiar stars brought a bittersweet ache to his heart as memories of her flooded his mind. Somewhere out there, under the same sky, was his Abhira. His fingers clenched the armrests of the chair as he exhaled a heavy breath, his chest rising and falling with an unspoken longing.

As if on cue, a voice—soft, familiar, like a melody he could never forget—broke the silence. “Aaj bhi Scorpius ko Lyra bulaoge na tum?”

Armaan’s heart skipped. The words, though playful, had an ache to them. He turned around quickly, and there she was—standing in the doorway, bathed in the soft, silvery light of the moon, wearing the same yellow kurti she had worn the day they first truly saw each other in Mussoorie. The same yellow kurti, a memory so vivid it felt as though she had never truly left him.

“Abhira…” His voice was a whisper, almost a prayer, as he stared at her. Was this real? Or was she a figment of his mind, conjured from his deepest yearning?

Her eyes met his with a soft, knowing smile, the kind that made his heart ache. “It’s Scorpius, Armaan. Not Lyra,” she replied, her voice light, teasing, but there was something deeper hidden beneath her words. Her gaze flickered to the sky, to the constellations they had once spent hours talking about, lying on the grass as they pointed out stars.

Armaan's lips trembled as he took a step forward, his chest tightening. He reached out as if to touch her, to make sure she was real, but his hand trembled in the air. “I’ll call it whatever I want if it means you’ll argue with me about it,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, trying to mask the aching longing in it. Every part of him wanted to close the distance, to hold her, to feel her warmth once more. But she was standing there, just out of reach.

Her smile softened, a touch of sadness in her eyes as she looked at him. “You never change, do you?” she asked, her voice tinged with a bittersweet amusement. It was the same Abhira he remembered—the one who could always see past the walls he had built, the one who made him feel like he was home.

“No,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But everything else has. You’ve changed everything, Abhira.”

Her eyes seemed to darken, as though a flicker of pain passed through them. She stepped closer, but there was an invisible barrier between them. “I never meant to change anything, Armaan,” she said softly, almost too quietly. “But things… they just happened. And we...” Her voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

His heart clenched at the sorrow in her voice. “We… What, Abhira?” he asked, his voice breaking. “I couldn’t keep us together. I couldn’t protect you, couldn’t protect what we had. I failed you, and I—” His words faltered as the weight of his regret crushed him.

“No,” she interrupted gently, stepping closer yet still out of reach. “You didn’t fail me. We were both lost, Armaan. I… I thought you’d find your way back, but I couldn’t wait anymore. I couldn’t keep holding on to something that wasn’t there anymore.”

The ache in his chest deepened, a sharp pain that felt like it would consume him. “Ever since i realised what i had for u was love, trust me Abhira I have never stopped loving you,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I never stopped thinking about you. Every day, I… I thought maybe if I let go, I’d stop hurting. But I was wrong. I can’t let go. I can't live with myself knowing I gave up on us.”

Abhira’s eyes glistened, the pain in them mirroring his own. She shook her head slowly, the sadness in her expression deepening. “You never let go of me, Armaan. I know that. But I couldn’t reach you anymore. I couldn’t find you in the places where I once knew you.”

Her words hit him like a wave, pulling the breath from his lungs. “What do you mean?” His heart raced as his eyes searched hers desperately. “Abhira, please. I’m right here. I’m trying to reach you. Don’t shut me out, please.”

But her figure began to flicker, her form growing fainter as if the distance between them was expanding, an invisible force pushing her away. She took a step back, her face a mixture of sorrow and helplessness. “I’m not the one shutting you out, Armaan,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m here, but I can’t reach you. I’ve been here all along, but I don’t know how to make you see me anymore.”

His breath hitched, his chest tightening painfully as he reached for her once more. “Abhira, please, don’t leave me again. I can’t... I can’t do this without you.”

Her smile was faint, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I’m always here, Armaan. In every star, in every memory, in every corner of this place that once held us. But you have to find me. You have to want to find me.”

His hand passed through her as if she were made of mist, and his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. “I can’t lose you again, Abhira. I can’t. Please.”

