AUTHOR PERSPECTIVE:

The visitation room felt lifeless, cold, quiet, and heavy. The smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, mixing with the damp scent of concrete. A thick glass wall stood between Abhimanyu and everything he once had.

He sat on a metal stool, wearing a dull prison uniform. His hands, once so gentle as they held her, traced her face, and comforted her through every storm, were now rough; the skin around his knuckles dry from the cold of the cell.

On the other side of the glass sat Aishwarya. Beside her sat Aarav. She wasn't just his sister today; she was the sharpest legal mind in the state, and her briefcase was snapped open on the ledge, overflowing with files.

"I've already filed to suppress the witness statements from the highway," Aishwarya whispered, her voice trembling despite her professional mask. "Bhai, the timeline doesn't add up. I can prove your car was at the office. I can get the CCTV from the parking lot. We can end this trial in forty-eight hours."

"I've spoken to my team also and it's best criminal defense team in the city," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm going to fight this case myself. I'll prove you weren't there. I'll find the loophole, I'll-"

"No." His voice was a low, guttural rasp. It was the first time he'd spoken in days.

"Bhai, listen to me!" she snapped, her lawyer instincts flaring. "The media is calling you a monster. They're saying you're a killer. I am your sister, and I am your counsel. I will not let you go down for a crash you didn't cause!"

He leaned forward, his shadow falling over her papers. He looked her straight in the eye, his gaze devoid of any warmth. "You will do nothing, Aishwarya. You will close those files, you will withdraw as my counsel, and you will stay as far away from this courtroom as possible."

"Bhai, listen to me-" she sobbed, her composure finally breaking.

"I said no." He voice cut through the room, his gaze boring into hers with a coldness that made her flinch. "My lawyer is already handling everything. I don't want a single family member interfering. Not you, not Dad, not anyone."

He took a step back, like distance itself could sever the bond. "And I don't want to see any of you at the hearings. Stay away from the court."

"The news is dragging your name through the mud!" Aishwarya shot back, her patience finally snapping.

"Let them," he said, already stepping back. There was no hesitation in his voice, no trace of doubt.

"Just take care of her."

His eyes flickered once; brief, almost unnoticeable before turning cold again. "And if I find out any of you are trying to save me...." He paused, letting the weight of it settle. "I'll never speak to you again. That's my last word."

"But why?" she sobbed, pressing her hand to the glass. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because if you dig for the truth, you'll find her," he hissed, his voice barely audible but lethal. "If you prove I wasn't driving, the police will start asking who was. They'll look at her car. They'll look at her trauma. They'll drag Aarushi into a witness box and strip her soul bare in front of the whole world. She cannot survive a prison sentence, Aish. But I can. And I will."

He looked at Aarav, who was silent, his head bowed in shame because he knew Abhimanyu was right.

"If any family member interferes," he reminded again, his voice cold and final, "if any of you try to save me by pointing the finger at the real accident, I will consider it a betrayal. I don't want dad's influence, I don't want Anirudh's medical reports, and I don't want you in that court. My court appointed lawyer will plead the way I tell him to."

"You'll get ten years, Abhi," Aarav whispered, finally looking up.

"Then I'll serve ten years," Abhi replied, standing up as the guard tapped his stick against the door. "As long as she wakes up in a home, not a cell. As long as she thinks the world is kind. That is the only thing that matters."

He turned his back on them, the sound of Aishwarya's muffled sobs echoing against the concrete. Every step back to the cell was heavy, but his heart was steady.

_

The first thing Aarushi felt was the weight of her own eyelids. They felt like lead, stitched shut by an exhaustion she couldn't name. Then came the sounds; the rhythmic, mechanical hiss of a ventilator and the distant, clinical chatter of a hospital hallway.

When she finally forced her eyes open, the harsh fluorescent lights felt like needles.

"Abhi...." The name was a ghost of a sound, her throat so dry it felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

Aarav was there in an instant. He had been sitting in the corner, his face haggard, but the moment she stirred, he was over her, clutching her hand as if he were afraid she'd slip away again.

"Gudiya? Oh, thank God. Doctor! She's awake!"

Aarushi blinked, her gaze darting around the room. Her head throbbed with a dull, rhythmic pulse. Fragments of memories hit her; the rain, the blinding headlights, the sound of metal crunching, and the terrifying image of her so-called father's face.

