Chapter-51

Author's POV,

The sterile air hung heavy as Pihu drifted in and out of consciousness. Beside her, Rudra's mind echoed with the doctor's words: "Mr. Rathore, Ms. Pihu's condition is stable for now, but her emotional state is concerning. It's not just the injury or the hospital; something else is bothering her. There's a chance of depression, too."

Rudra knew the source of her emotional turmoil: his actions. The past was unchangeable, but he could ensure he wouldn't repeat his mistakes. He leaned closer, whispering, "Pearl, please wake up. I'm sorry. I just want you to be alright. That's why I don't want you to leave the hospital. But please, wake up. I promise, I'll take you home."

Pihu, stirring slightly, registered his words as she fought to open her eyes. The concern etched on Rudra's face brought a flicker of response. She managed a weak nod, her throat parched. Sensing her need, Rudra helped her sip some water. Her gaze held his for a long moment before she croaked, "I know something's not right with my health. Only you can tell me. Please tell me. I promise I'm not so fragile that I'll break."

Rudra, understanding her nature, knew she needed the truth. He confessed everything, his voice heavy. Pihu listened intently, her expression unreadable. Finally, she simply said, "I'm sorry."

Confused, Rudra asked, "What are you apologizing for?"

Before he could get an answer, she continued, "I shouldn't have behaved that way before. You're only trying to make sure I get better." Pihu herself couldn't explain the apology, but her heart felt heavy with regret for her outburst.

Rudra, touched, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Pearl, you have nothing to apologize for. You can yell at me, scold me, even hit me. Just don't hurt yourself."

Pihu nodded weakly, unable to speak further. Rudra continued, "You want to leave the hospital, Pearl. If the doctor approves next week, we'll leave. I've made all the arrangements for you. Just rest this week."

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Two week later...

Rudra and Pihu settled into a private house within Claire's estate. It wasn't the home Pihu yearned for, but it offered more freedom and homely feel. The house was equipped with top-of-the-line medical facilities, including doctors and nurses available 24/7. Rudra had spared no expense in ensuring her comfort and well-being.

Pihu's bullet wound was healing, but she still couldn't walk. She had just started physiotherapy. Rudra was very careful with her and didn't let her do much on her own, not even lifting a glass. Right now, he was feeding her soup, but she was a bit upset because he only allowed her to eat what the doctor had prescribed.

Rudra sat in front of Pihu, feeding her soup. He could see the familiar pout forming on her lips, a childish reaction that secretly warmed him. It was a welcome change from the anger and fear that had always dominated their interactions.

As he finished the last spoonful, Rudra reached for another bowl on the bedside table. Pihu's eyes widened in alarm, her hand shooting out to grasp his. "Rudra, I'm full. I can't eat another bite!" she exclaimed, convinced he was about to subject her to more bland broth.

Rudra chuckled, fighting back a laugh at her antics. "But I thought you loved kheer, Pearl," he teased, uncovering the bowl to reveal a creamy concoction of rice pudding studded with almonds and pistachios.

This twist was unexpected. Rudra knew her sweet tooth was legendary, a fact gleaned from countless shared meals after their marriage. He'd even ensured the mansion kitchen in India was always stocked with sweets, knowing Pihu's pride would prevent her from asking for any.

The pout melted away, replaced by a flicker of surprise and a hint of longing. "Kheer?" A hesitant smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she extended her arm to take the bowl of kheer from Rudra.

But Rudra, not being Rudra, couldn't resist a playful tease. He extended his arm in the opposite direction, just out of Pihu's reach. "Someone said she was full," he teased, his voice warm and teasing.

Pihu squinted her brows in mock annoyance. "Who said that? Seems someone needs their ears checked. But before you go running off for that, hand over the kheer."

A snort of amusement escaped Rudra's lips as he shook his head. "Just teasing, Pearl. I bought it for you as a reward for following doctor's these past weeks. So, consider this a little treat."

He brought the spoon closer, his eyes crinkling at the corners. As he fed her the first bite, a soft moan escaped Pihu's lips. It was a sound of pure pleasure, a stark contrast to the forced acceptance she'd displayed with the bland broth.

For a moment, a blissful silence descended upon them. Rudra, basking in her contentment, let out a contented sigh.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Pihu finally spoke, her voice laced with a hint of lingering defiance, "It's delicious, Rudra. But tell the chef to add more sugar next time. It needs to be sweeter."

Rudra's heart skipped a beat. "But I tasted it," he countered, his voice surprisingly husky. "It was perfect the way it is. I made it."

