~ ~ VANSH POV ~~

It was a foreign sensation, a ghost on my lips that felt entirely out of place amidst the smell of charred meat and kerosene. For seven years, the very sight of Riddhima Raichand had been a trigger for my rage. She was the thorn in my side, the woman I loved to hate.

But tonight, as she sat amidst the wreckage she created, that hate had transformed into a fierce, burning pride. She had done what I couldn't. She had been the monster my sister needed.

But the sight of the steel handcuffs snapping shut around her wrists... it was like a cold blade to my throat. It was the last thing I ever wanted to see on her. That iron didn't belong on her skin; it belonged on the beast she had just executed.

I stood in the center of the hall, a man being pulled apart by two tidal waves. In my arms, Shaili was a broken, unconscious weight-my blood, my baby sister, my responsibility.

Behind me, Riddhima was being led into the darkness-my wife, my sister's savior, my unexpected pride.

The dilemma was suffocating until a firm hand landed on my shoulder. Ashish Uncle.

"Shaili needs you more right now, Vansh," he said, his voice a steady anchor in the chaos. "I am with Riddhima."

The relief that flooded me was almost embarrassing. I knew his power; I knew his loyalty. If Ashish uncle was with her, the gates of cell wouldn't be able to keep her.

I didn't waste another second. I carried Shaili to the hospital, the engine of my car roaring as loud as the heartbeat in my ears. The hospital corridors felt like a blur of white lights and the scent of antiseptic. The doctor's words-"She is fine... she will regain consciousness in 2-3 hours"-were the first breath of air I had taken in hours.

"Where is Vihaan?" I demanded. I needed him. I needed the one doctor I trusted with my life because of his history with Riddhima. He was in surgery, out of reach for now, but the knowledge that he was coming was enough.

Dadu stepped toward me, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of a thousand storms. "Go to her, Vansh. Shaili is asleep for now. We are all here. Riddhima is alone in that cage. She needs you."

He was right. Shaili was safe in the arms of our family, but Riddhima... Riddhima was standing against the law for a crime she committed for us.

I turned and ran. I reached the police station in record time, my tires screaming against the asphalt. As I stepped into that cold, dimly lit station, my heart wasn't beating for my sister anymore. It was pounding for the woman in the cell.

I stormed into the police station expecting a battlefield. I expected to hear the roar of Ashish Uncle’s threats, the sound of Rajeshwari Auntie’s frantic sobbing, and the sharp, jagged edges of Riddhima’s defiance. I thought the air would be thick with the tension of a murder charge.

But as the heavy station doors swung open, the silence that greeted me was more shocking than any scream.

The reality was a hallucination. There sat Riddhima, not huddled in a cell, but perched casually on a chair, her legs swinging back and forth like a bored teenager waiting for a bus. Her face was a blank canvas—no fear, no anger, just a chilling, hollow calm. Around her, the police officers weren't interrogating; they were scrolling through their phones, indifferent. Kartik and Madhav were talking in low, casual tones as if they were in a hotel lobby rather than a precinct.

Only Ashish Uncle sat apart, his face a mask of quiet anxiety, but even he didn't look like a man whose daughter had just committed an execution. Looking at Riddhima, no one would ever believe that just an hour ago, she had been a goddess of fire, watching a man burn to ashes without blinking.

"Vansh..."

The soft voice behind me belonged to Prerna Auntie. I had called her in a haze of desperation, and her arrival was the final trigger. She stepped toward me, her face etched with a maternal grace that I hadn't realized I was starving for.

The moment her hand touched my shoulder, the wall I had built around my heart—the "Alpha" mask, the "Protector" facade—didn't just crack. It exploded.

The dam of my patience shattered, and the agony I had been suppressing finally clawed its way out. Tears, hot and bitter, welled up in my eyes as a jagged sob tore through my throat.

"I’ve failed, Auntie... I failed her," I choked out, my voice breaking into a thousand pieces. "Shaili was my responsibility. She was my soul, and I was too busy laughing, too busy drinking, too busy celebrating to hear her scream.

I couldn't protect her when she needed me most. I don't deserve the title of her brother. I’m a failure."