"Where.... where is Abhi?" she whispered, her voice cracking. Her eyes searching the room frantically.

Aarav's grip on her hand tightened, just a fraction too much. He didn't meet her eyes immediately.

Aarav looked away, his jaw tightening. "He's... he's away for work, gudiya. There was a massive crisis with the international merger. He had to fly out urgently. He's been calling every hour to check on you."

Aarushi frowned, a cold knot forming in her stomach. Abhimanyu wouldn't leave. Not after that night. Not when she was broken.

"He didn't wait?" she asked, her lip trembling. "Bhai, look at me. Why isn't he here?"

Her heart sank. "He didn't wait for me to wake up?"

"It was a billion-dollar merger, gudiya," Aarav said, his voice sounding rehearsed, too steady to be natural. "He's frantic, but he's stuck there until the paperwork is signed."

"It was unavoidable, bhabhi" Aishwarya added, stepping forward with a forced smile. "You know how he is. He's working day and night to wrap it up so he can come back to stay with you forever."

She didn't believe their words. The Abhi she knew would have burned the empire to the ground to sit by her bed.

She looked around the room; there were flowers, cards from the family, but no personal touch from him. No scent of his cologne. No notes in his jagged, elegant handwriting.

"My phone," she rasped. "Give me my phone."

"Later, Gudiya. You need to rest. Your blood pressure-"

"Bhaiya! Give me my phone!"

He reached into his pocket and handed it to her. She dialed Abhi's number with shaking fingers. Switch off. She tried again. Switch off.

"Why is his phone off?"

"Security," Aarav said quickly, stepping toward the door to call the nurse. "International protocols for the merger. He'll call you from a secure line soon. I promise."

The heavy tension in the room was broken by the door swinging open. Anirudh and Roohi walked in, but they weren't alone. Roohi was carrying a small, soft bundle wrapped in a pale yellow blanket.

"Look who came to see her aunt," Roohi whispered, her eyes shining with forced cheer as she laid the bundle in the crook of Aarushi's arm.

It was Anika's baby. A tiny, perfect boy with a tuft of dark hair and a sleeping, peaceful face. The sight of the infant sent a jolt of pure, raw emotion through Aarushi. For a moment, the dark clouds in her mind parted. The warmth of the baby, the tiny weight of a new life, acted like a balm on her shattered nerves.

"He's cute," Aarushi breathed, her finger brushing the baby's velvet soft cheek.

"Anika di wanted him to be the first thing you saw," Roohi said, glancing nervously at Aarav. "She's at home resting, but she sent her heart to you."

For a few minutes, Aarushi allowed herself to be distracted. She watched the baby breathe, a small smile finally touching her pale lips. But as the baby stirred, the silence in the room returned, heavy and suffocating.

She looked up at the people standing around her bed. They were all smiling, but their eyes were full of pity that terrified her.

"The accident," Aarushi said, her voice stronger now. "The other cars. The farmhouse. What happened?"

The smiles vanished instantly.

"Don't worry about that," Anirudh said, stepping forward to check her IV drip, his doctor mask firmly in place. "Aishwarya legal team handled everything. It was a mess, but it's over. You just need to focus on the baby."

"What baby?" Aarushi asked, confused, looking at the child in her arms. "Anika's?"

Anirudh took a deep breath, sharing a look with Aarav. "No, bhabhi. Your baby. You're six weeks pregnant. You lost a lot of blood, but the child.... the child is a fighter. Just like you."

Aarushi froze. Her hand went instinctively to her stomach. A life. Abhi's life was inside her. The joy was an explosion in her chest, followed immediately by a devastating wave of fear.

If I'm pregnant, why isn't he here? If I have his child, why is his phone switched off?

The day of Aarushi's discharge from the hospital was not the celebration it should have been. It felt more like a funeral; quiet, heavy, and filled with a fragile desperation to keep the truth from shattering her.

As the nurses wheeled Aarushi toward the exit, the Singhania family stood in a semi circle, their faces masks of forced cheer.

"Take care of her, Roohi," Abhi's mother whispered, leaning in to kiss Aarushi's forehead. Her voice trembled. She looked like she wanted to scream the truth that her son was sleeping on a concrete floor so this girl could breathe but she only managed a watery smile. "Eat well, Aaru. For the baby."

