Alisha

“Forget it, Alisha… just forget it,” I whispered to myself as I ran down the empty road, my breath ragged, my tears mixing with the night air. “Use your tumor as an excuse, forget everything… forget that Papa raised his hand on you… forget it all.”

I wiped my cheeks roughly, still running, still muttering the same words over and over — as if repetition could erase pain. “He didn’t mean it… I pushed him too far… Papa would never—” My voice broke. “Forget it, Alisha. Just forget it.”

But memories have claws. The more I tried to shake them off, the deeper they dug in. The echo of that slap… the disbelief in Jayant’s eyes… the silence that followed — all of it burned.

My chest felt tight. My mind was spinning. And then — suddenly — everything around me dimmed. The lights blurred, the sounds melted away. I couldn’t tell where I was anymore. My legs kept moving, but I didn’t know where they were taking me.

“Where… am I?” I whispered. “Where was I going?”

I looked around — streets unfamiliar, voices fading. My name felt foreign in my own mouth. Who am I?

Then, through the fog, I saw it — a lake, shimmering faintly under the streetlight, and beside it, an old temple. A strange calm washed over me. And then I heard something — a whisper, soft, like it came from within me:

‘If you ever can’t find me, you’ll find me here.’

That voice… mine. But from when? To whom had I said that?

I didn’t know. Yet my feet moved on their own, guiding me to the temple, as if my soul remembered what my mind could not.

I sat by the lake’s edge. The night was quiet — hauntingly quiet. The water rippled softly, reflecting the moon. For the first time in hours, I wasn’t scared. Because somehow, I knew — he would come. Whoever “he” was, my heart was certain he would find me.

And then… I heard it.

“Alisha!”

That voice — familiar, desperate. My heart stopped. is this the same, am I Alisha, I turned around.

And in that instant — it all came flooding back.

The laughter. The fights. The warmth. The promises.
Jayant.

Without thinking, I ran to him and threw my arms around him, holding him like I’d found home again after being lost for centuries.

“You came,” I breathed against his shoulder. “I knew you would. I told you… if you ever couldn’t find me, you’d find me here.”

Everything inside me felt weightless. I looked up at him, the tears spilling freely now. My lips trembled as I spoke the words that had been trapped inside me for far too long.

“I love you, Jayant,” I said softly.

He froze, staring at me, stunned — but I couldn’t stop. I kept repeating it, again and again.

“I love you, Jayant. I love you, Jayant…”

Each word grew weaker, my vision dimmer. His voice blurred into the night, my heartbeat slowing — but even as darkness crept over me, I could still feel his warmth, his presence.

And with my last flicker of breath, I thought —At least… he came. He came for me, am i really this much special to him.

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

I didn’t know where I was. Everything around me was slipping in and out of focus — shadows, light, faint sounds — all blurring together into something unreal. But through the haze, I felt something.

Arms around me. Strong. Trembling. Holding me as if afraid I’d disappear.

Jayant.

I could feel his heartbeat against my skin, the uneven rhythm of fear and desperation. He was carrying me. I could sense the wind, the rush of motion, the weight of his steps — but my body refused to move. Everything inside me was heavy, distant.

“Ma..Mat jao,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath. My fingers, weak and cold, found his hand and clutched it feebly.

("Don’t… don’t let go")

“Main kahi nahi ja raha hoon,” he said, his voice breaking, trembling between strength and panic. “Main yahi hu, aur na hi main tumhe jane dunga.”

("Shh… I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here, Alisha. I’m not letting you go.")

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to hold on to that voice — but my vision was fading, his face turning into a swirl of light and shadow. My eyelids grew heavy, and before I could say anything more… darkness claimed me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was surrounded by white. Blinding, sterile white. Walls, ceiling, sheets — everything looked washed out, like the color had been drained from the world.

Where am I?

My head throbbed. My body felt weightless, disconnected from itself. I tried to move, but even breathing felt like a struggle. My gaze drifted around slowly.

This wasn’t my room. This wasn’t home.

And where was Jayant? Where was Papa? Why couldn’t I see them?

A horrible thought crawled into my mind. Am I… dead?

Panic rushed through my veins, weak but burning. I tried to call out, but my voice cracked — nothing came out except a faint gasp.

And then — through the fog — I saw him.

Jayant.