The wind howled around him, and just like that, she was gone. The moonlight cast a pale glow over the empty space where she had stood, her presence lingering in the air like a whispered promise.

Armaan sank to his knees, the coldness of the night pressing in on him. He looked up at the sky, searching for the stars they had once gazed at together. The constellations were still there, unchanging, eternal. But she... she was gone.

Armaan staggered back into the room, his chest tightening with every breath. The ache of seeing her, so real yet unreachable, was almost too much to bear. His hands moved mechanically as he unzipped his worn backpack, digging through its contents until his fingers brushed against the soft fabric he sought. Slowly, he pulled out a bright red dupatta, its rich color vivid even in the dim light. Along its delicate border, his name gleamed in golden embroidery—the dupatta she had adorned on Gangaur, a fragment of the love they had once shared, a fragment of the memory from their last moments of joy together.

His hands trembled as he held it close, the dupatta feeling both unbearably heavy and achingly familiar. Bringing it to his face, he buried himself in its folds, his lips pressing against the fabric as if it could bring him closer to her. He inhaled deeply, desperate to catch even the faintest trace of her scent that might still linger—a whisper of jasmine, of her warmth, of everything he had lost. But it had been so long, and yet, it still felt like yesterday. 

The ache in his chest only grew as he walked to the bed, his legs unsteady beneath him. He sat down, clutching the dupatta against his heart like it was the only thing holding him together. It wasn’t the first night he had sought comfort in it; there had been countless others. On those nights, when missing her became unbearable, the dupatta was his solace, his connection to her. 

He lay back against the pillows, the dupatta still in his grasp, as he whispered hoarsely into its folds, “Thak gaya hoon, Abhira... sab se bhagte bhagte. Nahi bachi hai himmat mujh mein.” His voice broke, his words raw with the pain he had buried deep inside. 

His body trembled as sobs racked through him, the weight of his loneliness finally pouring out. “I need you back, Abhira,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I might be the most selfish human at this point but i need the only light my life had back, I need my anchor back.” 

He gripped the dupatta tighter, his tears soaking into its fabric as the storm within him finally began to quiet. His body, exhausted from the emotional outburst, slowly gave in to the pull of sleep. The dupatta remained clutched against his chest, a fragile lifeline between the man he had become and the love that had once defined him. 

The room fell silent, save for the sound of his steady breathing. Outside, the cold wind howled, and the stars blinked on in the sky, silently bearing witness to a soul broken, yet still holding on to the hope of redemption.

___________

The soft beeping of machines broke the heavy silence of the hospital room as Abhira’s eyelids fluttered open. The stark white light above her felt harsh, making her squint. Her body felt unbearably heavy, every muscle weighed down by exhaustion and the haze of medication. Her throat was parched, a dull ache radiating from her chest with every shallow breath she took. 

For a moment, she simply lay there, disoriented. The last thing she remembered was darkness—a suffocating void pulling her under. Now, the sterile smell of antiseptics and the rhythmic hum of the ventilator brought her back to the present. She turned her head slightly, her movements sluggish, and her gaze fell on the familiar faces around her. 

On the far side of the room, Krish and Rohit were sprawled on a single-seater sofas, their arms dangling limply along the armrests and head tilted back awkwardly against the backrest. Their face was slack, the worry etched into their features even in sleep. 

Beside him, Charu and Dev shared another sofa, an uncomfortable closeness forced by the narrow space. Charu’s head rested lightly on Dev’s shoulder, her hand clutching the edge of the sofa as if to stop herself from slipping. Dev, on the other hand, had his head propped on his arm, his elbow braced against the armrest. His posture looked strained, his face turned slightly to the side in an attempt to rest. 

The sight tugged at Abhira’s heart. They were all here—waiting for her, hoping for her. Even in their sleep, she could sense the exhaustion and the worry that had likely kept them awake for hours before fatigue finally overtook them. 

