Author's POV,
Pihu found herself caught in a swirling vortex of emotions. The man before her, stripped bare by his confession, was a far cry from the cold, calculating mafia king she'd known. Here was a boy, a grieving child burdened by loss, a stark contrast to the monster he described becoming.
A single tear escaped her eye, tracing a path down her cheek to mingle with the tear Rudra had left on her hand. This shared tear, a bridge between their realities, held a complex mix of sorrow, anger, and a flicker of ... understanding. Was it pity? Empathy?"A child lost, a monster born," she thought, the weight of his story settling on her chest, a pressure that mirrored the rhythmic beeping of the nearby heart monitor.
Her grip on the bedsheet tightened subconsciously as Rudra spoke of his loss. The vulnerability etched on his face was a stark contrast to the steely facade he usually wore, chipping away at the walls she'd built around her heart.
Rudra watched her intently, a sliver of hope flickering in his eyes. But still he saw no forgiveness, no acceptance. Yet, something shifted in her gaze. A recognition of his pain, his past perhaps?His posture seemed to slump slightly, the usual steely glint in his eyes replaced by a desperate plea.
He squeezed her hand gently, a silent plea for a connection, any connection, in the chasm that had opened between them.
"Pihu," he began, his voice rough, "I understand if you can't forgive me. The darkness I became... it stained everything it touched."
She remained silent, her gaze drifting towards the sliver of grey sky visible between the sterile white walls.
He continued, his voice barely a whisper. "But if there's even a sliver of you that doesn't entirely hate me... I would like a chance to prove myself worthy of your trust again. To be the man you deserve, not the monster I've been."
The words hung heavy in the air. Pihu didn't respond, but a single tear escaped her eye, tracing a glistening path down her cheek. It wasn't a tear of forgiveness, but a tear that acknowledged the weight of his broken soul which turned dark.
A small sigh escaped Rudra's lips. He knew change wouldn't be easy. The darkness wouldn't vanish overnight. But for the first time in a long time, a flicker of hope ignited within him. The hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a path to redemption, a path he could walk alongside Pihu, even if they walked in silence.
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The first few days were the hardest. The enforced stillness was a torture in itself. Pihu, a woman of action, felt caged, her spirit chafing against the confines of the starched sheets. The silence was broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the monitor and the occasional murmur of the nurses as they checked on her vitals. Rudra, a constant presence by her bedside, seemed to anticipate her every need. He fetched cool water for her parched lips, adjusted the pillows for her comfort, and even helped her with meals.
One week had passed since Rudra's confession, and a fragile truce had settled between him and Pihu. The sterile white room, once a symbol of her captivity, now felt like an unwelcome cocoon. The world outside beckoned, but venturing out was out of the question. Not until she recovered from the ordeal that had brought her here.
A sliver of pink had returned to Pihu's cheeks, chasing away the pallor that had clung to her for weeks. The weakness, too, had lessened, replaced by a dull ache that throbbed whenever she tried to move on her own. The bullet wound near her spine, the doctor had explained with a grim smile, necessitated absolute rest.
The indignity of needing assistance with the most basic tasks gawned at Pihu. This morning's ordeal was a case in point. The ever-patient nurse, a gentle soul named Mary, had arrived with a cheerful smile and a basin of lukewarm water. Pihu endured the sponge bath with the stoic face, her jaw clenched tight, her eyes fixed stubbornly on a crack in the ceiling.
The most frustrating part, however, wasn't the sponge bath. It was breakfast. Rudra, ever-present and ever-watchful, hovered by the bed like a hawk guarding its nest.
This morning's breakfast menu consisted of a bowl of oatmeal, a plate of neatly cut fruit slices, and a glass of lukewarm milk. Bland and utterly boring. Pihu, usually a picture of control, pushed the tray away with a petulant shove.
"What is this?" she demanded, her voice thick with mock outrage. "Am I five years old?"
Rudra chuckled softly, shaking his head. "It's hospital food, Pihu," he replied, his voice gentle. "You need to eat to regain your strength."
Pihu scoffed. "Strength? This mush won't even build a sandcastle."
"It will build your body's strength," Rudra insisted, his tone patient. "You need it to heal."
Pihu narrowed her eyes. "Then maybe I don't want to heal."
Rudra sighed, a sound that ruffled the otherwise stoic facade he usually wore. "Don't be difficult, Pearl. Just a few bites."
Pihu crossed her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a picture-perfect imitation of a toddler throwing a tantrum. The effect, she was surprised to see, was a flicker of amusement in Rudra's eyes.
"Alright, alright," he conceded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "How about we make a deal? If you finish the breakfast, then I can talk doctor to take you out for a while."
Pihu sat back, her arms still crossed, and considered Rudra's offer. The idea of getting out, even for a short while, was tempting. She missed the feeling of fresh air on her skin, the warmth of sunlight on her face. But she was also stubborn, and she didn't want to give in to Rudra's coaxing so easily.
