The Poddar Mansion was alive with vibrant energy as the Navratri celebrations reached their peak. The grand hall was adorned with marigold flowers, colorful drapes, and twinkling lights, creating an atmosphere filled with devotion and joy. The beats of the dhol reverberated through the mansion as the family and their guests engaged in the rhythmic dance of Garba and Dandiya. Laughter echoed, the women twirled in their traditional lehengas, and the men matched steps with fervor, their kurtas swaying with every movement.

The entire Poddar family was enveloped in the spirit of the festival. Armaan, dressed in a mustard kurta with embroidery, moved effortlessly across the dance floor, his eyes constantly drifting towards Abhira. She was a vision in hues of golden and purple, her lehenga shimmering under the lights, her smile radiant as she danced with the others. Armaan’s heart swelled with love and pride as he watched her, but there was something else—an overwhelming desire to steal her away, just for a moment.

Unbeknownst to them, a shadow loomed over the celebrations. An evil eye had been cast upon the family, plotting to rob them of their happiness. Yet, for now, the family danced and celebrated, oblivious to the lurking danger.

As the Garba continued, Armaan slowly moved closer to Abhira, his hand brushing against hers. She turned to him, her eyes sparkling with the joy of the moment. He leaned in, whispering into her ear, “I think it’s time we disappear for a little while.”

Abhira’s cheeks flushed, and she playfully nudged him. “Armaan, we’re in the middle of the Garba, people will notice.”

But Armaan wasn’t one to take no for an answer. “Let them notice,” he grinned. “It’s Navratri, and I think I deserve a moment with my beautiful wife.”

Before Abhira could protest further, Armaan gently tugged her hand, pulling her towards the edge of the hall. With a mischievous smile, he led her through the side door, sneaking past the guests and family members who were too engrossed in the celebration to notice their absence.

They found themselves in a secluded corner of the hallway, away from the noise and eyes of the crowd. The cool evening breeze brushed against their skin, and the sound of the dhol seemed distant now, a faint echo in the background.

Armaan pulled Abhira into his arms, his hands resting on her waist as he gazed down at her with that familiar, smoldering look. “You look absolutely stunning tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and full of adoration.

Abhira smiled, her fingers trailing along his chest and locking behind his neck. “Tareef karne ka yeh tareeka purana hogaya Khadusmann, kuch naya soncho” she teased.

“Kubsurati Aisi ho toh insaan ko naye shabdh ijat karne padenge mauhtarma” he replied, bending down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. “Besides, who needs words to praise the beauty u are when i can do exactly the same with action.”

For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. The only thing that mattered was the two of them, wrapped in each other’s embrace. Armaan’s fingers trailed up to her face, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers cheeks and the tips of her nose.

Abhirs closed her eyes feeling the rush of emotions through her, as she gripped the collar of his kurta in a tight fist. Armaan moved closed and placed her lips of her in a tender, lingering kiss.

Abhira melted into his touch, her arms wrapping around him as she deepened the kiss. The energy between them was electric, a spark of passion igniting in the cool eveing air. Armaan’s hand caressed her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

But just as their moment intensified, the warmth of their romantic moment was slowly being overshadowed by a creeping sense of being caught.

“Let’s go back inside,” Abhira whispered, her voice laced with uncertainty that somebody might just walk in on them knowing how any action of the two of them is created a fuss about in the house.

Armaan nodded, sensing her discomfort. He took her hand, leading her back towards the hall, but the moment they stepped inside, something felt different. The lively atmosphere had dimmed, the once joyful music now seemed subdued, and the smiles on the faces of the guests had faded.

It was as if the energy of the room had shifted. The evil eye cast upon the Poddar family was beginning to show its presence, its malicious intent slowly seeping into the celebration.

Armaan, ever the protector, instinctively pulled Abhira closer as they walked back into the hall. He scanned the room, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pinpoint the source of this dark energy. But everything seemed normal, at least on the surface.

Abhira, who had been holding her breath, felt a wave of relief wash over her. She looked up at Armaan, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. He is always standing by her side when she needed him most.

Armaan turned to her, his expression softening. “Are you okay?” he asked gently, his hand brushing her arm.