A faint smile tugged at her cracked lips, though it quickly faded as the weight of her reality sank back in. Her body, fragile and uncooperative, reminded her of the battle she was fighting. She felt weak, her strength sapped not just physically but emotionally. The knowledge that she was burdening her loved ones weighed heavily on her, but she couldn’t deny the flicker of warmth that seeing them brought. 

She wanted to call out to them, to tell them she was awake, but her voice felt trapped in her throat. Her hand twitched, an attempt to reach for the glass of water on the nearby tray, but even that simple movement seemed insurmountable. She let out a soft sigh, closing her eyes momentarily, grateful yet conflicted by the sight of those who loved her enough to endure so much. 

The machines around her continued their steady rhythm, a fragile testament to the life still flickering within her. For now, that was enough—she was awake, and she wasn’t alone.

Abhira’s gaze still lingered on her sleeping family, their presence filling her heart with gratitude. She couldn’t imagine the countless sleepless nights they must have endured for her, the way they’d put their lives on hold to be here. The sight of them brought a warmth to her chest, but it was fleeting—a hollow warmth that couldn’t soothe the aching void deep inside. 

That void had a name. Armaan. 

As much as she loved and appreciated Krish, Charu, Rohit and Dev, there was a piece missing, a part of her that longed for the one person who wasn’t there. Her heart ached with a raw intensity as her thoughts drifted to him. She had told herself over and over again that she didn’t need him, that she could face this battle alone. But in the stillness of the night, she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. 

She longed to see him, just once more. To hear his voice, to feel the comforting warmth of his presence. The thought of leaving this world without seeing him, without saying goodbye, felt unbearable. How cruel was fate, she thought bitterly, to bring them together only to rip them apart, leaving her to face this final chapter without him. 

Her heart felt heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid between them. Does he even know? She wondered. Would he even care? The pain of that uncertainty twisted in her chest, a sharp and relentless agony that no medicine could dull. She thought of his green eyes, the way they had once softened when they looked at her, and the ache deepened. 

Her fingers weakly clutched at the edge of the blanket, her body too frail to do more. Silent tears escaped her eyes, trailing down her temples onto the pillow. “Where are you, Armaan?” she whispered in her heart. She had no strength left to say it aloud. Her soul cried out for him, hoping against all reason that he would hear her, that somehow, he would come back to her. 

The pain in her chest wasn’t just physical. It was the pain of a love she could still feel, a love that tethered her to a man who might have moved on. But she hadn’t. Not fully. And now, as she lay so close to the precipice of life and death, the yearning to see him one last time consumed her entirely. 

Her eyelids grew heavier, the fatigue pulling her back into the embrace of sleep. But even as her body surrendered, a flicker of something stirred within her—a fragile hope. Somewhere in the distance, a star seemed to twinkle just for her, its light piercing through the darkness of her despair. 

It was as though fate itself had whispered a promise into the night: Maybe, just maybe, he would come. Maybe she would see him for that one last time.

As she drifted into slumber, her lips moved in a silent prayer, her heart clinging to that sliver of hope. In the vast, unrelenting darkness, it was all she had left.

__________

The soft sunlight filtered through the hospital room’s curtains, casting a gentle glow over Abhira as she sat on the bed, propped up by a mound of pillows. A breakfast plate was set in front of her on the small table, untouched, the smell of boiled vegetables and plain toast doing little to entice her. 

Charu, Krish, and Rohit sat on the chairs around her, their faces a mix of determination and desperation as they tried their best to get her to eat. 

"Abhira di, it’s not that bad!" Charu insisted, picking up a piece of toast and waving it dramatically. "It’s just toast. And vegetables. See? Super healthy!" 

"Healthy and tasteless," Abhira replied, wrinkling her nose. "I’m telling you, even sand would taste better." 

Krish let out an exaggerated gasp, his eyes wide with mock offense. "Sand? Seriously, Abhira di? You’re comparing food to sand now?" 

Rohit leaned forward, an eyebrow raised. "Wait a second—have you actually eaten sand before?" 

Abhira rolled her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Tum toh aise baat kar rahe ho jaise tumhe pata hi nahi hai, khadoosma—" She stopped mid-sentence, her smile faltering as a memory surfaced. 

