Soori, Jai… agar apun paanch minute mein tujhe call na kare, toh seedha Sanjay bhai ke farmhouse chale

jana…”

(Soori, Jai… if I don’t call you within five minutes, go straight to Sanjay bhai’s farmhouse…)

Soori and Jai exchanged a confused look. “Aur?” (And then?)

“Chita ko aag toh deni hogi na…” (Someone will have to light the funeral pyre, right…) Guru muttered, his voice cold and grim.

___

Holding her stomach, Avni struggled up onto her knees as Sahil’s scream echoed through the air. A sharp cough escaped her lips when thick smoke hit her nose, burning her throat. Panic rushed through her veins. She stumbled toward the door, patting it frantically before twisting the handle—only to realize it was locked… from the outside.

“Aaaahhh!!!”

Her entire body trembled in fear as Sahil’s agonized scream pierced her ears. Heart pounding, she wiped the smoke from the glass door with her trembling hands—and froze. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw Guru… brutally stabbing Sahil again and again, his face twisted in uncontrollable rage.

“Guru…” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Guru!!!” she shouted louder, pounding on the door with all her strength, but it was useless.

Through the noise, she could hear his furious voice, spitting words like fire—how dare Sahil touch her.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She could tell… by now, Sahil must already be dead.

Her eyes swept the room — flames hungrily licking the curtains, smoke curling like black fingers toward the ceiling — and a cold clarity settled over Avni: if they didn’t get out now, they would burn like the others.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, steadied herself, and grabbed the chair. Planting her feet, she swung with everything she had, the wooden legs connecting with the glass pane in a shower of sparks and sound. The first hit made a high, ringing crack; the second sent a spiderweb of fractures across the surface. She didn’t take her eyes off Guru for a single second — his outline through the haze: hunched, brutal, blood on his hands, stabbing at a motionless Sahil — and that image fueled her like adrenaline.

She hit again and again. Smoke burned her lungs; her hands trembled so violently the chair nearly slipped from her grasp. For a moment she thought her arms would give out, but the fear of the flames was stronger than exhaustion. With a final, desperate strike the glass shuddered and an ominous, jagged hole yawed open near the bottom. Cold night air — faint, sweet, and merciful — brushed her face through the gap.

Avni shoved the chair through the opening, then shoved her shoulder. Pain lanced through her ribs as shards bit into her skin, but the glass finally surrendered with a brittle scream.

While forcing her way through the shattered frame, sharp glass sliced into her skin, leaving crimson streaks along her arms and legs — but Avni barely felt the pain. All that mattered was getting to him.

As soon as she stumbled out of the burning room, she saw him — Guru, still clutching the blood-stained knife, his breath ragged, his eyes wild with fury and darkness.

Without a thought, she ran to him, her legs trembling beneath her. “Guru!!! Please…!!” she cried, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her soot-streaked face.

She fell to her knees beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulder, clinging to him as if her grip alone could pull him back to sanity. Her sobs muffled against his side, her trembling hands pressed against his blood-smeared shirt.

“ Guru… please…stop” (Stop it, Guru… please…)

Her desperate embrace was the only thing that stilled his rage — the fire around them roaring, the world burning, but her touch anchoring him to what little humanity he had left.

He froze.

The knife slipped from his hand and clattered onto the floor with a dull, metallic thud. For a moment, all sound seemed to fade — even the roar of the fire became a distant murmur. His eyes, his ears, his entire body finally caught up with the truth his rage had blinded him to. Sahil wasn’t moving. He was gone.

Guru’s chest heaved as he stared at the lifeless body before him, blood dripping from his trembling fingers. His mind went blank, his breath shaky — the reality sinking in like ice through his veins.

She broke the hug and cupped his cheeks; her palms instantly turned red as his blood smeared across them.

“Hume yaha se nikalna hai, chalo!!” (We have to get out of here, come on!!) she pleaded, her voice trembling between fear and determination.

But as she tried to pull him up, her eyes fell on the heavy metal chains still locked around his legs. Her heart sank. He wasn’t free — he couldn’t even move.

With parted lips, she looked at him — her teary eyes shimmering through the haze of smoke. For a heartbeat, everything stilled — the fire, the chaos, even her breath. Then Guru’s voice cut through it, raw and desperate.

“Ja yaha se!!” (Go from here!!)

he barked, pushing her back. The chains clanked sharply, his injured legs trembling beneath their weight.

Avni shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Nahi…” (No…) she whispered, voice breaking. She turned toward the thick iron shackles, glowing dull red from the fire’s heat, and picked up a broken iron rod.

The moment the rod struck the chains, sparks burst into the air. She hit again, harder this time, her entire body shaking.

“Avni!! Apun ne kaha na ja yaha se!!” (Avni!! I told you to go from here!!) Guru shouted, his voice echoing against the burning walls.