Abhira nodded, though the lingering unease  “I just… I don’t know, something doesn’t feel right.”

Armaan frowned, his protective instincts kicking in again. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, his hand squeezing hers reassuringly. “No matter what, I’m here with you.”

The vibrant Navratri celebration at the Poddar Mansion took a sudden turn as the joyous atmosphere morphed into one of tension and unease. Manoj, suddenly rose to his feet, his face stern as he looked around the room.

“I’ve made a decision,” he announced, his voice cutting through the soft chatter of the family. “I’m resigning from the Poddar firm, effective immediately.”

A collective gasp echoed through the hall, the weight of his words sinking in. Manoj had been a pillar of the firm, his dedication unmatched. His sudden resignation left everyone in shock, but it was the reason behind his decision that set the house ablaze.

Manoj continued, his gaze hardening. “I’m tired of the favoritism. I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this firm, but apparently, that counts for nothing when personal biases come into play.”

The silence that followed was thick with tension. Everyone knew what he was referring to—the ongoing dispute over the firm’s hierarchy, especially since Armaan’s return to the fold.

Ruhi, Vidya, and Manisha exchanged knowing glances, their eyes narrowing as they fixed their gaze on Abhira. The disdain in their expressions was palpable. Ruhi was the first to speak, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, it’s no surprise, is it? Ever since she arrived, things have gone downhill.”

Vidya nodded, her lips curling into a sneer. “Exactly. Abhira seems to bring trouble wherever she goes. First, the family, now the firm. It’s like she’s cursed.”

Manisha, crossed her arms and gave Abhira a scathing look. “Maybe if she spent less time trying to snatch others credits and more time staying in her place, none of this would have happened. This is all her fault.”

The room erupted into murmurs, the accusations flying fast. Abhira stood frozen, their words piercing through her like knives. Her heart raced as she felt the weight of their insults bearing down on her, her throat tightening with the sting of humiliation. She looked over at Armaan, her eyes misty as if agreeing to very insult hurled her way.

Without hesitation, Armaan stepped forward, his voice firm and steady. “Enough. Not another word against Abhira.”

Ruhi scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, come on, Armaan. You’re always defending her, but look at what she’s done. Ever since she’s come into this family, there’s been nothing but problems. Don’t pretend like you don’t see it.”

Armaan’s eyes blazed with anger. “Abhira has done nothing but support this family, including you, Ruhi. Don't force to me dig out matters from the grave for they would only bury you in.”

Vidya folded her arms, her expression smug. “You’re blinded by love, Armaan. You can’t see how she’s tearing this family apart.”

Dadi sa, who had been watching the exchange silently, suddenly stood, her commanding presence instantly quieting the room. “That’s enough,” Kaveri said, her voice stern as she glared at the three women. “Abhira is a part of this family, whether you like it or not. She has done nothing wrong, and I will not tolerate this baseless attack on her character.”

Manisha opened her mouth to speak, but Dadi sa silenced her with a sharp look. “I suggest you choose your words carefully, Manisha. This family has seen enough discord, and I will not allow it to be fueled by petty grievances.”

The room fell into a tense silence, but the damage had already been done. Abhira stood at the center of it all, feeling the weight of their accusations crushing her. Her breath quickened, her mind swirling with all the bitterness and pain that had been hurled at her. She took a step back, her legs shaky as she tried to steady herself.

The voices around her faded into the background as her vision blurred. She needed to escape. She couldn’t handle this anymore. Slowly, almost unconsciously, Abhira began to back away from the crowd, her movements unsteady as she tried to put distance between herself and the chaos.

But then, in the midst of her retreat, a sharp, piercing scream cut through the air.

It was Abhira’s scream.

All eyes turned towards her as she clutched her side, her face twisted in pain. For a moment, it was as if time stood still. The crowd, Armaan, and even Dadi sa froze in horror as Abhira stumbled, her knees buckling beneath her.

She fell to the ground, her hand still pressed against her stomach, blood seeping through her fingers. The dark red stain spread across her dress, the vivid contrast against the vibrant colors she had worn for the celebration.

