Chapter 17

#Continuation of Flashback

Malini continued, her voice laced with regret, “Main jaanti hoon… main bahut buri aur swarthi  ban rahi hoon, par main karu to kya karu… in sab mein, main sab kuchh kho rahi hoon.” Her words revealed her inner turmoil—she felt she was losing everything and was consumed by guilt and sorrow.

Shehnaaz’s own tears began to flow more freely, touched by the emotional outpouring from Malini. The sight of Malini’s suffering and the depth of her remorse stirred something in Shehnaaz, adding another layer to her emotional pain. She cried not only for her own suffering but also for the shared anguish that seemed to envelop everyone in the room.

Malini’s voice trembled with a mixture of sorrow and desperation as she spoke, “Ek taraf aap hai… jo humari beti jaisi hai… aur ek taraf Balraj hai… jo humara beta… usse beta kehne mein bhi hume sharam aa rahi hai…” The words hung in the air, heavy with the pain of a mother caught between her love for her son and the guilt of knowing what he had done.

Sam, standing beside her mother, felt tears well up in her eyes. She had tried to stay strong, but seeing her mother in such deep anguish was too much for her to bear. Her heart ached for Shehnaaz, who had endured so much, and for her mother, who was now torn apart by the actions of her own child.

Malini’s legs buckled under the weight of her emotions, and before anyone could react, she fell to her knees. Her hands came together in a pleading gesture, her voice choked with tears as she begged, “Uski taraf se main tumse maafi mangti hun beta… please…” The words were barely audible, muffled by her sobs, but they carried the full force of her desperation.

Shehnaaz, who had been sitting silently, felt a surge of guilt and sorrow rise within her. Seeing Malini in such a state, her heart wrenched painfully in her chest. She couldn’t bear to watch a mother plead like this, especially when she herself knew the pain of losing family. Shehnaaz tried to get up, her body trembling with the weight of conflicting emotions.

But before she could rise, Malini was at her side, holding her down gently, as if she could somehow hold back the storm that was brewing within Shehnaaz. “Usse maaf kar dijiye beta… please…” Malini’s voice was a broken whisper now, her hands clinging to Shehnaaz as if letting go would mean losing everything. “Agar usse jail ho gayi… to main ji nahi paungi… Wo jaisa bhi hai, achha ya bura… par main to maa hoon na… Kaise dekh paungi ye sab… Please beta… Faisla sirf aap ke haath mein hai…”

The room seemed to close in around them, the air thick with tension and the weight of the decision that now rested solely on Shehnaaz’s shoulders. Sam stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Shock and disbelief flickered in her eyes as she watched her mother, a strong woman she had always admired, reduced to pleading for mercy for a man who had caused so much pain.

Shehnaaz’s tears flowed freely now, her chest heaving with the force of her sobs. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, pity, and a deep, consuming grief. She couldn’t forgive Balraj. She couldn’t. The thought of what he had done to her, the fear and pain he had caused, was like a wound that would never heal. But the sight of Malini, a mother begging for the life of her child, twisted that knife even deeper.

Shehnaaz’s heart felt like it was being torn apart as she watched Malini, the woman she had lovingly called Chachi Maa for the past fifteen years, crumble before her eyes. Malini had been more than just an aunt; she had been a mother, nurturing and caring for Shehnaaz with all the love and tenderness that a mother could give. How could she, Shehnaaz, stand by and watch this woman, who had been a pillar of strength in her life, break down like this?

Malini’s voice was frail, barely holding back the tide of despair as she cried out, “Dadi ma… usse jail bhej thengi… hum mar jayenge…” Her words were like a knife twisting in Shehnaaz’s heart, the sheer desperation in her voice sending shivers down her spine.

Overcome with emotion, Shehnaaz couldn’t hold back her own tears. “Nahi nahi… chachi maa… aap aise mat kahiye…” Her voice was trembling, her hands reaching out as if she could physically pull Malini back from the brink of despair. Shehnaaz couldn’t bear the thought of causing more pain to this woman who had been her rock, her guiding light.

Sam, standing to the side, watched the scene unfold with a growing sense of unease. Everything about this situation felt wrong to her. She couldn’t understand why her mother was behaving this way, why she was so willing to overlook the terrible things Balraj had done. A cold dread settled in Sam’s heart as she thought about the future. What if Balraj did something like this again? What would they do then? How could they protect themselves, or anyone else, from the monster that he had become?