His face was pale, eyes red and swollen, tears streaking down his cheeks. He was saying something — desperately — but his words were muffled, as if I was underwater. I couldn’t hear him… I could only see him. His lips trembling, his eyes pleading.

Beside him stood Papa, his face broken in a way I had never seen before. His hands clasped together, helpless, his own tears falling freely.

My vision flickered. The sound of machines hummed softly somewhere near me. A nurse appeared — her presence cold, efficient — and I felt the sharp sting of an injection in my arm.

Jayant’s hand was still in mine. Warm. Shaking. I tried to squeeze it, but my strength was leaving me. My world was fading again — the whiteness melting into gray, the gray into black.

With my last ounce of breath, I turned my head slightly, searching for him through the blur.

“Don’t go…” I whispered. My voice cracked, barely audible.

And before I could hear his reply — everything went dark again.

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

“Maa… please, open your eyes… maa…”
A small, trembling voice echoed in my ears — soft, fragile, desperate. It sounded like a child… crying.

My eyelids felt impossibly heavy, but somehow, I managed to open them. A little girl sat beside me on the bed, her cheeks wet with tears, her tiny fingers clutching my hand.

“Maa… you won’t leave me, right? You won’t go away?” she said, her voice breaking between sobs.

Her face — it was hauntingly familiar. Why she look like me.  She looked just like me.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Who was she? How could she look like me? I wanted to reach out, to touch her, to tell her I wasn’t leaving — but before I could move, before I could speak — she vanished.

Just like smoke.
And in her place stood Jayant.

I blinked. My mind spun. Everything around me began to dissolve into darkness again. The bed beneath me disappeared — I was falling. Falling into a deep, endless well of black water.

“Jayant!” I tried to scream, but no sound escaped my throat. My voice was lost — trapped somewhere between my heart and my lips. I could only see him — his face fading, his arms reaching out for me — and then, suddenly, I felt it.

Warmth. A hand in mine.

I opened my eyes again — really opened them this time — and I was in his arms. Jayant was holding me tightly against his chest. My breaths came in ragged gasps, my lungs burning for air. The smell of antiseptic filled the air. We were in a hospital room.

I felt like I had just come back from death.

Jayant’s voice was the first thing that reached me. Low, shaken, and full of relief.
“Hey… hey… it’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re fine.”

His fingers brushed my hair from my face, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

His fingers brushed my hair from my face, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

But I wasn’t fine. Everything inside me was trembling — my heart, my hands, even my voice. I clung to him, my body shaking uncontrollably.
“Jayant… please… take me away from here. Bahut adhera hain yaha, main kho jaungi.” I whispered, my voice cracking, trembling like a frightened child’s.

("There’s too much darkness. I’ll get lost in it.")

Jayant pulled me closer, his grip firm, protective. “I’m here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m right here, Alisha.”

“Please, Jayant…” I pleaded again, my tears wetting his shirt.

He exhaled shakily, his hand tightening around mine. “Okay, babah” he murmured softly, his voice breaking with emotion. “Chalte hain yaha se.”

("Okay, baba… we’ll go")

He gently removed the IV needle from my arm, careful not to hurt me. Then, without another word, he slid his arms beneath me and lifted me up — one arm under my knees, the other around my shoulders.

I buried my face in his chest as he carried me out of that white, silent room — out of that place where I had been trapped between life and death.

His heartbeat was the only sound I could hear. And for the first time in a long while… I felt like I was home.

___________________________________________

Jayant

Day 11

Alisha had been unconscious for the past 24 hours. She would open her eyes slightly, then close them again. But now, she looked terrified — the fear was clearly visible in her body. I held her tightly. as though my touch could shield her from the world that had hurt her far too much.

When I tried to lift her from the bed, the nurse’s voice broke from behind, “Sir, you can’t take the patient out like this.”
I didn’t answer. I just walked. Outside the room, her father—alok uncle—appeared, confusion written all over his face.

“Jayant! Where are you taking her? Put her down right now,” he demanded, stepping forward to block my way.
“She needs to stay here. She needs medical attention,” he pleaded, his tone trembling between anger and fear.

But I didn’t stop walking. I couldn’t. Every heartbeat of hers against my chest was a reminder that she was still fighting — and I wouldn’t let that fight fade under these cold hospital lights.

