The One I Denied, The One I Can't Lose

A thick silence blanketed the waiting area of the hospital, interrupted only by the occasional beeping of machines and hurried footsteps of nurses. The air smelled of antiseptics and despair. The once lively faces of the Randhawa and Chatterjee families were now pale with exhaustion and worry.

Shayari had been in surgery for hours, yet there was still no word from the doctors.

Madhavi sat with Chaitali, holding her trembling hands, whispering reassurances even she wasn't sure of. Gautam sat beside them, staring blankly at the floor, fingers interlocked tightly. Naveen paced in front of them, his face dark with concern. Rishi, standing near the wall, pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaustion evident in his posture.

And then there was Ranveer—standing at a distance, his back leaning against a pillar, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He had barely spoken a word since arriving. His mind was a battlefield of conflicting emotions, but he kept his face unreadable.

"You didn't do this."

Yet, the scene from earlier—the cruel laughter, the humiliation, Shayari's voice trembling when she finally spoke up—played in a loop in his mind. His fingers clenched. He wanted to push it all away, but for the first time, something wouldn't let him.

The weight in his chest grew heavier when Anisha rushed into the waiting area.

"Rishi!" she called out, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She ran to him, worry etched on her face. "I came as soon as I heard. How is she?"

Rishi exhaled, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "Still in surgery. It's been hours."

Anisha turned to Madhavi and Chaitali, crouching down to hold Chaitali's hands. "Aunty, I promise she'll be okay. She's strong."

Chaitali gave a weak nod, tears still slipping from her eyes. "She... she never even told me she was working late," she whispered. "If I had known—"

Naveen's deep voice cut through. "We'll get answers soon."

And as if on cue, a new presence entered the waiting area.

Two police officers.

The moment they stepped in, the energy in the room shifted.

"Mr. Chatterjee?" one of them asked, glancing at Gautam. "We're investigating Ms. Chatterjee's accident. Could you share when you last spoke with her?"

A fresh wave of anxiety spread across the family. Chaitali stiffened. Rishi and Naveen exchanged glances. Ranveer, for the first time in hours, felt his stomach drop.

The officers turned to Rishi. "Sir, did anyone from the Randhawa Group last see her before the accident?"

Madhavi looked at her younger son. "Ranveer, she was working late. You would know, right?"

All eyes turned to him.

Ranveer's throat went dry. His gaze dropped, his mind scrambling for the right words—something that didn't sound like a lie, even if it wasn't the whole truth.

"I... I don't know exactly," he mumbled, still not meeting anyone's eyes. "She... she left at her usual time. I wasn't at the office when she left."

His voice was quieter than usual, lacking its usual sharp edge.

It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't everything either.

And the hesitation said more than the words did.

Something about the way she was now—still, silent, fighting for her life—was unraveling him more than he'd expected.

The police were about to press further when another voice interrupted them.

"I can answer that."

The entire room turned toward the new arrival.