The weight of the guilt was a mountain on my chest, crushing the air out of my lungs. I felt like a fraud standing in my expensive suit while my sister lay broken in a hospital bed.

Prerna Auntie didn't hesitate. She pulled me into a fierce embrace, letting me bury my face against her shoulder as I wept like a broken child.

"Shhh, Vansh... it will be okay," she whispered, her voice a steady balm to my raw nerves. "This isn't your fault. You cannot control the darkness of other men. Don't drown yourself in blame. We are all here for her. I will see what I can do... both for Shaili and for Riddhima."

In that moment, surrounded by the eerie silence of the police station and the warmth of Auntie’s hug, I realized that while Riddhima was the one in handcuffs, I was the one who was truly a prisoner—trapped in the cage of my own guilt.

⋰˚☆˚⋱ Author Pov ⋰˚✿˚⋱⋰

Prerna was still locked in a tense

exchange with Kartik when the heavy precinct doors were practically kicked off their hinges.

Nitya charged in like a

whirlwind, her breath hitching, her face a frantic map of terror that mirrored the frantic drumming of her heart.

"Riddhima!" she cried out, throwing herself at Riddhima, her arms wrapping around her in a desperate clinch. "Riddhima, what on earth is happening? What are the cops saying? When are they letting you go home? Tell me you’re okay!"

Nitya was a barrage of questions, a storm of panic. But Riddhima? She was the eye of the storm. She sat there like a statue carved from ice—motionless, hauntingly still. Her eyes held no flicker of life as she looked at Nitya, staring as if she were a ghost from a world Riddhima had already left behind. That silence was deafening; it screamed that tonight, Riddhima had traded her soul for fire.

Across the room, Kartik’s world narrowed. The conversation with Prerna vanished from his mind the second Nitya appeared. His gaze anchored on her—on that same raw vulnerability, that same untainted innocence he remembered. He couldn't help himself. He moved toward her, his voice a low, cautious murmur. "She’s fine,  Don’t be worry.

But Nitya brushed him off like he was nothing more than a ghost. She didn't even grant him the mercy of a glance. Prerna watched the two of them,  and let out a heavy, bone-weary sigh.

Outside the station, the atmosphere was thick enough to choke on.

Vansh stood there, his very presence radiating a heat that could melt lead. His eyes were fixed on Pranav, who was frantically barking into his phone. As Pranav ended the call, the color drained from his face, and Vansh’s blood began to simmer.

"Sir..." Pranav’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with dread. "The female police squad will be here in an hour. Once they arrive, they’re going to throw Madam in the lockup. After that... the news will spread through this city like wildfire."

That was the final straw. The dam of Vansh’s restraint didn't just crack—it disintegrated. The blood in his veins turned to liquid fire. He slammed his foot into the ground with enough force to shatter the concrete, as if he were crushing the very concept of helplessness.

"One hour!" Vansh’s voice erupted—a predatory roar that shook the silence of the night. "I don’t care what it takes or who has to bleed for it. I want my wife out of this precinct in sixty minutes. Period!"

He shot a look back at the cold, lifeless building where Riddhima was being held. A dangerous, lethal glint sparked in his eyes—the look of a man who was about to spit in the face of the law.

"Now I know exactly what I have to do," he hissed through gritted teeth.

With the calculated grace of a hunter on the prowl, he turned on his heel and headed for his car.

The silence of the hospital room was shattered as Shaili bolted upright, her body jolting as if hit by a live wire. The nightmare hadn't ended; it had just followed her into the light. Her breath came in ragged, terrified hitches, and her eyes—wide and vacant—saw only the shadows of the beast that had tried to break her.

"Save me! Please, someone save me!" she screamed, the sound tearing through the sterile corridor.

Nurses and doctors swarmed the room, their hands reaching out to stabilize her, but their touch was poison. To Shaili, every hand was his hand.

"Don't touch me! Get away!" she shrieked, lashing out with a frantic, desperate strength, her nails clawing at the air. "Stay back! Don't come near me!"

