Yashvardhan's Pov:-

The bottle felt heavy in my hand, like the weight of all my regrets was pressing down on me.

Each sip burned my throat, but I welcomed the fire —

A distraction from the storm raging inside my mind.

The world was dark, cold, and unforgiving, just like my thoughts.

I had never felt so lost, so empty. Losing Vaidehi — losing her trust —

it was like my entire world had crumbled to dust.

I stared out the window of my sleek car as the city lights blurred by,

merging into streaks of gold and white.

The streets looked unfamiliar,

Even though I knew them well. My mind was a tangled mess of anger,

pain, and desperate longing. I thought of Vaidehi —

her soft voice, the way she looked at me with hurt and fear.

I should have held her tighter that night, should have fought harder to keep her,
but I’d let my pride and pain take over

The engine hummed beneath me, but I felt numb. My hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly.

I took another long swallow from the bottle hidden beneath the seat.

It was a foolish decision — I knew it — but the ache inside was unbearable.

Suddenly,

headlights appeared ahead, blinding and close.

I squinted through the haze, panic rising in my chest.
I slammed on the brakes, but the car skidded uncontrollably.

Time seemed to slow as metal screamed against metal.

The crash was violent — shattering glass, twisting steel, the screech of tires. Pain exploded in my chest, sharp and merciless.

My head hit the steering wheel hard, and stars danced behind my closed eyelids.

I tried to move, to free myself, but my body refused to respond. Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision.

The sirens came like distant echoes, voices calling out, but they felt like they belonged to another world —

A world I was slipping away from.

My thoughts drifted to Vaidehi again. To our son.

Were they safe? Were they waiting for me?

I coughed, blood bitter in my mouth. My breath was shallow, every inhale a struggle. Panic gnawed at the edges of my mind, but deep down, a stubborn spark refused to die.

I had to survive. For them.

Minutes passed like hours.

Then the heavy weight of hands lifted me from the wreckage.
Faces blurred as they worked quickly, urgent.

The cold night air stung my skin, but I clung to consciousness.

---

At the hospital,
bright lights and sterile smells assaulted me.

Nurses moved around me, voices clipped but concerned.

I was tethered to machines, wires snaking over my body.

Pain radiated from my ribs, but it was the ache in my heart that felt worse — the crushing guilt.

I heard a soft voice near the doorway. “Is he going to be okay?”
someone whispered.

I wished I could answer, to tell them I was fighting. That I wasn’t ready to give up.

The night stretched endlessly. Sleep teased me but never came.

Every sound echoed — the beep of monitors, the distant cry of a baby, the soft footsteps of nurses.

I thought of Vaidehi again, her smile, her tears, her unwavering hope.

I had destroyed so much, but I still wanted a chance to fix it.

Pain flared when I tried to move, but I clenched my jaw. I wasn’t just battling broken bones —

I was fighting my demons.
The bottle, the anger, the pride —

all needed to be conquered if I wanted to be the man Vaidehi deserved.

I pictured her face, her soft hands, the way she’d whisper my name. It was those memories that gave me strength, even as my body ached and my spirit wavered.

Days passed in a haze of painkillers and visits. The world outside the hospital room moved on, but I was trapped in a bubble of regret and resolve.

---

Author's Pov:-

The once-feared Yashvardhan Mishra

— the man who commanded silence in boardrooms and chaos in hearts —

now lay unconscious, fighting an unseen battle.

The sterile scent of the hospital, the low hum of machines,

and the dull ache of waiting wrapped the entire corridor in a suffocating silence.

It had been three days since the accident.

Three days since he had lost control — of the car, of his anger, of himself.

Everyone had warned him. But rage was a fire he had never learned to tame. And when Vaidehi had refused to forgive him, refused to even look back —

something inside him had shattered beyond repair

Now, as the rain lashed against the hospital windows,

a different kind of storm raged in Vaidehi’s heart.

She stood frozen, watching him through the glass door of the ICU.

Her fingers clutched the small gold chain at her throat —

the only thing she had left from him… and perhaps the only thing he would leave behind.

Doctors said his vitals were stable, but weakening. Internal damage, they said. Trauma. But no scan could measure a broken will.

He hadn’t opened his eyes once.

Not when his mother had wept at his bedside.

Not when his younger brother had whispered, “Bhai, please come back.”

Not even when Vaidehi had entered the room, her steps hesitant, heart crumbling with every breath

But he was still fighting

--

The night was quiet. Too quiet.

Machines blinked steadily beside Yashvardhan’s bed,

the soft rhythm of the heart monitor the only sign of life.

The storm outside had faded into a gentle drizzle, but the one inside Vaidehi hadn’t.

She hadn’t moved in hours.
Not when the nurses came in.

Not when his mother offered her a cup of tea she didn’t even notice.

Not even when her legs went numb from sitting still.

But then...

A flicker.

Just barely — his fingers moved.

Her heart skipped. Did she imagine it? Was it real?

She rushed to his side, eyes wide, tears already forming.

“Yash…?” she whispered,
unsure if the word was a prayer or a question.

Then… he blinked.

Once. Twice.

And slowly — painfully — his gaze found hers.

“V…Vaidehi?” His voice was rough, dry, almost like gravel scraping through silence.

A sob broke from her lips as she fell to her knees beside the bed, her forehead pressed against his hand.

“You stupid, arrogant man…” she wept, “How dare you scare me like this?”

But he only gave her a faint, crooked smile — the kind that didn’t need strength to carry its meaning.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered,

“I thought… I would never get to see you open your eyes again.”

He looked at her, his breathing heavy, the lines of pain still etched on his face.

“You came back…” he murmured, voice fading.

“I never left,” she said, tightening her fingers around his.