The clock struck midnight, and the silence in the house felt oppressive. Samaira sat curled up on the couch in the living room, her dupatta draped loosely around her shoulders, eyes fixed on the door. The dim light of the lamp cast long shadows across the room, matching the unease building in her chest. Aayansh hadn’t been home all day—not a single call, not even a text.
Her phone lay untouched on the table, her fingers itching to dial his number for the hundredth time. But she refrained. She didn’t want to seem desperate, though her heart was clenched with worry.
The sound of the door creaking open made her sit up straight. She turned, her breath catching in her throat. Aayansh stepped in, his face shadowed by the faint light from the hallway.
Her eyes widened in shock. His shirt was torn at the collar, smeared with dark stains—blood. His hands were bruised, knuckles raw, and his usually sharp, composed demeanor seemed shaken, though he quickly masked it.
“Aap…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Yeh kya hua? Kya—kya aap theek hain?”
Aayansh glanced at her, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark and heavy. He shut the door behind him with deliberate slowness, locking it, his movements calm but laced with an edge of tension.
“Kuch nahi,” he muttered, his voice low. “Tum kyun jaag rahi ho?”
Samaira rose from the couch, her steps hesitant as she moved toward him. “Kya matlab kuch nahi? Yeh… yeh khoon kiska hai? Aap ko chot lagi hai? Aap hospital gaye?” Her voice grew firmer with each question, but her hands trembled as she reached for his arm.
Aayansh flinched ever so slightly at her touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, he took a step back, creating a deliberate distance between them.
“Maine kaha na, kuch nahi hua,” he said, his tone cold, almost dismissive. But his gaze softened when he saw the worry etched on her face.
“Nahi, mujhe sach bataiye,” Samaira demanded, her vulnerability now tinged with a rare determination. Tears glistened in her eyes, but she refused to look away from him. “Aap ko kya ho raha hai? Pura din gayab rahe, ek phone tak nahi kiya, aur ab... ab yeh haalat?”
He let out a sharp exhale, running a bloodied hand through his hair. “Samaira, yeh sab tumhare samajhne ki cheez nahi hai. Main theek hoon, bas.Woh log jo kere khilaaf khade hote hai, unka bas ek anjaam hota hai... ya toh woh zinda wapas nahi jaate, ya mujhe unki yaadon ke saath jeena padta hai. Aaj main unhe yaadon mein badalne nahi de raha tha."”
Her heart sank at the wall he put up between them, but she refused to back down. His words were ruthless, just as how he was, “Aap aise nahi kar sakte. Mujhe bataiye, please.”
For a moment, Aayansh stared at her, his jaw tightening. He looked like he was at war with himself, debating whether to let her in or keep her in the dark. Finally, he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming.
“Tumhe lagta hai tum yeh jaane ki taqat rakhti ho?” His voice was low, dangerous, but not unkind. He leaned in slightly, his gaze pinning her in place. “Jo kuch bhi hua hai, woh iss duniya ka woh hissa hai jahan tumhara koi kaam nahi.”
Samaira’s breath hitched, her chest tightening at the weight of his words. “Lekin main aapki biwi hoon,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Agar aap dard mein hain, toh mujhe haq hai jaane ka.”
A flicker of emotion passed through his eyes—something raw, something he couldn’t fully conceal. He reached out, brushing his thumb across her cheek as if testing her resolve.
“Tum bahut masoom ho, Samaira,” he said softly, almost regretfully. “Main nahi chahta ke tum mere andheron ka hissa bano.”
And just like that, he stepped away, leaving her standing in the suffocating silence of unanswered questions.
She watched as he disappeared into their bedroom, the sound of the door locking behind him echoing through the empty hall. Samaira sank onto the couch, her mind racing, heart aching with the weight of his unspoken secrets.
Samaira sat frozen on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest as she stared at the closed bedroom door. Her mind was a whirlwind of fear and confusion. The bloodstains, his bruised hands, and the detached coldness in his voice—it all painted a picture she didn’t want to believe.
The Aayansh she thought she was beginning to understand now felt like a stranger, someone hiding behind layers of darkness she couldn’t penetrate.
But one thing was clear—whatever had happened to him tonight wasn’t something ordinary.
The next few minutes passed in silence. Samaira felt torn between her own fears and her instinct to confront him again. She stood abruptly, the sound of her bare feet padding against the cold floor the only noise in the stillness of the night.
She hesitated before knocking gently on the bedroom door.
“Aayansh?” she called out, her voice soft, almost pleading.
No response.
She knocked again, this time with more urgency. “Aayansh, darwaza kholiye. Please.”
Inside, she could hear faint movements—the sound of water running, perhaps in the bathroom. She pressed her forehead against the door, her voice trembling.
“Aap mujhe yeh sab bataiye. Main samajhne ki koshish karungi... lekin mujhe bataiye toh sahi.”
