Anup gently pulled away, his hands still on my shoulders, steadying me as I swayed slightly from exhaustion. I looked like I could collapse any second.
"Come inside," he said softly.
I didn't resist as he led me to the sofa. My legs felt weak, my body drained of all energy. I sank into the cushions, my arms wrapping around myself as if I was trying to hold myself together. Anup knelt in front of me, his fingers brushing against my cheeks, wiping away the tear tracks with a tenderness that made me want to cry all over again.
"You're freezing," he murmured, tucking a blanket around my shoulders. I didn't respond, just stared at the floor, my mind still a whirlwind of emotions.
Anup sighed, then stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard the faint clatter of plates, the sound of something being warmed on the stove. The familiarity of it—the small, simple act of someone caring for me apart from my papa—made my chest tighten.
A few minutes later, he returned, a steaming plate in one hand, a glass of water in the other. "Eat something," he said, placing the plate on the small table in front of me.
"I'm not hungry," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
Anup sat beside me, his tone gentle but firm. "Harshita, please. You haven't eaten anything, and you're already feeling weak. Just a few bites."
I hesitated, but when he picked up a spoonful of warm dal-rice and held it out to me, I felt too exhausted to argue. Slowly, I opened my mouth, letting him feed me.The warmth of the food spread through me, and for the first time in hours, maybe even the whole day, I felt something other than numbness.
Anup kept feeding me, patiently, without rushing, as if this was the most important thing in the world. Tears welled in my eyes again, but this time, they weren't from despair. They were from the quiet, overwhelming comfort of not being alone.
I swallowed and whispered, "Thank you."
Anup gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Always."
For the first time that night, the weight on my chest felt just a little lighter. I put the spoon down, my hands trembling slightly as I wrapped my arms around myself. The warmth of the food lingered in my mouth, but it did nothing to melt the coldness inside me. Anup watched me carefully, sensing there was more I needed to say. He didn't rush me. He simply waited, his presence steady, grounding.
I took a shaky breath, my voice barely above a whisper. "I made a mistake, Anup."
He didn't interrupt.
I let out a hollow laugh, one that held no humor, only pain. "I thought it was love. I thought he—" my throat closed up for a second, and I forced myself to continue. "I thought he cared about me. But I was just a game to him. A bet."
Anup's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice calm, but there was an edge to it—controlled anger simmering beneath.
Harshita swallowed hard. "He... he never loved me. I was just a stupid challenge for him and his friends. They made a bet—and then he wanted me to entertain his friends." My lips trembled. "And I fell for him."
Anup inhaled sharply, his face darkening. "Harshita..."
"I was blind," I whispered. "I believed every word he said. I trusted him. I gave him everything." My voice broke. "And then one day, I caught him cheating. It was all a setup to make a fool of me. Laughing about it with his friends."
I squeezed my eyes shut, the memory searing through me like fire. "When I confronted him, he didn't even deny it. He just smirked. Said it was fun while it lasted. Said he wanted his friends to use me. I never feel so small in my entire life"
My breath hitched, my chest tightening. "And now... now I have this." I placed a trembling hand on my stomach, the reality of my situation crashing down on my again. "This mistake. This... reminder of everything he did to me."
Silence filled the room. Then, Anup exhaled, his fists loosening.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet but firm. "You are not a mistake, Harshita. And neither is this." He placed a gentle hand over hers. "The only mistake was him."
Tears streamed down my face. "But I—"
"No," Anup interrupted, shaking his head. "You loved. You trusted. That doesn't make you wrong—it makes you human." His grip on my hand tightened slightly. "He doesn't get to define your worth. He doesn't get to ruin you."
My lip quivered. "But what do I do now, Anup?"
He looked at me, his eyes filled with something steady and sure. "You don't have to figure it all out tonight," he said gently. "But you don't have to do it alone."
A sob escaped me, and without thinking, I leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around me again, holding me as I cried—not in despair this time, but in the fragile relief of knowing that, for the first time in a long time, someone was standing beside me and he wasn't leaving.
My body was trembling from exhaustion, my mind a tangled mess of emotions. The weight of everything—my heartbreak, my fears, the life growing inside me—pressed down on me like a crushing burden. Anup could see it in my eyes. The way I struggled to stay open, the way my body slumped with weariness. I had been carrying this pain alone for too long.
"Harshita," he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. "You need to rest."
I shook my head weakly. "I can't... I—"
"Yes, you can," he interrupted gently. "You don't have to keep fighting every second. Just for now, let go."
Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time, I didn't sob. I was too drained for that. Anup helped me lie down on the sofa, tucking a warm blanket around me. The moment my head hit the cushion, I let out a slow, shaky breath.
He sat beside me, his presence unwavering. "I'm here," he murmured. "You're safe."