Armaan’s heart stopped. His breath caught in his throat, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. “Abhira!” he shouted, his voice filled with terror as he rushed towards her. He fell to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as they hovered over her, unsure of what to do.

“Abhira, stay with me. Please,” Armaan’s voice broke, his eyes wide with panic as he frantically searched for the source of her injury. The sight of the blood made his stomach twist with fear.

Abhira’s eyes fluttered open, her breaths shallow and labored. She reached out weakly, her fingers brushing against Armaan’s hand as if to reassure him. “I… I’m sorry…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Armaan choked, tears welling up in his eyes. He pressed his forehead against hers, his hands cupping her face as he desperately tried to hold onto her. “You’re going to be okay, Abhira. I’m right here. I won’t leave you.”

The room around them erupted into chaos. Dadi sa shouted for someone to call an ambulance, while the rest of the family stood frozen in shock. But for Armaan, the world had narrowed down to just Abhira—the woman he loved more than anything, bleeding in his arms.

“Please, Abhira,” he whispered, his voice trembling as tears streamed down his face. “Don’t leave me. I need you. I can’t lose you.”

Abhira’s lips parted as if to say something, but her strength was fading fast. Her eyelids fluttered, and her head lolled to the side, her body going limp in Armaan’s arms.

“No, no, no!” Armaan cried out, shaking her gently as if trying to wake her. His voice cracked with desperation. “Someone help! Please!”

But all he could hear was the sound of his own heart breaking. The scene in the Poddar Mansion was utter chaos. Armaan cradled Abhira in his arms, her body limp, her breathing shallow. Blood stained her dress, and each second that passed felt like an eternity. The family, still frozen in shock, could barely move as they witnessed the horrifying turn of events.

"Ambulance kahan hai!" Dadi sa yelled, snapping everyone out of their stupor. Krish fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking as he agian dialed the number. Armaan’s mind was a blur; he couldn’t think straight, his heart pounding with fear. He pressed Abhira closer, whispering desperate promises.

“Hold on, Abhira… just hold on. I’m right here. Please don’t leave me. Please.”

Within minutes, the wailing sirens of the ambulance pierced through the air, and the paramedics rushed in. Armaan refused to let go of Abhira, staying by her side even as they loaded her onto the stretcher.

"Sir, we need to move quickly!" one of the paramedics urged, but Armaan barely heard him. His world had narrowed down to Abhira’s pale face, her weakening pulse under his fingers. He clung to her hand, his heart sinking deeper into despair with every moment that passed.

The ride to the hospital felt endless. Armaan kept his eyes on Abhira, his voice low as he kept pleading for her to wake up. She remained unconscious, her breaths shallow, her face drained of all color. The blood loss terrified him; it was as if life itself was slipping away from her, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

They arrived at the hospital, the doors of the ambulance swinging open as doctors and nurses rushed to take Abhira in. Armaan followed, refusing to leave her side even for a second. But just as they were about to wheel her into the emergency room, a nurse stopped him.

"Sir, you can't go beyond this point."

"No!" Armaan protested, his voice breaking. "I need to be with her!"

"Please," the nurse said gently, her expression sympathetic. "We need space to treat her. We'll do everything we can."

Armaan's grip on Abhira’s hand tightened, but he knew he had no choice.

"Meri Silly Girl, mere pass jaldi wapis aana. Tumhara Khadusmaan wait kar raha hai tumhara," With a final, desperate kiss to her forehead, he let them take her. He stood frozen as the doors closed behind her, shutting him out of her world.

Minutes felt like hours as he paced the waiting room, his mind a whirlwind of fear, guilt, and helplessness. Dadi sa, Madhav, Chorus Gang, and the others arrived at the hospital, their faces reflecting the same fear that gripped Armaan’s heart. But no one dared to speak. The air was thick with tension, as if the whole world was holding its breath.

Dadi sa stood beside him, her own face etched with worry. But Armaan barely noticed her, his eyes glued to the swinging doors where Abhira had disappeared, the cold emptiness of uncertainty gnawing at his insides.

