[Author's POV]
[Same day — Evening]
Priya stepped out of the office gates, the warm glow of the evening sun painting the street in fading gold. She adjusted her dupatta against the breeze and flagged down an auto-rickshaw.
Sliding inside, she gave the driver her address and settled into the seat, her thoughts still tangled with moments from Aarav's cabin. She shook her head, almost angrily, this wasn't something she could allow herself to think about.
Ten minutes from the office, the rickshaw slows down near an intersection. A rusty and looming truck is waiting impatiently to turn. Priya leans forward to signal a left turn, unaware that fate has already decided to intervene.
Priya turned her head just in time to see a massive truck barreling toward them from the side street, its horn blaring. The driver of her auto tried to swerve, but there was no space, no time.
The sickening crunch of metal against metal split the air.
The truck's front slammed into the side of the rickshaw with brutal force, spinning it halfway before the momentum tipped it over completely.
Priya screamed as the world turned sideways, the metal frame collapsing inward. She was thrown hard against the side, her forehead slamming into a metal bar. Warm blood began to trickle down her temple almost instantly, stinging her eyes.
The rickshaw landed heavily on its side, trapping her and the driver underneath. The driver groaned in pain beside her, his leg pinned. Priya tried to push herself up, but the weight of the twisted frame pressed against her shoulder, making it impossible to move.
Shouts rose from the gathering crowd. Someone yelled for water. Another voice called for an ambulance. The truck's brakes screeched as it stopped just meters ahead, the driver frozen in shock.
The private eye skids his bike to a stop, heart hammering in his chest. Tires squeal against the asphalt, leaving a thin trail of smoke in the air, but he doesn't care. There is only one thought, one urgent need to reach her.
He throws the bike aside, boots hitting the ground, and bolts toward the overturned auto-rickshaw. His eyes widen in horror as he sees Priya trapped beneath the metal frame, her small body pinned, her forehead slick with blood that drips into the grimy pavement.
"Ma'am! Hold on! I'm coming!" he shouts, voice cracking, adrenaline making it rough and frantic.
He drops to his knees beside her, hands trembling as he assesses the weight of the rickshaw. With every ounce of strength, he begins to lift, feeling the unforgiving metal press against her. Her shallow breaths make a faint, terrified sound. She's semi-conscious, eyes flickering open, dazed, her hair matted with blood.
"Don't fight it, I've got you. Just stay with me," he whispers urgently, sweat and fear mingling on his brow.
The rickshaw shifts dangerously, a groan of metal warning of imminent collapse. The private eye grits his teeth, muscles straining, as he manages to shift it enough to slide his hands under her, trying to lift her body free. Her small frame quivers against him, and blood continues to seep from her wound, painting both her and his hands a cruel red.
Every second stretches painfully long. The city around them—the honking horns, the murmurs of passersby—fades away. There is only Priya, fragile and bleeding, and the desperate need to pull her out of the twisted wreck before the world closes in.
The private eye's eyes widen in panic—he can't move the rickshaw fast enough, and Priya is still trapped beneath it, trembling, blood seeping through her hair and onto the asphalt.
There is no time to think—only to act. With a surge of desperation, he lifts the rickshaw slightly, enough for Priya to wriggle partially free. Her small body slides onto the ground, her arms flailing weakly as she groans.
He crouches beside her, voice shaking. "Ma'am! Please! Don't close your eyes!"
The man's fingers fumble for his phone, heart thundering in his chest. Hands slick with her blood, he manages to dial the number he knows will make a difference.
"Sir... sir!" he shouts into the phone, voice breaking. "Madam... Priya... she's had an accident! She's... she's bleeding... I—"
He pauses, glancing back at the truck, before continuing urgently. "I need you here... quickly... please!"
Even through the phone, he can feel the intensity, the force of Aarav's presence, like a storm about to break. And he knows it—if Aarav isn't here in the next few minutes, Priya won't just be hurt.
[Aarav's POV]
The phone buzzes violently on my desk, jolting me from a half-focus on the files. The private eye's voice cracks through the receiver, frantic and trembling.
"Sir... Madam... Priya... She's met with an accident! She's... she's bleeding... I... I need you—please!"
