As Prithvi crossed the threshold of his home, the weight of Tara's unconscious body in his arms felt heavier than ever before.

Each step he took was burdened with the urgency of the situation, his usually confident demeanor overshadowed by a deep sense of worry and responsibility.

At the doorway, Kusum, his mother, stood frozen in shock and concern. The warmth and familiarity of her welcoming smile were replaced by wide-eyed alarm as she beheld the sight before her.

Instinctively, her maternal instincts surged to the forefront, driving her to rush forward to meet her son.

"Prithvi, what happened? Is Tara alright?" Kusum's voice quivered with worry as she approached, her hands reaching out to offer support.

With great care and tenderness, Prithvi gently laid Tara down on the couch, ensuring her comfort with deliberate movements.

Despite the gravity of the situation, he remained composed, his voice steady as he addressed his mother's concerns.

"She's unconscious, Maa," Prithvi explained, his tone calm yet tinged with an underlying sense of apprehension. "But she seems to be okay for now. We were ambushed by dacoits in the jungle."

Kusum's heart clenched with fear at the mention of dacoits, her mind racing with worry for Tara's safety. Without a moment's hesitation, she sprang into action, drawing upon her years of experience as a caregiver.

"Quickly, get a knife and heat it on the flame until it glows red," Prithvi urged urgently, the urgency in his voice cutting through the tension in the room.

As Kusum's hands trembled with the weight of the situation, she absorbed the gravity of her son's words.

With determination fueled by a mother's love, she swiftly gathered water and medical supplies, her movements purposeful as she prepared to tend to Tara's injuries.

In that moment, as she hurried to Tara's side, Kusum's mind raced with worry and fear. Yet, beneath the turmoil, there was a quiet resolve-a steadfast determination to do whatever it took to ensure Tara's recovery and safety.

As Prithvi meticulously tended to Tara's wounds, his movements were deliberate and gentle, his touch infused with a tender care born out of deep concern.

Kusum hovered nearby, her presence a steady anchor amidst the swirling currents of fear and uncertainty.

With every word of solace and encouragement she offered, her voice resonated with a mother's love and unwavering support, serving as a lifeline for Prithvi in his darkest hour.

Once Tara was settled and her injuries attended to, Kusum's attention shifted to Prithvi, her gaze filled with concern as she noticed the blood seeping from his arm.

With a furrowed brow and a trembling hand, she assisted him in removing his torn shirt, revealing the extent of the wound beneath.

As she worked, her heart ached with a profound sense of helplessness, her eyes brimming with tears at the sight of her son's pain.

"Maa, bring the knife," Prithvi's voice was calm but urgent, a reflection of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Responding to her son's plea, Kusum hastened to fetch the requested tool, returning with a hot red knife and a bowl of cold water and cloth.

Yet, as she approached, her hands trembled uncontrollably, the weight of her own fears and insecurities bearing down upon her with suffocating intensity.

Tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked, a silent testament to the depth of her anguish.

Meanwhile, Padma stood silently in the corner, her impassive gaze fixed upon the unfolding scene.

Her stoic demeanor only served to heighten the tension in the room, casting a palpable aura of unease over the already fraught atmosphere.

As Kusum approached with the red-hot knife, her hands trembled uncontrollably, betraying the fear and helplessness that gripped her heart.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she struggled to come to terms with the sight of her son in pain.

The weight of her inability to alleviate his suffering bore down on her, a heavy burden that threatened to crush her spirit.

Sensing his mother's anguish, Prithvi reached out and gently took the knife from her trembling grasp, his own heart heavy with empathy for her plight.

"Beta, we can do something else too," Kusum whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "This... This will be very painful for you, beta."

Sensing his mother's distress, Prithvi mustered a weak smile, a silent acknowledgment of her unwavering support in his time of need.

With a deep breath, he braced himself for the searing pain that awaited him, knowing that it was a necessary step towards his recovery.