She ignored him, swinging again. Her palms burned, her breath came out ragged, but she didn’t stop.

“Tujhe marna hai kya!!” (Do you want to die!!) he roared, pulling at his shackles in vain.

Still, she didn’t turn. Smoke curled around her, the air so hot it stung her skin. She hit again — once, twice — each blow echoing louder than his words. The firelight glimmered on her tears as if even they refused to fall away from him.

Then, a deep metallic groan filled the room.

Avni froze, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she looked up. The chandelier above Guru creaked, its molten chain stretching, melting — moments away from giving in.

“Avni!” Guru shouted again, but before the word had fully left his lips, she dropped the rod and lunged toward him.

The chandelier crashed down with a thunderous roar, glass scattering like a storm of fire and shards. Avni’s scream died on her lips as she threw herself over Guru, shielding him completely.

The flames roared higher. The massive chandelier missed him by inches but crushed down over her leg, pinning her to the ground. Tiny splinters of glass lodged into her back, glinting crimson under the firelight.

Guru’s breath hitched — shock, fear, and disbelief flashing across his eyes. He instantly cupped her face, his palms trembling as her warm blood smeared against his skin. Her lashes fluttered open, the reflection of the burning room flickering in her teary eyes.

He froze — his heartbeat deafening in his ears as he saw the shards embedded in her skin, her breath trembling against his chest.

“Ayee!!!” his voice cracked, raw with panic.

The flames crackled louder, smoke curling around them as he screamed again, louder this time, desperate and wild —

“Ayeeeeeee!!!! Koi hai!!!!!!”

The sound echoed through the burning walls, his arms tightening around her motionless body as the fire swallowed everything around them.

In those last moments, Avni heard him crying — screaming for help, calling her name again and again. His voice broke with every word, trembling with fear she had never heard from him before.

The world around her blurred — fire, smoke, and his voice all melting into a haze. And somewhere within that chaos, a soft memory surfaced…

“Mumma, I broke up with that idiot. I don’t think anyone will ever love me like those fairytales…” she complained, pouting as she sat beside her mother.

Her mother chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “One day you will surely get someone who will love you more than his own life.”

“More than his life? Never! These guys don’t know anything about love!” Avni huffed.

Her mother smiled, her eyes warm. “Maybe not now... but someone will try to learn everything for you. He would die to be with you.”

Avni laughed lightly, shaking her head. “No one can love me more than you, Mumma…”

"Someone will prove me right..." her mother chuckled with full confidence.

The memory faded with the crackling of flames. Back in the present, the warmth of her mother’s touch dissolved into the burning heat around her — and the sound of Guru’s voice, still calling her name, was the last thing she heard before everything went silent.

"Guru bhai!!!!!"

After three weeks.

We did everything possible to secure Guru’s safety. While the allegations that he killed Sanjay and Sahil have not been proven in court, my husband — your brother-in-law — intervened on his behalf. Guru himself admitted that he was previously involved in Sanjay’s operations, and he fully disclosed all of Sanjay and Sahil’s illicit activities.

Considering these circumstances, the court has determined that he will not face a lengthy sentence. He has been sentenced to four years in jail. It appears he wishes to undertake atonement  and he carries a deep sense of responsibility for your situation, Avni,” Pallavi’s words echoed

“So… Soori and Jai?”

Pallavi shook her head gently. “No. Guru did not implicate them in any way. They are completely safe.”

.

A bandage wrapped around his forehead, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing the scars etched into his arms. His eyes darted around the room, impatient, searching for someone. His fingers fidgeted nervously, twisting and untwisting, betraying the tension coiled inside him. His legs tapping and shaking, all directed toward the door — every movement screaming his restlessness, his urgent need for her presence. Beside him there was a small bag.

The soft scrape of the wheelchair grew closer, each turn of the wheels echoing in the otherwise silent corridor. He dared not breathe, but his body betrayed him — shoulders trembling, fingers curling into fists.

And then he saw her.

Avni, fragile yet determined, sitting upright in the wheelchair, her hospital gown neat, bandages visible on her leg and arms, hair slightly tousled. Her eyes met his, wide and shimmering, taking in every scar, every line of pain on his face.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Time slowed. He could see the way her small hands rested on the wheelchair arms, the faint quiver of her lips, and the subtle rise and fall of her chest.

He couldn’t hold it anymore. With a strangled sob, he dropped to his knees before her.

“Guru…” she whispered, her voice trembling just enough, a soft smile gracing her lips.

That single word, that fragile smile, shattered him entirely. He couldn’t hold back any longer. In one desperate movement, he dropped to his knees and clutched her stomach, pressing his face against her, as though he could finally anchor himself to the reality of her being there. Weeks of fear, helplessness, longing, and guilt poured out of him in a storm of sobs.