It was years ago, on a warm afternoon. She and Armaan had been sitting in a lavish restaurant, sharing random childhood stories to pass the time. She had confessed, with a mixture of pride and embarrassment, that as a child, she had once eaten sand out of curiosity—and had actually liked it for a fleeting moment. Armaan’s reaction had been priceless, his dramatic gagging and mock horror making her laugh so hard that tears streamed down her face. 

"Unbelievable, Abhira!" he had exclaimed, clutching his chest like he’d been personally offended. "How are you even alive after that?!" 

Now, as the memory faded, the laughter in the room died down, replaced by a somber silence. Abhira’s smile disappeared, and she glanced down at her plate, her appetite completely gone. 

The others exchanged glances, the air suddenly heavy with unspoken emotions. It wasn’t just the memory that had changed the atmosphere; it was the realization of how different things were now. Back then, they had been carefree, laughing over silly confessions. Now, every moment felt weighted, shadowed by uncertainty. 

Charu reached out, placing a hand gently over Abhira’s. "We’ll make sure you get through this," she said softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray the worry she was trying to hide. 

Abhira nodded, but her eyes remained fixed on her plate. The weight of their concern pressed on her chest, mingling with her own fears.

What if this was all there was left? A handful of memories, a fleeting taste of laughter, and then… nothing?

Krish cleared his throat, forcing a smile. "Okay, enough of this emotional drama. If you won’t eat, I’ll have to resort to my secret weapon—" 

"Let me guess," Abhira cut in, her voice low but teasing, "threatening me with your terrible singing again?" 

That brought a faint chuckle from Charu and Rohit, and for a moment, the heaviness lifted slightly. But beneath the laughter, the fear lingered, a constant reminder of the battle they were all fighting.

__________

The courtroom was alive with tension, lawyers arguing their cases with fervor. Amidst the clamor, Dev’s phone vibrated relentlessly in his pocket. Irritated, he excused himself, stepping out of the proceedings to answer the call. 

“Charu?” he said, only to be greeted by a torrent of sobs. 

"Dev… Dev, abhira di… seizure… condition stable nahi hai!" Her voice cracked under the weight of her emotions. 

Dev’s blood ran cold. "What?" he barely managed to whisper, his heart pounding. 

The phone slipped from his hand as he sprinted toward the parking lot, his thoughts racing faster than his steps. He needed to get to the hospital, now. But just as he reached his car, a figure caught his eye. 

For a moment, everything else faded. The man standing by the courthouse steps, his posture rigid yet familiar. Could it be? Armaan? 

Dev froze, torn between two equally urgent impulses. Abhira needed him, but the sight of the man who had once been her entire world ignited a flicker of hope—and anger—inside him. He clenched his fists, waging a silent battle with himself. Time was of the essence. 

“Abhira’s more important,” he muttered under his breath, shaking off the doubt as he got into his car and drove toward the hospital. 

The hospital corridor was a grim scene. Krish sat hunched over, his head buried in his hands, while Charu sobbed uncontrollably, her face hidden in her palms. Rohit stood beside them, his jaw clenched, his eyes red but dry, as though he were forcing himself to hold it together for their sake. 

“Dev!” Charu choked out as she spotted him. She rushed to him, grabbing his arm as though his presence alone could fix everything. “Woh… woh theek toh ho jayengi na?” 

Dev couldn’t answer. His gaze had shifted to the room behind them, where a team of doctors surrounded Abhira. Machines beeped steadily, and her frail form was barely visible beneath the oxygen mask and medical paraphernalia. 

His chest tightened painfully. Over the past two years, Abhira had become a little sister to him, her unwavering support strengthening his bond with Charu. When their relationship had come under scrutiny, Abhira had stood firm, shielding them from criticism with her unique blend of courage and wit. 

And now, here she was, fighting for her life. 

The doors opened, and the lead doctor stepped out, his expression grim. “Mr. Shekhawat,” he said, addressing Dev directly. “We need to talk.” 

Dev straightened, bracing himself. 