Malini’s cries grew louder, her tears flowing freely as she seemed to drown in her own sorrow. Shehnaaz felt her own resolve weakening under the weight of Malini’s desperation. The room was thick with tension, every breath she took felt heavy with the burden of the choice she was being forced to make.

Finally, with a deep sigh that carried the weight of her conflicting emotions, Shehnaaz spoke, “Me Dadi maa se baat karungi… Balraj veerji ko jail nahi hogi…” The words felt like they were being dragged out of her, each one laced with pain and regret. She knew in her heart that this was the only way to ease Malini’s suffering, but it came at the cost of her own peace of mind.

Malini’s sobs began to subside, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she realized what Shehnaaz had just promised. Relief washed over her, but it was tainted with a deep sense of shame. She knew she was being selfish, putting her own fears and pain above the justice that Shehnaaz deserved. The guilt of it weighed heavily on her, but her love for her son, twisted and wrong as it might be, overpowered everything else.

Sam, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at her. She looked at Shehnaaz, concern etched into her features. She knew this decision wasn’t just about sparing her brother from jail—it was about the safety and well-being of everyone involved. Sam’s heart ached for Shehnaaz, who was once again sacrificing her own needs for the sake of others. But at the same time, fear gripped her as she thought about what the future might hold if Balraj’s actions went unpunished.

Shehnaaz had always been innocent, pure-hearted, and trusting. It was a quality that everyone around her cherished, but today, it felt like they were all taking advantage of that very innocence. The thought gnawed at her, making the situation even more painful. She felt as though she was being cornered, forced to make decisions that no one else had the courage to make, all because of her soft heart.

As if sensing Shehnaaz’s turmoil, Malini, with tears streaming down her face, suddenly leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on Shehnaaz’s forehead. The gesture was filled with a desperate gratitude that tugged at Shehnaaz’s heartstrings.

“Thank you, beta,” Malini whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Aur main aapse vada karti hun… ab Balraj kabhi aapke aas-paas bhi nahi aa payega… promise.” The words were meant to reassure, but there was a desperation in Malini’s eyes that Shehnaaz couldn’t ignore. She wanted so badly to believe her, to find comfort in those promises, but the wounds in her heart were still fresh, still bleeding.

Shehnaaz managed a weak smile through her tears, trying to find solace in the assurances that had been given. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes, and the tears that continued to fall told the truth of her inner turmoil. She felt trapped between her desire to protect herself and her unwillingness to cause more pain to the woman who had cared for her like a mother.

It was then that Sam, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, her voice laced with a bitterness that had been simmering beneath the surface. “Ye sab galat hai,” she uttered, her words cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. The truth in her statement was undeniable, and it hung in the air, heavy and unyielding.

Shehnaaz turned to look at Sam, her eyes filled with pain and understanding. She knew Sam was right. Everything about this situation was wrong, and yet, here they were, all caught in a web of emotions that none of them seemed capable of escaping. The look in Sam’s eyes mirrored the conflict in her own heart, and it only deepened the ache inside her.

Malini, unable to face Sam’s accusing gaze, looked at her daughter with a face full of regret before turning and rushing out of the room. The guilt that had been pressing down on her became too much to bear, and she fled, not daring to meet Sam’s eyes, which were brimming with disappointment.

The door closed behind Malini with a soft click, and for a moment, there was silence. But as soon as she was outside, away from the watchful eyes of Shehnaaz and Sam, Malini’s expression changed. She wiped away her tears with the tip of her index finger, her demeanor shifting in an instant. A smirk played on her lips, one that held no trace of the sorrow she had displayed moments ago.

#Back to Present

Simran’s words echoed in Sam’s mind, pulling her back from the dark memories she wished she could forget. “Please share the whole truth… please clear all misunderstandings…” Simran’s voice was full of concern, a plea for clarity and honesty that Sam could hardly bear to hear.

Tears welled up in Sam’s eyes, her heart heavy with pain and helplessness. “I can’t share anything with you… I am helpless… I can’t unless Shehnaaz wants it…” Her voice cracked under the weight of her emotions, each word a struggle to get out. She felt trapped, torn between the truth that needed to be told and the loyalty she felt towards Shehnaaz. The burden was too much for her to carry alone, but she couldn’t bring herself to betray Shehnaaz’s trust.