The medical staff stood frozen, their hearts breaking at the sight of her raw agony. She was a bird with broken wings, thrashing against a cage only she could see.

Then, the doors burst open.

Vihaan. He was still in his navy blue scrubs, his face pale and lined with the exhaustion of the O.T., but his eyes were sharp with a singular focus. He didn't just walk; he commanded the space.

"Move! Out of the way!" he barked at the staff. They scattered instantly. "Everyone out. Now!"

As the room cleared, the frantic energy died down into a heavy, trembling silence. Vihaan didn't hesitate. He didn't use medicine; he used himself. He stepped into her space and pulled her into a fierce, grounding embrace, pinning her flailing arms against his chest.

"Shh... no one is touching you. You’re safe. I’ve got you," he murmured, his voice a deep, steady vibration against her ear. He rubbed her back in slow, rhythmic circles, his warmth seeping through her panic. "Breathe, Shaili. Just breathe with me. It’s over."

Slowly, the tremors subsided. The wildness left her eyes, replaced by a crushing exhaustion. Vihaan gently pulled back, sitting on the edge of the bed while keeping her hand anchored in his.

"Open your eyes, Shaili. Look at me," he whispered. She obeyed, her lashes wet with tears. "It was just a nightmare. A horrible, dark dream. But you're awake now. You’re okay."

"A nightmare?" she choked out, her voice small and broken.

"Just a nightmare," he lied

Her gaze dropped to her clothes—the sterile hospital gown. "My clothes... where..."

"They were ruined, Shaili. The nurse changed them," he said softly. He picked up a tube of ointment, his expression turning incredibly solemn. "If you’ll allow me... can I apply this? I can call a nurse if you’re uncomfortable,

Shaili shook her head frantically, her fingers tightening on his sleeve. "No. You do it. Please."

Vihaan leaned in, his focus absolute as he applied the cream to her wounds. He was so close she could smell the faint scent of antiseptic and peppermint on him. Every time he leaned in to blow cool air onto the sting, Shaili found herself tracing the lines of his face, finding a strange, new peace in his proximity.

After she took the medicine he offered, she lay back down, the world finally feeling still. But as Vihaan turned to leave, her hand shot out, catching his wrist with a strength that surprised them both.

"Please... don't go. Stay here with me.

Vihaan turned back, a soft, weary smile tugging at his lips. He didn't say a word; he simply pulled a chair to her bedside and sat down.

"I’m not going anywhere, Shaili. Close your eyes."

Vansh strode in. He moved directly to Prerna, leaning in to whisper a single sentence that acted like a match to a fuse. A predatory spark of hope ignited in Prerna’s eyes. She patted his back—a silent well done—before turning her sights on the commanding officer.

"We need to talk. Now," she commanded.

Outside, in the shadows of the station, Prerna didn't waste time with pleasantries. She leaned in, her voice like silk over a blade. "I know exactly who you are. You’re nursing a grudge because Riddhima burned your career for two years over your 'extra-curricular' earnings. But use your brain. You have zero evidence, and Vansh has already turned the victim's family; they’re ready to swear she’s a saint. Vansh will write you a check with enough zeros to make you forget this ever happened. Or," she paused, her smile turning lethal, "you can wait for me to bring the high court down on this tiny station by morning. You’ll get nothing but another suspension. Choose."

The officer’s bravado crumbled. Moments later, he stepped back inside, clearing his throat. "Miss Riddhima, you’re free to go. It appears the complaint was... a misunderstanding."

A wave of relief washed over Vansh, though he kept his mask of cold indifference. Ashish rushed to Prerna, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you. Tell me, how can I ever repay you?"

Prerna simply folded her arms, her gaze unwavering. "Riddhima is my daughter-in-law. She is family. We don't trade favors for family."

Riddhima finally stood, her voice low and steady. "Thank you, Auntie."

Prerna pulled her into a brief, fierce embrace. "Don’t thank me, child. Thank Vansh. Only he knows the hell he had to move to get that family to stand by you."

Vansh stepped forward, his eyes meeting Riddhima’s for a fleeting, electric second. "We’re leaving. Through the back gate.

