As Abir stormed out of his penthouse, Abhimaan, Ishaan, and Virat hurried to keep pace with his furious strides. They knew better than to intervene when Abir was in this state—his rage was a tempest, and Vishal Raghuvanshi was about to face its full force.

The drive to Vishal's mansion was a blur of screeching tires and clenched fists. Abir's knuckles turned white against the steering wheel, every heartbeat fueling his anger.

When they arrived, Abir burst through the front door with the ferocity of a man possessed. Vishal, expecting confrontation, stood defiantly in the opulent foyer, his jaw set with equal determination.

"How was the show Rajvansh" Vishal said coming forward

"You ruined her!" Abir roared, his voice echoing through the grand hallway as he closed the distance between them in seconds.Vishal, though visibly shaken, squared his shoulders.

"And what about my sister?" he shot back, his voice laced with bitterness. "She loved you, Abir. She would have done anything for you, and you threw her away like garbage!"

Abir's nostrils flared with fury.
"Your sister's feelings were never my responsibility!" he yelled, his fists clenching at his sides. "What you did to Mishti was unforgivable!"

Vishal sneered, blood trickling from a split lip. "Unforgivable?" he spat. "You think you're the victim here? You've always been the golden boy, Abir. Always get what you want, while the rest of us suffer!"

With a primal roar, Abir launched himself at Vishal, fists flying in a frenzy of rage. Blow after blow rained down on Vishal, each struck a testament to the years of pent-up anger and betrayal. Vishal fought back, the two men locked in a brutal dance of violence and retribution.

"You took everything from me!" Abir bellowed, his voice raw with emotion as he landed another punishing blow.Vishal staggered but managed to gasp out between labored breaths, "And now you know how it feels!"

The room shook with the intensity of their clash, furniture toppled and shattered under the weight of their struggle. Blood painted the walls, a vivid tableau of their mutual hatred and pain. Neither man is willing to yield, driven by a collision of past grievances and present animosity.

Finally, Abir grabbed Vishal by the collar, pulling him close until their faces were inches apart.

"You don't get to justify your cruelty by blaming me!" he seethed, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

"What happened to your sister was tragic, but Mishti had nothing to do with it. She was innocent!"

Vishal's eyes burned with defiance, but the fight had drained from him. He slumped against Abir's grip, a defeated shadow of the man who had started this confrontation.

The scene unfolded with a chilling intensity, the air thick with the acrid scent of kerosene and the crackle of flames licking at the edges of Vishal Raghuvanshi's opulent home.

Abir Rajvansh stood before his captive, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he watched Vishal struggle against the ropes binding him to the chair.

"You thought you could get away with this?" Abir's voice was low, filled with a cold fury that sent shivers down Vishal's spine. He paced back and forth in front of Vishal, a canister of kerosene gripped tightly in his hand.

Vishal, despite his predicament, sneered defiantly. "Your girl... Mishti, wasn't it?" he taunted, his voice laced with malice. "She was something, Abir. So hot and fierce. But now? Now she'll never forget what happened to her."

Abir's jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white around the canister. Without a word, he poured the kerosene liberally around the room, each splash echoing like a death knell in the tense silence. Vishal's laughter cut through the air, grating and mocking as he continued to provoke Abir with every word.

Abhimaan, unable to bear Vishal's taunts any longer, strode forward and delivered a resounding slap across Vishal's face. The impact reverberated through the room, and Vishal's mocking laughter faltered as pain blossomed across his cheek.

Ishaan, his expression grim, stepped forward with a knife in hand. "These hands," he said through clenched teeth, "these hands that you used to hurt her..." With a swift, deliberate motion, he cut through the ropes binding Vishal's hands, ignoring the pained cries that erupted from his captive.

As Vishal winced in agony, Ishaan leaned in close, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Bear it," he hissed, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and satisfaction.

Virat stood at a distance, his gaze flickering between Abir and the unfolding scene. He knew the depths of his friend's rage and the lengths to which he would go to protect those he loved. The destruction around them mirrored the devastation in Abir's heart—a tempest of fire and fury unleashed upon the man who had dared to hurt Mishti.

Outside, the flames began to spread, consuming everything in their path. The crackling of the fire mingled with Vishal's cries of pain and the bitter echoes of his taunts. In that moment, amidst the chaos and destruction, Abir stood like a dark avenger, his resolve unyielding as he confronted the consequences of Vishal's betrayal.

The room became a crucible of vengeance and retribution, a testament to the savage lengths one would go to when pushed beyond the brink. And as the flames danced higher, casting flickering shadows on the walls, Abir's eyes burned with an unquenchable fire—a fire fueled by love, twisted by betrayal, and tempered by a merciless thirst for justice.
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As the flames consumed Vishal Raghuvanshi's mansion, Abir Rajvansh and his friends emerged from the inferno, their faces grim and their hearts heavy with the weight of what had transpired. The night air crackled with the scent of smoke and the distant wail of sirens as emergency responders hurried to the scene.