My eyelids fluttered shut, my body finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been gnawing at me for hours. The weight of my pain still lingered in the air, but for now, at least for tonight, I wasn't alone. Anup reached forward, gently wiping away the last traces of tears from my cheeks. Then, as the wind howled outside, I drifted into sleep.
I stood in a quiet, sunlit room. Everything felt hushed, peaceful—like the world had paused to let my heart catch up and then I saw him.
A small baby , wrapped in a sky-blue blanket, nestled in the center of a white crib. His cheeks were full and rosy, his tiny hands fluttering in the air as if he already knew how to reach for love. But it was his smile that held my breath still.
Soft, pure, and impossibly bright—he smiled at me.
It wasn't just a random expression—it was recognition, like he knew me. As if he had been waiting in some faraway place just to meet my gaze. His eyes sparkled like little moons, wide with innocent joy, and when his tiny lips curled upward, I felt something inside me break open. In the best way.
I stepped closer, slowly, my hands trembling with an emotion too big to name. The baby cooed, the sound like music, and stretched his arms toward me. I knelt beside the crib, brushing my fingers gently along his soft skin, and in that moment, nothing else existed. No worries. No fears. Just the two of them and that perfect, breathtaking smile.
It was only a dream—but it felt real. Real enough to stay with me even after I opened my eyes, heart full and aching in the quiet morning light. I felt a deep churning in my stomach again. A wave of nausea hit me so hard that I barely had time to think before I bolted upright.
My head spun, my body weak, but the overwhelming need to throw up took control. I pushed off the blanket and stumbled toward the bathroom, my feet unsteady. Before I could collapse, strong hands caught me.
"Easy," Anup's voice came, steady and calm. He held me up as I rushed to the sink, just in time for the nausea to take over.
My body convulsed as I threw up, my stomach twisting painfully. Tears pricked at my eyes from the force of it, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. Anup stayed right beside me, one hand on my back, the other gently gathering my hair away from my face. He didn't say anything—he just let me get through it, rubbing slow circles on my back as I trembled After what felt like forever, the sickness passed. I sagged against the sink, my body weak, my throat burning.
Anup silently reached for a glass of water, bringing it to my lips. "Drink," he said softly. I took a small sip, my hands shaking. My eyes were wet, my face pale.
"I hate this," I whispered, my voice barely there.
Anup exhaled, crouching beside me. "I know," he said. "But you don't have to do this alone."
I looked at him, my tired eyes searching his face. He was serious—there was no hesitation in his voice, no pity, just quiet determination. My lip trembled, but I gave a small nod. For the first time since I found out I was pregnant, I didn't feel completely helpless.
Anup offered his hand. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
I sat on the edge of the bed,my fingers twisting together in my lap. The nausea had settled, but the storm inside me had not.My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to rest. Anup sat beside me, silent, waiting. He had seen the emotions warring on my face, the way my gaze had darkened with something heavier than exhaustion.
Finally, I spoke. My voice was quiet but firm. "I don't want this child."
Anup didn't react immediately. He simply watched me, letting me continue.
"This..."I gestured weakly at my stomach, my eyes stinging. "This baby is not something I can love. It's not a blessing. It's a reminder of the worst decision of my life." My breath hitched, and I shook my head. "Every time I think about it, I just remember him—his lies, his betrayal, the way he ruined me."
My voice broke on the last word, and I bit my lip to keep from crying again.
Anup exhaled, his gaze steady. "Harshita..." He reached out, taking my trembling hands in his. "Are you sure?"
I nodded, a single tear slipping down my cheek. "I've never been more sure of anything."
A long silence stretched between them. The only sound was the faint rustling of the wind outside.
Finally, Anup squeezed my hands. "Then we'll figure this out."
I looked up at him, my brows furrowing. "You're not going to tell me I'm wrong?"
He shook his head. "This is your body. Your life. Your choice." He held my gaze, his voice soft but unwavering. "I just want you to be sure that whatever you decide, you won't regret it."
I inhaled shakily. "I already regret everything. Keeping this child would just make it worse."
Anup nodded slowly. "Then I'll be with you, whatever you need."
My lips parted slightly, surprised at how easily he said it. No judgment. No pressure. Just... support. A sob escaped me before I could stop it. I squeezed his hands tighter, my body trembling as relief and grief mixed together in a painful knot. But Just the thought of calling this baby a mistake made something inside me break—it felt like I was turning against my own heart.
But I didn't want this baby... because every time I thought about it, all I could see was Vedant's cruelty. This child would be a constant reminder of what he did to me.
And yet... that dream. It felt so real. The baby reached out for me, tiny hands clutching, eyes full of trust—as if it knew me, as if it needed me. Wanted me. How could something born from pain still look at me with so much love.
I had made my choice. And Anup—he wasn't leaving me alone in it.