It's been a month to that night and
Mishti has been isolating herself since that heartbreaking night. Neither she cries in front of us nor reacts to anything. She just lives like a lifeless person. Each day, I watch her go through the motions, a shell of the vibrant, spirited woman I fell in love with. It’s like the light in her eyes has dimmed, replaced by an emptiness that I can’t seem to reach.

Every morning, I wake up hoping to see a flicker of the old Mishti, but all I see is a distant, vacant gaze. She gets up, goes through her routines, and sits quietly, lost in her thoughts. She’s stopped painting, cooking, and doing all the little things she once loved. Her laughter, which used to be the melody of our home, is now just a distant memory.

I’ve tried everything to bring her back to life. I’ve cooked her favorite meals, played her favorite songs, and taken her to places she used to love. But nothing seems to reach her. It’s like she’s trapped in her own mind, and no matter how much I try, I can’t pull her out.

Today, I found her sitting by the window, staring blankly at the world outside. The sight of her like this breaks my heart. I walked over and knelt beside her, taking her hand in mine. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t acknowledge me either. She just kept staring out the window, her eyes glazed over.

“Mishti,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. “Please, talk to me. Let me in. I miss you so much.”

There was no response. She just sat there, silent and unmoving. I felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. The woman I love is hurting, and I don’t know how to help her.

“I love you, Mishti,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m here for you. Always.”

Still, no reaction. It’s like she’s built an impenetrable wall around herself, and I can’t find a way through. I pressed a kiss to her hand, hoping she’d feel the depth of my love, but she remained unresponsive.

The days pass in a blur of worry and frustration. I keep hoping for a miracle, for something to bring her back to me. But as each day ends, I’m left with the same heart-wrenching reality. Mishti is here, but she’s not really here. And I don’t know how much longer I can bear to see her like this, so lost and alone in her pain.

I refuse to give up, though. I’ll keep trying, keep loving her, keep being here for her. Because that’s what she needs, even if she doesn’t realize it right now. I just hope that one day, she’ll find her way back to me, back to the life and love we once shared. Until then, all I can do is hold on and pray that my Mishti will come back to me.

I was in the kitchen, trying to keep myself busy. Cooking has always been therapeutic for me, a way to channel my emotions. Today, I decided to make one of Mishti's favorite dishes, hoping the familiar smell might spark something in her.

As I reached for the vessel, lost in my thoughts, I felt a sudden tug on my hand. I turned, surprised to see Mishti standing there, her eyes wide with concern.

“Abir, it’s hot,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I stared at her, almost in disbelief. It had been days since she last spoke. The sound of her voice, even in that small moment, was like music to my ears.

“Mishti,” I whispered, my heart pounding. “You spoke.”

She looked at me, her eyes still clouded with sadness, but there was a glimmer of awareness. She nodded slowly, her grip on my hand tightening slightly.

For a moment, we just stood there, the kitchen filled with a silent understanding. I gently squeezed her hand back, a small smile tugging at my lips. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of her finding her way back.

A few hours later, as we sat in the living room, the phone rang. It was Maa. She sounded cheerful, telling me that Bua was visiting and she wanted to see me. I glanced at Mishti, unsure if leaving her alone was the right thing to do, but Maa insisted it was important.

“Mishti,” I said gently, “Maa just called. Bua dadi is here and wants to meet me. Will you be okay for a while?”

She looked at me, the faint glimmer in her eyes dimming a bit. But then she nodded, giving me a small, brave smile.

“I’ll be okay,” she whispered. “Go, see your family.”

I felt a pang of guilt, but I knew I couldn’t ignore my family’s request. I kissed her forehead, lingering a moment longer than usual, hoping my love and support would reach her even when I wasn’t there.

“I won’t be long,” I promised. “Call me if you need anything.”

She nodded again, and I reluctantly left the house, my heart heavy with the weight of leaving her even for a short time. As I drove to my parents' place, my mind kept drifting back to Mishti, praying she’d find the strength to keep moving forward.