Virat, ever composed one in moments of crisis, nodded silently in response to Abir's directive. He reached for his phone, preparing to execute Abir's command with a calm demeanor that belied the turmoil within.

Abir turned to Virat, his eyes blazing with anger and determination. "Virat,"

Abir barked, his voice crackling with intensity, "tell the media that a short-circuit happened here. That's how that bastard lost his life. Make sure they believe it."

Virat met Abir's fiery gaze with a nod of understanding.

"Don't worry about it, Abir," Virat reassured him, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "I'll handle the media."

Abhimaan, always the pragmatic one among them, stepped forward and placed a hand on Abir's shoulder. "You need to go and change," he urged softly, his gaze steady despite the horror that had unfolded. "You're covered in blood—some of Mishti's, some of that bastard's."

Abir looked down at himself, the reality of the situation sinking in. His hands trembled slightly, the adrenaline beginning to ebb, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness. Without a word, he nodded to Abhimaan and turned away, heading towards his car parked at a safe distance from the blaze.

As he walked, the heat of the flames at his back, Abir couldn't shake the images that haunted him—the confrontation, the fire, Vishal's final cries of pain. But amidst the turmoil, one thought burned brighter than the rest—Mishti. He needed to see her, to hold her close and reassure himself that she was safe from the darkness that had engulfed them tonight.

Behind him, Virat's voice drifted through the chaos, speaking into the phone with practice ease. Abir Rajvansh, the heir to a powerful legacy, walked away from the smoldering ruins of Vishal's mansion, his heart heavy with the weight of the night's events and the knowledge that their lives would never be the same again.

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As the night wore on and the flames continued to consume the remnants of Vishal Raghuvanshi's mansion, Abir made his way back to his penthouse. The scent of smoke and blood lingered on his skin, a grim reminder of the night's events. He quickly changed out of his blood-stained clothes, washing away the physical traces of the confrontation, but the emotional scars remained fresh and raw.

His phone buzzed urgently, shattering the brief moment of respite. It was a message from the kartik : Mishti's condition had worsened. Without hesitation, Abir grabbed his keys and raced to his car, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and desperation.

The drive to the hospital felt interminable, each red light a cruel delay. Abir's mind raced with images of Mishti—her smile, her laughter, the warmth of her presence. The thought of losing her was unbearable. When he finally arrived, he rushed through the sterile hallways, his heart in his throat.

At the ICU, Abir found Mishti surrounded by medical equipment, her heartbeat slowing on the monitors. Her family and friends were gathered, their faces etched with worry and grief. Abir's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her from the mirror at the door, so fragile and still.

"Mishti..." he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He reached out, gently placed her hand on the mirror as if caressing her , willing her to fight, to stay with him.

As he stood there, overwhelmed by helplessness, a familiar voice called out his name. Abir turned to see Advik, his best friend, striding into the room. Advik's eyes widened with concern as he took in Abir's anguished expression.

"Abir," Advik said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Advik took him in a hug as he felt the emotional turmoil his bestfriend is going through.
"Come with me."

Reluctantly, Abir allowed Advik to guide him out of the ICU waiting room and into the hospital garden. The cool night air hit his face, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside. They walked in silence until they found a secluded bench, away from prying eyes.

Once seated, Abir's facade crumbled. He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with silent sobs. Advik sat beside him, his presence as a comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions.

"I can't lose her, Advik," Abir choked out, his voice raw with pain."I can't.. , She's my life advik "

Advik wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders, offering silent support. "I know, Abir. I know. But you need to be strong for her. She needs you now more than ever."

Abir nodded, tears streaming down his face. The weight of the night's events and Mishti's precarious condition bore down on him, threatening to crush his spirit. But with Advik's steady presence by his side, Abir found a glimmer of hope, a reason to hold on.

As they sat in the garden, the night sky stretching endlessly above them, Abir drew strength from the bond of friendship and the love he felt for Mishti. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, fraught with uncertainty and pain, but he also knew he couldn't give up. Mishti needed him, and he would fight for her with every ounce of strength he had left.
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In the sterile, cold confines of the hospital cafeteria, Abhimaan, Ishaan, and Kartik sat in a secluded corner, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on their shoulders. The sterile smell of disinfectant mixed with the faint aroma of stale coffee, a stark contrast to the turmoil in their hearts.

Kartik's eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, his usual composed demeanor shattered by the night's events. He stared into his untouched coffee, the steam rising and fading into the air like his fleeting hopes. Tears began to well up in his eyes, and with a shuddering breath, he finally let go.

"I can't believe this is happening," Kartik choked out, his voice breaking. "Mishti... she's always been there for us. And now she's fighting for her life, and I... I had a stupid argument with her. I never got to apologize.I was not a good brother to her.I failed protecting her. " His tears flowed freely now, his regret and guilt pouring out with them. "I never got to tell her how sorry I am."

Abhimaan, sitting beside him, placed a comforting hand on Kartik's shoulder. His own eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he remained a pillar of support. "Kartik, we all have our regrets," he said softly. "But Mishti knows how much you care about her. She knows your heart."