She looked at him, studying his face for any sign of insincerity. But all she saw was genuine concern and a hint of a smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Despite everything, despite the darkness that had clouded their past, there was something about Rudra's presence that felt comforting.
"Fine," she finally relented, her tone still defiant.
Rudra chuckled, a rich, warm sound that filled the sterile space. He spooned two bites of oatmeal into her mouth, his touch was gentle. Pihu chewed obediently, the blandness of the oats a stark contrast to the playful glint in Rudra's eyes.
As Pihu forced herself to eat the rest of the breakfast, Rudra picked up his phone and dialed the doctor's number. He explained Pihu's request for a short outing and listened intently to the doctor's response. After a few minutes, he hung up the phone with a satisfied smile.
"Done," he announced, turning back to Pihu. "The doctor has agreed to let you go for a short stroll outside. But," he added, holding up a finger, "you have to promise that you will come back without any tantrum."
Pihu nodded "Okay."
With that, Rudra helped Pihu get into a wheelchair. As they made their way outside, Pihu couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom and exhilaration. The sun felt warm on her skin, and the fresh air filled her lungs with a renewed sense of life.
As they strolled along the hospital grounds, this new dynamic – a strange mix of forced companionship, playful banter, and underlying tension – was unexpected, to say the least. Yet, as they strolled in the garden, a sliver of warmth bloomed in Pihu chest. It wasn't forgiveness, not yet. But it was a start, a fragile bridge built over a chasm of pain and anger. And maybe, just maybe, it was a path towards healing, not just for her body, but for her heart as well.
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In the evening, the sterile silence of the room shattered with a burst of frantic energy. The door creaked open, swinging wide to reveal Claire, a whirlwind of worry and relief. Before Pihu could even react, Claire was upon her, launching into a suffocating hug.
A jolt of pain shot through Pihu's side, and she winced, instinctively pushing Claire back a touch. Rudra, ever vigilant, was already on his feet, his hand moving to gently separate the two women.
"Careful, Claire," he cautioned, his voice a low rumble that sent a tremor through the room.
Claire's cheeks flushed a rosy red. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Pihu," she stammered, her voice laced with concern. "I completely forgot. You must be in so much pain."
Pihu managed a weak smile, the edges tinged with a grimace. "It's alright," she rasped, her voice hoarse from disuse.
Following close behind Claire was Laurent, his normally cheerful face etched with worry. He approached the bedside hesitantly, a bouquet of lilies cradled protectively in his arms.
Claire, ever the optimist, snatched the flowers from him with a flourish. "Hope you like them, Pihu!" she chirped, bustling over to a nearby table and arranging them in a vase. "A little touch of freshness for this drab room, wouldn't you say?"
Pihu offered a small smile. Claire being a notorious chatterbox, launched into an explanation. "You know, I wanted to visit you the whole time you were unconscious, but Rudra stopped me and Laurent. Insisted you needed rest."
Rudra, ever the stoic figure, interjected with a dry chuckle. "Let's just say I encouraged a more relaxed recovery, Claire."
Claire, undeterred, countered with a playful jab. ""Well, 'encouraged' or not, I wasn't taking no for an answer. You can't keep a good friend away from her friend that long."
Laurent, ever the mediator, spoke up, his voice soft but concerned. "We're all glad you're alright, Pihu." Pihu simply nodded in response, her gaze darting towards the door when it creaked open slightly.
A tense silence settled as Laurent caught Rudra's eye, silently requesting a private conversation. Rudra nodded curtly and excused himself, leaving Claire and Pihu alone.
The weight of Pihu's secret hung heavy in the air. Claire, however, seemed to sense her friend's turmoil. "Pihu," she began gently, "don't worry about explaining the restaurant. Laurent filled me in on everything, your situation with Rudra. I'm not asking you anything. But please," her voice turned pleading, "promise me you won't do anything that reckless again. You scared the living daylights out of me."
Pihu, touched by Claire's concern, reached into her hand and squeezed it tightly. "I promise," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
"Good," Claire sighed, a relieved smile gracing her lips. "Now, let's forget that, shall we? Look what I brought you!"
Claire reached into her coat pocket, triumphantly pulling out a chocolate bar. "I know Rudra probably doesn't offer much besides bland hospital food," she winked. "Here's a little treat."
Pihu's eyes widened with delight. Like a child receiving a forbidden treasure, a bright smile spread across her face. Taking the chocolate, she began to unwrap it with trembling fingers.
"Thank you, Claire," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. "You're absolutely right about that... devil."
Laughter filled the sterile room as Claire and Pihu resumed their conversation, the tension replaced by a newfound understanding. Pihu held the chocolate bar in her hand for a moment longer, savoring the forbidden pleasure. But just then, the doorknob rattled, and the sound sent a jolt of panic through her.
In a single, swift motion, born of both fear and childish glee, she shoved the entire last piece of chocolate into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged ungracefully, and she tossed the wrapper haphazardly towards Claire with a sheepish grin.
