Chapter 115 Reason Behind The Abortion
I stand on the balcony, the heavy raindrops drenching me completely. Tears stream down my face, refusing to stop. The rain and my tears mix together, making my face look even sadder. Inside, little Ayansh sleeps peacefully, unaware of the storm raging inside me.
I’m soaked to the bone, yet I make no move to shield myself. One hand clutches the cold iron railing, the other rests gently on my stomach. A sea of pain rises in my chest. With soft, broken sobs, even breathing feels difficult. Each inhale reminds me of that terrifying moment the moment I lost a part of myself forever.
My mind drifts again to Pihu, the innocent child who never even took a breath in this world. The dreams of motherhood, the hopes I had built, all shattered. In my heart remains a hollow emptiness, one nothing can ever fill. The rain keeps pouring, as though the sky mourns with me, but my tears do not stop.
Suddenly, I see a hand appear from below the balcony.
Time feels like it stops. My breath catches in my throat. I lean over and look down. My eyes widen in shock and fear. It’s Samar—yes, Samar—climbing up the balcony in the heavy rain. Half his body hangs dangerously outside, clinging to the railing with just one hand. One slip, and he could fall straight down.
His white shirt is soaked completely, sticking to his body. Raindrops slide down his hair, dripping over his face and neck. His muscular abs and broad chest are clearly visible beneath the wet fabric. I freeze, utterly stunned.
He pretends to struggle and cries out, “Ishani, please help me! Or I’ll fall!”
My breathing grows heavier, my heart pounding faster. Without thinking, I grab his hand and pull him inside with all my strength. He leaps over and lands on the balcony. His wet steps splash against the floor.
Fear still lingers in my eyes. “Are you alright?” I ask, my voice trembling.
He looks at me with those deep, intense eyes, giving a faint smile. “Now that I’ve seen you, I’m perfectly fine.”
An uneasy warmth surges through my chest, my heartbeat racing as if I’ve crossed a line I shouldn’t. I turn my face away quickly, afraid he’ll see the turmoil in my eyes.
I step back and speak more sharply than I intend. “Leave… leave right now.”
My words are harsh, but my voice trembles, betraying the storm inside me.
Samar loses patience. He grabs my hand forcefully and, without my consent, pulls me into the room. I scream, “Go away! Please! I don’t even want to see your face!”
But he doesn’t hear me. He goes straight to Ayansh, kisses his cheek gently, and drags me with him into the bathroom. As soon as he shuts and locks the door, my fear deepens.
I push him, yelling, but he holds me tightly, pinning me against the wall. Then he turns on the shower. The warm water falls over my cold body, soothing the chill that has seeped into my bones. My clothes are already drenched, and now the hot water brings a strange comfort.
“Mr. Rajput, stop this! Let me go!” I shout, but the warmth slowly melts my anger. My breathing slows, my heartbeat steadies, and the fire in my eyes softens.
He stands close, watching me intently, lost in my presence. One by one, he removes my wet clothes—not with desire, but with the quiet care of someone protecting what is precious. Then he wraps me in a soft, clean bathrobe. Holding me gently, he carries me back to the room.
He makes me sit on the bed, takes out warm clothes, and helps me change. Finally, he covers me completely with a thick shawl. He stays beside me, his gaze tender, while I sit silently, staring blankly ahead. My silence speaks louder than words.
“Out there, in this cold, you were drenching yourself in the rain. Do you even realize what could have happened if you had fallen ill? Your life could have been at risk, Ishani,” he says softly, filled with concern.
“Go away… stop pretending. I don’t want to talk to the killer of my child. I don’t even want to see your face,” I choke out, my voice heavy with grief.
I break down, sobbing uncontrollably. My pain spills through my words, raw and unbearable.
He draws a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. I can feel the weight of his unspoken pain. Finally, he speaks, his voice firm, deep, carrying quiet intensity.
“You want to know… why I did what I did?”
I look at him, my eyes still wet with tears. Anger, hatred, and an unspoken desperate question swirl within me.
He meets my gaze and slowly says, “Then listen… listen carefully.”
FLASHBACK START
Two years ago… Ayansh is about two years old. Most of the time, he stays with Mrs. Shobha because I’m always caught up in household chores and responsibilities, while Samar is buried in his office work. He hardly finds time for me, and that often sparks tension between us.
Back then, a small argument has already taken place. Samar wants me to take care of myself, my health, my comfort, but I always put myself last. He tries again and again to explain things, to convince me, but I’m stubborn. Little by little, I see his frustration grow, and it hurts him that I never understand his concern.
That morning, Samar leaves for the office without even having breakfast. I notice it, and my heart sinks. It doesn’t feel right at all—the thought that he’s gone without eating. The whole day, only one thought circles in my mind: He hasn’t eaten anything… how will he manage the whole day like this?
By afternoon, I can no longer rest easy. I decide to take lunch to Samar at his office myself. But as I pick up the lunch box and step out of the house, my steps feel heavy. My heart beats faster. Somewhere in my mind, fear whispers: What if he doesn’t talk to me? What if he’s still angry? Yet I gather all my courage and keep walking.
When I reach outside Samar’s office cabin, my heartbeat grows even louder. I slowly push the door open and step inside.
Samar is completely absorbed in his laptop, as though nothing else in the world matters. But the moment he lifts his head and his eyes fall on me, all his focus shifts instantly. For a moment, his gaze just freezes on me.
I, as always, look… I know I look stunning, but today there’s a different kind of glow on my face, as though moonlight itself has chosen to settle on me. For a heartbeat, I notice him forget everything—the anger, the arguments, the hurt. In his eyes, there is only me.
A soft smile touches his lips, and in a warm tone he says, “You’re here?”
No matter how angry he gets, one thing about Samar never changes—he can never truly hurt me. His love and respect for me always come first. That’s why our little arguments never grow so big that they push me away from him.
I stand there with my eyes lowered, holding the lunch box in my hands. Seeing the tenderness in his eyes—the warmth and care hidden there—my heart begins to melt.
I slowly walk forward, about to sit in the chair across from him, when suddenly he reaches out and gently holds my hand.
For a moment, I freeze in surprise, looking at him with confused eyes. But on his face, there’s that softness, that tenderness he always hides behind anger and stubbornness.
He pulls me closer, settling me gently into his lap with a faint smile, and asks softly, “Hmm..? So tell me, what was the work?”
TO BE COUNTINUE...!!!