“Jayant!” Uncle’s voice cracked as he reached out to grab my arm. “You can’t just walk out like this. She was unconscious for over twenty-four hours! Her pulse was weak, she nearly—” his voice faltered, “—she nearly slipped away. You’re putting her life at risk!”

I kept walking until his next words stopped me cold.
“Jayant, you’re putting Alisha’s life at risk.”

“Me? Really?” I snapped. “Or maybe you’ve already done that. If you hadn’t slapped her, she would’ve been fine! You were the one who said 'We must keep her happy at all costs.' Then why were you the one who—”

“I know,” Uncle interrupted, guilt in his voice. “I shouldn’t have done it. But she needs medical attention right now.”

“She was unconscious for twenty-four hours—not because of the tumor, but because her heart was hurt,” I said bitterly. “Do you really think the doctors can heal the wounds you caused? You know hospitals have always terrified her. Just look at her—how tightly she’s holding onto me.”

He looked at her, limp in my arms, and quietly stepped aside. He understood—at least for that moment—that she wanted to leave.

As I moved toward the exit, he called after me, voice cracking, “Spend as much time as you want with her, Jayant… but don’t ever take her away from me.”

He hesitated, then added, “If she wakes up, tell her her father loves her. But I won’t say sorry for that slap. Yes, my daughter made a mistake—and her father punished her.”

Something inside me burned. “Do you really believe you did nothing wrong?” I asked.

He met my eyes. “Yes.”

“Then maybe you’ve already lost her,” I said quietly. “Because she’s dying… and still, you won’t bend your pride.”

“If I bend, she’ll be right — Her words proven right.”

“But I would bend… for her.”I said quietly.

“You and I… we’re different.” he answered.

Alisha’s unconscious body was in my arms. She said something — maybe “Jayant” — then, without saying more. And with that, I turned, and left the hospital.

As soon as we stepped out of the hospital, Alisha whispered softly, “Jayant, take me somewhere… just you and me.” I didn’t know where to take her. I quickly texted Vijay to get a private jet ready, then carried Alisha in my arms and boarded the plane. We flew straight to Goa.

After landing, we got into a car and drove to a private beach — just a small hut in the middle of the night. Under the sparkling stars, I sat Alisha down, and the gentle sound of the waves filled the air around us.

Alisha’s face looked completely calm as she watched the waves roll in. I sat beside her. After a moment, she said softly, “I want to dance… with you.”

She wasn’t strong enough to even stand properly, so I said gently, “Alisha, there’s no music here.”
“You don’t need music to dance,” she whispered. “You just need to feel it.”
“But Alisha, Tum abhi—” I started to protest, but she cut me off.
“Tum ho na. Bas.”

("You’re here… that’s enough")

So we both stood up. I held her tightly — she didn’t have the strength to move on her own. I placed her feet over mine, one hand around her waist, the other holding her hand. She didn’t have to do anything; I moved for both of us. Wherever I stepped, she followed. In perfect rhythm, we danced like that — slow, quiet, together.

A faint smile lingered on her lips. Because of her illness, she couldn’t laugh freely, but her eyes said it all — she was truly happy. Her face was so close to mine; in seventeen years, I had never seen her like this. It felt strange, yet peaceful — as if I could spend an entire lifetime just like this: her feet on mine, her hands in mine, swaying gently in the stillness of the night.

Slowly, as we moved, her head fell against my chest — she had fallen asleep. I lifted her carefully and carried her inside the tent, laying her down. But as I started to move away, she held my hand and murmured, “Don’t leave me.”

So I stayed there — sitting beside her, gently running my fingers through her hair.

___________________________________________

Alisha

Day 12

When I slowly opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Jayant—sitting right in front of me, his hand resting gently in my hair. He had fallen asleep like that, his head tilted slightly, his breathing calm and even. For a moment, I just watched him.

I carefully lifted my head from under his hand and placed my palm over his instead. His skin was warm against mine. Without even realizing it, I tugged softly, pulling him closer. He stirred slightly, shifting in his sleep, and before I knew it, he had slipped down beside me, lying on the same bed—so close that our breaths mingled in the quiet air of the tent.

His eyes were still closed. The rise and fall of his chest brushed lightly against me. I had spent so many moments of my life in his arms—moments of comfort, of chaos, of silent understanding—but here, in this tiny tent by the sea, it felt different.