“Abhira’s craniopharyngioma has worsened. The tumor is obstructing her cerebrospinal fluid pathways, causing hydrocephalus. This is triggering the seizures,” the doctor explained. 

“What does that mean for her?” Dev asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. 

“She’s in a delicate state. Her platelet count is dangerously low, which increases the risk of excessive bleeding during surgery. But we don’t have a choice—we need to operate sooner than planned. If we wait any longer, she may not survive.” 

The weight of the words settled over the group like a storm cloud. Dev turned to the others, their silent grief a reflection of his own. 

“When can you perform the surgery?” he asked, his voice firm. 

“Day after tomorrow. We’ll use tomorrow to conduct the necessary tests and stabilize her condition as much as possible,” the doctor replied. 

Dev nodded. “Do it.” 

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can.” With that, he walked away, leaving the group to process the news. 

Charu turned to Dev, her voice trembling. “Abhira di ko kya bolenge?” 

“The truth,” Dev replied simply. 

She stared at him, her tears flowing freely. “Dev, I’m scared.” 

Dev placed his hands on her shoulders, meeting her gaze. “Charu, trust me. Nothing will happen to her. Abhira is a fighter. She’ll pull through this, I promise.” 

Krish sniffled, nodding weakly, but Rohit suddenly spoke up, his voice cracking. “Bhaiya, di fight hi toh nahi kar rahi hai na. Doctors said she’s not responding to the treatment. They think she’s lost hope altogether.” 

Rohit’s words pierced the fragile hope they had been clinging to. His shoulders slumped as he recalled the morning. “Today, she recalled a memory about Armaan Bhaiya and then she was quiet, so quiet. When we left her alone for a while because she’d fallen asleep, we came back to find her in the middle of a severe seizure.” 

Dev’s jaw tightened. “Then we’ll give her a reason to fight again,” he said firmly. “I saw him today, in the court. Armaan’s here, in Mussoorie.” 

Rohit’s head snapped up. “Mussoorie?” 

“Yes,” Dev confirmed, determination blazing in his eyes. “And I’m bringing him here. He’s caused her enough pain, but right now, he’s the only one who can give her the hope she needs.” 

Krish and Rohit offered to accompany him, but Dev shook his head. “You’re needed here. Stay with her. I’ll bring Armaan back.” 

With that, Dev turned on his heel and strode out of the hospital, his mind set. Abhira deserved to fight, to live—and if Armaan was the key to reigniting her spirit, then Dev would make sure he brought him back, no matter what it took.

_______

Dev gripped the steering wheel as he drove back to the courthouse, his mind consumed with a single thought: Armaan has to be there for Abhira. Enough was enough. There had been too much hiding, too many fights, and too much distance. She needed him now, and Dev would ensure that nothing stood in the way. 

Meanwhile, Armaan stepped out of the courtroom, loosening his tie as he inhaled deeply. The air outside was sharp and cold, but it wasn’t enough to calm the storm within him. A few colleagues approached him, their concern evident. 

“Are you okay, Armaan?” one of them asked, eyes searching his face. 

Armaan quickly forced a smile, masking the unease gnawing at him. “I’m fine,” he lied, sliding on his mustard-colored sunglasses to shield his eyes. He nodded at their concern, exchanged a few polite words, and walked away. 

As soon as he was alone, the facade crumbled. His steps faltered as his hand instinctively clutched his chest, just above his heart. The sensation was overwhelming—an inexplicable fear that had lingered for the past month, growing unbearable since the moment he arrived in Mussoorie. 

His breaths were shallow, his grip tightening as he stumbled toward the parking lot. He collided with objects along the way—a chair, a trash bin—but he barely noticed. The weight in his chest consumed all his focus, each step heavier than the last. 

Reaching the parking lot, he whispered into the cold air, his voice trembling. “Abhira… be alright, please.” Yet, deep down, he knew something was wrong. He had felt it before, but now the feeling was impossible to ignore. 

As he opened the door of his cab, it slammed shut unexpectedly, startling him. Armaan spun around, anger flaring in his already frazzled mind, only to freeze at the sight before him. 

