He caressed Mishti's hair as she slept peacefully, her hands cradling her belly with a protective instinct. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he approached her, his fingers gently brushing against her serene face. His hand, trembling with unspoken sorrow, came to rest on her abdomen, where life stirred within. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, each drop a testament to the agony he could not voice.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the gesture infused with a sorrowful tenderness that only deepened the anguish in his eyes. Unable to bear the weight of his emotions, he quietly exited the room, leaving her to her peaceful slumber.

Days blurred into one another, as Mishti’s joy over their unborn child grew with each passing moment, while Abir descended deeper into a pit of despair. The torment of their impending loss gnawed at his heart, a constant, excruciating reminder of the fragility of their happiness. The fear of losing his beloved angry chorni was a shadow that darkened his every thought, yet he bore this burden alone, unable to reveal the turmoil within him to Mishti.

Each day, he donned a mask of strength, meticulously tending to Mishti’s needs with a tenderness that belied the storm raging inside him. He ensured that she never suspected the grim reality they were facing, concealing his pain behind a façade of unwavering devotion.

One evening, as Mishti sat on the couch, absorbed in the pages of a book, Abir approached her with a bowl of fresh fruit. His voice was calm, almost too controlled, as he handed it to her. "You need to keep up your strength, Mishti," he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Mishti looked up at him, her face glowing with the love and gratitude that had always defined their relationship.

"Thank you, Abir. You’re always taking such good care of me," she replied, her eyes shining with an affection that only deepened Abir’s inner torment. Her words were like daggers to his heart, each one a painful reminder of the truth he was concealing from her.

Each night, after Mishti had fallen asleep, Abir would sit beside her, his gaze fixed on her peaceful face. In the darkness, where he could no longer hide from his fears, he would whisper his sorrows into the void, hoping that the night might absorb some of his pain. "How can I tell you, Mishti? How can I shatter your happiness with the truth?" he murmured one night, his voice choked with emotion, his soul heavy with the weight of his secret.

On one such night, Abir found himself standing by the window, his eyes lost in the distant glow of the moon. The pain etched on his face was unmistakable, a reflection of the turmoil within him. Mishti, sensing his distress, approached him silently, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Abir turned to her, offering a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he pulled her closer, his embrace tinged with a desperate need for solace.

Mishti’s voice broke the silence, gentle yet probing. "What are you looking at, Ajeeb Rajvansh?" she inquired, her tone light but her gaze searching.

Abir’s eyes, glistening with unshed tears, remained fixed on the stars. "I’m looking at those stars," he replied, his voice heavy with melancholy.

"They appear so beautiful, giving peace to those who see them. But what about the stars themselves, burning to shine? No one notices their suffering."

Mishti, ever the beacon of hope, responded softly, "Exactly, Abir. Even if they burn inside, they give others happiness and peace, not sorrow. Abir, leave this path of crime. I want our baby to meet Abir, not Aayan. His father is Abir Rajvansh, not Aayan. What will you gain from this revenge? Will you get your family back? Will you retrieve your childhood?"

Abir’s eyes blazed with a fire that reflected the intensity of his inner turmoil. "It will bring me peace," he retorted, his voice firm, but the conviction in his words wavered, as if even he was unsure of the truth in them.

Mishti’s expression faltered, but she pressed on, her voice laced with determination. "No, Abir. By destroying someone’s family, you’ll inflict the same pain you endured. Forget your past, focus on your present and future. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Bitterness cannot drive out bitterness; only love can. Let go of this path, Abir. Let it go."

Abir’s jaw tightened, his resolve hardening. "No, Mishti. I’ve sworn on my parents' dead bodies. I will have my revenge," he declared, his voice like steel, unyielding in its determination.

Mishti’s patience finally snapped, her own anger flaring to life. "This isn’t a vow; it’s an obsession," she shot back, her voice rising. "This obsession will burn everything, Abir. You’ll lose everything... there will be nothing left. Today, you’ll ruin someone for revenge, and tomorrow they’ll seek revenge on you. This cycle will never end. Let it go."

Her voice, initially sharp with anger, softened into a pleading tone, her eyes begging him to listen.

But Abir, consumed by his rage, groaned in frustration. "I cannot let it go. Not until I have my revenge. Until then, I am Aayan," he declared, his voice thick with finality.

Mishti’s heart broke at his words, her love battling against the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. With a voice trembling with emotion, she made her final stand. "Fine. Then I will love you on the day Aayan ceases to exist and Abir returns. Until then, I will stay with you, but not be close to you." Her voice cracked as she spoke, and with those words, she turned to leave, her steps heavy with the weight of her decision.

She stopped at the doorway, her back to Abir, as his voice reached her ears, filled with the same cold resolve. "Fine. Fulfill your obsession too. But remember, Aayan will not disappear until his mission is complete."

Mishti clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white, and turned to him one last time, her voice roaring with a loneliness that echoed through the room. "Remember this too, Abir. Don’t let your hatred take you so far that you lose the way back and find no one standing by your side." Her words hung in the air like a curse as she left the room, her departure marked by an agonizing finality.

As the door closed behind her, Abir’s facade crumbled. He fell to his knees, his body wracked with sobs as he tore at the curtain near him, the force of his anguish causing the window to burst open. Unbeknownst to him, a man—a spy of Nishant—had been watching, listening intently to every word.

Abir, his voice broken, whispered into the night, "Tomorrow, our child will be gone from us forever, Mishti. The thought of losing our baby is burning me alive." His words were a lament, a confession to the pain that had become his constant companion.

Meanwhile, the spy wasted no time in relaying this information to Nishant. Consumed by a fit of rage, Nishant lashed out, shooting one of his men in a blind fury.