There was something about the way the moonlight touched his face, the way the night wrapped around us, that made my heart tremble. I could smell the faint salt of his skin, the warmth of his breath. For the first time, I felt Jayant—not as a presence I relied on, but as a heartbeat beside my own.

My gaze drifted to his lips. Perfectly still. Beautiful. And for a second, my heartbeat stumbled. I wanted to feel them—to know the taste of that quiet strength that had carried me through every storm. My hand trembled slightly as I leaned closer.

But then, something inside me stopped me. 'Nahi, alisha yeh galat hain.'
('No, Alisha… this isn’t right.')

The thought echoed softly through my chest. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. Then, instead of pressing my lips to his, I lowered my head and rested it against his chest.

His heartbeat met my ear—steady, deep, like a song the universe wrote just for me. I smiled faintly. The world outside didn’t matter; this rhythm was all I needed to survive.

Seventeen years… and for the first time, Jayant was this close—close enough that I could feel the heat of his skin, close enough that I could believe I wasn’t alone anymore.

“Agar abhi main maar bhi gayi,” I whispered softly, “To mujhe koi regret nhi hoga.”

("If I die like this, I won’t regret a thing")

For a second, I thought he was still asleep—until I heard him murmur, voice heavy with sleep, “Itni jaldi nahi…”

("Not so soon")

I couldn’t help but smile. My chest tightened with something that wasn’t pain this time—it was peace. I closed my eyes again, listening to the music of his heartbeat until it lulled me back into sleep.
'You are the light of my dark nights.'

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

In morning, we went out and played near the ocean—laughing, running, splashing water like two kids who had never known sorrow. I climbed onto his back, my hair brushing against his shoulder as he ran through the waves. For a few precious moments, the world was perfect—weightless, quiet, and alive.

After playing for a long time, I said teasingly, “Water dekh liya, ab ice dekhne chale?”
He turned with a small laugh, the sea glinting behind him. “Chalo.”

We boarded his private jet. The sky outside looked endless—an ocean turned upside down. Jayant leaned closer and asked, “To ab kya karna hai?”
Without realizing, I whispered, “Tumhe kiss.”

He froze, eyes wide. I saw the light in them flicker for a second. To ease the tension, I kissed his cheek quickly and said with a faint laugh, “Main iski baat kar rahi thi.” But inside, my heart was trembling just like his.

When we landed in Manali, the air was cold and sharp, and everything around us looked like a dream painted in white. But something between us had changed—something unspoken, fragile. That one word on the plane had shifted the air.

After getting ready, we went out to see the snow. It was quiet, almost too quiet. I bent down, made a snowball, and threw it straight at him. It hit his shoulder, scattering into dust.

He looked at me with a faint smile, picked up some snow, and threw it back. I laughed, stepping closer, my cheeks pink from cold. I cupped his face in my hands and said softly, “Hey… zyada mat socho, main kuch bhi bol deti hu.”

He looked down at me, voice heavy. “Kuch bhi nahi tha woh… apne dil ki baat kahi thi.”

I swallowed hard. “Haan.”

He took a breath that sounded like pain. “Mujhe nafrat ho rahi hai khud se.”

“Nafrat isliye kyunki main tumse pyaar karti hu?” I asked quietly.

He shook his head. “Nahi. Bahut dard diya hai maine tumhe.”

I smiled faintly. “To ab meri marham bhi to ban rahe ho na.”

“Tum mujhe maaf kaise kar sakti ho, Alisha?”

“Main tumse kabhi naraz hui hi nahi thi,” I said softly.

He stared at me like he didn’t believe it. “Kyu nahi hui? Tumhe nafrat karni chahiye mujhse.”

“Ek baar pyaar ho jaye to us insaan se nafrat nahi hoti kabhi.”

His eyes glistened. “Main nafrat ke layak hu.”

I stepped closer, placing my hand on his heart. “Mujhe to sirf pyaar ke layak lagte ho.”

He whispered, his voice breaking, “Mat kar mujhse itna pyaar.”

“Kar lene do… bas kuch din aur,” I said.

And before I knew it, we were holding each other—two broken pieces trying to fit again. Snow kept falling, melting on our skin like tears. His arms tightened around me, and for that moment, the world disappeared. There was no pain, no time, no tomorrow—just us, lost in the silence of white.

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

Day 13

We were wandering through the quiet hills, when Jayant suddenly said, “Alisha, ab hume ghar wapas chalna chahiye.”