The lock clicked, and the door opened suddenly. Samaira stumbled slightly but regained her footing. Aayansh stood before her, his shirt gone, revealing bruises and shallow cuts across his chest and arms. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and the sharp lines of his face were cast into shadow by the dim bedroom light.
Samaira gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Yeh... kisne kiya?”
Aayansh’s expression hardened. “Tumhein bola tha na, Samaira, yeh tumhare samajhne ki cheez nahi hai.”
“Main samajhne ki koshish kar rahi hoon,” she countered, her voice trembling but firm. Her eyes burned as she fought back tears. “Aap mujhe kaise expect karte hain chup ho kar dekhne ka, jab aap khud ko is haalat mein le aaye hain?”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he walked past her toward the window, pulling the curtains aside to look out into the dark night.
Samaira stepped closer, her voice softer now. “Aapka khayal rakhna mera haq hai, Aayansh. Aap mujhe kaise expect karte hain ke main—”
“Tumhe lagta hai yeh haq tumhe protect karega?” he interrupted, his voice low and laced with an edge that sent a chill down her spine. He turned to face her, his eyes glinting like steel. “Jo duniya mein jeeta hoon na, Samaira, wahan haq aur pyaar ka koi kaam nahi hota. Wahan bas ek cheez kaam karti hai—taaqat.”
Samaira’s throat tightened at his words, but she refused to back down. “Lekin aap mujhe apne insecurities ke peeche nahi chhupa sakte. Agar aap sochte hain ke main yeh nahi samajhungi, toh aap galat hain. Mujhe khud apni zindagi ke andheron ka samna karna pada hai.”
Aayansh flinched, his cold mask slipping for just a moment as her words hit him.
“Tumhare andheron aur mere andheron mein farq hai, Samaira,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Tumhare andhere tumhare past se hain. Mere andhere meri zindagi ke present se hain. Aur inka anjaam hamesha maut hoti hai.”
Her breath caught, and she felt the weight of his words settle over her.
His voice dropped to a whisper, filled with an unspoken vulnerability. “Agar tum meri dunya mein itni masoomiyat lekar ghusi ho, toh tum khud ko sambhaal bhi nahi paogi.”
Samaira’s vision blurred with unshed tears. “Aur kya yeh aap decide karenge?” she shot back, her voice breaking. “Aap ka dard aapka hai, lekin kya mujhe haq nahi ke us dard ko baatne ka? Aap hi ne kaha tha ke aap mujhe akela nahi chhodenge. Toh kya main aapka saath nahi de sakti?”
He took a step closer, his towering presence overwhelming but not intimidating. His gaze bore into hers, as if trying to read her very soul.
“Kya tumhe pata hai ke tumhare saath hone ka matlab kya hai, Samaira?” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with a quiet intensity. “Mujhe ab bas ek cheez ka intezaar hai—jo mera dushman hai, woh ya toh mujhe yaad karega... ya woh mujhe kabhi yaad nahi karega.”
Her tears finally spilled over, her voice trembling. “Main nahi jaanti aap kaunse rishte ki baat kar rahe hain, lekin main yeh jaanti hoon ke aap ke bina yeh rishte ka koi matlab nahi banta.”
Aayansh’s gaze softened for just a moment before the cold mask slipped back into place. He reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek with a surprisingly gentle touch.
“Tumhara dil bahut bada hai, Samaira,” he said quietly. “Par mere liye wo kaafi nahi hai.”
He stepped back, his words lingering in the air like a finality she wasn’t ready to accept.
“Main tumhare saath reh kar tumhare liye khatra nahi banna chahta,” he added, his voice cracking ever so slightly.
And with that, he walked past her, leaving her standing in the silence of his absence.
Samaira stood frozen in the center of the room, his words echoing in her mind. “Tumhara dil bahut bada hai, par mere liye wo kaafi nahi hai.” The finality in his voice cut through her, leaving her chest tight with a pain she couldn’t quite name.
Tears blurred her vision as she listened to the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall. A faint creak of the study door told her where he had gone. Her heart screamed at her to follow him, to break through whatever walls he’d built between them. But her feet refused to move.
Minutes passed, or maybe hours—Samaira wasn’t sure. Her hands trembled as she wiped at her cheeks, willing herself to think clearly. Whatever had happened tonight wasn’t just about him; it was about them.
Finally, she gathered her courage and walked to the study.
The door was slightly ajar, and the faint glow of a table lamp spilled into the hallway. Samaira peeked in, her heart clenching at the sight before her.
Aayansh sat in his chair, shirtless, with a can of cold coffee in his hand. His shoulders slumped, his head bowed, and his other hand rested heavily on a piece of paper. The tension that usually radiated off him was replaced by something darker—resignation, or perhaps regret.
She stepped inside, the soft rustle of her dupatta alerting him to her presence. He didn’t look up but spoke in a voice so low it was almost a whisper.