"Abir... how dare he betray me?" Nishant spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Mishti, you belong to me and always will. But your child and your so-called husband will not survive. Aayan, you will see how much more you will hate Mishti than you ever loved her. I will destroy you and your child," he vowed, his words a chilling promise of the destruction he intended to bring.

Nishant, ever the master of psychological warfare, sent a video to Abir. The footage contained a conversation between Vishamber and Nishant, in which Vishamber confessed to ordering the killing of Abir's parents.

Abir, who had been anxiously awaiting a message from the doctor, was instead met with this horrific revelation. His world shattered as he watched the video, the betrayal cutting deeper than any physical wound. Staggering under the weight of what he had just seen, he clutched at a nearby pillar for support. His hands trembled violently as he reached for a glass of water, only to let it slip from his grasp, the glass shattering on the floor—an echo of his own heart breaking.

Abir knelt down, picking up the shards of glass with shaking hands. Blood began to seep from his fingers, but he didn’t notice. His mind was consumed by the images on the screen, by the betrayal of the man he had once respected above all others. Rising to his feet, his eyes burning with an unholy fire, he swore vengeance. "Vishamber Maheshwari killed my father. The same Vishamber Maheshwari whom I’ve always respected," he seethed, his voice trembling with rage.

His eyes, now dark with fury, bore the weight of the promise he made to himself. "Like these pieces of glass, I will shatter all his happiness."

His fists clenched tightly, the blood from his wounds mingling with the fury that fueled him. Abir reached for the gun he had hidden in the drawer and stormed into the room where Mishti sat, lost in thought. The sight of her, so unaware of the storm brewing inside him, did nothing to quell his anger. His steps were heavy with intent, each one reverberating through the silence of the room.

Mishti looked up, startled by his sudden entrance, her expression quickly shifting from curiosity to concern as she noticed the gun in his hand. Before she could react, Abir crossed the room in a few swift strides, his hand gripping her shoulders tightly as he pressed the cold barrel of the gun against her temple. Mishti’s eyes widened in shock, her heart pounding with a terror she had never felt before.

Abir’s voice, once full of love and warmth, now dripped with venom as he shouted, "What were you saying? Forget everything? How can I forget that your father orphaned me?" His words were laced with bitterness, each one striking Mishti like a blow.

Mishti, struggling to process the sudden shift in Abir’s demeanor, stammered, "Abir, please… there must be some mistake. My father could never…" But her voice faltered as Abir pulled out his phone and played the video, the damning evidence filling the room with its toxic truth.

The words of the conversation played out like a nightmare, each sentence tightening a noose around Mishti’s heart. Her legs gave way beneath her, and she sank to the floor, her hands trembling as she covered her mouth in disbelief. Tears welled up in her eyes, streaming down her face as she choked out the word that had always been a source of comfort to her, but now tasted bitter on her lips. "P..pa..pa," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Abir’s eyes, once filled with love for her, now burned with hatred. "I feel like shooting you right now," he spat, his voice cold and unyielding, "so that Vishamber Maheshwari suffers in your memory as I have suffered." His hand tightened on the gun, and for a moment, Mishti thought her end was near.

But then, as if battling with himself, Abir wiped away his tears and smiled—a sad, broken smile that spoke of a love that refused to die, even under the weight of betrayal. He lowered the gun, pointing it at his own chest, his voice trembling with emotion as he continued. "But my heart tells me, Abir, this is the one who is your life, whom you love immensely. You said, when Aayan is gone, you will love Abir. Tell me, how will Aayan end? If I kill you or your family, I will die without you. And if I don’t, I can’t live. What should I do? Tell me, what should I do?" His voice broke at the end, his desperation palpable as he pushed her away, his hands dropping to his sides, defeated.

Mishti, her heart breaking at the sight of the man she loved in such torment, tried to reach out to him. "Abir... sh... calm down. Please calm down. Look, I’m here with you. I understand you," she pleaded, her voice soft and soothing, hoping to break through the walls he had built around himself.

But Abir, consumed by the storm of his own emotions, cut her off sharply, "You don’t understand me. You never have." His voice was laced with bitterness, his eyes wild with grief. "But remember this, Mishti: I will have my revenge. No matter the cost."

Without another word, Abir turned and left the room, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his anger and sorrow. He stood by the window all night, his mind a raging torrent of thoughts, while Mishti wept alone in her room, her tears soaking the pillow as she cried for the man she loved and the future they were losing. That night, the house was shrouded in sorrow, the air thick with the unspoken words that hung between them, suffocating them both.

Abir’s mind raced with thoughts of revenge. The video had ignited a fury within him that he could no longer contain. The image of Vishamber, the man he had once revered, confessing to the murder of his parents, played on a relentless loop in his mind. It was a betrayal so profound that it left him reeling, his soul wracked with the need for retribution.

But even as the flames of vengeance burned brighter within him, a small, fragile part of his heart clung to the love he felt for Mishti. It was a love that had weathered storms, that had seen them through their darkest hours. And yet, that same love now stood on the brink of destruction, threatened by the very hatred that consumed him.

As the hours passed, Abir remained by the window, his mind replaying the events of the evening over and over, the pain in his heart growing with each passing moment. Mishti, too, was trapped in her own torment, her thoughts consumed by the betrayal that had shattered the life they had built together. The silence between them was heavy, filled with words unspoken and emotions left unchecked.

But in that silence, something shifted within Abir. As he watched the stars flicker in the night sky, he realized that the path he was on would lead to nothing but destruction—for himself, for Mishti, and for the child they were about to lose. The realization hit him like a wave, and for the first time, he felt the full weight of the decisions he had made.