𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝟏 𝐎𝐅 "𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄"
Rajveer Singh Rathore was supposed to marry my sister, but now we are bound in a marriage.
He never wanted me and I also don't want him. I love someone else, and he loves my sister.
A marriage tangled...
Love's breeze whispers softly, a gentle sigh, But memories linger, refusing to die. Yearning to embrace anew, yet chains of the past persist, In love's dance, the heart longs to exist.
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I've failed to protect so many things, even myself. Whenever I glance at Rajveer, all I can recall is me in his bedroom. It's agonizing just to meet his gaze.
"Where is the child, Siya?" He asked again, his voice heavy with anticipation, and my lips trembled as I prepared to speak the painful truth.
"Dead," I replied, the word feeling like a weight on my tongue, each syllable carrying the burden of unbearable loss. I could sense him staring at me, his gaze piercing through my defenses, but I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes.
The admission hung in the air between us, heavy with the weight of sorrow and regret. I could feel the anguish radiating from him.
I didn't want his pity, didn't want anyone's sympathy. All I wanted was to bear my grief in silence, to carry the weight of my pain alone. But even as I turned away, I knew that some wounds were too deep to heal without the solace of shared sorrow.
"How?" he asked, his tone firm, and my lips tightened into a thin line.
How could I possibly explain to him that I was the one responsible for the loss of my child? How could I find the words to express the unbearable guilt weighing down on my soul?
"Tell me, Siya," he pressed, his voice taking on a steely edge, compelling me to meet his gaze.
"I killed my child," I confessed, the admission heavy with anguish, and he narrowed his eyes at me, his disbelief palpable.
"Not this again, not this idea that you killed Aditya and our child," he retorted, his words cutting through me like knives, and my lips quivered with the weight of my sorrow.
"Please, believe me. I am the reason my child is gone," I implored, my voice trembling with emotion, and he softened, his eyes searching mine with a newfound understanding.
"You know, this wasn't the first time I attempted suicide," I admitted, my throat constricting with the weight of my confession.
"I know," he replied simply, and I looked at him, overwhelmed by his unwavering support and acceptance.
"Your conversation with Isha and Aditya's mother gave me a hint that it surely wasn't the first time. But this better be the last time, Siya," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of concern and firmness, and I nodded in silent agreement.
"The last time I attempted suicide, I was pregnant. Isha and I used to live in the same apartment. That day, Isha went to college to submit her assignment. I felt so vulnerable; Aditya's death had shattered me, and I needed someone to confide in. But Aditya's mother was grappling with her own grief over losing her son. I couldn't burden her with my pain, so I reached out to my mother after so many years. I thought she would understand my anguish," I explained, my voice trembling with emotion, tears welling up in my eyes.