Minutes stretched into agonizing hours. The family paced in the waiting room, but Armaan remained seated, his hands trembling as he clutched Abhira’s mangalsutra. His mind was a whirlwind of fear and prayers, every breath feeling heavier than the last.

Finally, the door to the emergency room opened, and the doctor stepped out, her expression somber. Armaan jumped to his feet, his heart stopping as he looked at her, desperate for any shred of hope.

"Is she okay?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

The doctor gave him a small, reassuring nod. “She’s stable,” she began. Armaan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, but the doctor’s grave expression remained. “However, she’s still not out of danger. The injury was severe, and there was significant internal bleeding.”

Armaan’s stomach dropped. “But she’s going to be fine, right?”

"The injury will take time and eventually heal but," the doctor hesitated for a moment before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “There’s something else, Armaan,” she said softly, her eyes filled with empathy. “The internal bleeding that was caused due to the stab has caused Abhira to suffer a miscarriage.”

For a moment, Armaan didn’t react. The words hung in the air, distant and unreal. “Miscarriage?” he repeated, his voice hollow.

The doctor nodded slowly. “We’re very sorry Armaan, we tried our best but we couldn’t save your baby."

Armaan’s knees buckled, and he stumbled back into the chair, his hands shaking violently. “Our baby…” he whispered, his voice breaking as the weight of the words settled on him.

Our baby.

The words echoed in his mind, a devastating realization crashing over him like a tidal wave.

His mind raced, replaying every moment leading up to this. The joy of their celebration, the harsh words from his family, the attack that had shattered their lives. And now, the knowledge that they had lost something they hadn’t even known they had. A life, a miracle, had been growing inside Abhira. A miracle they thought they would never have.

"Abhira was still in the very early stages of her pregnancy, far too early for either of you to have noticed any symptoms. But when she arrived at the hospital, we observed bleeding not only from her wound but also from down below, which we believe was caused by a fall." As the doctor explained, Armaan barely registered the words, his mind already clouded.

Armaan’s chest heaved with sobs as the realization tore him apart. He buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking with grief. “We had a baby?” he whispered, his voice thick with anguish. “We didn’t even know… and now...”

The doctor stepped back, her expression pained. She had seen many families break under the weight of such tragedy, and yet it never got easier. “I’m so sorry, Armaan,” she said softly before leaving him alone with his grief.

As the doctor's words settled in, Armaan felt the world tilt beneath his feet. His body trembled, his heart pounding as though trying to escape his chest. His mind screamed in disbelief, replaying the horrifying phrase over and over:

Miscarriage.

I am sorry we couldn’t save your baby.

He stared blankly at the floor, his entire body numb. He hadn't even known there was a life growing inside Abhira, a miracle they had never expected. Now, the joy they should have felt was replaced with an all-consuming grief.

Armaan’s breath hitched as the weight of it all crashed down on him. His chest tightened painfully, and he felt suffocated, as if the room was closing in on him. He clutched his head in his hands, his fingers digging into his scalp as though he could somehow tear the anguish out of his mind.

“We lost our baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking. Tears blurred his vision, and his throat burned as he choked back a sob. “We had a baby, and we didn’t even know. Now it’s gone. Gone.”

He couldn’t process it. How could they have lost something so precious? The thought of Abhira waking up to this news tore him apart. How could he face her? How could he tell her that their baby was growing within her and now was gone even before they could dream of it?

Armaan’s body trembled uncontrollably, and a deep, wrenching sob finally escaped him. His hands shook as he wiped at his tear-stained face, though the tears wouldn’t stop. They kept falling, hot and bitter, a physical manifestation of the devastation ravaging his soul. He had never felt so broken, so utterly powerless.

Images of Abhira flooded his mind—her smile, the way she had laughed just hours ago during Navratri, the way she had danced with him, full of life. And now, she was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life unaware of the tragedy that had struck them both.

The day of their mehndi flashed before his eyes, the moment the doctor’s reports had broken the news that Abhira might never be able to conceive. They had accepted that truth together, had come to terms with a future that may not include children. It was heartbreaking, but they had each other, and that had been enough. Or so they thought.

