Tara sat in the small, cold room, her fingers trembling in her lap. The sterile smell of disinfectant hung in the air, but she could barely register it over the sound of her own heartbeat thudding in her ears.

Her blood had been taken minutes ago, but each second felt like an eternity.

Manik's face flashed before her eyes-his smile, his innocent chatter, his tiny arms wrapped around her neck whenever he wanted to be held. The thought of losing him... it felt like her heart was being torn from her chest.

She glanced around the room, her gaze falling on the door. She half-expected it to burst open with the news she was waiting for, but it remained still.

Tara's mind raced. If her blood didn't match... what would happen to Manik? He needed this transfusion, and he needed it now.

The thought of his fragile body, lying on that hospital bed, pale and unmoving, sent a fresh wave of panic surging through her veins. She felt as if she couldn't breathe, as if the walls were closing in around her.

"Please, God" she prayed silently,

"let my blood be a match. Don't take my son from me..."

Her thoughts drifted to Prithvi's words from earlier.

I am not his father.

The shock of it still hadn't settled. What did he mean? How could Manik not be his son? Tara felt her head spinning with questions, but now wasn't the time to unravel the mystery. Manik's life hung in the balance.

The door creaked open, and Tara's breath caught in her throat. The nurse entered first, followed by the doctor, holding a piece of paper. His expression was calm, but Tara's heart raced as she searched his face for a clue.

"Mrs. Thakur," he said, his voice steady but serious. "We've tested your blood. You and Manik have same blood type that is O- "

Tara's entire body sagged with relief. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until it all came out in a single, shaky exhale.

"The transfusion can begin right away," the doctor continued.

"Your blood will help stabilize him, but we still have to keep a close eye on his condition. The internal bleeding is serious, and we'll need to continue monitoring him for the next few days."

Tara nodded, barely hearing the details. All she could focus on was the fact that she could help Manik. Her blood would save him. She clung to that thought like a lifeline, blocking out everything else.

The nurse motioned for her to follow, leading her to another room where they would begin the transfusion. As she lay down, feeling the familiar prick of the needle in her arm, Tara closed her eyes and whispered another prayer.

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In the dim light of the hospital corridor, Prithvi lay with his head on his mother Kusum's lap, the world around them fading into a blur of sterile sounds and anxious murmurs.

Tears streamed down his face, each drop carrying the weight of guilt and despair. His breath came in ragged sobs, and with each inhalation, the burden of his choices pressed heavier on his chest.

"I'm such a bad father, Ma," he whispered, his voice cracking.

"How could I let this happen to Manik? He's just a child."

Kusum brushed her fingers through his hair, her heart breaking for the son she had raised to be strong, yet now saw so vulnerable.

"You're not a bad father, Prithvi. You've done everything you could. This isn't your fault."

Prithvi shook his head vehemently, his frustration boiling over.

"If only I hadn't kept the truth from Tara. If only I had faced my past instead of hiding it. Manik is suffering because I didn't have the courage to be honest."

Kusum tightened her grip on him, wanting to shield him from the pain that enveloped him.

"You've carried so much weight, but you must focus on Manik now. You're here for him."

He lifted his head, looking directly into his mother's eyes, anguish etched on his face.

"It's not just that, Ma. If that WOMAN hadn't come into our lives, none of this would have happened. If I had told Tara everything, I and Manik could have SHARE THE SAME BLOOD TYPE! I could have saved Manik!"

The bitterness in his words sliced through the air, and Kusum felt a pang of sorrow for her son.

"Prithvi, you can't blame yourself for the choices of others. Life doesn't always follow our plans."

"Life may not be fair, but it feels so damn cruel!" he spat, anger mingling with grief.

" It's all because of that BITCH! If she hadn't been there... everything could have been different."

Kusum's heart ached at the mention of Jay.

"You cannot change the past, but you can fight for Manik now. He needs you more than ever. Don't let your anger consume you."

Prithvi let out a choked sob, his hands clenching into fists as he fought against the tide of emotions threatening to drown him.

"I couldn't keep my promise," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

"To protect Manik... You know, Maa, MANIK is my heartbeat, he is my breathe. Until now, I've been living for my child."

Prithvi's voice choked, the weight of his love and guilt crashing down on him.

Kusum's heart ached at the depth of his pain, and she tightened her embrace, grounding him in the moment.

"You still can. It's not too late, Prithvi. You will do everything in your power to protect him now. You will fight for him."