“Samaira, jao yahan se.”
Her chest tightened at the exhaustion in his tone. “Nahi,” she replied softly but firmly. “Mujhe laga tha aap samajhte hain ki main kamzor hoon. Lekin ab mujhe lagta hai ke aap khud ko samajhne ka moka nahi dete.”
He looked up sharply at her words, his eyes narrowing. “Samaira, maine kaha na…”
“Aur maine suna,” she interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion. “Lekin ab meri baat sunenge aap.”
Aayansh blinked, momentarily stunned by the steel in her voice. She stepped closer, standing just a few feet away from him.
“Mujhe dar lagta hai,” she admitted, her voice soft but steady. “Aapko iss haalat mein dekh kar, aapko khud se itna door dekh kar, mujhe dar lagta hai. Lekin agar aap samajhte hain ki main is dar ki wajah se peeche hat jaungi, toh aap galat hain.”
A bitter laugh escaped him as he leaned back in his chair. “Aur tum kya samajh rahi ho, Samaira? Tumhe lagta hai ke main tumhe apne saath le kar chal sakta hoon? Jo rasta maine chuna hai, usmein tumhare liye jagah nahi hai.”
“Woh jagah main khud bana lungi,” she said firmly, her voice cracking with determination. “Aapko lagta hai ki main masoom hoon, par main un logon mein se nahi hoon jo bas dekhte hain aur kuch nahi karte.”
He stared at her, his glass frozen mid-air. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—respect, maybe even admiration—but it was gone before she could be sure.
“Samaira,” he began, his voice low and strained. “Tumhe nahi pata ke maine kya kiya hai.”
“Phir bataiye,” she countered, taking another step closer. “Aapki duniya, aapka dard, mujhe pata hai ke woh sab asaan nahi hai. Lekin jab aap mujhe iss rishte mein laaye, tab aapne yeh to nahi socha hoga ke main kabhi bhi iski haqdar nahi banungi.”
His jaw clenched, and he slammed the can down on the desk with a sharp clink. “Tum samajhne ki koshish kar rahi ho, par main tumhare liye yeh nahi kar sakta. Tum samjhogi toh mujhe chohr dogi.”
“Yeh decide karne ka mauka toh mujhe dijiye,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Aap mujhe khud se door kyun karte hain? Kyun lagta hai ki mujhe aapki sachai ka samna karne ka haq nahi hai?”
He looked at her then, his mask slipping just enough for her to see the storm of emotions swirling beneath. “Tum mere paas reh kar woh dard dekha bhi nahi paogi, Samaira.”
“Main aapko akela chhodne ka dard seh nahi paungi,” she shot back, tears streaming freely down her face now.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt heavy with all the words left unsaid, the emotions neither dared to name.
Finally, Aayansh rose from his chair, towering over her. His eyes bore into hers, dark and intense, but there was no anger—only pain.
“Tum mujhe bacha nahi sakti, Samaira,” he said softly, almost regretfully. “Jo cheez mere andar hai, usse mujhe khud ladna padega. Tum mere saath rahogi, toh sirf chot khaogi.”
She stepped closer, her hand brushing against his arm. “Aapne kabhi socha hai ki shayad mujhe woh chot khane mein koi shikayat nahi hogi? Shayad mujhe sirf yeh zarurat hai ke main aapke saath hoon, chahe kuch bhi ho?”
Aayansh froze, her words cutting deeper than any wound he had endured that night.
“Samaira,” he whispered, his voice breaking for the first time. “Tumhe nahi pata… tum kya keh rahi ho.”
“Mujhe pata hai,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tears. “Aur agar aapko lagta hai ki main aapke liye tayar nahi hoon, toh main aapko galat prove karungi.”
He stared at her, torn between pushing her away and pulling her close. Finally, he reached out, cupping her face in his bruised hands. His touch was gentle, despite the roughness of his skin.
“Tum kyun itni zidd karti ho?” he murmured, his forehead resting against hers.
“Kyunki aap zidd karte hain mujhe khud se door rakhne ki,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
For the first time that night, Aayansh’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles—bitter, but touched with a hint of warmth. “Tum meri sabse badi takat ho, Samaira,” he said softly. “Aur shayad meri sabse badi kamzori bhi.”
He pulled away before she could respond, his walls snapping back into place. “Main tumse wada karta hoon ke tumhe kabhi meri duniya ka hissa nahi banne dunga,” he said, his voice cold once more. “Lekin tumse door rehna ab mere bas mein nahi hai.”
Samaira watched him walk away, her heart aching with both hope and despair. She knew the battle was far from over—but for the first time, she felt like she had cracked through his armor, even if just a little.
She vowed to herself that she wouldn’t let him fight this darkness alone. No matter how long it took, she would find a way to pull him back into the light.
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