Oblivious to the silent drama, Claire rummaged through her purse. The door creaked open, revealing Rudra. He took in the scene with a single glance: Pihu hunched over, cheeks puffed like a squirrel with a particularly large nut, chomping on something invisible.
A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken questions. Pihu held her breath, waiting for the inevitable reprimand.
Then, a slow smile spread across Rudra's face. It wasn't a mocking smile, but one laced with amusement and a hint of something deeper. "Enjoying a little evening snack, are we Pearl?" he rumbled, his voice low but laced with amusement.
Pihu's throat constricted. Swallowing the chocolate whole seemed like a much better idea at this point, but she knew better than to defy Rudra with food stuck in her mouth. She mumbled something unintelligible, her voice muffled by the chocolate avalanche in her cheeks.
Another beat of silence passed, thick with tension.Claire finally emerged from her purse, a triumphant grin on her face. "Aha! Found it," she declared, holding up a two more chocolate bars.
A strangled sound, somewhere between a squeak and a muffled curse, erupted from Pihu. Her eyes darted between Claire's triumphant grin and the approaching figure of Rudra, his expression a curious mix of amusement and suspicion.
Claire, blissfully unaware of the impending storm, brandished the two chocolate bars like trophies. "Here you go, Pihu! Two for the price of one! I figured one wouldn't be enough after all that hospital food. Unless of course," she added with a wink, "you prefer the bland delights of the hospital menu?"
Pihu's cheeks burned hotter than as she tried to swallowed the chocolate whole. Panic warred with a desperate desire to laugh at Claire's obliviousness.
Rudra reached them, his lips twitching at the corners. "Seems like your new friend here is a bit more generous than the hospital dietician, wouldn't you say, Pearl?"
Pihu could only manage a weak nod, her cheeks straining against the internal chocolate avalanche. Claire, realizing her blunder a tad too late, tried to salvage the situation.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing crimson. "Right! Doctor's orders and all that. I completely forgot." A nervous laugh escaped her lips.
"Here, Pihu, let me hold onto those for safekeeping. I wouldn't want any... melty accidents, would you?"
Pihu, desperate for escape, managed a weak nod. With agonizing slowness, she chewed and swallowed the remaining chocolate, she prayed in her mind that Rudra just let this go.
Rudra chuckled, a rich sound that filled the sterile room. "Pearl," he said, a playful glint in his eyes, "Looks like your friend isn't quite as generous as she seems."
Claire glared playfully at Rudra. "Still more generous than Mr. Killjoy over here," she countered.
The tension in the room eased slightly with Rudra's amusement. Just then, the door creaked open again, revealing Laurent's concerned face.
"Claire, honey," he said gently, "Perhaps we should head home. Don't forget you are pregnant and you needed rest too like Pihu"
Claire's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features. "But Laurent," she protested, her voice soft, "I just got here. Can't I stay a little longer?"
Rudra cleared his throat, his voice firm but kind. "Claire, Pihu needs her rest. You can visit again, but for now, she needs to focus on recovering."
Claire's shoulders slumped slightly, but she understood. With a resigned sigh, she shuffled towards Pihu's bedside. Pulling Pihu into a tight hug, she whispered, "Get well soon, Pihu. Next time, I'll sneak in some candy that even the strictest warden wouldn't suspect."
Pihu, her cheeks still warm from the chocolate ordeal, managed a sheepish smile. Rudra watched the exchange, his eyes narrowing slightly. He knew that glint in Claire's eyes - a promise of future mischief.
As Claire and Laurent said their goodbyes and exited the room, a comfortable silence descended. But the moment the door closed, Rudra's playful demeanor vanished. He strode towards Pihu's bedside and sat down, his expression stern.
Pihu winced internally as Rudra's playful facade melted away. She knew the real conversation, the one that might involve a scolding or a restriction on her diet, was about to begin. She forced a small smile, trying to buy some time.
"That was a close call," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Rudra raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering briefly in his eyes before being replaced by a serious look. "Close call? Pihu, you could have choked! Not to mention defying doctor's orders."
Pihu peeked up at him, a flicker of defiance sparking in her eyes. "But the chocolate was so good," she admitted sheepishly. "And Claire... she just wanted to cheer me up."
Rudra's expression softened slightly at Pihu's silly explanation, but he maintained his serious tone. "I understand that, Pearl. But your health is the priority right now. You can't risk your recovery for a moment of indulgence."
Pihu nodded, her gaze dropping to her lap. Before she can even think a apology skipped her lips "I know, Rudra. I'm sorry."
Rudra observed her for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll talk to the doctor and see if we can make some adjustments to your diet. Maybe we can find something that satisfies your sweet tooth and doesn't derail your progress."
Pihu's eyes sparkled like she got a first prize in Maths Olympiad. "That would be wonderful."
A fragile truce, laced with a hint of amusement and a flicker of something deeper, settled between them, a testament to the unlikely bond forged in the sterile confines of the hospital room.
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To be continued.....