As the red-hot knife pierced his skin, a wave of intense agony washed over Prithvi, threatening to overwhelm his senses.

Every fiber of his being screamed out in protest, a primal instinct urging him to cry out in anguish. Yet, with remarkable resolve, he gritted his teeth and stifled the impending scream, refusing to succumb to the torment that engulfed him.

Through sheer force of will, Prithvi maintained his composure, his jaw clenched tight as the fiery metal worked its way deeper into his flesh.

Though every fiber of his being screamed out in protest, he remained steadfast in his resolve, determined to endure the pain for the sake of his own survival.

And as the bullet was finally dislodged from his arm. As blood began to flow freely from the wound, Kusum acted swiftly, applying pressure with a soaked cloth to staunch the bleeding.

Her hands moved with practiced efficiency, her touch both gentle and firm as she tended to her son's injury with unwavering care and concern.

Prithvi felt a rush of relief flood over him, mingling with the lingering echoes of pain that reverberated through his body.

With a deep exhale, he allowed himself a moment of respite, grateful for the strength and resilience that had carried him through the ordeal.

After attending to Prithvi's wound, Kusum sat beside him, a mixture of relief and worry etched on her face.

Prithvi leaned back, his arm still throbbing from the ordeal, but a sense of gratitude washing over him for his mother's care.

"Thank you, Maa," Prithvi said softly, his voice tinged with sincerity.

Kusum smiled, her eyes reflecting a mother's love and concern. "You're my son, Prithvi. Taking care of you is my duty," she replied, her voice filled with warmth.

Silence enveloped them for a moment, the weight of recent events hanging heavy in the air. But amidst the quiet, there was also a sense of relief - Tara was safe, and they had managed to tend to Prithvi's wound.

"We need to make sure Tara gets the care she needs," Prithvi said, breaking the silence. "She's been through a lot."

Kusum nodded in agreement, her expression determined. "We'll do everything we can to help her recover," she affirmed, her unwavering resolve echoing in her words.

In that moment, mother and son shared a silent understanding - a bond strengthened by adversity and a shared commitment to protecting those they loved.

As they sat together, facing the challenges ahead, they found solace in each other's presence, knowing that together, they could overcome anything.

.

.

.

.

.

As the night wore on, Prithvi remained vigilant by Tara's side, his senses on high alert for any sign of distress or discomfort.

Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders, Prithvi found himself unable to rest. His mind was consumed with thoughts of the harrowing ordeal they had just endured in the jungle.

The image of Tara, bound and helpless, haunted him, fueling a simmering anger deep within his chest.

Beside him, Tara stirred restlessly in her sleep, her brow furrowing with the remnants of her troubled dreams.

Prithvi reached out instinctively, his hand gently brushing against her forehead in a soothing gesture, his touch a silent reassurance that she was safe now.

In the dim light of the room, Kusum entered with a glass of turmeric milk, her presence bringing a sense of calm to the tense atmosphere.

"Prithvi, you should get some rest," Kusum said softly, her voice breaking the silence of the night. "You've been through a lot today."

Prithvi shook his head, his gaze never leaving Tara's sleeping form. "I can't rest, Maa," he replied, his voice tinged with determination.

Kusum nodded understandingly, her heart swelling with love for her son.

"Okay, have this milk, you will feel better," she said, offering him the glass with a gentle smile, a silent gesture of her support and care for him in this trying time.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A new day dawned, and the gentle rays of the morning sun painted soft patterns on the kitchen floor as Kusum embarked on her customary routine of preparing prasad for the morning prayers.

With the ease of long practice, she deftly measured out the ingredients, the rhythmic clinking of utensils providing a soothing accompaniment to her actions.

The sweet fragrance of freshly made kheer prasad wafted through the air, enveloping the kitchen in a comforting embrace.

Once the prasad was ready, Kusum carried it to the puja hall, where Padma sat in silent contemplation.