Prithvi's eyes filled with determination, mingled with anguish.

"I can't fail him, Maa. He deserves a father who can protect him, not one who hides from the truth."

Kusum looked into her son's eyes, seeing both his resolve and his vulnerability.

"You are stronger than you know. Use that strength to fight for him. Together, we'll face whatever comes next."

In that moment, Prithvi felt a spark of hope ignite within him. He resolved to fight, to protect the son he loved more than life itself, no matter the cost.

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Tara lay on the hospital bed, her arm outstretched, watching her blood fill the glass bottle for Manik's transfusion.

Her heart pounded with a mix of fear for her son and anger at the lies that had been kept from her.

She heard the soft shuffle of footsteps and felt the presence of someone nearby. Without turning, she already knew it was Kusum.

Tara instinctively turned her face away, her heart heavy with the burden of betrayal. Even in this moment of crisis, she couldn't shake the bitterness she felt for being kept in the dark.

"Tara," Kusum's voice was soft, almost pleading. She stepped closer, wringing her hands nervously. "I... I know I have wronged you. I should have told you the truth."

Tara didn't look at her. Instead, her eyes remained her cold and distant.

"What truth, Maaji? The truth that you and He kept from me? The truth that my son was suffering, and I didn't even know? Or the truth that you thought I couldn't handle?"

Kusum's heart broke at the bitterness in Tara's tone. She sit beside her, the guilt washing over her in waves.

"I... we thought we were protecting you, protecting him. We thought it was for the best."

Tara's lips trembled, but she held herself together.

"Protecting me? Or protecting the lie you've built all these years? I didn't need protection, Maaji. I needed the truth. I deserved the truth. Manik deserved the truth."

Kusum lowered her head, unable to meet Tara's eyes. She had never seen this side of her daughter-in-law before, and it cut her deeper than she could have imagined.

"I'm sorry, Tara. Truly, I am. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to cause you more pain."

Tara let out a slow, trembling breath.

"I don't care about the lies anymore. I don't care who did what or why. All I care about is Manik. He is my son, Maaji. Whether or not the blood matches, he is my child. And I will do whatever it takes to save him."

Kusum blinked back tears, her hand reaching out tentatively to touch Tara's arm, but she hesitated, unsure if her touch would be welcome.

"I know, Tara. I know how much you love him. I do too. I failed you both, and for that, I ask for your forgiveness."

Tara remained still, her heart heavy with emotion.

"Forgiveness? I don't know if I have that in me right now. Not when my son is fighting for his life, and I'm left wondering what else you and He have kept from me."

Kusum wiped her eyes with the edge of her sari, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Prithvi didn't want to hurt you. He loves Manik just as much as you do. Please, don't punish him for my mistakes."

Tara's throat tightened, her exhaustion catching up with her. She glanced at Manik, then back at Kusum, her voice cracking.

"I'm not punishing anyone. But right now, all that matters is Manik. Once he's safe, once he's well, then we'll talk. But for now... I just want him to open his eyes."

Kusum nodded silently, understanding the weight of Tara's words.

She stood up, placing a gentle hand on Tara's shoulder before leaving the room, leaving Tara alone once more with her thoughts and the steady ticking of the clock.

Tara prayed silently, willing her blood to give him the strength he needed.

"I'm here, my love," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm here, and I'm not leaving your side."

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Tara sat beside Manik's hospital bed, her eyes never leaving his fragile form.

The blood transfusion had begun, the steady drip of life flowing from the glass bottle into his small body.

Her hand rested lightly on his, as if her touch could shield him from the pain he was enduring.

Manik's pale face was peaceful, his body still beneath the thin sheet. Tara's heart clenched with every shallow breath he took, her mind filled with prayers for his recovery.

Her love for him ran deeper than words could express; he was her son, no matter what secrets had been kept.

The door to the room was slightly ajar, and outside in the corridor, Prithvi stood silently, leaning against the wall. His face was pale, and his hands trembled as he watched Tara and Manik through the small window.

The weight of his guilt and fear pressed down on him like a heavy cloak. He wanted nothing more than to rush inside, to comfort Tara, to hold Manik’s hand, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Prithvi’s heart ached with shame. He had failed both of them—his wife and his son.

The truth he had hidden for so long now stood like a barrier between him and Tara, and he was too broken to cross it.

He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the silent suffering she was bearing, and it crushed him. He couldn’t face her, not after what he had done.

From her place beside Manik, Tara could feel Prithvi’s presence. She knew he was outside, watching them, torn between his fear and his love for their son.