Her father-in-law stood beside her, not as the powerful man the world knew, but as her Papa. His hand rested gently on his wife's shoulder, but his eyes were only on Aarushi; soft, worried, and filled with a helpless kind of love.

He stepped closer, his movements slower than usual, as if afraid she might break.

"Aaru…." his voice was low, steady, but not distant; never distant with her. He reached out, placing his hand on her head the way he always did, a silent blessing, a quiet reassurance.

"I'm here."

There was no stiffness, no formality. Just presence.

He had already done everything he could; kept the media away, silenced the noise outside, stood like a wall between her and the world but in that moment, none of that mattered to him.

All that mattered was her.

His thumb brushed lightly against her hair, the same way he would when she sat beside him in the garden, laughing over tea.

"You don't have to worry about anything," he said softly. "Not today. Not ever. I'll handle everything."

Aarushi nodded, her eyes glittering.

"We're ready," Aarav said, his voice tight. He and Aishwarya were waiting by the car. Aishwarya, usually the sharp tongue, was unusually quiet, her briefcase tucked away as if she wanted to forget the law existed for just one day.

Roohi stepped forward, her bags already packed. She wasn't just going as a sister-in-law; she was going as Aarushi's shadow, her protector.

Anirudh stood by the car door, his hands buried deep in his white doctor's coat. His eyes were fixed on Roohi, a storm of unspoken emotions swirling in them. He looked exhausted; not just from the hospital shifts, but from the weight of the secret they were all carrying.

As they moved toward the car, Anirudh caught Roohi's wrist. His eyes were dark, a storm of frustration and something deeper swirling in them. Roohi paused in front of Anirudh.

"You're really going?" he asked, his voice low and stiff.

Roohi steeped closer adjusting the collar of his coat with a lingering touch, a small, teasing smirk playing on her lips despite the gloom of the day. "Why, Doctor? Afraid you'll actually have to miss me? Or are you just worried you'll have to talk to your own shadow since I won't be there to trouble you?"

He didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened, eyes fixed on her face like he was trying to memorize it without making it obvious.

His fingers twitched at his side, as if he wanted to hold her wrist, stop her or say something real for once. But the words stayed stuck somewhere between pride and fear.

"Just…. take care of her and yourself," he muttered, the restraint in his voice louder than anything he could have confessed.

"Don't look so miserable, Dr sahab," she whispered, her voice low enough that only he could hear. A small, playful smirk danced on her lips for a fleeting second. "It's only a few weeks. Unless.... you've finally realized you can't actually function without me around to annoy you?"

Anirudh's jaw tightened. He didn't smile back. He looked away, his expression turning cold, almost stony. "Just do your job, Roohi. Make sure bhabhi takes her meds. That's all that matters right now."

He pulled his arm away from her touch, his coldness a sharp contrast to her warmth. Roohi's smirk flickered, a momentary flash of hurt crossing her eyes before she masked it.

"Akdoo kaduu kahi ka," she murmured, turning to get into the car.

Anirudh watched the car pull away, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his stethoscope. He didn't move until the tail lights vanished.

The first week at Aarav and Aishwarya's house was a blur of painkillers and silence. Aarushi spent most of her time in her room, her hand perpetually resting on her stomach.

She was recovering physically, the bandages came off, the color returned to her cheeks but her soul was restless. Every time a door opened, she jumped. Every time a phone rang, she reached for it hoping it was Abhi.

"He still hasn't called from his personal number, Roohi," Aarushi said, staring out at the garden. "A month. It's been a month. What kind of merger requires him to be completely invisible?"

Roohi, who was peeling an orange for her, didn't look up. "He's in a high security zone, bhabhi. The investors are difficult. You know bhai, he won't come back until he's won."

"I don't want him to win," Aarushi whispered, her voice breaking. "I just want him to be here for the first ultrasound. I want him to hear the heartbeat."

Roohi's hands paused mid motion, the orange peel hanging loose between her fingers. For a second, something flickered in her eyes but she quickly masked it with a soft smile.

"He will, bhabhi," she said gently, placing the plate beside her. "Bhai never misses anything that matters."

Aarushi didn't respond. Her gaze stayed fixed outside, but her fingers tightened slightly over her stomach.

