PART SEVENTEEN
Abhira's sleep that night was feverish and agitated, her restless movements betraying the turmoil within her. Armaan hovered by her side, consumed by worry as he watched over her. Despite his efforts to soothe her with a damp cloth and soft words of reassurance, her distress persisted, leaving him feeling utterly powerless.
As the night wore on, Armaan remained vigilant, his heart heavy with concern. He longed to ease Abhira's suffering, to banish the shadows that haunted her dreams. But all he could think of doing was to settle behind her on the bed and hold her close. As though sensing his presence, Abhira turned towards him, drawn to him as a sunflower would towards the sun, and buried her face in his thumping chest. She clutched his T-shirt tightly, her fingers curling around the fabric as if anchoring herself to him. Armaan's heart clenched at the sight, a wave of tenderness washing over him as he held her close, tightly, fiercely, seeking, with all his strength, to shield her from the darkness that threatened to engulf her.
Gradually, as the hours passed, Abhira's restless movements began to still, her breathing growing steady and calm. When she finally stirred awake, she found herself engulfed in Armaan's protective embrace, his arms wrapped securely around her. A blush crept onto her cheeks as she realized their intimate proximity, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. In the gentle glow of the rising sun filtering through the curtains, she observed the subtle rise and fall of Armaan's chest with each breath, a rhythmic cadence that mirrored the ebb and flow of the ocean tide. It was a mesmerizing sight, one that filled her with a profound sense of peace. The soft sounds of his breathing mingled with the hushed whispers of the early morning, creating a symphony of tranquility that enveloped her in its embrace.
With a tender smile, Abhira nestled closer to him, drawing comfort from his warmth and steady presence.
Inevitably, her thoughts turned to the dilemma that weighed heavily on her mind. Should she reveal the truth to Parnanu? She thought back to her mumma, whose kindness and ability to forgive, were unparalleled. Abhira couldn't help but wonder if she possessed the same capacity for forgiveness, if she could find it in her heart to reconcile with the family that had once shunned them.
She longed to know more about her mother, to unravel the mysteries of her past, and yet couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that gnawed at her. Did she truly need to delve into the past, to unearth long-buried secrets and painful memories? Would her mother, who had provided her with such sparse details about her life, have wanted her to live in the past, or to embrace the future? She couldn't help but feel torn between her desire for closure and her longing to focus on the present. With her final exams looming on the horizon and her budding career awaiting her, she knew that she had to prioritize her studies and her future. And yet, the pull of her past, the yearning to know more about her mother and her family, remained a constant presence, casting a shadow over her thoughts and emotions.
She wished her mother was there to answer all her questions.
Without realizing it, tears began to fall from Abhira's eyes, silent emissaries of the turmoil within her heart. Armaan stirred, feeling the wetness seeping into his T-shirt. In that moment, he couldn't help but be acutely aware of how close Abhira was to him, the warmth of her body pressed against his, igniting a blaze of fiery feelings within him. Slowly, Armaan pulled away from her, and with gentle fingers, he brushed away her tears.
Abhira's eyes fluttered open at his touch, her gaze meeting his.
"What should I do, Armaan?" she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with the weight of her indecision.
Armaan held her gaze, his expression gentle yet resolute. "Follow your heart," he replied softly.
"I feel we should at least inform Parnanu that mumma is no more," Abhira continued, her voice trembling with emotion, "so he does not continue looking for her and can get a sense of closure. But I won't be able to be a part of their family... it's too much to bear..."
As she spoke, a wave of sadness washed over Armaan, empathizing with the conflict raging within her. He knew all too well the pain of estrangement from family, the ache of longing for a connection that seemed forever out of reach. And yet, he also understood the importance of honoring one's own boundaries, of prioritizing one's own well-being above all else.
"Would you like to meet him then?" Armaan asked, tentatively, although he knew the answer.
Abhira shook her head. She couldn't bear to entertain the idea of meeting Parnanu, of facing the family that had caused her and her mumma so much pain and heartache. The wounds of abandonment ran too deep, leaving behind scars that still throbbed with raw emotion. She could not give in to the longing she felt for a family that had already rejected her.
"I... I can't," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Armaan nodded understandingly, his heart aching for the turmoil that churned within her. He knew that Abhira's pain was too profound, too deeply rooted to be assuaged by a simple reunion with her estranged family.
"I'll inform him," Armaan said gently, "You don't have to face this alone. I'll be here for you, every step of the way."
Abhira nodded weakly, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. In that moment, she felt a mixture of relief and apprehension, grateful for Armaan's support yet wary of the challenges that lay ahead.
An hour later, Armaan found himself sitting in the opulent surroundings of the Goenkas' house, face-to-face with Manish, whose pain at the news of Akshara's death was palpable. His eyes, usually filled with warmth and vitality, now mirrored the emptiness of his shattered heart, haunted by the specter of loss.
"How can it be?" Manish exclaimed, his voice trembling with emotion. "Akshu had called me just the other day, wanting to speak to me."
"When was that?" Armaan asked, struck by curiosity, and Manish pulled out the call log from his phone with trembling figures.
