41: The game of faith

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 "Ask my life and watch me serve myself to death for you, Zoya."

Her eyes sparkle, draping a blanket of somber in themselves as she looks at looks at me. "Promise that you'll never, ever lie to me, you'll never hide any of your pain from me, you will show me your bruises and scars and let me heal them and kiss them. Promise me, Nischay."

"Promise." 

A smile caresses her face as she hugs me, her face nuzzling into the curve of my neck. "I love you more than you love me." 

I smile kissing her bare shoulder, my heart thickening with love at her confession. "As you say, Love.

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The courtroom is a symphony of hushed whispers and shuffling papers, but all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart. I watch as Zoya, is called by the attorney to the witness box. Her name echoes in the room, bouncing off the high ceilings and marble floors.

My mind races, thoughts tumbling over each other in a whirlwind of panic and worry. What if they don't believe us? What if they twist her words? What if...? The 'what ifs' are endless, each one more terrifying than the last.

Just then, I feel a firm squeeze on my hand. I look down to see Zoya's hand in mine, her grip reassuring. She gives me a small nod, a silent promise that everything's going to be alright. I draw a shaky breath, holding onto that promise like a lifeline.

She rises, her posture straight and her face a mask of calm determination. I can't help but admire her strength, her resilience. 

As she steps into the witness box, I feel a knot tighten in my stomach. I know what's coming. The accusations, the questions, the doubts. We both know I'm being framed, but proving it is another matter entirely.

The attorney's voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. "Please, place your hand on the Holy Bhagwat Gita and pledge the oath," he instructs Zoya. 

She complies, her hand steady on the worn leather cover of the Bhagwat Gita. Her voice rings out clear and strong as she pledges to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I have to stay strong, for her, for us. I can't let them see my fear. I can't let them win. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. This is just the beginning. 

The attorney starts to speak, his voice echoing in the courtroom. Each word is a punch to my gut, but I keep my face impassive. I can't afford to show any weakness, not now. I glance at Zoya, her face a picture of calm determination. She's my rock, my anchor in this storm.

I watch her, my heart pounding in my chest, as she begins to speak. The room falls silent, all eyes on Zoya. The next few moments will decide everything. 

"Weren't you the one who held out Ms. Shefali's ultrasound?" The attorney's question slices through the silence like a knife.

My heart stutters in my chest.

Shefali's ultrasound was conducted by Zoya?
I didn't know about this.

Panic surges through me, a tidal wave threatening to pull me under. 

I look at her, my eyes wide with shock. But she's still, her face pale but composed. She meets my gaze, her eyes filled with a mix of regret and determination.

"Yes," she answers, her voice barely above a whisper. The word echoes in the courtroom, a damning admission. I feel the room spin around me, my mind struggling to process her confession.

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 (on-hold)Where stories live. Discover now