Roohi exhaled quietly and stood up. "I'll just get your medicines from downstairs. You haven't taken them yet."

Aarushi nodded absentmindedly.

The room fell into silence as Roohi walked out, her footsteps fading down the corridor. Barely a minute passed before a sharp vibration broke the stillness.

Aarushi's phone buzzed on the nightstand. It lit up again, the screen flashing insistently in the quiet room. Aarushi's eyes shifted slowly toward it.

Unknown Number.

She lunged for it. "Hello?"

There was a long, heavy silence on the other end. All she could hear was a faint, rhythmic scratching sound and a distant, muffled shout. Then, a voice that sounded like it had been dragged through gravel.

"Moon...." Abhimanyu's voice came out softer than he expected, trembling with a weight he couldn't hide.

On the other side, silence fell again. Aarushi stopped breathing for a second. Then, a shaky breath escaped her.

"Abhi...."

That one word shattered the wall he had built around his heart. He closed his eyes tight, leaning his forehead against the cold metal casing of the prison payphone. She was okay. She was alive. She was speaking his name.

"Abhi!" she suddenly sobbed, her body collapsing back onto the pillows. The dam broke, and her words came out in a frantic rush. "Where are you? Why aren't you coming home? Why is your phone off? I need you.... I have to tell you something."

In the prison yard, Abhimanyu's fingers trembled as they gripped the plastic receiver. A guard stood only ten feet away, watching him with a cold, indifferent gaze. The harsh sunlight beat down on the yard, but Abhi felt frozen. His heart slammed against his ribs so hard it felt like it would break through his chest.

He listened to the music of her voice; the fragile, confused tone that tore him apart.

"How are you?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Why didn't you come to me?"

He swallowed hard. He had imagined this moment a thousand times in his dark cell, rehearsing what he would say. But now that he was hearing her, the truth felt like a physical weight he couldn't carry.

So, he lied. He chose the lie to save her.

"Work.... got stuck, Moon," he said quietly, forcing his voice to stay low. "I'm fine."

There was a pause. A long, agonizing stretch of time where only their breathing connected them.

"Abhi...." she whispered, "I.... I need to tell you something."

His grip tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white. "Yes, My Moon?"

A small, trembling breath came from her end. "I'm pregnant."

In that moment, everything stopped. The shouting in the prison yard, the whistling wind, the very air in his lungs, it all vanished. The world grew silent.

Abhimanyu's head dropped forward, his free hand coming up to cover his eyes. A broken, jagged breath escaped him. A smile; painful, disbelieving, and beautiful formed on his lips behind his hand.

Their baby. Their child.

He should have been there. He should have been holding her, feeling her heartbeat against his chest when she told him. He should have been able to lift her up and promise her the world. But instead, he stood in a prison, dressed like a criminal, surrounded by stone walls.

"I heard, baby," he said, forcing his voice to sound steady. He tried to sound like the powerful CEO in a London boardroom, not a prisoner in a high security wing. "Aarav told me everything. I'm.... I'm so proud of you. You're doing so well."

His breath hitched. He bit his lip so hard he tasted the metallic tang of blood, fighting the urge to cry out in agony.

"Please come home," she pleaded, her voice a broken, desperate whisper. "Please. I don't care about the money or the deal. I'm scared, Abhi. Something feels wrong. Why do you sound like that? Why is your voice so heavy?"

"It's just the stress, Moon," he lied again, and the words tasted like bitter ash. "I'm wrapping things up. I have a big meeting tonight. I can't use my personal phone for security reasons. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, but Abhi...."

"I have to go," he interrupted quickly, his heart breaking into a million pieces. "The board members are waiting. Just.... kiss the baby for me. I love you more than my own life."

"Abhi....?" her voice came one last time, softer, filled with a longing that nearly undid him.

"Take care of yourself.... and our baby," he said.

He didn't say our future. He didn't say our life. He couldn't. He didn't know what kind of future a man in a cage could promise anymore.

"Abhi, wait—!"

He hung up.

The click of the receiver was final. He hung up because if he had stayed on for one more second, the truth would have poured out of him. He would have told her he was in a cage, that he was dying without her.

Abhimanyu didn't move. He stood there for a moment, then slowly slid down the wall until he was sitting on the hot, dirty ground. He buried his face in his hands, leaning against the metal phone box.