Unable to bear it any longer, Sam turned and ran, her footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor as she left a confused and worried Simran behind. The weight of her secrets was suffocating, but the fear of causing more harm by revealing them kept her silent.

Meanwhile, in another part of the house, Sidharth stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the walls. He was consumed by a whirlwind of anger and frustration, emotions he could no longer contain. Without thinking, he threw himself onto the bed, his mind racing with thoughts that only fueled his rage.

He felt utterly useless, worthless—like he had failed in the most crucial way possible. Shehnaaz had gone through something terrible, something that he should have been there to prevent. “Shehnaaz went through this… Shehnaaz went through… oh god…” The mere thought of it made his blood run cold, shaking him to his very core. How could someone behave like that to Shehnaaz? To his Shehnaaz?

The idea that someone had dared to harm her, to even try to touch her, awakened a dark, primal fury within Sidharth. His heart pounded in his chest, the anger he felt unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Shehnaaz was his responsibility, someone he had vowed to protect, and yet he had failed her when she needed him the most.

Sidharth’s rage was uncontrollable, a wild force that surged through him, overtaking every rational thought. He stormed over to the dressing table, gripping its edges with trembling hands before violently forcing it down, sending everything on it crashing to the floor. The sound of glass shattering, wood splintering, and objects clattering to the ground filled the room, a chaotic symphony of his inner turmoil.

His anger, his pain, his frustration, and the helplessness that had been building inside him for so long—everything erupted at once, driving him to destroy everything in sight. He felt powerless, overwhelmed by emotions that he couldn’t express in words, so he expressed them with destruction.

One by one, he smashed everything within reach, the decor that once made the room feel like a sanctuary now lying in ruins around him. The delicate vases, picture frames, and trinkets were reduced to shards on the floor, their beauty destroyed by the fury that consumed him. Pillows were thrown across the room, their stuffing spilling out like the tears he refused to shed. The bed was stripped of its blankets and sheets, left in a disheveled mess that mirrored the state of his heart.

The room that had once been a place of comfort and warmth was now unrecognizable, transformed into a scene of chaos and destruction. Sidharth stood in the middle of it all, his chest heaving with heavy breaths, his eyes burning bright red with the fire of his anger. He was shaking, his hands clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the veins on his arms bulging with the strain.

“How could I let that happen?” he muttered to himself, his voice a low, dangerous growl. The thought of Balraj—his mind couldn’t even fully process the name without being filled with disgust and fury. “That bastard tried to… ugh!” He slammed his fist into the wall, the impact reverberating through the room. “That fucker Balraj dared to touch my Shehnaaz… he laid his filthy eyes on her… and where was I? Enjoying my life like a fucking jerk!”

The anger boiled over, but beneath it, there was something else—an unbearable guilt that gnawed at his soul. The truth that he couldn’t escape, no matter how much he tried to push it away. Who was more guilty here, him or Balraj?

The question echoed in his mind, taunting him, refusing to let him find peace. He remembered the countless nights he had spent in tears, missing Shehnaaz, longing for her presence, aching for her love. But those tears seemed meaningless now, mere drops of water in the ocean of guilt that threatened to drown him.

Sidharth sat amidst the chaos of the room, the shattered fragments of the dressing table and the scattered pillows serving as a physical manifestation of the turmoil in his heart. His thoughts, however, drifted back to memories that only deepened his anguish.

He remembered how many times he had fought with Dadi Maa, desperately pleading with her to do something, anything, so that he could talk to Shehnaaz. Each argument had been fueled by a longing that he couldn’t suppress, a need to hear her voice, to feel connected to her even across the distance that separated them. The frustration had been unbearable, especially when Dadi Maa remained firm, her wisdom tempered with an unspoken sorrow that he could never quite understand.

He remembered the restlessness that consumed him when he started missing Shehnaaz more than he could bear. It was a gnawing emptiness that grew day by day, an ache that nothing could soothe. The more he missed her, the more desperate he became, until every moment without her felt like a lifetime of agony.

He remembered taking out his anger on Raghu Kaka, his trusted confidant, in a fit of desperation. “If Shehnaaz won’t talk to me, I will return!” he had shouted, his voice thick with the pain of missing her. Raghu Kaka had tried to calm him, but nothing could ease the torment he felt, the overwhelming need to bridge the distance between them.

