SHIVAM'S POV~

The morning broke earlier for me than usual. Normally, I rose with the first rays of sunlight, but today I found myself awake even before the light had touched the curtains. Restlessness buzzed in my chest, though I told myself it was because of the important call I was expecting. There was no point wasting time tossing and turning in bed. With that thought, I pushed myself up and headed to freshen up.

Half an hour later, I was dressed and ready. Yet when I came downstairs, something felt… different.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

The usual rhythm of voices, the hum of activity, the faint sound of utensils from the kitchen—everything was missing. The silence clung to the air, unsettling me. I glanced around, frowning. Where was Uncle?

One of the house helpers was working nearby, dusting the corner table. I walked toward him, lowering my voice. “Umm… do you know where Uncle is?”

The helper paused, giving me a slightly startled look, then spoke softly. “Yes, sir. Last night, apparently Isha’s grandmother couldn’t breathe properly. Everyone rushed her to the hospital immediately. They haven’t returned yet. If you need anything, you can let me know.”

For a moment, my chest tightened, as though someone had pressed a weight against it. My jaw clenched automatically. I forced a small smile, masking the sharp twist of worry in my heart. “No, that’s alright,” I said quietly, dismissing him.

The moment he turned away, I pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over the screen for barely a second before I tapped Uncle’s number and pressed call. My heart thudded heavily as the line rang once… twice…

No answer.

The knot in my stomach grew tighter. I called again, pacing restlessly across the floor. Still no answer.

Be calm, Shivam. Be calm. I told myself the words, but they felt hollow. Calm was impossible when the matter involved her.

On the third attempt, Uncle finally picked up. Relief surged through me, but I didn’t let him speak first.

“Hello, Shivam—” he began, but I cut him off, my voice urgent, impatient.

“How is Isha’s grandmother? And Isha? Tell me quickly.” The desperation in my tone was obvious, but I didn’t care.

There was a pause on the other side, long enough to make my heartbeat louder in my ears. Then Uncle sighed. “She’s stable for now… but I don’t feel confident that everything will be fine.”

That was enough for me. My decision was instant. “I’m bringing doctors and nurses to the house. There’s no need to keep her at the hospital. You bring them home. I’ll make the arrangements here.”

I didn’t give him room to protest. Before he could respond, I hung up and moved quickly, already dialing contacts.

Doctor—arranged.

Nurse—arranged.

Supplies—done.

Within an hour, the house was prepared. Every detail in place, every resource ready. Now, there was nothing left to do but wait.

But waiting was its own torment.

Each second felt stretched, my ears straining for the sound of the car in the driveway. I paced back and forth, my hands restless, my mind circling only two names: Dadi. Isha.

At last, after what felt like half a lifetime, I heard it.

The faint hum of an engine, the crunch of tires over gravel. A car.

I was already outside before the vehicle had even stopped. My heart pounded as the headlights flickered off. The doors opened, and there they were.

I didn’t waste time. “Come,” I said, moving forward to help. My hands reached for the wheelchair, steadying Dadi as she was gently lowered. My voice was calm, practical, but inside I felt the weight of responsibility pressing deeper into me.

For a fleeting second, though, my eyes lifted.

Isha.

She stood a little apart, her face pale, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion and fear. Even in the dim evening light, I could see it clearly—the tremor of someone terrified of loss. That fear, raw and unguarded, carved into her expression.

I knew it too well. The fear of losing someone you love.

My chest tightened.

Without a word, I shifted my focus back to Dadi, guiding her carefully toward the entrance. But inside, I carried the image of Isha’s face, etched like a wound.

When Dadi requested to speak privately with Uncle, I didn’t hesitate. I nodded and stepped back, giving them the space they needed. The other man, Rishi, excused himself and left the house, leaving the quiet to settle again.

And just like that, the crowded chaos thinned.

Only two people remained in the wide, silent room.

Her. And me.

The air between us felt charged, fragile. I turned toward her, watching as she shifted nervously. She looked like she was searching for something to hold on to, some anchor in this storm.

Without a word, I pulled out a chair. “Sit,” I said simply, the tone softer than I usually used.

She hesitated, then obeyed, lowering herself onto the seat. Her hands twisted slightly in her lap. I moved to the side table, pouring a glass of water and placing it in front of her.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice low, almost broken.

I nodded, watching her sip. She seemed smaller, fragile in that moment, nothing like the spirited girl who usually argued, whose words often sparked like fire.

Something inside me stirred—the urge to shield, to protect, to reassure.

“Don’t worry,” I said gently, my eyes meeting hers for a brief second. “Nothing will happen to your Dida. She will be alright.”

I meant every word.

For a heartbeat, she just looked at me, her eyes uncertain. Then she lowered them again, her voice barely a whisper. “I hope…”

The words trailed into the air, heavy with the weight of her fear.

And in that moment, I made a silent promise to myself.

I won’t let anything happen. Not to her grandmother. Not to her. Not if it’s in

my power to prevent it.

♡♡✿⁠ ⁠♡♡

Happy reading

Take care

Muah 💋 💋

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