Now, he couldn’t comprehend the cruelty of it all. This baby would have been their miracle, and they had lost it in the most cruel way possible. His heart ached with the overwhelming sorrow of it all, and he felt as though he were being torn apart from the inside out.

Armaan pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to force the tears to stop, but they kept coming. His shoulders shook with sobs, his entire body quaking with the force of his grief. “How could this happen?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Why did this happen to us? Why now?”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, he looked at Dadi Sa. His mind was consumed by the pain, by the crushing sense of loss that had overtaken him. “We were supposed to be happy Dadi Sa” he murmured, his voice shaking. “Hum Kush the aapni duniya main, yeh kyun hua aur hamare sath hi kyun. Har baar khushi aise kuch palon ke liye aake chali kyun jaati hai.”

Dadi sa’s voice broke through his haze, soft but steady. “Armaan, look at me.”

He lifted his tear-filled eyes to her, but he couldn’t speak more. The grief was too much. He was too broken to form any words.

Dadi sa’s face was drawn with sorrow, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She knelt beside him, taking his hand in hers. “I know it feels unbearable Armaan,” she whispered, her voice breaking with her own grief. “But you will have to be strong beta. Abhira needs you. You have to be strong for her.”

Armaan shook his head, his heart wrenching painfully in his chest. “Nahi hoga mujhse yeh Dadi Sa. Itna sab hone ke baad How can I be strong? How can I tell her we lost our baby?” His voice cracked, and a fresh wave of sobs overtook him. “She’ll be devastated. Vo tut jayegi Dadi Sa, Bikhar jayegi. Main nahi bata sakta usse yeh.”

Dadi sa’s grip on his hand tightened, her own tears falling silently. “You will have to Armaan, haq hai beta uska yeh jaane ka,” she said, though her voice was barely above a whisper. “You both will have to survive this with each other. That’s the only way.”

Her words were meant to comfort, but the weight of them crushed him even more. Armaan’s head fell onto Dadi sa’s shoulder, his sobs becoming uncontrollable. He could feel his heart breaking with each passing second, the weight of their loss too much to bear.

How could they have lost so much, so quickly? How could fate be so cruel?

"Tum Himmat ho uski Armaan, Vo tumhe dekhti hai na toh sari duniya se ladne ki Himmat dhund leti hai." Dadi Sa caressed his back trying to comfort him. "Yeh Dard bhout bada hai Armaan aur bhout ghera bhi, she needs her brightest star with her now aur vo tumhi hi ho Armaan"

"Uski Himmat kudh Bikhar chuki hai Dadi sa, Kaise Bataun usko ki hamaara baby.." Armaan couldn’t complete. He did not have it in him to even utter those words.

Kaveri slowly pulled Armaan iut of the embrace, she wiped his tears from the edge of her saree. She pulled him from the bench towards the room where Abhira was shifted to and was resting. She made him stand near the glass window.

"Toh aapni bikhri Himmat ko sameto Armaan, Abhira ko zaroorat hai uske Khadusmann ki, yeh bulati hai na vo tumhe?"

Armaan looked at her sleeping form. She looked so vulnerable at the moment. It pained him to see her like that but in that moment, the only thing Armaan knew was that their world had been shattered beyond repair, and no matter what came next, he will have to be strong for her.

When Armaan was finally allowed to enter the room, a wave of emotions surged through him with such intensity that he had to steady himself against the doorframe for a moment. His eyes landed on Abhira, lying so still on the hospital bed, her face pale, her body fragile. The sight of her, hooked up to machines and IV drips, shattered his heart into a thousand pieces.

Taking slow, unsteady steps toward her, Armaan felt the crushing weight of their loss pressing down on him. His chest tightened as if he could barely breathe, his mind racing, trying to grasp how he would find the words to tell her what had happened. He wasn’t even sure how to speak it aloud — the reality of it still felt like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.

As he reached the bed, he lowered himself into the chair beside her, his hand trembling as it hovered over hers. He hesitated for a moment, then gently took her hand in his, feeling its warmth. Slowly, he brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles tenderly, tears falling freely from his eyes.

“Our baby…” he whispered to himself, choking on the words as they left his mouth. His hand trembled as he placed it gently over her belly, his mind reeling with the knowledge that there had been a life growing inside her, a life they would never get to meet.