And for the first time since the handcuffs had snapped shut on his wrists, a single, hot tear fell. Then another. His shoulders began to shake violently.

"I missed everything...." he choked out into the silence of the yard. "I missed it all."

Right after the call ended, Aarushi rushed downstairs, her heart racing, a smile trembling on her lips. She spotted Roohi near the hallway and grabbed her arm excitedly.

"Roohi! Abhi called," she said breathlessly. "He's okay…. he said he's coming back soon!"

For a second, Roohi didn't react the way she expected. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. Something flickered there; fear, guilt but Aarushi was too overwhelmed to notice it fully.

"I need to tell Bhai," Aarushi said quickly, already moving away.

She walked toward the living room where Aarav stood a little distance away, speaking on a call, his tone low and serious. She smiled, waiting for him to finish so she could share the news.... but before she could reach him, her eyes drifted to the television.

Aarushi walked toward the screen, intending to turn it off. But then, her hand froze.

The screen didn't show a boardroom in London. It didn't show a business report or a skyscraper.

It showed him.

The camera was shaky, the footage grainy and rushed, captured by a reporter in the middle of a crowd. It was a shot of a man being led down steep stone steps. He was wearing a dark, plain shirt that looked wrinkled, like he hadn't changed in days. His hands were held together in front of him, covered by a black cloth. But as he moved, the fabric shifted, and the cold, silver glint of metal flashed in the light.

Handcuffs.

His face was thinner, his cheekbones sharp and hollow. A rough, dark beard covered his jaw, making him look like a stranger. But his eyes; even through the flickering screen were unmistakable.

Aarushi's breath simply left her body. The world felt like it was disappearing beneath her feet.

"No...." she whispered.

The bright red news banner at the bottom of the screen flashed like a warning light:

"LATEST: TYCOON ABHIMANYU SINGHANIA MOVED TO CENTRAL JAIL AS HIGHWAY 27 TRIAL BEGINS. PROSECUTION SEEKS MAXIMUM SENTENCE FOR HIT-AND-RUN."

Her fingers went completely numb. The plastic remote slipped from her hand and hit the hardwood floor with a loud thud. The sound was small, but to her, it felt like a bomb going off.

On the screen, the scene changed. Now, it was a courtroom. The room was cold and grey. A judge sat high above, looking down through his glasses, his voice calm and terrifyingly final.

"Abhimanyu Singhania," the judge said, his voice echoing in the silent house. "For the crime of leaving the scene of a fatal accident and the unexplained circumstances surrounding the death of a citizen...."

Aarushi's ears began to ring. A loud, high-pitched noise filled her head, drowning out the world. But she still heard the judge's next words. They felt like a physical blow to her chest.

"....this court sentences you to seven years of rigorous imprisonment."

The judge brought down his gavel. Thud.

To Aarushi, it didn't sound like wood hitting a table. It sounded like a door slamming shut. It sounded like the lid of a coffin being nailed down. Seven years.

On the screen, for just a tiny second, Abhimanyu looked up. He looked straight into the camera, and for a heartbeat, she saw him. He wasn't a criminal. He wasn't the man the world was judging. He was just her Abhi.

And then, the memories came back.

They hit her like a tidal wave, drowning her in the truth she had forgotten. She saw the blinding white headlights of the other car. She felt her own hands shaking violently on the steering wheel. She felt her foot pressing the accelerator in a panic. She heard the scream that had torn out of her own throat as the metal crashed.

He wasn't in London.

He wasn't at a business merger.

He wasn't "busy" with work.

He was in a cage. He was in a cell with cold floors and iron bars. And he was there because of her.

Her breath shattered into small, jagged pieces.

"....no," she whispered. The word was so soft it barely left her lips.

Behind her, Roohi stood frozen, her face pale with shock. Out on the patio, Aarav turned around, his eyes widening in horror as he realized he was too late. The secret was out.

"No...." she said again. Her voice was even softer now, as if she had lost the strength to even speak.

She couldn't blink. She couldn't move. Her eyes stayed locked on the screen where his face had just been.

"Abhi...."

Her lips trembled, and as the reality of his sacrifice sank in, the Golden Boy she loved was replaced by a man in chains, all because he loved her more than his own freedom.

To be continued....

Thank you for reading.