"You?" Pihu's voice shot up an octave, surprise washing over her features."You made this?"

A ghost of a smile played on Rudra's lips. He knew why this was a surprise. A mafia king in the kitchen? Preposterous. But for her, anything. He tried to keep it casual. "Used to cook back in the orphanage for Ayana and Veer. Remember? Not some pampered rich boy."

Pihu, still reeling from his unexpected words, remained silent. The memory of his past, his emotions, a past he rarely spoke of, left her speechless. Her current condition didn't allow for further talk about it, so she simply finished her meal quietly.

"Can you take me outside to the garden, please?" Pihu finally asked, her voice a plea for a change of scenery after two weeks of confinement.

Rudra couldn't deny her request. He nodded in agreement. Approaching her, he surprised Pihu by scooping her up in his arms, bridal style. "Whoa!" she squeaked."Hey! I didn't say you could touch me! Just because I'm being civil doesn't mean you can get carried away. Get the wheelchair!"

A playful glint appeared in Rudra's eyes. "Hold still, Pearl. If you hurt yourself, there'll be no garden for you until you're completely healed."

Pihu grumbled but stopped wiggling. "Fine," she muttered, "but I still hate you, you Ravan."

Rudra raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his gaze. "What was that, Pearl?"

Pihu, pressed her lips together, refusing to repeat the insult.

He carried her outside, the fresh Parisian air washing over them. Settled on a bench amidst the blooming gardens, a comfortable silence descended. It wasn't the tense quiet of their earlier interactions, but a space filled with a newfound understanding.

Pihu broke the stillness, her voice laced with a hint of curiosity that surprised even her. Pointing to a vibrant peony, she asked, "Could you get me that flower?"

Rudra's gaze followed hers, a smile tugging at his lips. He retrieved the flower, presenting it to her like a small token of peace.

"Thank you," Pihu murmured, captivated by its beauty. "Do you know its name?"

"It's a peony," Rudra replied, his voice warm.

These past days, though strained, had fostered a fragile truce. Pihu, no longer feeling constantly on edge, found a sliver of peace in his presence. Rudra, in turn, had reined in his controlling nature, focusing on her well-being for the first time.

The silence stretched again, but this time it wasn't an uncomfortable void. A question, unexpected and tinged with a hint of longing, broke the quiet.

"When can we go back to India?" Pihu asked.

The question caught Rudra off guard. He answered honestly. "There are a few things I need to take care of here. But more importantly, I want you to be fully recovered before we leave. Don't you like Paris, Pearl?"

A small smile played on Pihu's lips as she looked around. "It's a beautiful city," she admitted, "I always dreamed of coming here. But not like the way I bought here." Hinting at Rudra bringing her forcefully.

The words held a hint of the fear, hurt and anger that had simmered beneath the surface for so long. It wasn't meant as a barb, but a glimpse into the storm of emotions she'd been battling.

Rudra listened, a silent acknowledgement of her pain. He couldn't erase his past action, but he could offer a tentative olive branch.

"Where would you like to visit in Paris, Pearl? You've seen some places with Claire, but what else catches your eye?"

Pihu's gaze drifted across the gardens, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted, "but I do hope to see a lot."

Rudra smiled, taking her hand gently in his. His eyes met hers, holding a promise. "Then we'll see a lot. Just get well soon, Pearl. Paris awaits."

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Pihu giggled, a sound like wind chimes dancing in a summer breeze. "Uno, Rudra! You forgot about the draw two card again!"

Rudra groaned, feigning despair as he shuffled the deck for another round of Rummy. "This is a conspiracy, I tell you! You two are ganging up on me." He shot a playful glare at Claire, who sat across from him, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"Perhaps you should just focus on your cards, Mr. Rathore," Claire quipped, her British accent a melody against Rudra's gruff baritone.

Pihu, perched beside Claire on the plush couch, leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Or maybe you're just a sore loser, Rudra?"

Rudra scoffed, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. "A sore loser? Coming from the woman who begged me to teach her how to play just a week ago?"

Pihu's cheeks flushed a delicate pink. "That was then! Now I'm a pro, thanks to Claire's excellent tutelage."

Claire winked at Pihu. "Always happy to help a fellow champion in the making."

The game continued, a lighthearted battle filled with playful banter. Rudra, despite his claims, didn't seem too discouraged by his losing streak. In fact, there was a certain warmth in his eyes as he watched Pihu's delight in her newfound skills and the camaraderie between her and Claire.