The loss hit him all over again, like a wave crashing against a fragile shore. He closed his eyes, pressing another kiss to her hand, mourning not just the life they had lost but the dream they hadn’t even known they were carrying.

He wanted to say so much, to tell her that he was sorry, that he wished he could have protected her and their baby from this pain. But no words came. The grief clogged his throat, his voice buried under the weight of it.

He gently laid her hand down and reached out to stroke her hair, his fingers trembling as they brushed through her soft locks. “I’m here, Abhira,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m not leaving you.”

His eyes moved over her face, her expression peaceful in her unconscious state, but he knew the moment she woke, that peace would shatter. She would wake to the same devastation that was consuming him, and he didn’t know how either of them would bear it. His heart clenched painfully as he thought of how she would react, how her world would collapse with just a few words.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips gently to her forehead, letting them linger there for a moment longer than usual. He inhaled deeply, trying to pull himself together, but the ache in his chest only deepened. He kissed her forehead again, unable to stop himself from expressing the overwhelming love and sorrow he felt.

As he pulled back, his hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin softly. His heart twisted inside his chest, knowing that in just a few moments, he would have to break her heart all over again. How could he do that to her? How could he find the strength to tell her that their miracle was gone, lost before they even knew it existed?

“I don’t know how to tell you, Abhira,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he gazed at her face. “I don’t know how to break your heart like this. But I’m here. I’m with you.”

Tears blurred his vision again as he tried to gather his thoughts, tried to figure out how he would say the words that would destroy their world. His heart was breaking, and he didn’t know how to put it back together, not without her by his side, not after losing something so precious.

But for now, he held her hand, kissed her knuckles, and whispered silent promises into the quiet room, promises of love, of protection, of never leaving her side, even when the storm of grief would inevitably come.

In the quiet, early hours of the morning, the sterile calmness of the hospital room was broken by a soft rustling sound. Armaan, half-asleep in the chair beside Abhira’s bed, stirred, his instincts alert to the smallest of her movements. His eyes immediately flew open, and he leaned forward, noticing her fingers twitch and her eyelids flutter.

"Abhira…" he whispered, moving closer.

Her eyes slowly blinked open, adjusting to the dim light of the room. Armaan’s heart raced as he immediately pressed the call button for the doctor. Within moments, the medical team entered the room, checking her vitals and assessing her condition. Armaan stood to the side, barely breathing, his eyes never leaving her face, even as his heart hammered in his chest.

After the doctor assured him that she was stable, but still needed rest, they left, leaving Armaan standing near the edge of the hospital bed, watching her intently. His hands were clenched at his sides, fighting against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

Abhira, her voice still weak, looked up at him. "Main bahut buri wife hoon na... jab dekho tumhe aise pareshan karti rehti hoon." Her words were laced with guilt and sorrow, her eyes searching his for reassurance.

Armaan’s heart clenched painfully at her words. He shook his head, stepping closer, his voice soft but firm. "Vo haq hai tumhara, Abhira," he said, meeting her gaze. "Mujhe pareshan karna tumhara haq hai." As he looked into her eyes, all he could see was love — love so pure and unconditional that it nearly brought him to his knees.

“Phir tum mujhe hug kyun nahi kar rahe ho? Mujhse itna door kyun khade ho?” Abhira asked, her voice soft, opening her arms to him.

Those words were all Armaan needed. In a second, he closed the distance between them, his arms wrapping tightly around her, holding her as if she was the only thing anchoring him in this world. His body trembled with emotion as they embraced, her warmth seeping into him. As their tears mingled, he held onto her as though letting go would shatter him completely.

"I'm so sorry," Armaan whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm a terrible husband, Abhira. I've failed you… again and again."

Abhira’s arms tightened around him as she shook her head softly against his chest. "Khabardaar, Mr. Poddar… aapne mere husband ko kuch bhi ulta seedha bola. Vo toh world ka best husband hai."