Time stops. My chest tightens, blood hammering through my veins. The calm, controlled world I cling to shatters in an instant.
"What? Where is she?!" I bark, throwing myself out of the chair. Every second stretches unbearably.
"Near the turn from your company, sir... I—I'm here with her..."
I don't wait for more. I snatch my keys, my shoes barely on, heart screaming, legs moving faster than my thoughts. "Stay with her! Do not let anything happen to her! I'm coming!"
The office blurs around me as I storm out. Doors slam, colleagues stare, but I barely register them. My hand tightens around the steering wheel, pulse pounding, every breath sharp.
The street stretches out, and with every red light I curse the city, every slow pedestrian an insult. Ten minutes or maybe less feel like an eternity.
I won't forgive myself if I don't reach her in time. My heart beats like a drum of war, my mind screams, and the only thing I see, the only thing that matters, is her.
[Author's POV]
Aarav's car screeches to a halt, tires biting into the asphalt. The city's evening hum fades beneath the roar of his own heartbeat. He leaps out, keys still in hand, scanning the street with sharp, frantic eyes.
Aarav saw Priya lying on the road with her blood flowing profusely and the private eye pressing his handkerchief tightly on her forehead to stop the bleeding. Her kurta is damp with grime and red. Every instinct he has screams—move, save her, protect her.
He runs to her side, eyes locked on her pale face. "PRIYAAA!" His voice cuts through the chaos, sharp, demanding, pleading all at once.
"Hold on. You're going to be fine," he murmurs, voice tight with emotion, brushing a strand of blood-stained hair from her face. He doesn't realize how raw his words sound, how fragile they make him seem. But there is no time for hesitation.
Priya groans, small whimpers escaping her lips, and Aarav's heart clenches tighter. Her blood smears his palms.
Aarav's eyes flick to Priya. Her eyelids flutter, a strand of hair clinging to her tear-streaked face. "I've got you. Hold on. Breathe, Priya. Just breathe!" His voice is low, fierce, almost desperate.
Aarav immediately scoops her into his arms, feeling her limp against him. Her head lolls slightly, and his hands automatically cradle her, checking for movement, pressing gentle pressure against the bleeding cut on her forehead.
The private eye exhales shakily, stepping back.
Aarav doesn't respond—he can barely think. Every part of him is focused on her, the warmth of her body against his, the rapid flutter of her pulse, the fragile tremor in her limbs. He rocks her gently, murmuring her name, willing her to stay conscious, to stay with him.
[Aarav's POV]
I don't waste a second. "Drive! Drive, now!" I bark at the private eye, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.
Without waiting, I shove Priya into the back seat, cradling her carefully in my arms. One hand presses gently but firmly against the bleeding cut on her forehead, trying to slow the flow of blood. Her small body trembles against me, fragile and frighteningly real.
"Please... just stay with me," I mutter, my voice breaking, tight with fear. My eyes sting with tears I refuse to shed fully, but the panic is there, raw and unrelenting. "Priya... I can't... I can't lose you. You hear me? Don't you dare leave me. Not now. Not ever."
The city streets blur past, the rickshaw and truck fading behind us, but the image of her, hurt, vulnerable, sears into my mind. My fists clench around her gently, my teeth gritted. "That... truck driver... he's going to pay. I swear it. Nobody hurts you and gets away with it."
I glance down at her face, her hair damp and plastered to her cheeks, her eyelids fluttering but unresponsive.
"I love you," I whisper, the words tearing from my throat, raw and unfiltered. "You hear me, Priya? I love you. And I won't let anything, anything take you from me."
The private eye's hands grip the wheel tighter, trying to keep pace with my shouted instructions. But I barely notice him. My whole world has shrunk to her—her pulse under my fingers, the warmth of her body, the fragile rise and fall of her chest.
Every second feels like a lifetime. Every blink is a terror. I refuse to imagine the alternative. I refuse, I will not leave her. I cannot.
[Author's POV]
The car screeches to a halt at the hospital entrance. The private eye is out in an instant, swinging open the back door. Aarav steps out with Priya cradled tightly in his arms, holding her in a desperate bridal style, his jaw locked and eyes blazing.
He doesn't waste a second. Storming through the sliding doors, his voice rips through the sterile air—
"Doctor! Doctor!"