Finally, with a dramatic flourish, Claire laid down her cards. "Rummy! Looks like you two are out again, Mr. Rathore."

Rudra chuckled, gathering the discarded cards. "Alright, alright, you win. But only because you ladies teamed up against me."

"Excuses, excuses," Pihu teased, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied sigh. "But you have to admit, Rudra, losing doesn't look so bad on you."

A slow smile spread across Rudra's face, his gaze lingering on Pihu for a beat longer than necessary. "Perhaps not," he conceded, his voice a low rumble. "As long as I lose against you, Pearl."

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After a week,

The stale, damp air of the basement clung to Rudra like a shroud as he descended the rickety steps. Each creak echoed off the stone walls, amplifying the thudding of his own heart. Downstairs, in a single bare cell illuminated by a single flickering bulb, lay Rudraansh. The man wasn't just his cousin; he was the embodiment of everything Rudra loathed.

Rudraansh, despite the chains binding his wrists and ankles, managed a smirk. "Took you long enough, step-brother." His voice, though raspy, held a venomous edge. "Getting a little too cozy with your new toy, ain't you?"

His words, dripping with sarcasm, hit Rudra like a physical blow. Pihu's smiling face from the picture he kept tucked away in his pocket flashed in his mind, a stark contrast to the twisted figure before him.

"Don't even think about her," Rudra growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the concrete floor. The fury that had been simmering since his confrontation with Rudraansh at the meeting boiled over.

Rudraansh, trying to pour oil on the fire, sneered, "Okay, let's not talk about my sister-in-law. Let's talk about your dear dead sister. About her body, how I enjoyed it, and how my men took their turns. Oh, I almost forgot, you were there too to watch, weren't you? Powerless to stop it. The same way your wife will become my whore in the future."

That was it. The last straw for Rudra. Forgetting his initial goal for coming down here, he lunged at Rudraansh in a primal roar. Punches rained down on Rudraansh's face, merciless and fueled by a white-hot rage. "You dare to take their names with that filthy mouth?" Rudra bellowed. "Let me cut out that tongue so it can't spew such vile!"

After beating Rudraansh's face into a unrecognizable mess, a crimson mask punctuated by glistening bone, Rudra saw red. Sanity, a flimsy dam holding back a torrent of rage, finally crumbled. Rudra ripped a guttural roar from his throat. Fury, raw and primal, pulsed through him.

Ignoring the echoing screams that had become a grotesque soundtrack, Rudra snatched a glinting knife from the table. His hand, slick with blood, tightened around the hilt. He leaned close, his voice a chilling rasp against Rudraansh's mangled ear.

"Those words," he hissed, the tip of the blade tracing a line across Rudraansh's trembling throat, "will forever be silenced."

With a sickening scrape, the blade drew a line across Rudraansh's tongue. A high-pitched scream, inhuman and raw, erupted from the broken man. But Rudra didn't stop. He sawed back and forth, a methodical butcher, his face contorted in a feral mask. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, thick and cloying.

The fetid smell of sweat, fear, and something primal filled the room, a macabre perfume to the symphony of screams. Rudra felt a perverse satisfaction with each agonized shriek, a temporary balm to the gaping wound of his past.

He dropped the knife, his hand slick with a sickening mixture of sweat and blood. The gun, heavy in his holster, whispered promises of a final end. Yet, a sliver of his former self recoiled at the monstrous reflection staring back from the blade.

"You think you can die easily?" Rudra rasped, his voice raw with barely contained fury. "No, you'll live. You'll live to see the monster I've become, a reflection of the darkness you helped create. So that this monster can make you regret ever minute you will live."

He turned on his heel, his white shirt a canvas of crimson. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the blood from his hand and face, the stark contrast a sickening reminder of his brutality.

The image of Ayana, her terror-filled eyes, flashed in his mind. The memory of his mother, her whimpers echoing under Yashvardhan's blows. And finally, Pihu, lying pale in the hospital bed. All these images swirled in a storm within him, a relentless tempest that only the sight of his Pearl could momentarily calm.

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Meanwhile, the maids exchanged worried glances as Pihu, defying Rudra's orders, propelled herself out of her room on the wheelchair. The kitchen, a forbidden haven, called to her with the siren song of spices. Ignoring the maid name Marie's pleas, Pihu hoisted herself onto the counter, the pain in her leg a dull throb. Today, her taste buds craved a fiery rebellion.

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To be continued.....