Ishaan, usually the more stoic of the group, couldn't hold back his emotions any longer. His face crumpled, and he wept openly, his sobs mingling with Kartik's. "I just can't bear to see her like this," Ishaan said through his tears. "She's always been the strong one, always taking care of us. And now, there's nothing we can do to help her."

Kartik nodded, his heart breaking a little more with each sob. "We were all so stupid," he continued, his voice barely a whisper. "Fighting over nonsense, holding grudges. None of it matters now. I just want her to wake up, to be okay."

The three friends sat in silence for a moment, their shared grief creating a bond even stronger than before. The weight of their regrets pressed down on them, but amidst the sorrow, there was also a flicker of hope, a shared determination to be there for Mishti and each other.

Meanwhile, Naira, who had been sent home due to her pregnancy, had left reluctantly. Her parents had insisted, worried about the stress affecting her health and the baby's. She had wanted to stay, to be there for her friends, but she knew she had to think of her own well-being too. Her heart ached for Mishti, and she prayed fervently for her recovery.

Back in the cafeteria, Abhimaan finally broke the silence. "We need to stay strong, for Mishti and for Abir," he said, his voice steady despite the tears. "She needs us to believe in her, to keep fighting even when she can't."

Kartik wiped his eyes, nodding resolutely. "You're right," he agreed, his voice is firmer now. "She wouldn't want us to fall apart. We have to be there for her, no matter what."

Ishaan sniffled, composing himself as best he could. "We'll get through this," he said, his voice filled with determination. "Together."

The three  sat together, their bond fortified by the shared weight of their grief and love for Mishti. They knew the road ahead would be tough, but they also knew that as long as they had each other, they could face whatever came their way.
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Back in the waiting room, the oppressive weight of regret and sorrow hung in the air like a dark cloud. Karan and Meera, Mishti's parents, sat side by side, their faces etched with a torment that only parents can know. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room did little to soften the lines of grief and guilt that marred their expressions.

Meera clutched a tissue in her trembling hands, her eyes red and puffy from hours of crying. She glanced at Karan, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did we let it get to this point, Karan? How could we have been so blind, so cruel to our own daughter?"

Karan's gaze was fixed on the floor, his usually composed demeanor shattered. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with unshed tears. "We... we let our pain and anger cloud our judgment, Meera. We blamed her for something that wasn't her fault, something she had no control over."

The memory of that fateful day, years ago, played out in their minds like a haunting refrain. Meera's pregnancy had been a time of joy and anticipation, but that joy had been cruelly snatched away when they learned that Mishti's twin brother had died in the womb. The doctors had explained that it was a rare and tragic occurrence, where one twin's tissues had been absorbed by the other.

But the scientific explanation had done little to ease their grief. In their pain and confusion, they had irrationally blamed Mishti, the surviving twin. Every time they looked at her, they saw the son they had lost, and instead of cherishing their daughter, they had allowed their grief to manifest as negligence and indifference.

"We ignored her, neglected her," Meera continued, her voice breaking. "Every time she needed us, we turned away. And now... now she's lying in that hospital bed, fighting for her life, and we can't do anything to help her."

Karan's shoulders shook with silent sobs. "I should have been a better father," he whispered, his voice thick with self-reproach. "She deserved so much more than what we gave her. We failed her, Meera. We failed her in every possible way."

Meera reached out, taking Karan's hand in hers. "We can't change the past, Karan," she said, her voice filled with a fragile hope. "But we can be here for her now. We can make sure she knows that we love her, that we are so, so sorry for everything we've done."

Karan looked up, his eyes meeting Meera's. In that shared gaze, they found a glimmer of the resolve they had lost over the years. They couldn't undo the past, but they could fight for their daughter in the present.

They stood together, hand in hand, and walked towards Mishti's room. The sight of her, so small and fragile amidst the beeping machines and sterile environment, broke their hearts anew. All they saw was her pale face , with her eyes closed and machines surrounding her But they were determined to be there for her, to show her the love and care they had failed to give before.

Karan leaned down, his voice tender and filled with remorse. "Mishti, we're here. We're so sorry, my love. We're so, so sorry for everything. Please, fight. Fight and come back to us. We love you more than words can say. I promise princess we did be better parents for you. "

Meera's tears fell freely as she gently stroked Mishti's hair. "We're not leaving your side, sweetheart. Not ever again. We're going to make this right. We promise."

As they stood by the door, their hearts were heavy with regret but also filled with a newfound determination, Karan and Meera silently vowed to do everything in their power to make amends. They would fight for their daughter, just as she had unknowingly fought for her life all those years ago. And in that moment, amidst the beeping monitors and sterile air, they found a glimmer of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, they could heal the wounds of the past and build a future filled with love and forgiveness.
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3k+ words
Tripple update yupp !!!!!
And agr abhi bhi i get low comments and votes na m telling you I'll straight away go to my slow update schedule .

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AUTHOR T