What if I was there

The scene opens with an ominous silence broken only by the faint hum of an engine.
Ruhi sat in the driver’s seat, her grip tight on the steering wheel as the world outside raced past her. The headlights of her car cut through the darkness, illuminating the empty highway ahead, but her vision was blurred by the flood of tears streaming down her cheeks. The words of Muskaan rang in her mind, like a never-ending echo tearing through her sanity.

"You’re a curse. You killed your mother. You destroyed everything."

Her breath hitched, the weight of guilt and despair pressing down on her chest like a heavy stone. Her mother’s face flashed before her eyes—gentle, loving, and filled with warmth. Aarohi had always been her protector, her guiding light, and yet, Ruhi believed she was the one who snuffed it out.

"Mathasree…" her voice cracked as she whispered into the stillness of the car. "I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…" Her hands trembled as they gripped the locket she wore around her neck, a small picture of Aarohi nestled inside. The sight of it shattered her completely.

The tears came faster now, her sobs filling the confined space of the car. "I killed you. I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve anything," she cried out, her voice breaking with anguish.

Her foot pressed harder on the accelerator, the needle on the speedometer climbing dangerously high. The car swerved as she barely avoided hitting a barrier, but Ruhi didn’t care. She welcomed the chaos, the danger.

“I want to come to you, Mathasree,” she whispered, her eyes darting between the road and the picture in her locket. "Take me away from this pain. Please, take me back to you."

At a nearby shopping center, Krish and Pihu were loading bags into their car. The bustling sounds of the market surrounded them, but Pihu’s mind was elsewhere.

“Bhaiya,” she began hesitantly, looking up at Krish. “You said Abhira Bhabhi’s baby was premature, right?”

Krish nodded, closing the trunk. “Yeah, seven months. Why?”

Pihu frowned, her thoughts swirling. “I don’t know… He doesn’t look premature. He’s so healthy and fully grown. It doesn’t make sense.”

Krish rolled his eyes. “Pihu, you’re overthinking. Maybe the doctors worked miracles, or maybe we’re just lucky. Let it go.”

Pihu wasn’t convinced, but she stayed silent. As they climbed into the car, a sudden blur of motion caught her attention.

“Bhaiya, look!” she exclaimed, pointing at a car speeding down the road.

Krish squinted, recognizing the license plate. “That’s Ruhi Bhabhi’s car. Why is she driving like that?”

Pihu’s stomach twisted with unease. “Something’s wrong. Look at her speed! We need to follow her.”

Krish hesitated, glancing at Pihu’s worried expression, before nodding. He started the car, keeping a safe distance behind Ruhi’s vehicle.

---

Inside Ruhi’s car, her torment reached its peak. The empty road stretched ahead of her, but her mind was consumed by the weight of her guilt. Her mother’s voice seemed to echo in her head, soothing and loving, but it only made her pain worse.

She didn’t see the truck until it was too late. Its headlights appeared suddenly in the distance, blinding her. The driver honked repeatedly, but Ruhi didn’t flinch. Instead, her hands moved almost of their own accord, turning the wheel toward the truck.

“This is what I deserve,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

The truck driver tried to swerve, but the impact was inevitable. The collision was deafening—a thunderous crash that echoed through the night. Ruhi’s car spun wildly, flipping twice before landing on its side in a crumpled heap.

---

Krish and Pihu witnessed the crash from a distance. The sight of the mangled car sent a jolt of terror through them.

“RUHI BHABHI!” Krish shouted, slamming on the brakes.

Pihu screamed, her hands flying to her mouth. “Didi! No!”

They abandoned their car and ran toward the wreckage. The twisted metal of Ruhi’s car was barely recognizable, smoke rising from the engine. The windshield was shattered, and the driver’s side door was completely crushed.

“Bhabhi!” Krish called out, his voice cracking. He pulled at the driver’s side door, but it wouldn’t budge.

Pihu sobbed uncontrollably, pounding on the window. “Didi, wake up! Please wake up!”

Inside the car, Ruhi was slumped over the steering wheel, blood dripping from a deep gash on her forehead. Her chest rose and fell weakly, her breaths shallow and labored. The locket around her neck was tangled in her hair, the picture of Aarohi stained with blood.

“Krish, do something!” Pihu cried desperately.

Krish grabbed a metal rod from the roadside and began prying at the door. Sweat and tears mixed on his face as he fought against the unyielding metal. Finally, with a loud creak, the door gave way.

Ruhi’s lifeless body leaned forward, her head lolling to the side. Krish caught her just in time, gently pulling her out of the wreckage.

“Bhabhi, stay with us,” he pleaded, his voice trembling. “Don’t leave us. Please don’t leave us.”

Pihu took Ruhi’s head in her lap, her hands trembling as she tried to wipe away the blood. “Didi, please open your eyes,” she whispered through her tears. “You’re not a bad omen. You’re our strength. We need you.”

Krish carried Ruhi to their car, his arms shaking under her weight. He placed her in the backseat, and Pihu climbed in beside her, cradling her sister-in-law as if her touch alone could keep her alive.

“Drive, Bhaiya!” Pihu screamed.

Krish didn’t need to be told twice. He sped toward the hospital, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Pick up, pick up!” he muttered as he dialed Rohit’s number again. But the call went unanswered, as did his calls to Abhira.

Pihu’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She answered it with trembling hands. “Mumma,” she sobbed. 

Opinions

ruhi lost her mental stability for a few months abhir and  aaradhya taking care of her and daksh and they come close

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