He remembered the night Dadi Maa had gently told him that Shehnaaz was unwell. “She will talk to you once she feels better,” she had assured him, but her words did little to calm his anxiety. He had spent sleepless nights praying for Shehnaaz’s recovery, his heart heavy with worry. Every moment of not knowing how she was tore him apart, leaving him feeling helpless and distant, as if she were slipping further away from him.

He remembered how Dadi Maa began to distance herself from him, her voice carrying a sadness that terrified him. She avoided his questions, her answers short and evasive, and it only deepened his fears. He sensed that something was terribly wrong, but no one would tell him what it was. The uncertainty gnawed at him, and every time he heard that sadness in Dadi Maa’s voice, it felt like a dagger twisting in his heart.

Then, he remembered the day that had shattered him completely. Dadi Maa, with tears in her eyes, had given him Shehnaaz’s swear. “You will not come back to Delhi unless you complete your MS,” she had said, her voice firm but laced with a grief that broke his heart. She had given him Shehnaaz’s swear, a bond he couldn’t break no matter how much it tore him apart.

He had been utterly broken that day. The thought of being away from Shehnaaz, of not being able to talk to her unless she wanted to, was more than he could bear. But he couldn’t go against Dadi Maa’s wish, especially when she had used Shehnaaz’s name. It felt like a cruel twist of fate, forcing him to stay away from the one person who meant everything to him.

Sidharth sat on the edge of the bed, his hands trembling as he buried his face in them, trying to hold back the storm of emotions that threatened to consume him. Every moment, every second of the last two years replayed in his mind like a torturous loop. He remembered every single minute he had spent hoping, praying, and longing for a call from Shehnaaz. He had clung to the hope that she would reach out to him, even if it was just to yell at him, to scream in anger, or to tell him that she hated him. He would have accepted anything—any sign that she still thought about him, still cared, even if it was in anger. He would have taken even her saying that Uttara was her best friend now, as long as it meant he was still a part of her life in some way. But all he had gotten was silence, a silence that had slowly eaten away at him, leaving him broken and lost.

Now, as he sat in the wreckage of his room, the full weight of what he had missed hit him like a ton of bricks. He had been so consumed by his own pain, by his own loneliness, that he hadn’t realized what Shehnaaz had been going through. He had been breaking, but she had been shattering, alone, without him. And now that he knew, now that he understood the depth of her suffering, it didn’t lessen his guilt. If anything, it made it worse. He had left her alone, vulnerable, and exposed to the horrors that had come her way. He should have taken her with him, or better yet, he should never have left in the first place.

The question that haunted him now was whether his dream, the pursuit of his career, had really been more important than Shehnaaz. The thought disgusted him. No, nothing was more important than her. She was everything to him, and yet, he had made the worst mistake of his life by leaving her behind. He had been a fool, blinded by ambition, unable to see what really mattered. And now, the consequences of that decision were staring him in the face, mocking him, reminding him of the price they had both paid.

Sidharth’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing with the anger and frustration that coursed through his veins. The image of Balraj’s disgusting face flashed in front of his eyes, and his rage flared up like a wildfire. How could he have let that monster anywhere near Shehnaaz? The thought of Balraj laying his filthy hands on her made Sidharth’s blood boil. He had sworn to protect her, and yet he had failed. But one thing was clear in his mind—he wouldn’t let Balraj get away with it. No matter what Shehnaaz said, he wouldn’t rest until that man paid for what he had done.

His heartbeat quickened, his chest tightening with the burning sensation of anger that he couldn’t control. His breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to contain the fury that was tearing him apart from the inside. He needed an outlet, something to focus on, and his eyes fell on the mirror in front of him. Slowly, he stood up and moved towards it, his reflection staring back at him with a mix of anger, shame, and despair.

As he looked at his own face, he felt a wave of disgust wash over him. How could he live with himself after what had happened? How could he look at his reflection and not feel the overwhelming urge to punish himself for the pain he had caused Shehnaaz? He felt like a coward, a failure, someone unworthy of the love and trust she had placed in him. The guilt gnawed at him, tearing at his soul, making him wish he could just end it all right there.

