I walked out of my Angel's flat, my mind a storm of emotions. Her face-the pale, fragile expression, her swollen feet-it all haunted me. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve any of the pain or the struggle she was enduring.
I tried to push it out of my mind, but it lingered, gnawing at me. If she was in pain, I should feel it too.
Without thinking, I found myself heading straight for a mission. I didn't care about the details. My mind was consumed by her-by her suffering-and the need to feel something, anything.
I knew what I had to do. I walked into the heart of my enemy's territory, the place where my rivals lurked, hungry for power, ready to do whatever it took to see me fall.
I didn't fight back. I didn't hide. I let them attack. Every blow, every strike, I welcomed it. I wanted the pain. I needed to feel it, to drown out the ache inside me, the ache that came from seeing her in that state.
They didn't know who they were dealing with. They didn't know that nothing could kill me-not while I was cursed, not while I was bound to live, forced to endure, to watch the years stretch on endlessly.
But right now, in this moment, I didn't care about the curse. I didn't care about the eternity I had been condemned to. I wanted the pain-because if my Jaan was feeling it, then so should I.
The hits kept coming. I didn't flinch. I let them land, letting the agony fill me, because as long as it made me feel something, I didn't care.
But then, I did something that surprised everyone. I stopped my men from intervening. I ordered them to stay back. They were ready to strike, to defend me, but I didn't want that.
"I need to feel all of it," I muttered under my breath, my voice dark, edged with something that could only be described as desperation. "Let them do it. Let them hit me. I need every ounce of this pain."
I knew it wasn't enough. The satisfaction of their blows didn't fill the void inside me. It couldn't. Nothing could. But I would let them beat me, let them think they were winning, because I needed it. I needed to feel every bruise, every cut, every broken bone.
Once the pain reached its peak, I stood up. My vision was blurry, my body heavy with the torment I'd willingly endured. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough until I could pour all my rage and anger into one final act.
I grabbed the nearest weapon, my hand steady despite the pain, my resolve clear. I turned toward my rivals, the ones who dared to strike me, the ones who thought they could break me.
They had no idea what they were in for.
With a guttural snarl, I charged at them, my body screaming in agony, but my mind clear. No more waiting. No more pain.
I slaughtered them, one by one.
The last thing I felt was relief-a deep, hollow satisfaction.
And as their bodies hit the ground, I whispered, "No one touches what's mine."
Every day, I wake up, go through my morning routine, and face the world like I always do. But today... today felt different. There was a sense of relief within me, a strange calm that I couldn't quite explain. It wasn't like any other morning, and I couldn't pinpoint why. But I decided to ignore it, to push it away.
I freshened up, had my breakfast, and made my way to work at the café. The day felt like a blur of routine, until I learned something unexpected. All the employees' salaries had been increased. I was shocked-surprised even. I didn't know what to make of it. Was it a reward for our hard work? Maybe the owner had finally noticed our efforts. Whatever the reason, I just accepted it, not questioning it too much.
The day went by quickly, and before I knew it, I was back at my flat, exhausted. I dragged myself to my bed, collapsing onto it. But even then, I couldn't escape the thoughts of him-Ashtram Raghuvanshi.
I reached up, almost instinctively, and touched the pendant around my neck-the one he had gifted me. A part of me wanted to rip it off, to forget everything about him. But I couldn't. No matter how much I tried to hate him, the truth was my heart still longed for him. I could never hate him, not really. My mind screamed at me to stay away, but my heart refused to listen.
I let out a shaky breath and pulled out a photograph from my drawer-the one of my parents. I stared at it for a long moment, my chest tightening.
"Mumma... Papa..." I whispered softly, my voice trembling.
Tears welled up in my eyes, falling down my cheeks in silent streams. I hadn't even realized how much time had passed since I last allowed myself to mourn for them. It felt like a lifetime ago. I couldn't even remember the moments we had shared, how I had felt safe in their embrace. I had been so small when they were taken from me.
I blinked back more tears, but the pain in my heart only seemed to grow. I had spent so many years alone, wondering if anyone would ever fill the emptiness. And then Ashtram had come into my life. I had thought that maybe, just maybe, I had finally found someone to call mine. Someone who would make me feel whole again.