But Armaan couldn’t believe it. He pulled back slightly, looking at her tear-streaked face, the pain of their loss still fresh in his heart. "No, Abhira," he said, his voice hoarse. "I've failed you from the very beginning. I couldn’t keep any of the promises I made to you. I couldn’t protect you from the taunts of the family… from maa's bitterness, from Ruhi’s blame, from Chachi Sa’s harsh words."

Abhira opened her mouth to speak, but Armaan shook his head, his voice becoming more anguished with each word. "I’ve failed you, again and again. I couldn’t protect you from the hatred, the insults. And today… I couldn’t even protect you from getting stabbed."

Abhira’s heart broke as she watched Armaan unravel before her eyes, his pain consuming him, and she reached up to cup his face, her fingers gently wiping away his tears.

His voice cracked as his composure shattered completely. "I couldn’t protect our ba..,"

"Armaan, stop. You didn’t fail me," she said, her voice tender, though heavy with emotion. "You’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t realize it. You’ve carried me through everything… and this… this isn’t your fault."

But he couldn't stop, the guilt clawing at him relentlessly. "I should have been there… I should have known, I should have—" His words dissolved into sobs as he broke down completely, his head falling against her shoulder as he cried for the baby they lost, for the dreams they never had a chance to hold onto.

Abhira held him tightly, her own tears flowing freely, but she whispered softly in his ear, her voice filled with love and reassurance. "Armaan, you didn’t fail me. You are my strength, my heart. You always have been, and always will be."

Together, they wept, the weight of their loss heavy between them, but in each other's arms, they found a fragile solace — a comfort that only they could provide for one another. The world outside could fall apart, but in that moment, they clung to each other, their bond stronger than the pain threatening to tear them apart.

As the minutes passed, the air between them grew heavy with unspoken words. Armaan sat there, holding Abhira close, his arms wrapped protectively around her. The weight of what he needed to say hung like a stone in his chest, but every time he looked down at her fragile form, his resolve shattered all over again.

He had been prepared — or at least, he thought he was — to break the devastating news to her. But now, as she lay in his arms, trusting him, needing him, the words felt too cruel to speak aloud. How could he tell her about their loss when she had already endured so much? How could he be the one to take away the last shred of hope they never even knew they had?

His fingers gently caressed her hair, smoothing it away from her tear-streaked face as she snuggled closer to him. He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering there as if trying to shield her from the pain he knew would come the moment she learned the truth. She felt so small in his arms, and for the first time, he was terrified that he wasn’t strong enough to bear this for both of them.

He watched her breathe, watched her eyelashes flutter gently against her cheeks as she fought to stay awake. She was still exhausted, her body needing rest after the trauma she'd been through. Armaan’s heart broke for her, knowing that this was only the beginning of another storm.

“I have to tell her,” he whispered to himself, but his voice was barely audible. His heart screamed at him to shield her for just a little while longer — just a few more moments of peace before the reality came crashing down on them.

But every time he opened his mouth to speak, the words died on his tongue. He couldn’t bring himself to break her heart.

So instead, he just held her. His arms tightened around her as if somehow, by holding her close enough, he could protect her from the inevitable pain. He pressed another kiss to her temple, his own tears falling silently now as the truth burned inside him.

Abhira shifted slightly in his arms, her body finally relaxing into the warmth of his embrace, her breathing evening out as she slowly drifted into a fitful sleep. Armaan continued to sit there, frozen in place, his hand gently stroking her hair.

“I’m sorry Wifey,” he whispered, his voice breaking. "I know I should have told you... I should..." But the words caught in his throat, and he couldn’t finish. He couldn't bear the thought of shattering her fragile peace with the truth of their loss.

So he decided for now, he would hold her. For now, he would give her the comfort she needed, even if it was built on silence. He couldn’t bring himself to take away this fleeting moment of calm, even as his own heart shattered beneath the weight of the truth he was keeping from her.

And so, he sat there, watching over her as she slept, his fingers never leaving her hair, his lips brushing softly against her forehead. Armaan’s heart ached with grief, guilt, and love all at once — but above all, it ached for the moment he would have to face the inevitable.

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

After what felt like a eternity of writer blocks here is the first part.
I am so unsure of this one so pls do let me know ur feedback.

~TheLostSoul