However, the tranquility of the moment was shattered by Padma's sharp and accusatory tone as she inquired about Tara's whereabouts.

"Teri Bahu kaha hai?" Padma's voice sliced through the serene atmosphere like a knife, her words laden with judgment and disapproval.

( Where is your daughter-in-law?)

Kusum paused, her heart heavy with sorrow at the hostility in Padma's question. "Yesterday night you saw their condition Maaji," she responded calmly, her voice tinged with sadness.

Padma's retort came swiftly, dripping with sarcasm and contempt.

"Uhh.. Hamare jamane mein agar bukhar se maar bhi jaye naa fir bhi kaam karna nahi choda, aur yehan zara zara se baaton mein aaram ki zarurat hai.. " she taunted.

(Uhh... In our time, even if one were to be struck down with fever, work would not be abandoned. But here, even the slightest discomfort calls for rest)

"She is pregnant, Maaji, and yesterday's events were traumatic for her," Kusum explained gently, her eyes brimming with empathy. "She needs rest and care."

"Hmph, these young ones are too delicate nowadays, Moreover, I've become a burden, your son is now kicking me out of the house," taunted Padma." she grumbled, reluctantly conceding to Kusum's explanation.

Despite the challenges posed by Padma's traditional mindset, Kusum remained resolute in her commitment to supporting Tara and Prithvi.

With a silent prayer for strength and patience, she placed the prasad before the deity, her thoughts consumed by the uncertain future that lay ahead for her young daughter-in-law.

.

.

.

.

.

As the morning prayers concluded, Kusum quietly exited the puja hall, her mind still consumed with thoughts of Tara and Prithvi.

Returning to the kitchen, Kusum began preparing morning tea, as Kusum finished preparing morning tea, the fragrant aroma of brewed tea leaves filled the air, offering a sense of comfort and familiarity amidst the lingering unease.

With practiced hands, she poured the steaming liquid into cups, the rhythmic clinking of china against saucers punctuating the stillness of the kitchen.

After serving tea to everyone, Kusum sat with Manik in her lap, attempting to coax him into drinking milk. However, the little boy stubbornly refused, his eyes filled with longing for his mother, Tara.

Manik's small, immature arm pushed the cup away with a solemn expression, his reluctance palpable as he continued to gaze around the room, searching for Tara.

.

.

.

.

.

Sunlight gently filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. Prithvi stirred from his restless vigil, his weary eyes blinking away the remnants of sleep as he rose from the bed beside Tara.

As he glanced over at Tara, he felt a surge of relief wash over him. She slept peacefully now, her breathing steady and calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the previous night. It was a small comfort amidst the chaos that had consumed their lives.

However, despite the serenity of the moment, Prithvi's mind was haunted by the events of the previous night.

The memory of Tara's terrified face, bound and helpless, sent a shiver down his spine.

He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him, knowing that he had failed to protect her from harm.

But amidst his self-doubt, Prithvi found a flicker of determination. They couldn't afford to dwell on the past, not when Tara's safety was still at risk.

They needed to be strong, to stand united against the forces that sought to tear them apart.

With his injured arm throbbing with pain, Prithvi winced as he shifted his weight.

With a silent vow to do whatever it took to keep Tara safe, Prithvi squared his shoulders and turned his gaze towards the new day, ready to face whatever challenges it may bring.

.

.

.

.

.

As the day wore on, the peace of the Thakur household was shattered by the arrival of a police jeep at the threshold.

"Bhaiyaji, police saheb aaye hai," one of the maid informed Prithvi, her voice laced with concern.

( Bhaiyaji, police officers have come.)

Prithvi acknowledged the news with a slight nod before making his way downstairs to confront the expected visitors.

Upon seeing Prithvi, the officer stood up, greeting him with a familiar tone. "Aur Thakur Sahab, bade dino baad aapse mulakat hui, paas ke gaon se khabar milli ki kuch koon kharaba - "

(And Thakur Sahab, it's been a long time since we last met. We received news from the nearby village about some mischief.)