Heads turn, startled. He charges straight toward the emergency ward, each step fast and heavy, his grip on her tightening as if letting go would mean losing her.
Two nurses rush forward, one reaching for a stretcher.
"Sir, please lay her down—"
"I'll carry her! Just show me the way!" Aarav's voice is sharp, almost a growl.
"Sir, we need to—"
"I said just show the fucking way!" he roars, the sheer force of it making them flinch. For a moment, the entire corridor freezes, then one of the nurses stammers and points ahead.
"This way, sir!"
Without breaking stride, Aarav barrels down the hallway, his arms locked around Priya, the fear in his chest burning hotter than his anger.
The emergency ward is a storm of motion.
White coats blur past, monitors beep in warning tones, and the metallic scent of antiseptic hangs heavy in the air. Two nurses rush Priya onto the gurney, their hands moving quickly to attach oxygen and check her vitals. The auto driver's frantic voice trails somewhere behind, swallowed by the noise.
Aarav storms in right after them, his voice cutting through the chaos.
"Where's the doctor? She needs treatment now!"
A young intern steps forward, trying to calm him, but Aarav ignores him entirely and follows the gurney straight into the operating room corridor.
"Sir, you can't come in—"
The words barely leave the nurse's mouth before he shoves past, positioning himself at Priya's side. His hand finds hers instinctively, thumb brushing over her knuckles as though sheer touch could anchor her to consciousness.
A gloved surgeon appears. "Sir, you need to wait outside—"
"I'm not leaving her." The weight of his voice stills the air for a second. His jaw is set, eyes burning with a mixture of fear and fury.
The private eye, who has been shadowing him since the accident, steps closer and grips his shoulder. "Sir, let them work. If you stay, you'll only slow them down. She needs every second."
Aarav's knuckles tighten, but he doesn't look away from Priya. "If they make even the smallest mistake—"
"They won't," the investigator cuts in, low and firm. "But they will if you stand in their way."
Then, slowly, he lets go of Priya's hand. But before stepping back, he turns to the lead surgeon, voice like a blade.
"If anything happens to her—anything—you will answer to me. Understand?"
The surgeon swallows and nods quickly. The nurses glance at each other, their movements growing sharper, faster, as if they've just been reminded they are working under a man who doesn't forgive mistakes.
The private eye gently guides Aarav out of the operating room. Even in the hallway, he doesn't sit. He stands rigid by the door, ears straining for any sound from inside, as if willing himself to remain close enough that Priya will know he never truly left.
Aarav's gaze locks on the private eye standing a few feet away. In two strides, he's in front of him, one hand fisting into the man's shirt collar and yanking him close.
"How the hell did this happen?" Aarav's voice is low but sharp enough to cut.
The investigator swallows hard. "Sir... the rickshaw was about to take a right turn near your company's road. That's when a truck came out of nowhere and slammed into it. After the impact, the driver fled—left the truck there and ran."
Aarav's grip tightens. "And you let this happen? You were supposed to protect her."
The man's eyes drop. "I'm sorry, sir."
Aarav's jaw flexes, his eyes burning with a fury that promises violence. "This isn't random. I think it's that other man who's been following Priya." He leans in, his voice turning into a lethal whisper. "Find him. One hour. I want him standing in front of me... alive."
The investigator nods quickly, and Aarav releases him with a shove, his expression unreadable except for the storm in his eyes.
The investigator leaves the hospital to get that man.
Now aarav is standing alone outside of the operating room,eyes fixed on the glass door.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. Ritvik's name flashes.
He answers. "What?"
Ritvik's voice is urgent. "Something happened near the company. Do you know?"
Aarav's throat constricts. His breath catches, voice cracking like a splintered edge.
"It's Priya..." He swallows hard, his eyes closing briefly. "She... she got into that accident."
There's a pause. Then Ritvik's voice tightens. "Which hospital are you at?"
"City Care," Aarav mutters, his voice clipped.
"I'm coming."
Aarav only gives a faint "Hmm" before ending the call.
He turns, moving to the operating room doors. Planting both palms against the cold metal, he leans forward, forehead almost touching, his breath uneven.