When I reached back home, I saw my parents, Karan uncle, Meera aunty, Bhai, and Bhabhi gathered in the living room. The atmosphere was tense, as it had been for the past few weeks. Bhai had been trying to call and talk with Mishti, but she just wouldn't respond. Sometimes they came over, but Mishti would just retreat into our room, shutting out the world.

As I walked in, I saw Bua dadi and greeted her. She smiled warmly at first, but soon her expression turned serious. She wasted no time in starting to talk to Mumma about finding a wife for me. Maybe she didn't know about Mishti, or maybe she just didn't care.

"Bua dadi, I'm already committed to someone," I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

She looked at me with a mix of surprise and disdain. "Who? That girl . Vo ladki Rajvansh khandan ki bahu nahi ban sakti abir."

Her words stung, but I kept my composure. "Her name is Mishti, and I love her."

Bua dadi scoffed. "Abir, even her own parents don't want her. Why are you ruining your life by bringing her into it?" " Tu us ladki se shadi nahi krega abir "

I felt a surge of anger rise within me. I rolled my fist as Bhai came over, sensing the brewing storm, but I decided to confront Bua and Mishti's parents. It was time for everyone to get a reality check.

"Bua dadi , with all due respect, you have no idea what you're talking about," I said firmly. "Mishti is not a burden, she's the love of my life. And if her parents or anyone else can't see her worth, then that's their loss."

I felt a surge of anger rise within me. I rolled my fist as Bhai came over, sensing the brewing storm, but I decided to confront Bua and Mishti's parents. It was time for everyone to get a reality check.

Turning to Mishti's parents, I didn't hold back. "Uncle, Aunty, do you realize what you've done to your daughter? You've pushed her to the edge. She's been nothing but kind and loving, yet you've treated her like she's nothing. She's been isolating herself, not reacting to anything, living like a lifeless person. And you know why? Because of you."

Karan Uncle looked taken aback. "Abir, we never intended to..."

I cut him off. "Never intended to what? Hurt her? Well, that's exactly what you've done. You let Bua's toxic words poison your mind, and you let her treat Mishti like she was a curse. She's not a curse, Uncle. She's a blessing. And it's time you see that."
I turned to Meera aunty , " Aunty , you both let bua's words hurt her . Aapne toh kuch bola hi nahi bas khade rhe vha apni beti ko bikharta dekh . You know what aunty even if you had given her best childhood memories , jo ek bache ke liye memorable hoti h , mishti aaj un moments ko bhi yaad krke yhi soch ri h ki vo sab forced tha. Ab vo un moments ko yaad krke sirf yhi soch ri h ki aap sabne bas usse tolerate kiya"

" Aunty uncle , I always thought you both are perfect at parenting but now mere Nazar me aapne bas mishti ko khana , kapde aur rhne ki jagah provide kri , kyuki badi toh vo khud Hui hai "

Meera Aunty's eyes filled with tears. "We thought we were doing what was best for the family..."

"Best for the family?" I repeated, incredulous and chuckled at them "By treating your daughter like she didn't matter? By making her feel unwanted and unloved? That's not what's best for the family, that's cruelty. Mishti has been through enough. She deserves your love and support, not your neglect and disdain."

Bhai stepped forward, his voice softer but just as firm. "Abir's right. Mishti deserves better. We all need to do better by her. She's part of this family, whether you like it or not. And it's about time we start treating her like it."

" You all don't know what she is going through , but me. I'm there with her every moment I know how she's suffering and I won't forgive you all for this "

There was a heavy silence in the room as my words sank in. Karan Uncle and Meera Aunty looked at each other, their expressions filled with guilt and regret.

"Abir," Karan Uncle began, his voice breaking. "We... we were wrong. We let our grief and our own issues cloud our judgment. Mishti deserves better from us. She deserves better parents."

Meera Aunty nodded, tears streaming down her face. "We'll try, Abir. We'll do better. We just... we just need a chance to make things right."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger that still simmered within me. "It's not about getting a chance, it's about making a choice. Choose to love her, to support her, to be the parents she needs. Because if you don't, you'll lose her forever. And that, I can promise you, will be a loss you will never recover from."