It was Dev. 

The man Armaan least expected to see, the man whose actions had helped unravel his world. 

“We need to talk, Armaan,” Dev said, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. 

Armaan’s eyes narrowed. “But I don’t want to,” he snapped, reaching again for the cab door. Before he could grab the handle, Dev caught his wrist, his grip unyielding. 

“Tumhe baat karni padegi,” Dev said, his voice low and steely. “Chahe tum chaho ya na chaho.” 

Fury surged through Armaan as he yanked his hand away, causing Dev to stumble back. “Tum hote kaun ho,” he growled, stepping closer, “ki main yahan rukun aur tumhari bakwas sunu?” 

Dev steadied himself, meeting Armaan’s glare head-on. “Tum jaante ho main yahan kyun hoon?” he Questioned. 

Armaan’s anger boiled over. The tension in his chest from the fear for Abhira, combined with the sight of the one man he blamed for so much of his pain, became too much to bear. “I don’t care why you’re here!” he shouted. “Get out of my way!” 

But Dev refused to back down. “Yehi toh tumhari problem hai, Armaan!" He stepped forward, "tum bas mushkilon se bhagna jante ho, tumhare andar himat hi nahi hai to face your demons"

Armaan took a threatening step forward, his jaw clenched. “Stay in your limits, Dev. Aur meri life se door raho.” 

“Tum samajhte kyun nahi ho?” Dev shot back. “This isn’t about me or you—it’s about Abhira!” 

The name hit Armaan like a slap. “Tumhe uska naam lene ka bhi haq nahi hai!” he yelled, his fists trembling with rage. 

“Joh hua tha do saal pehle, tum aaj bhi usi baat ka gussa sab par nikalte ho!” Dev barked, his frustration building. “Yeh sab isliye ho raha hai kyunki tumne Abhira se dur rehna chuna, aapni fammily joh tumhe aapna manti bhi nahi hai, us family ko abhira ke upar chuna. Tum kab tak blame karte rahoge—mujhe, Charu ko, duniya ko?” 

“I didn’t choose to stay away!” Armaan roared, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Tumhe kya lagta hai, mujhe yeh asaan laga? Uske bina rehna? Tum jaante bhi ho what all i have been through without her?” 

“Aur tumhe aisa kyun lagta hai ki thinvs had been easy for her, tumhare pass atleast log tho the sambhalne ke liye, vo is duniya main akeli thi Armaan” Dev countered, his voice rising to match Armaan’s. “Is puri duniya main ek insaan main aapni puri family dhund li thi usne, tum main ghar dekhti thi vo aapna."

Armaan staggered back as the words hit him. But his fear, his turmoil held him back.

"Usse tumhari zarurat hai, Armaan! Aur tum yahan mujhse ladne ko importance de rahe ho, duniya ko dikhane ki koshish kar rahe ho ki sab theek hai." Dev was just done with Armaan at this point, had it not been abhira he would have done something he couldn’t fanthom to Armaan.

Armaan stood rooted in a fight with with himself. The truth was undeniable—he had been running, hiding behind his anger and guilt, but the fear clawing at his heart told him that running was no longer an option. 

“Abhira…” he whispered, his voice breaking. 

Dev softened slightly, stepping closer. “Woh tumhara intezaar kar rahi Armaan. She’s fighting for her life, and she needs you to help her fight.” 

Armaan’s eyes searched Dev’s face, his chest rising and falling heavily. For a moment, neither spoke. Then, with a nod that seemed more to himself than anyone else, Armaan spoke, his voice firm. 

“Is there something Ineed to know Dev?” Armaan was fighting to hold himself together.

Dev did not say anything but simply opened his car door and gestured for Armaan to sit in, and in the moment the two men who had once stood as rivals found themselves united by a single purpose: to save Abhira.

As the car pulled into the hospital parking Armaan’s heart raced, like it had everytime he was close to Abhira, like it had when she was kidnapped, like it had during his bachelor's party.