He doesn't move, doesn't blink, just waits—willing the doctors to come out and tell him the only thing he needs to hear
He doesn't move, doesn't blink, just waits—willing the doctors to come out and tell him the only thing he needs to hear.
That she's fine.
That she's out of danger.
It's been 30 minutes and Priya is still inside.
The sharp scent of antiseptic hits Ritvik the moment he steps into the hospital corridor. His pace slows as his eyes land on the figure at the far end, standing rigid near the operating room doors.
Aarav.
His shirt is soaked in dark patches of blood, the fabric stiff where it's dried. The sleeves are rolled up unevenly, as if in a rush, and his right hand is clenched so tightly the knuckles are white. His eyes... they're not just red — they're bloodshot, raw, like a storm had torn through them.
For a moment, Ritvik just stands there, taking in the scene — the silent tension in Aarav's frame, the faint tremor in his fingers, the way his jaw moves as if grinding down unspoken words.
He walks forward, each step muffled by the hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the distant beeping from inside the operating room.
When he finally reaches him, Aarav doesn't look up — he just keeps his gaze fixed on the closed doors, as if willing them to open.
"Aarav," he says softly, stopping just a step away.
There is no reply.
"Aarav..." Ritvik tries again, more firmly this time, a hand on his shoulder.
Aarav's head turns slowly, his eyes locking on Ritvik as if he is pulling himself out of some distant, violent place. "She's inside," his voice is heavy, low—a dangerous edge blazing inside.
"I know." Ritvik looks at the closed operation room doors, the red lights flashing above them.
Ritwik stares at him for a while and then speaks. "What happened?"
Aarav exhales loudly, his jaw tightens. "The truck... came out of nowhere. Hit the auto." His eyes flutter, as if scared. "She—" He stops, swallowing. "She wasn't moving. There was a lot of bleeding."
Ritvik's grip on Aarav's shoulder tightens. "You got her here quickly. That's all that matters now."
"I should have been faster," Aarav mumbles, his hands shaking. "I should have—"
"Aarav, wait." Ritvik comes in front of him, forcing him to look into his eyes. "It's not your fault."
But Aarav shakes his head, his voice low and heavy. "You don't understand. I swore I would protect her. And now she's fighting to save her life because I wasn't there when she needed me."
Ritvik takes a deep breath, recognizing the self-loathing bubbling beneath the surface. "The important thing is that she's in surgery, and you're here. Because of you, she has a chance. If you screw up now, you'll be of no use to her when she wakes up."
"When she wakes up" The words hang heavy in the air, as if challenging fate.
Aarav's eyes darken. "She will wake up."
Ritvik nods slowly. "Good. Wait. Because right now, you seem ready to leave and—"
"I'm ready," Aarav yells suddenly, his voice sharp enough to cut him off. "The bastard who did this is still breathing somewhere. And I'll make sure he regrets it."
Ritvik comes closer, lowering his voice. "You leave now, and maybe you won't be here when the doctor comes out. Do you really want her to wake up and see an empty corridor?"
For a moment, Aarav's face turns strange—something raw emerges from his anger. He looks at the operating room doors, then at his bloodied hands, as if realizing for the first time how much of his suffering he's carrying on his skin.
He looks at the operating room doors, then at his bloodied hands, as if realizing for the first time how much of his suffering he's carrying on his skin
"I can't just stand here doing nothing," Aarav finally says, his voice cracking.
"You're doing something," Ritvik replies. "You're here. That's what she'll need when she opens her eyes." He pauses, softer now. "Don't call this revenge until you know she's safe."
Aarav's throat tightens as he swallows the lump that threatens to choke him. "If she doesn't survive—"
"She will survive." Ritvik interrupts him firmly, his tone giving no room for doubt.
The two men stand in silence for a while, the soft hum of a heart monitor heard from somewhere in the hall. Aarav's breathing is irregular, his shoulders still tense, but his anger seems to have abated a little in Ritvik's steady presence.
Finally, Aarav pulls away—not away, but closer to the operating room door, as if just this closeness will bring him back to life. His voice is softer now, almost a whisper. "She is not another person, Ritvik. She is... mine."
Ritvik's gaze softens, but he doesn't move. Instead, he stands silently beside Aarav, knowing that some battles cannot be fought with words.
And together, they wait.
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To be continued.....
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