But my world had shattered when I learned who he really is-the mafia king, the devil who had blood on his hands. I had been so naive to think that love could exist in someone like him. He is a killer, and nothing could change that.
I clutched the pendant tighter, the tears coming faster now.
"I wanted to believe in you, Ash," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "But you're nothing like what I hoped for."
I clung to the photo of my parents, holding it tightly to my chest. The weight of the world felt too much to bear, and my eyelids fluttered shut. Exhaustion overtook me, and I drifted off into a restless sleep, the photo still pressed close to my heart.
I find myself standing in front of her flat again, my feet bringing me here like an unseen force. I had to see her, even if it meant being a shadow in her life. I step inside quietly, not wanting to disturb her, but I can sense her presence, feel her heartbeat even from across the room.
My Jaan... she's sleeping. I move closer, my eyes landing on her delicate form, curled up in her bed. There's something so heartbreaking about the way she's holding onto the photo, pressing it to her chest like it's the only thing keeping her together.
She cried tonight... I can feel it in the way she's clutching the picture, the remnants of her sorrow lingering in the air. I walk closer and gaze down at the photo in her hands. It's of a couple with a baby, and my heart stutters for a moment. I know that baby. It's my Niranya-how could I not? She had once shown me her baby picture, a glimpse of the innocent girl who had once been so full of life, so full of love.
Now, I see her, my angel, clinging to the photo, feeling alone. She's so small in that image, and yet she's so much more than that now. I can see it. The ache in her eyes when she spoke of her parents. The loneliness she tries to hide behind that strong exterior. But no, my little baby...
I'm here.
I can't stand it. The pain in her eyes calls to me in a way nothing else ever has. She doesn't know I'm here, doesn't know that I watch over her like a shadow. I can't come in front of her. I can't let her see how deep my obsession runs, but I'll always be here, just out of sight.
I lean down, my lips brushing softly against her forehead, a tender kiss to the woman who's unknowingly taken over my soul. My heart beats faster as I kneel beside her, my hands hovering over her feet.
Just like last night, I massage them gently, knowing how exhausted she must be from her work. She works so hard at that café, pushing herself beyond her limits. But it's not enough. Not enough for me to just stand by. Not enough to watch her suffer silently.
I had already made sure she wouldn't have to work so much, increasing the salaries of the other employees at the café. I'm providing comfort to her workplace-ensuring she has everything she needs, though she doesn't even know it. I want her to work there, to feel safe and comfortable, without the weight of exhaustion bearing down on her.
But still, it's not enough. I need to take care of my angel. I need to be there for her, to protect her, even if I can't be visible. I will stay behind the scenes, watching, guarding, doing everything for her-even if she never knows the lengths I go to.
I will always be behind her, just like the shadow I've become. And that's where I'll stay, as long as she needs me.
A tear slips from my eye, something I haven't allowed myself to feel in years. But for her, my heart shatters a little more every time I see her in pain. My baccha...
I can't bear it. I wipe the tear quickly, not wanting to show weakness, but it's too late. She has already broken me in ways I never thought possible.
I will never leave you alone, baccha.
I glance down at her neck and see the pendant-the one I gave her. It's still there, resting against her skin, just like it always has been. A soft smile forms on my lips, my heart swelling with an emotion I can't name.
My angel...
She doesn't completely hate me, not yet. She still wears it, meaning there's a part of her that still feels something for me. She still misses me.
Because you belong here, Jaan. You belong with me.
I stand there, watching her for what feels like an eternity, as the first light of morning begins to filter through the window. She looks so peaceful now, finally at rest. My heart aches as I take in every detail-her soft breathing, the way her body shifts slightly in her sleep, the small, contented expression on her face, even as she clings to the photo of her parents.
I linger for a while longer, knowing I can't stay. I can't cross that line just yet, even though every part of me wants to pull her close, to hold her and make everything right.
But I have to leave. As the night fades and morning slowly begins to arrive, I silently slip out of her flat, my heart heavy with a mixture of longing and determination.
I won't give up on her. Not ever.
Write a comment ...