Shattered Love - Punarbharosa

🦋 Chapter 30 🦋

The night was still, but the storm inside Aditya Raichand raged on.

He sat at the edge of the bed, motionless, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clenched into tight fists. The veins on his forearms stood out, his knuckles bone-white under the strain.

His eyes had long since drifted to the dark, coppery bloodstain on the soft grey carpet, Aaradhya’s blood. It was small, but it stared back at him like a wound in his conscience.

He swallowed hard, shame pressing down on his chest like a weight he couldn't shake off.

He remembered the way her voice cracked… the way she winced, but refused to show weakness. The way she held his collar, her eyes burning with hurt and defiance. 
And above all, he remembered the words he’d thrown at her.

“Worthless.”

He had called Aaradhya Malhothra- a woman of strength, of quiet grace- a worthless woman.

He shut his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. 
“Damn it,” he whispered, the guilt clawing through his chest.

His jaw clenched, and in a burst of helpless rage, he slammed his fist into the wooden frame of the bed. Pain shot through his hand instantly, but he welcomed it. 
He deserved it.

This wasn’t just about a broken laptop or a spilled cup of tea. This was about the years of bitterness festering inside him. 
This was about Satvik, about Myra, about betrayal and abandonment, about his unresolved past.

And he had taken it all out on the one person who had walked into his life not to hurt, but to quietly help. She had noticed his headache. She had made him tea. And in return… he had wounded her, with words and carelessness.

What was he turning into?

The room echoed with silence, and for the first time in weeks, Aditya didn’t feel anger.

He felt remorse.

And somewhere deep inside, he knew, an apology wouldn’t be enough.

But maybe it could be a start.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

The soft glow of the living room light cast long shadows across the floor as Aditya descended the stairs, each step heavier than the last. The silence of the night was broken only by the quiet hum of the ceiling fan and the sound of his own regret echoing in his chest.

His eyes fell on the couch, and there she was.

Aaradhya, curled up in sleep, her features serene yet telling. Her feet, still untreated, rested uncomfortably on the edge. A faint wince lingered on her face even in slumber, and dried tear stains traced silent paths down her cheeks.

Aditya’s heart clenched.

He moved closer, sinking to his knees in front of her, his eyes fixated on the wound he had ignored in his fury. Blood had crusted at the edges. A small shard was still embedded near the cut. His jaw tightened, guilt threatening to choke him.

Without a word, he reached for the first aid kit.

His movements were careful, delicate. He cleaned the wound with warm water and antiseptic, flinching each time her foot twitched. Yet, Aaradhya drained from the day, from everything didn’t wake. She only stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

He bandaged the cut with precision, treating her injury like something sacred. Because it wasn’t just a wound on her skin—it was a wound he had caused.

When he finally finished, he sat on the table across from her, just watching.

Her face, usually guarded, now lay vulnerable in sleep. Her rosy cheeks were streaked with faded tears. Her nose, slightly red, made her look heartbreakingly delicate.