As they moved to exit, Vansh flicked a blank check onto the officer's desk But the officer stopped him. He picked up the slip of paper and handed it back, his eyes fixed on Riddhima.

"I have two daughters of my own, Mr. Singhania,"

he said, his voice rough. He looked at Riddhima and nodded once. "Good job."

A rare, proud silence descended on the room.

Once they were settled in the back of the car, the silence between Vansh and Riddhima became a living thing. Vansh stared out the window, his jaw tight. "Don't get it twisted. I didn't do this as a favor to you."

Riddhima didn't even flinch. She let out a dry, mocking laugh. "Don't flatter yourself, My days haven't turned so dark that I’d need your charity.

Honestly, trying to have a civil conversation with you is a waste of my breath."

"Then why the hell are you still talking?" Riddhima snapped

By the time the car pulled into the hospital driveway, the sun was beginning to bleed over the horizon, casting a pale, sickly grey light over the city. The night of fire and blood was finally over, leaving only the cold ash of reality.

Pranav had been efficient; the halls were quiet. He had sent the rest of the family home to rest, leaving only himself, Aditya, and Arjun

Vansh stopped dead at the door to Shaili’s room. He couldn't bring himself to step inside. The guilt of the previous night acted like an invisible barrier,  He leaned against the wall, his expensive suit wrinkled, his eyes dark with a fatigue that went deeper than bone.

Riddhima, however, didn't hesitate. She pushed the door open with a soft click and stepped into the dim room.

The sight inside was a portrait of fragile peace. Shaili was deeply asleep, her face finally free of the terror that had distorted it hours ago. And right there, a by her side, was Vihaan. He had fallen asleep in the uncomfortable wooden chair, his head tilted back, his hand still resting near the edge of Shaili’s bed

The faint creak of the door was enough. Vihaan’s eyes snapped open instantly

He blinked against the dim light, and the moment his gaze landed on Riddhima’s blood-stained saree and weary face, he was on his feet.

The moment Riddhima stepped inside, Vihaan placed a finger to his lips, a silent command to protect the fragile peace Shaili had finally found. He checked the monitors one last time before slipping out of the room with the quiet grace of a shadow.

The second the door clicked shut, Vansh was on him. All the "Alpha" composure had evaporated, leaving behind a man raw with desperation.

"How is she? Is she stable? Is she... is she still terrified?" The questions poured out of Vansh like a fever. "Is she awake?

"Vansh, Vansh breathe," Vihaan interrupted, his voice a calm anchor. "She’s stable. She’s sleeping off the sedatives right now.

"When can I take her home?" Vansh snapped, his fingers twitching. "I want her out of this place."

"We can discharge her by this evening," Vihaan replied, his doctor’s mask sliding back into place. "But Vansh... I’m going to insist on therapy sessions. For her mental health.

Vansh nodded curtly, the weight of the future settling on his shoulders. But Vihaan’s attention had already shifted. His sharp eyes landed on Riddhima, taking in the dried blood on her skin and the raw, neglected wounds on her hands.

Without asking, he retrieved a medical kit. The hallway was silent as he worked, his movements clinical yet strangely tender as he cleaned and bandaged Riddhima’s hands.

"And you?" Vihaan asked softly, looking up from her bandages. "How are you holding up? Please... start taking care of yourself, Riddhima."

Riddhima gave a single, weary nod

"Both of you," Vihaan said, looking between Vansh and Riddhima. "Go home. Freshen up. Change. If Shaili wakes up and sees you looking like you  it’ll trigger her all over again.

Vansh looked at his ruined suit and then at Riddhima’s crimson-soaked saree. He knew Vihaan was right. "Let's go," he muttered to Riddhima.

They turned to leave, the exhaustion finally catching up to them. But they hadn't taken three steps before Vihaan’s hand shot out.

Vihaan caught Riddhima’s wrist.

The movement was sudden,  Vansh froze, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Vihaan’s fingers clamped around Riddhima's arm

"Riddhima," Vihaan’s voice had dropped an octave, losing its professional warmth.

"Wait. I need to talk to you. Alone."

───•~❉᯽❉~•──────

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