Armaan's heart sank at the revelation, his mind reeling with horror as he realized the timing of Akshara's call. She had called him on her deathbed, after being shot by Yuvraj. If only Manish had cared to listen to her! But Armaan kept his composure, masking his shock behind a facade of calmness, for Manish's sake. It had become increasingly apparent to Armaan that Manish was teetering on the brink of a breakdown. His breaths came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling with erratic intensity as he struggled to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to engulf him.
As Manish pleaded to be taken to Abhira, to mend the bridges that had long been broken between them, however, Armaan felt no hesitation. He understood Manish's desire for reconciliation, but he also knew that Abhira needed time and space to process her emotions. The weight of her past was overwhelming, and she could not be pushed towards a confrontation before she was ready.
"Manish ji, please," Armaan said gently, his voice tinged with empathy. "Abhira will reach out to you if and when she's ready. Right now, she needs time to come to terms with everything that's happened. It's overwhelming for her, and I hope you can respect that."
Armaan returned to the hotel, his steps heavy with the weight of the revelation he had uncovered at the Goenkas' house. The thought of Akshara ma'am's last phone call lingered in his mind, haunting him with the desperation and fear she must have felt in her final moments. He couldn't shake the image of her reaching out to Manish, seeking solace and reassurance, only to be met with silence and indifference. The thought of her anguish, of the worry she had harbored for Abhira's well-being, of the fact that she had died, heartbroken, gnawed at him.
A part of Armaan wanted to shield Abhira from the painful truth, to spare her the burden of knowing the depth of her mother's suffering. But as he sat beside her in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, he reminded himself that they had vowed to always be honest with each other. And so, with a heavy heart, he began to recount everything he had learned – the reason why Akshara ma'am had been cast out by the Goenkas, her tumultuous history with Ruhi's mother and her first husband's family, and the heartbreaking truth of that last phone call.
Abhira's emotions surged like a tempest within her. Anger, sadness, and hurt mingled in a tumultuous storm that threatened to engulf her fragile heart.
Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, knuckles white with the intensity of her emotions. Tears welled in her eyes, hot and bitter, as she struggled to contain the flood of anguish that threatened to consume her. Each word uttered by Armaan cut through her like a knife.
"If Parnanu had spoken to mumma," Abhira seethed, her voice trembling with suppressed fury and sorrow, "maybe I would have been reunited with them, as mumma would have wanted. And in her last moments, she would not have had to bear the pain of their rejection."
The burden of what could have been born down upon Abhira crushing her beneath its unforgiving weight. She couldn't shake the sense of betrayal that gnawed at her soul, the bitter taste of disappointment that soured her every thought. In that moment, Abhira felt as though she were drowning in a sea of despair, struggling to find solid ground amidst the swirling currents of her emotions. As tears streamed down her cheeks, she let out soft, choked sounds, her emotions too overwhelming for words. Her whole body seemed to tremble with the weight of her sorrow, her breathing shallow and ragged. Despite her efforts to hold it together, the pain inside her was too much, and she surrendered to the cathartic release of tears, allowing herself to feel every ounce of her heartache.
Armaan nodded. "Our marriage happened, I think, because in that moment, Akshara ma'am did not know what else to do to protect you from Yuvraj," he said softly, his voice tinged with sorrow for the circumstances that had led to their union, and the pain that had been caused to Abhira following their marriage.
Abhira's expression softened as she met Armaan's gaze, observing the tears welling up in his eyes, a reflection of her own pain. She realized that she had a choice. She could lament the fact that Parnanu had not even cared to speak to her mother, or marvel at the fact that Armaan had agreed to marry a complete stranger, merely out of a sense of duty and respect to his former teacher, even though he himself harbored feelings for Ruhi at the time. Yes, her mother had sacrificed her life for him, but he could have refused her dying wish, breaking her mother's heart yet again.
Abhira's mind flooded with memories of their journey together. She thought back to all the times he had supported and cared for her, a steady presence in the chaos of her life. She remembered how he had encouraged her to spread her wings and fly, supporting her dreams and aspirations with unwavering faith and belief. She recalled his sincere acknowledgment of his mistakes, his genuine remorse, heartfelt apologies, and efforts to right his wrongs, and how he had respected her need for space and time. She remembered how he had distanced himself from his own family for her sake, and how profoundly he had empathized with her pain, his tears mirroring her own. She recalled the countless moments of tenderness and affection they had shared, the way he had shown his appreciation and pride for her, just as she was, flaws and all.
With a sense of clarity that cut through the fog of confusion and doubt, she knew, deep in her heart, that no matter what happened, he would always be there for her, without judgment or expectation, without any conditions or reservations. She knew she could trust him completely. In Armaan, she had found a love that transcended the boundaries of time and space, a love that was as boundless as the universe itself.
And as she reflected on her mother's dying wish, it struck her – yes, her mumma had been desperate, but she hadn't just entrusted Abhira's care to some random stranger. In Armaan, her mother had seen someone who embodied honor and kindness, someone who carried an abundance of love in his heart despite the fractures of his own past... someone who would one day fill the void, the ache of belonging, in Abhira's life. The realization washed over Abhira like a wave crashing onto the shore. As Abhira looked at Armaan, she saw not just the man she loved, but the embodiment of everything her mother had believed in.
"I have no regrets about our marriage," Abhira confessed, her voice steady with conviction, "You are my family."
.........
Part Eighteen
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