Before the officer could complete his words, Prithvi took swift action. He tossed a hefty bundle of notes onto the table, his expression stern and unwavering.

The officer's demeanor shifted upon seeing the notes, his eyes widening with recognition. "Aarey Thakur Sahab, yeh sab chote mote chochle toh hum sambhal lenge, aap chinta naa kare," he assured, reaching out to accept the bundle of notes.

(Oh Thakur Sahab, we will take care of these small matters, don't you worry.)

Prithvi's response was curt. "Aa gaye hai jab kuch peeke jayeega," he stated firmly before turning on his heel and leaving the room, his resolve unshaken by the encounter.

(As you have already come, don't leave without having something.)

As Prithvi stepped into the bedroom, the heavy silence enveloped him like a suffocating cloak. Prithvi's heart sank as he entered the bedroom, his eyes immediately falling upon the empty bed where Tara should have been resting.

Panic began to gnaw at his insides as he searched the room frantically, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

His eyes darted around the familiar space, searching desperately for any sign of Tara's presence, but the emptiness only fueled his growing fear.

The bathroom offered no solace, its stark emptiness echoing Prithvi's mounting dread.

With each passing moment, his desperation swelled, his hands moving with increasing urgency as he scoured every inch of the room for a trace of her.

Amidst the turmoil of his frantic search, a soft, muffled sound reached his ears, tugging at the strings of his heart. With a rush of hope and fear intertwining, Prithvi followed the sound, his pulse quickening with each step.

In the dimly lit corner beside the closet, he found her - Tara, curled into herself, her small form trembling with each sob that wracked her body. The sight tore at Prithvi's soul, a pang of helplessness washing over him as he approached her cautiously, as if afraid to disturb the fragile moment.

"Tara," he murmured softly, his voice barely a whisper, as he knelt beside her. "What happened? Are you okay?"

The room seemed to shrink around them as Tara's tear-streaked face turned towards Prithvi.

Once vibrant eyes now clouded with a tempest of emotions - pain, fear, and something else, an enigmatic sorrow that Prithvi couldn't quite decipher.

It was a raw vulnerability that tugged at his heartstrings, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls he had built around his own emotions.

With aching tenderness, Prithvi reached out to her, his hand poised to offer comfort and solace, to bridge the gaping chasm that had opened between them.

But before his touch could find its mark, she recoiled, her hand moving with unexpected force to push him away.

"Stay away," she whispered, her voice barely audible yet laden with an unspoken weight that hung heavily in the air, suffocating the space between them.

Prithvi hesitated, his outstretched arm faltering as Tara once again pushed him back, her actions a physical manifestation of the barrier she had erected between them.

"What happened, Tara? Why are you acting like this?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern and confusion.

"Because you... you are a murderer," she replied, her words a painful admission that pierced Prithvi's heart like a dagger.

His heart seized in his chest at her accusation, a sharp pang of rejection cutting deeper than any physical wound he had ever endured.

It was a crushing blow, shattering the fragile hope that had flickered within him, leaving only a hollow ache in its wake.

He longed to gather her into his arms, to shield her from the pain that consumed her, but he knew he couldn't. Not until she allowed him to breach the walls she had erected around her fragile heart.

With a heavy heart, Prithvi withdrew, his movements slow and reluctant as he tore his gaze away from Tara's trembling form.

Every step felt like a betrayal, a silent acknowledgment of his failure to ease her suffering. Yet, he knew that he had no choice but to honor her wishes, to give her the space she needed to confront her demons in solitude.

As he turned away, the weight of her anguish hung heavy on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the distance that now lay between them.

But deep within his heart, a flicker of hope remained, a silent vow to stand by her side, no matter the trials that lay ahead.

.

.

.

.

.

.

𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙐𝙉𝙐𝙀𝘿....