I turned back to Mishti’s parents, my anger still simmering beneath the surface. They had no idea what was happening, no idea the hell they had put their daughter through,

"Karan Uncle, Meera Aunty," I began, my voice shaking with barely contained fury, "you need to understand something. Mishti is not to blame for your misfortunes. She's not a curse. She's not a burden. She is a person, your daughter, who deserves love and support, not this cruelty."

I looked at their shocked faces, knowing my words were sinking in but also knowing that words alone might not be enough.

"And you, as her parents, should have been there for her. Instead, you let her be treated like an outcast, let her suffer. You stood by while she was blamed for things out of her control. Do you have any idea what that does to a person? What did it do to Mishti?"

Their silence was infuriating. It spoke volumes.

"She needed you," I continued, my voice rising, "and you abandoned her. She turned to drugs because she felt so unloved, so unwanted.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me.
" Lkin abir vo ladki she's not good for you" bua dadi spoke coming forward to me .

"You say she's not good enough for me?" I scoffed. "No, it's you all who are not good enough for her. Uncle aunty You don't deserve a daughter as resilient, as strong as Mishti. You don't deserve her love, her forgiveness."

Karan uncle and Meera aunty looked like they had been slapped. Good, I thought. They needed to hear this, to feel this.

"But let me make one thing very clear," I said, my voice deadly calm. "I love Mishti. I will always be there for her. And I will not let anyone, not even her own family, hurt her anymore."

Just then, my phone buzzed again. Another unknown number. I clenched my jaw, my fingers itching to answer it and unleash my fury on whoever was tormenting me. But I needed to focus on Mishti right now.
------------------------------------------------------
I stood there in the living room, frustration mounting as the unknown caller persisted for the third time. Reluctantly, I answered, hoping for an end to these relentless interruptions. But instead of a voice on the other end, there was silence, followed by a chillingly familiar, deep, hoarse voice that demanded my attention.

"Open your WhatsApp, Abir Rajvansh."

My heart sank. It couldn't be... I thought, trying to push back the memories that threatened to overwhelm me. But as I reached for my phone and opened WhatsApp, my worst fears were confirmed.

There they were — five to six messages, each one a grim tableau of blood splattered across floors, walls, dining tables, sofas. The scenes were horrific, like something out of a nightmare, and they left no room for doubt.

I clenched my jaw, my hands trembling with anger and fear. Who would do this? Who would stoop so low as to send such images, to what end? The unanswered questions only fueled my growing rage.

"Who is this? What do you want?" I shouted into the phone, my voice betraying the turmoil within me.

No response. Just silence on the other end, mocking and unsettling.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Mishti... I thought, my mind was racing with worry for her safety. Was this connected to her family's turmoil? Was someone targeting us because of them?

I had to protect her, and had to find out who was behind this. But first, I needed to ensure Mishti was safe, that she knew what was happening. Closing WhatsApp with a swipe, I dialed her number urgently.

" The number you're trying to call is not reachable please try again "

Wait mishti, no no . I dialed again only to get the same response.

Damn fucking shit .

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I dialed Mishti's number again, praying she would answer. As I was going to dial her again , my phone pinged again with the same number but this time it was a message.

I froze as I read the chilling message on my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. The cold grip of fear tightened around me, sending shivers down my spine. The words pierced through me like icy knives, each one laden with a menacing threat that made my blood run cold.

"Abir Rajvansh, tell me what would you like. Your wall being crafted by art in red, oh sorry, blood of your dearest girl or you would like to see the whole wall painted by her blood.

Please let me know.

Your dearest."
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Suspense ! Suspense ! haaaa

I know I'm late but trust me . I got no motivation left in me to write more !

AND INDIA JEET GYI  * CRIES *
THE LAST 15 MINUTES OF THE MATCH HAD ME AT CHOKEHOLD

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Author T