His fists clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to smash the mirror, to destroy the image of the man who had let down the one person who meant everything to him.

Sidharth’s eyes burned with unshed tears as he stared at the shattered reflection in front of him. The pain of the broken glass piercing his skin was nothing compared to the agony that ripped through his heart. The thought of Shehnaaz—his Shehnaaz—crying, feeling disgusted, and alone because of what had happened, gnawed at him like a relentless beast. He couldn’t stand the image of her in so much pain, and the knowledge that he hadn’t been there to protect her tore him apart.

He felt worthless, undeserving of her friendship, her love, or even her care. The realization that she had been pushed to the point of wanting to end her own life, and he hadn’t been there to stop her, to comfort her, made him feel like the worst kind of failure. What kind of friend was he? What kind of man was he? Shehnaaz had once loved him, cared for him, pampered him—and now, that heart, the heart that had held so much love for him, might not even exist anymore.

The question he asked himself was like a knife twisting in his gut: Does that heart even exist anymore? The heart that used to beat for him, that used to care for him, where did it go? He knew the answer, even before the words escaped his lips.

He lashed out at the mirror again, his injured hand colliding with the glass. The pain was sharp, the shards cutting deeper into his flesh, but it did nothing to numb the torment in his soul. Blood poured from his hand, the crimson staining the mirror and the floor, but Sidharth barely noticed. His heart was bleeding far more than his hand ever could.

He repeated the mantra in his mind: I deserve this… I hate myself… I deserve this… He hated himself for failing her, for not being there, for everything that had gone wrong. The anger, the guilt, the helplessness—it all surged within him, a storm of emotions that threatened to drown him.

And then, just as he was about to strike the broken mirror again, a hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him mid-action. The touch was firm yet gentle, familiar and grounding. He knew that touch. He would recognize it anywhere. It was her—Shehnaaz.

He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, and what he saw there took his breath away. She was angry—angrier than he had ever seen her—but beneath that anger was a deep well of pain, frustration, and sorrow that mirrored his own. The intensity of her gaze held him captive, and for a moment, they simply stood there, staring at each other, both of them too consumed by their emotions to speak.

Sidharth’s chest heaved with the force of his ragged breaths, his eyes still clouded with guilt and self-loathing. But now, there was something else in his gaze—a silent plea for forgiveness, a desperate need to make things right. He had failed her, but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her entirely. He wanted to beg her, to tell her how sorry he was, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was look at her, silently asking for a chance to make amends.

” just what the hell are you doing…?”

Shehnaaz’s words echoed in the room, vibrating with a fierce intensity that matched the fire in her eyes. Sidharth’s frustration and pain were evident, but her anger was unrelenting. She couldn’t believe what he had done, the reckless way he had hurt himself without a second thought.

“Mene puchha.. kya kar rahe ho tum… kya samajhte ho tum apne aap ko… haan… superman ho… ke tum kanch ko punch karoge… aur tumhe chot nahi aayegi?” Shehnaaz’s voice rose with each word, her anger fueled by the sight of his bleeding hand. “Tum kyu hamesha aisi harkate karte ho jisse dusro ko taklif pohonchti hai… agar zimmedari le nahi sakte, to kam se dusro ki problems to mat badhao!”

Sidharth, his eyes filled with unshed tears, looked at her helplessly. He wanted to explain, to tell her how he felt, but the words wouldn’t come. His heart ached for the warmth of her understanding, but all he could see was her anger, and it crushed him.

Shehnaaz wasn’t having any of it. She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away from the shattered mirror, her frustration evident in every movement. “Sidharth, sit down right now!” she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument.

But Sidharth resisted, his own frustration boiling over. “Tu ja yahan se… mujhe akela chhod do,” he groaned, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with his guilt and pain.

Shehnaaz’s patience snapped. “Mene kaha beth Sidharth!” she shouted, her voice sharp and commanding. She wasn’t going to let him push her away, not when he was hurting himself like this.

He looked away, his voice a low, pained murmur, “Tujhe kya farak padta hai…?”

That was the last straw. Shehnaaz grabbed his collar, pulling him close, her eyes blazing with an intensity that matched the anger in her voice. “Mujhe farak padta hai… Samajhe tum? Farak padta hai mujhe!” she shouted, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and emotion.

_________________

Author’s Note