I stopped and looked at him, the wind gently lifting a strand of my hair. “Kal chalte hain na,” I murmured, unwilling to let go of the peace I’d found here.

We walked a little farther in silence until he caught my hand, his grip firm yet gentle. “Tum abhi bhi uncle se naraz ho?” he asked, his voice low.

I looked away, my fingers trembling slightly in his. “Nahi, bilkul bhi nahi,” I replied quickly.

“To fir do din se unse baat kyu nahi ki?” he pressed.

I hesitated, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. “Aisi baat nahi… main unse naraz nahi hoon, sach me nahi. Main bas… dar rahi hoon. Unhe face karne se. Maine galat kaha tha. Us waqt mujhe aisa nahi bolna chahiye tha.”

My voice broke, and tears burned behind my eyes. “Main jaanti hoon meri jaan kitni keemti hai ab,” I whispered, my voice barely holding together.

Before the tears could fall, Jayant reached out, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “Bahut ho gaya bhagna… ab ghar chalo,” he said softly.

All I could do was nod. There was no strength left to argue, no reason to. I just wanted to stop running—from him, from Papa, from myself.

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

In Delhi.

Papa stood in middle of living room, his voice firm yet tired. “Galti karke bhagna kab se seekh liya tumne?”

I stood a few feet away, my head bowed, my heart pounding against my ribs. His disappointment hurt more than his anger ever could.

“Bolo, Alisha,” he said again, his tone sharp but trembling slightly.

I couldn’t speak. Words felt too small, too late.

So I walked to him, my tears spilling before I could stop them, and wrapped my arms around him tightly. “Sorry, Papa… mujhe nahi kehna chahiye tha woh sab,” I cried against his chest.

For a moment, he didn’t move. And then his arms came around me, pulling me close like he used to when I was a child afraid of thunderstorms. He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Bas,” he whispered, his voice softening. “Sab theek hai.”

And in that moment, in his arms, all the distance, all the silence, all the guilt I’d carried began to fade — just like the mountains disappearing in the mist that morning when Jayant had said, “Let’s go home.”

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

It doesn’t matter how much darkness there is in my life… because I still have people who pull me out of it—every single time.
Jayant. Papa. My friends.
The darker the night grows, the brighter their light shines.

I want to remember every moment of my life—good or bad—because each one has shaped me into who I am.

And then, out of nowhere, some old words—came rushing back to me, echoing softly in my mind:

Just then, I heard his voice from behind—calm, familiar, and grounding.
“Alisha, kya kar rahi ho akele?”

("Alisha, what are you doing alone?")

I turned around. Jayant was standing by the door, his hands tucked into his pockets, a faint concern glimmering in his eyes.

I smiled softly, trying to hide the storm building inside me.
“Jayant… ek poetry sunoge?” I asked.

("Jayant… will you listen to a poem?)

His lips curved into that gentle smile that always melted my fears.
“Haan, zarur bolo,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving mine.

("Sure, tell me")

“Jayant… you don’t know how special you are to me.
You’re the light in my shadows—
my firefly in the daylight,
who doesn’t shine for the world…
but glows only for me.

Those stormy eyes of yours…
the kind people get lost in—
they scare me, a little.
Because I want to hold them safe,
the way I once held my mother’s gaze,
and felt like I was home.

You taught me how to laugh again…
how to reclaim this world as my own.
But remember—
in every smile of yours,
lives the heartbeat of mine.

I want to be with you—
not just for now,
but for always…
because… I love you.”

I was giving him my soul—line by line, word by word—the same way he had unknowingly given me back my life.

Jayant just stood there, silent.
Not a word. Not a movement. Just… still.

That poetry—I had written it for him, long ago. It was supposed to be my confession…But the last line—the most important one—never reached him.
And tonight… I finally said it.

But why now?
Because I’m dying?
Or because he already knows the truth about me?

My heart was beating too fast. The silence between us felt suffocating, stretching longer and longer until it began to ache.

He didn’t say a word. Just stood there, expression unreadable.
Did I hurt him? Did I make things harder? Maybe I shouldn’t have said it. Maybe I should’ve kept that last line locked inside me—where it belonged.

But I couldn’t. Not tonight.
He still didn’t feel the same. I hurt him again. Why my actions are not in my control.

__________________________________________

🫶🫶

Finally story come to end now.
Kuch chapters aur bas.