CHAPTER XXII
"The Night That Wouldn't End"
Morning was beginning to bleed softly into the sky — streaks of pale light peeking over the dark horizon. The world was waking up.
But I wasn't.
I hadn't even slept.
Because Sita was still missing.
Hours had passed since I'd last seen her face, heard her voice, or even caught a single sign of where she might have gone. Fear had clawed so deeply into my chest that I could barely breathe anymore.
And just when I was about to break — when my strength had thinned to nothing but trembling bones and desperation — Shruti showed up.
She came to me like a lifeline, wrapping her arms around my shoulder, letting me lean into her support without needing to ask. Her voice was gentle, but steady — like she had to stay calm for the both of us.
"Vedu… don't panic. We'll find her," she said softly, brushing the hair away from my face. "I've already contacted her friends. If she shows up anywhere, they'll tell us immediately. I even spoke to Mia and Sasha — they're ready to help too."
I nodded… but my heart didn't feel any lighter.
Her words, as kind as they were, felt like paper against a wildfire.
Because how could I sit still while every cell in my body screamed her name?
I couldn't wait any longer.
With hands still trembling, I rode straight to the police station and filed a missing person report.
The words "My wife is missing" nearly choked me as I said them out loud. My voice broke. My eyes burned.
The officer behind the desk blinked at my words — then stood quickly, checking something on the system. A few minutes later, he looked at me with a strange, stunned expression.
"You're looking for Sita Sharma?"
My heart pounded. "Yes. Please — have you seen her?"
He nodded slowly, and those next few words knocked the air from my lungs.
"She was found last night. There was an accident… not serious, but she was unconscious when someone called it in. She's in City General Hospital right now. Her phone must have been lost during the crash — we had no way to contact anyone. In fact, we've been trying to find you. We even went to your apartment, but you weren't there."
I didn't hear anything after that.
My ears were ringing. My vision blurred.
All I could think about was: She's alive. She's hurt. She's in the hospital.
And I wasn't there when she needed me.
Without another word, I ran out of the station, jumped on my bike, and took off like the world itself was chasing me.
I didn't care about the speed. I didn't care about the horns or the red lights.
All I could think was:
"Hold on, Sita… I'm coming."
"Please be okay."
"Please still look at me the way you used to."
As the wind whipped past my face and tears threatened to blind me, I realized something painfully clear:
Loving someone means feeling everything they do.
Even their silence.
Even their absence.
And in her silence, I'd heard my own heart screaming.
But now… now that I knew where she was, I wasn't going to waste another second.
Because no matter what anyone said…
No matter how broken our story had begun…
She was mine to lose — and I would never let that happen again.
"In Her Arms, The Truth"
I reached the hospital, my heart pounding harder with every step I took through its sterile halls. The smell of antiseptic, the low murmurs of nurses, the cold white lights above — it all blurred around me. All I could think of was Sita.
She was here.
She was alive.
That was all I needed to know — and yet, I had to see her, touch her, hold her… just to believe it.
At the front desk, I barely managed the words, "Sita Sharma… which room?"
The woman behind the counter looked at me with soft eyes and gave me the direction. I didn't wait to thank her. I ran.
And then — I saw her.
Sitting on a hospital bed, wearing a plain patient gown, a tray of medicines in her hand. She looked pale, tired, but her back was straight, her presence still strong… still hers.
A nurse stood beside her, assisting her with the pills.
But I didn't stop.
My body moved before my thoughts could catch up.
I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly, burying my face in her shoulder as the tears finally came.
"Sita… what were you thinking?!" I cried softly, voice trembling. "Do you have any idea how scared I was? I couldn't find you anywhere… I thought— I thought I lost you."
The nurse, sensing something deeper than routine concern, gave us a soft smile and quietly slipped out of the room, leaving us in silence… and truth.
Sita didn't say a word at first. She just hugged me tighter — the kind of hug that says "I missed you too" without needing to speak.
Then she pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting mine — and I could see something vulnerable there. Something raw.
"Ved," she said, her voice low and broken, "I didn't mean to scare you. I just… I didn't know how today would end."
I sat beside her, brushing the hair away from her face, waiting as she reached for the words.
"You know that girl I told you about," she continued slowly, "the one I loved… before all this… before you?"
I nodded, my chest tightening. Of course, I remembered.
"Well…" she paused, "I got information today — something that made my heart race. Someone told me they had seen her… and that they knew where she was."
My heart dropped.
Sita kept speaking.
"They asked me to meet them. It was someone I didn't recognize, but I was desperate. I wanted closure… or hope. I don't know. So I went to the café near the office to meet him."
She exhaled sharply, her hands trembling now. "But when I got there… I realized it was a trap. The man wasn't some friend of hers. He was one of my father's old servants. He knew about her… because he used to spy on me back then."
I felt my jaw clench. The audacity. The cruelty.
"I tried to leave," Sita said, her voice shaking. "But he grabbed me — tried to hold me back, said he had orders to 'bring me home.' I struggled to pull free… and I guess I wasn't paying attention to the road."
Her eyes clouded with the memory.
"A car came out of nowhere. It hit me. Not hard, not fast… but enough to knock me down. I remember the pain, the shouting… then nothing."
I was frozen, a hundred emotions flooding my veins — rage, fear, relief, heartbreak. I reached for her hand and held it tightly.
"When I opened my eyes," she whispered, "I was here. The doctor said it was minor — just a sprain, some bruises. But…" she looked at me, eyes suddenly glossy, "I couldn't stop thinking about you. I knew you'd be looking for me. I wanted to tell you… I just didn't know how."
I leaned closer and cupped her face.
"You didn't have to protect me, Sita," I said softly. "You didn't have to go alone. You should've told me. You don't have to carry your past like a punishment."
She leaned into my touch, eyes closing for a brief second. "I didn't want to hurt you."
"You didn't," I whispered, pressing my forehead against hers. "But you scared me. Please… next time, let me carry some of that weight too."
Silence.
But it was the kind of silence that mended, not broke.
The kind that held space for pain and healing… together.
Because in that room — among the IV drips and heart monitors — we both understood something unspoken:
We were no longer just part of a fake marriage.
We were something more.
We were becoming real — through the pain, the confessions, and the hands we kept reaching for when everything else fell apart.
I kissed her forehead gently.
And in that moment, I knew…
She wasn't just missing.
She had been lost.
But now,
she was found.
And she was mine to hold.
To be continued...