3

Arnav

I continuously punch the wall, watching it being painted red with my blood, but I cannot feel any pain from my injured hand.

The piercing pain I feel in my heart has overcome my bodily pain.

The pain from her ear-deafening screams, loud wails, cries, pleadings, and begging is starting to get to me, and I do not know how to deal with it anymore.

Khushi is the reason why my sister and her husband are now in the ICU, fighting for their lives. She is Anjali's and Niranjan's culprit.

Anjali's doctor called me two days back and told me none of the medicines were working on her. She is still in a coma, her condition deteriorating despite being given the best treatments. Niranjan, however, pendulums in and out of consciousness, still unable to talk, but he opens his eyes and moves his hands occasionally.

Hearing about Anjali's worsening condition that day raised my anger to such a height that I went to Khushi's room to punish her more for trying to kill my sister.

I felt guilty over forcing myself on her on that fateful wedding night. That was why I did not go to her room for six days after that night. I could not bring myself to go to her and face her after what I did to her.

But all the guilt and even my conscience vanished after the doctor told me about Anjali's condition. And I forced myself on Khushi again, repeatedly taking her against her will and battering her bruised body more to take my anger out on her until she could not take it anymore.

I want to punish her for what she did to Anjali, Niranjan, and their happy married life. I want her to face the consequences of her dirty deeds, which caused such damage to my family that I do not know if that damage can ever be undone.

My sister and her husband are admitted to the hospital, and Anjali is fighting for her life. I do not know when she will wake up or if she will wake up.

No, I won't think negatively. Anjali will wake up. She will have to wake up.

Anjali and I were orphaned when we were nineteen and fifteen years old, respectively.

Even though Anjali was four years older than me, I was always the one to care for her because she was diagnosed with Polio at young age.

My parents and I were protective of Anjali, and we all loved each other dearly. We were a happy little family until that fateful night came.

We were having dinner at home when my parents suddenly started gagging, and white froth started coming out of their mouths.

My father succumbed to death almost immediately, but while taking her last breath, my mother made me promise that I would take care of Anjali and always protect her from this harsh world.

After my mother's death, I vowed to honor my promise to her until my last breath.

The police investigation occurred after the murder, and in that investigation, it was found that my parents were poisoned.

But the case turned cold when the police could not find the culprits for many years.

The case is open until now, even after eleven years since the murder, and I have hired some of my own paid private investigators to look into the case.

But they, too, have not been able to find any clue regarding the murderers.

Because of this, I have been overly protective of Anjali for all these years. Our parents' murderers are still roaming freely, and we are still unsure if only our parents were on their hit list or if they want to kill us too.

The banks from where my father had taken huge loans to further his business seized our house, bank accounts, and all of my father's properties to pay off his loans, and we were soon left homeless on the street.

It was very kind of our maternal grandmother, uncle, and aunt, who took in Anjali and me and provided us with a home to live in. They also gave us all the love and support and never made us feel like outsiders.

Our uncle and Aunt have their son, Aashish, but they never discriminated between me and Anjali and Aashish. They gave us the same love as their son, and I will forever be grateful to them for that.

Anjali and I even changed our surnames from Mahajan to Rathore because the murderers were still at large.

We did not know why they killed our parents and had no idea if they would come after Anjali and me. This is why our grandmother thought it would be better if we changed our surnames so the murderers would not be able to locate and kill us. She prioritized our protection and ensured that bodyguards accompanied us wherever we went.

Even when I went to Oxford to complete my education, my grandmother and uncle made all the arrangements for my security there, too, so no one could touch me, let alone harm me.

I was reluctant to leave Anjali here and go to Oxford, but uncle promised me that he and everyone else in the family would take proper care of Anjali and not let any harm befall her.

I trusted his words and promise and went abroad, but I used to call daily to know how Anjali was doing.

And after returning, when I built my empire with AA constructions, I made Anjali my priority. I ensured she was always safe and happy, which is why I got her married to Niranjan, the person she fell for after dating him for a year.

Everything was going well.

My family was safe and happy. Even Aashish was about to marry Priya, the girl he loved.

But everything changed when she entered our lives. Khushi Agarwal came into the picture and ruined everything.

I still remember the day I first saw her. She looked so happy and carefree, a total contrast to my brooding self.

I was sitting in my corner of the garden, where I constantly seek peace whenever I get stressed.

That day, I was stressed due to my breakup with my long-time girlfriend, Mia. Not that I loved Mia or was sad due to the split. In fact, I was the one who broke up with her because she had started to become my headache with her everyday drama and over-the-top attention-seeking behavior.

The reason behind my stress was that Mia was also the daughter of one of my clients, and she put forth a condition that her father would only sign the deal with our company if I took her back.

Having no patience left to handle her, I cancelled the deal.

I was thinking about all the time, money, and resources that we wasted on that project when I got startled by her voice.

***********

"Hello, I am Khushi Agarwal." I heard a girl's voice and looked up to see who it was.

I frowned at the girl and then looked back down, not wanting to engage in any unnecessary conversation with her.

I knew she was Priya's sister. She had come for the Roka ceremony--the first ceremony for Aashish and Priya's wedding.

I had checked and pre-approved all the guests, strictly ordering my guards not to let anyone else in.

After all, my family's, especially Anjali's safety, had always been my priority.

Looking down at my laptop, I continued typing the email but stopped when she spoke again.

"When someone introduces themselves, it is rude not to introduce yourself to them," she said.

As I was already in a bad mood, I felt irritated by her chirpy voice. So, slamming my laptop close, I stood up and glared at her, making her back away.

"And when someone is working and not replying, it is rude to keep interrupting them," I told her, annoyance lacing my voice.

Then, taking my laptop, I walked away without letting her say anything else.

***********

I still remember how comical her face had looked at that time after she heard my reply. Her mouth had been opened, forming a perfect 'O', and her eyes had been as wide as saucers.

Whenever I interacted with her, I noticed how her face always showed a myriad of expressions, sometimes surprised, sometimes amused, and most of the time, there would be different shades of happiness showing on her face.

But since that wedding night, the only expressions I have seen on her face are terror, pain, and despair.

I punch the wall one last time before slumping on the chair, not caring about the blood on my hand, now dripping to the floor.

It was not supposed to be like this.

Yes, Khushi and I started on the wrong foot on our first meeting, but it had grown to something more in the following three weeks until that wedding night. I had started to like her, and the way she talked with me, I had begun to think she liked me too.

But what we saw on the terrace that night and that video changed everything. It showed us Khushi Agarwal's true color and ruined my family's happiness.

My sister is on the verge of dying because of Khushi and her evil ways.

So, I should feel happy that I am giving her the punishment she deserves. Her broken cries should provide me with satisfaction. Her battered body should bring peace to my heart.

Then why am I only feeling this gut-wrenching sadness and guilt? Why?