When he arrived at the hospital, the tension was suffocating. The Chauhan family sat in the waiting area, their faces etched with anguish. Meher’s parents looked as if the life had been drained from them.

Arjun stood apart, pacing like a man on the edge of violence, eyes still blazing with fury.

Vikram swallowed hard, his guilt choking him as he approached them. He barely managed a step before Arjun’s voice cut through the silence, sharp as a knife.

“What are you even doing here?” Arjun spat, taking a step forward, his fists trembling with barely contained rage.

“If you cared so much, why didn’t you answer her calls?”

Vikram couldn’t find the words to respond. He felt rooted to the spot, his shame and guilt clawing at him.

Instead, he just leaned back against the cold wall, his eyes avoiding Arjun’s burning gaze.

The tension was thick, suffocating, as he stood there in silence, helpless.

Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the tense stillness. The Rathore family arrived at the hospital, their expressions a mixture of confusion and worry.

Dadi-sa’s eyes were wide with concern, while Maa-sa looked frantic, tears streaming down her face.

Yug was right behind them, his normally playful demeanor replaced with grim seriousness.

Vikram looked at them, his face pale and eyes hollow. Dadi-sa rushed over to him, her voice filled with panic.

“Vikram, what happened? How is Meher?”

Before he could answer, Maa-sa’s voice cut in, sharp with worry.

“Why didn’t you pick up the phone, Vikram? ”

Vikram opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. His throat felt dry, the weight of his mistakes pressing heavily on his chest.

He could feel the judgmental eyes of Arjun and the Chauhan family boring into him, and the disbelief from his own family added to the suffocating guilt.

Just then, a doctor emerged from the emergency room, his expression grave.

The entire group turned to face him, holding their breath as they waited for news about Meher.

"Who is the family of the patient?" the doctor asked, glancing around the anxious faces.

Vikram stepped forward hesitantly, his voice cracking as he spoke.

"Doctor... Meher. How... how is she?"

The doctor’s face was unreadable, his tone professional yet heavy.

"She’s stable, but she’s lost a lot of blood. We managed to remove the bullet, but it was a close call. She’s resting now, but it will take time for her to recover. She’s incredibly lucky to have survived."

A wave of relief swept through the room, but it was mixed with the weight of what had almost been lost.

Arjun’s eyes remained fixed on Vikram, his anger undiminished.

“All of this happened because of you, Vikram!” Arjun’s voice cracked with fury and pain.

“If you had answered her calls, she wouldn’t be lying in there like this!”

Vikram had no defense. He felt every word like a punch to his gut, knowing that Arjun was right.

His silence spoke louder than any argument he could muster.

In that moment, surrounded by the silent, judging stares of both families, Vikram felt the full weight of his failures crashing down on him.

Arjun’s words still hung in the air like a suffocating fog, and Vikram’s silence only seemed to solidify the unbearable tension in the room.

Suddenly, Arjun's phone rang, breaking the charged atmosphere.

He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted—his eyes narrowing with urgency.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, his tone clipped. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked a few paces away from the group, his voice low as he answered the call.

Whatever he heard on the other end made his face grow even more tense. He ended the call quickly and turned back to the group, his gaze sharper and more determined.

"I need to handle something," he said, his voice gruff. He shot one last furious look at Vikram before walking away, disappearing around the corner of the hospital corridor.

As Arjun left, the silence that settled was heavy and uncomfortable.

Vikram could feel every gaze—blaming, worried, disappointed—cutting into him.

He wanted to say something, anything to break the unbearable stillness, but his voice felt trapped in his throat.

Dadi-sa stepped forward, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Vikram, I don’t understand what happened... but the most important thing is that Meher is okay.”

Vikram’s eyes were blank, filled with a haunting emptiness. He nodded mechanically, not really hearing her words.

His thoughts were a chaotic swirl—fear for Meher’s safety, guilt over ignoring her calls, and the sharp sting of Arjun’s accusations.

Just then, the doctor reappeared. “The patient is awake,” he said.

“But she’s weak. Only one person can go in at a time.”

Everyone’s eyes shifted to Vikram, expecting him to be the first to enter.

But he hesitated, his feet rooted to the floor. Seeing his reluctance, Dadi-sa gently urged,

“Go, beta. She needs you right now.”

But Vikram shook his head, his voice hoarse.

“No… I-I can’t. Let her parents see her first,” he managed to say, his eyes clouded with self-reproach. “I’ll wait.”

Maa-sa’s eyes softened as she gave him a small, understanding nod, though there was a sadness in her gaze.

“Theek hai,” she said, turning to Meher’s parents, who were already moving toward the room, desperate to see their daughter.

As they disappeared behind the door, Vikram slumped against the wall, his energy drained.

The weight of his mistakes pressed down on him, and all he could think about was how he’d failed Meher—how he’d let her down when she needed him most.

He stood there, staring at the closed door, praying that somehow, he’d get the chance to make things right.

After some time, Meher’s parents emerged from the hospital room, their faces still heavy with worry.

Her father’s eyes locked onto Vikram, his expression hard and unyielding.

“You can go in now,” he said coldly, his voice carrying the weight of barely restrained anger and disappointment.

Without another word, he turned away, guiding his wife toward the waiting area, leaving Vikram standing there, feeling smaller than ever.

Taking a shaky breath, Vikram forced himself to move. Each step toward the room felt heavier, like he was walking through quicksand.

When he reached the door, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle.

His mind was a storm of emotions—guilt, fear, and a desperate hope that Meher would be okay.

Finally, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the medical equipment casting long, ominous shadows on the walls.

Meher lay on the hospital bed, pale and fragile, her eyes barely open. The sight hit Vikram like a punch to the chest.

It was as if time had rewound—suddenly, he was back in that same sterile, cold hospital room where he had lost Shanaya.

The memory gripped him, tightening like a vice around his heart.

His breath caught as he stared at Meher, her weakened form an echo of a past he had never truly escaped.