He followed Dev with quite hesitant steps untill he found himself standing on the end of one corridor, his eyes caught site of Krish, Charu and Rohit. Each step he took towards them felt heavy, but nothing could prepare him for what he saw when he was finally were they sat, in front of a room.

Armaan stood frozen in front of the glass window, his hands pressed against the cool surface, his breath catching in his throat. Beyond the glass lay Abhira, her fragile frame dwarfed by the tangle of wires, tubes, and machines that surrounded her. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only indication that life still pulsed within her. 

His gaze traveled to her face, pale and devoid of the vibrancy that had once lit up entire rooms. Her chest rose and fell faintly under the oxygen mask, her breaths shallow, as though even breathing was a monumental task. 

He clenched his fists against the glass, his vision blurring with tears he refused to blink away. This can’t be her, he thought, his mind rejecting the sight. This isn’t my Abhira.

But it was. 

The reality crashed over him like a tidal wave, leaving him gasping for air. He stepped back, running a trembling hand through his hair as the weight of everything pressed down on him. His legs felt weak, and before he could stop himself, he sank to the floor, his back against the wall, his head falling into his hands. 

None of them made a move to hold him, to even console him as a matter of fact. But In this moment it was what Armaann cared the least about.

For a long moment, he couldn’t do anything but sit there, the sound of his own ragged breathing drowning out everything else. The Armaan who had always been confident, composed, and in control was nowhere to be found. In his place was a man broken, stripped of all defenses, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in years. 

“Why?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, cracking under the strain of his emotions. “Why her? Why now?” 

He tilted his head back, staring at the sterile hospital ceiling, tears spilling freely down his cheeks. Memories came flooding back, unbidden and relentless—the way she had laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief; the way she had held his hand, her touch grounding him in moments of doubt; the way she had always fought for him, even when the world turned against them. 

And now, here she was, fighting for her life, while he stood helpless on the other side of the glass. 

“This is my fault,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “If I hadn’t left… If I had stayed…” 

His guilt wrapped around him like a vice, suffocating him. He thought of every fight, every moment of hesitation, every time he had chosen pride over love. And now, the woman who had been his strength was lying there, her life hanging by a thread. 

“I should’ve been there,” he said, his voice rising in anguish. He slammed his fist against the wall, the pain a small reprieve from the storm raging within him. “I should’ve been there for you, Abhira. I should’ve protected you!” 

He pressed his forehead to the glass, his tears smearing against it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Abhira.” 

A nurse passed by, pausing momentarily to look at him with pity before moving on. But Armaan didn’t care who saw him like this. His world had shrunk to the fragile figure on the other side of the glass, and nothing else mattered. 

“Please, Abhira,” he begged, his voice trembling.
His hand pressed harder against the glass, as though he could somehow reach through it to touch her, to will his strength into her. “I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice breaking completely. “Not after everything we’ve been through. You’re my everything, Abhira. My everything.” 

His body trembled, his head resting against the wall, tears streaming down his face. For the first time in years, Armaan felt utterly powerless. 

"She has Craniopharyngioma, benign tumor that develops near the pituitary gland" Dev informed him, "condition stable nahi hai uski, she had given up on any primary treatment, so hamare pass the onlyboption left was surgery which again is not safe for her for she has thrombocytopenia. Surgery ke time high bleeding ka risk hai."

Armaan had felt his world crumble hearing Dev. He altogether could not get himself to understand anything at this point. And yet, amidst the pain and despair, a quiet resolve began to stir within him. He couldn’t afford to lose her. He wouldn’t let her go without a fight. 

“I’ll be here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll stay right here, Abhira. Until you wake up. I’ll fight for you, just like you always fought for me. I promise.” 

The words hung in the air, a solemn vow that he intended to keep, no matter what it took. 

*..*..*..*..*..*..*

The First Chapter.

I have the parts of past only those that are necessary uncovered in the next chapter but in short.

The next chapter will see Armaan Abhira meeting each other.

This is completely off track, nothing to do with what was shown on the show. So pls all me some creative liberties taken for molding the plot.

~TheLostSoul