He wanted to hear her voice again, feel her warmth, touch her — to make up for every moment he had been apart, every second he had missed. His arms wrapped around her as if letting go was impossible, his body shaking with the force of all he had buried inside.

The sudden intensity of his embrace made her gasp, but her eyes welled with tears and a small, soft laugh escaped her lips. She brushed her fingers gently through his hair, grounding him, letting him know she was there.

He cried like a child, raw and unrestrained, forgetting the world around them — the hospital walls, the nurses, the wheelchair — nothing mattered except her presence beneath his trembling hands.

“Sorry… sab apun ki wajah se hua hai…” he choked out between sobs, guilt spilling from every word, his voice ragged and breaking.

A tear slid down her cheek as she took a steadying breath and shook her head. She didn’t speak — words would have been meaningless in that moment — but the soft squeeze of her hands on his back, the quiet rhythm of her presence, told him everything he needed to hear.

For the first time in weeks, he let himself be vulnerable, letting the pain, the fear, the relief, and the love wash over him as he finally held her again. And she let him — silent, steady, and alive in that embrace.

She didn’t utter a word, nor did she try to stop him. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close, silently asking for the words she longed to hear — for him to tell her that he missed her too.

Every sob he let out pressed against her, every tremble of his body was a confession of all the fear, pain, and longing he had endured without her. She stayed still, letting him release everything, her embrace steady and warm, her presence a lifeline in the storm of his emotions.

For weeks apart, for all the nights he had suffered, this moment was everything — and in the quiet rhythm of their embrace, they both spoke without words.

When I was in school, Mumma once told me, “One day, someone will love you more than his own life… even more than I do.”

I had laughed that day, shaking my head, my voice full of certainty, “No one can ever love me more than you, Mumma.”

But someone proved her right… and me so wrong.

There is someone who loves me more than anything — more than his own life, more than the air he breathes, more than the world itself.

Someone who would tear it all down, burn it all, just to keep me safe.

Someone who would fall to his knees and cry for me, shaking and broken, yet holding me as if I were the only thing that mattered in existence.

Someone who would press his lips to my hands, clutch me to his chest, and whisper never leave me, like the entire universe depended on it.

Someone whose every heartbeat, every breath, every thought is bound to me — as if my life gives his life meaning.

Guru. Its him.

When he finally calmed down, his breath still uneven, Avni looked at him with a faint smile trying to lighten the moment.

“Tum mere liye kuch laaye ho..?” (Did you bring something for me?) she asked softly, her tone teasing yet warm.

She knew they didn’t have much time left — every second felt precious now.

Guru lifted his gaze slowly, eyes still red and wet. She gently wiped his tears with her thumb, and he just nodded before turning back to grab a small cloth bag from the chair behind him.

He handed it to her without saying a word. Avni looked inside, and her heart softened — a set of simple glass bangles shimmered faintly in the light.

“Apun ko samajh nahi aaya tujhe kya de…” (I didn’t know what to give you...) he said in a broken voice, his lips trembling as he looked down, then up into her eyes.

“Akhri baar milna hai toh apun ye la aaya…” (If this is the last time I’ll see you, then I brought this...)

Avni’s eyes filled with tears. For a moment, silence wrapped them both — just the sound of her breathing and the quiet clinking of the bangles in her hands.

Then he took a deep breath, his voice low and heavy.

“Chaar saal baad kaha hogi pata nahi… par jaha bhi ho, khush rehna.” (I don’t know where you’ll be after four years, but wherever you are... be happy.)

Avni blinked at him, disbelief flashing in her eyes.

“Chaar saal baad jaha bhi rehna khush rehna? Ye kya hai?” (Be happy wherever you are after four years? What’s that supposed to mean?) she said, her tone half annoyed, half emotional.

Then she lifted her chin, trying to sound casual but her voice cracked slightly.

“Mera koi plan nahi hai tumhe saat janam tak chhodne ka… uske baad aathve janam me tumhe kisi aur se shaadi karni ho toh kar sakte ho.”

(I don’t have any plans of leaving you — not even for seven lifetimes. After that, in the eighth one, if you want to marry someone else, you can.)

She shrugged her shoulders and looked away as if it was the most normal thing to say — but her eyes glistened, betraying her heart.

Guru just stared at her — wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat, like she had just stopped the world with a single line.

“Maine toh humare baccho ke naam bhi soch liye hai!” (I’ve even thought of names for our children!) she blurted out suddenly.

For a moment, there was silence — and then both of them burst into laughter, the tension of the past weeks melting away in that shared, uncontrollable joy.

Even amidst the hospital walls, the bandages, and the looming reality of his jail time, this small, silly confession reminded them of everything they had together — love, hope, and a future worth waiting for.

The End.

Please do share this book, recommend. Thanks for reading it.