A part of her wanted to call him in, to tell him that it wasn’t the time for guilt or shame—that they needed to be together, to be strong for Manik.

But another part of her was still hurt, still reeling from the betrayal, and she wasn’t ready to let go of that pain just yet.

She took a deep breath, trying to focus on Manik. The transfusion seemed to be going smoothly, but the uncertainty of his condition weighed heavily on her.

Every drop of blood that entered his body felt like a piece of her own soul, a sacrifice she would gladly make over and over again if it meant he would live.

Tara gently stroked Manik’s hair, her voice soft as she whispered to him,

“You’re strong, my love. You’re going to get through this. I’m here with you... always.”

Her voice cracked with emotion, and she wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. She couldn’t bear to think of a world without him. He was her heartbeat, her entire world.

Outside, Prithvi turned away from the window, his chest tightening as he listened to Tara’s soft words. He wanted to go to her, to kneel beside her and tell her how sorry he was.

To beg for her forgiveness, not just for the secret he had kept but for all the times he hadn’t been there when she needed him. But his feet remained rooted to the ground. He had never felt so helpless.

Prithvi’s thoughts were interrupted when a nurse walked past him, glancing inside the room to check on the transfusion.

She gave him a sympathetic look, sensing the turmoil in his eyes, but said nothing as she continued down the hall.

Tara, her voice now barely a whisper, spoke again, this time more to herself than to Manik.

“I don’t care about the lies... about the secrets. I just want you to be okay. I just want you my sona.”

Prithvi heard her, the words cutting through him like a knife. He clenched his fists, his throat tightening.

He wanted to believe that his love for Manik was enough—that despite everything, he was still a father worthy of his son. But the guilt gnawed at him relentlessly.

He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes, letting the weight of the moment sink in.

Tara was right there, fighting for Manik with every ounce of strength she had, while he stood on the outside, paralyzed by his own mistakes. It was a cruel irony.

In that moment, Prithvi made a silent vow to himself. Whatever happened next, whatever it took, he would fight for his family.

He would find the courage to face Tara, to admit his failings, and to be the father and husband they needed him to be. No more hiding, no more running.

Inside the room, Tara continued to sit by Manik’s side, her hand gripping his as if willing him to hold on. She didn’t know what the future held, but she knew one thing for certain: she would never give up on her son.

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Tara lay beside Manik, her body drained from the transfusion, but her hand still clasped her son's tiny fingers as if she could somehow protect him, even in her sleep.

The room was dim, the rhythmic beeping of machines the only sound breaking the heavy silence. It was the first moment of calm after the storm.

The doctor had spoken softly as he left.

“He’s stable now, but it will take time for him to fully recover. You can rest easy tonight.”

But there was no rest for Prithvi.

He stood at the doorway, his feet unable to move, his heart feeling too heavy to take another step.

Tara had done what he could not—given her blood to save Manik, the child he had sworn to protect. The sight of them—his wife and son, both so fragile, yet so strong—broke something inside him.

With quiet steps, Prithvi finally walked toward the bed. He stopped at the foot of it, staring down at Manik, his precious boy.

Manik looked so small under the blanket, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, his face peaceful now after so much suffering.

Prithvi’s throat tightened, his vision blurred with unshed tears. He knelt down, his hands trembling as they gently touched Manik’s feet.

Bowing his head, he pressed his forehead against his son’s legs, his body wracked with silent sobs.

“I couldn’t keep my promise,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I promised to protect you... to always be there for you... and I failed.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, then another. He stayed there, kneeling in silence, the weight of his guilt crushing him. This was his son—his heartbeat, his world—and he silently prayed for forgiveness.

He lifted his head, his fingers lightly brushing Manik’s toes.

“You are my heartbeat,” he whispered softly. “I’ve lived every day for you, my son. I’ve failed you, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it right.”

Rising slowly, Prithvi leaned over and gently ran his fingers through Manik’s hair. The boy stirred ever so slightly, but didn’t wake.

Prithvi bent down, his lips trembling as he pressed a tender kiss on Manik’s forehead.

A tear fell onto his son’s brow, and Prithvi quickly wiped it away with his thumb, as though he didn’t want to stain his boy’s peaceful slumber with his pain.

Then, his eyes turned to Tara. She was lying beside Manik, her face pale from exhaustion, but there was a quiet strength in her even as she slept.

She had fought for their son—fought in a way Prithvi hadn’t been able to. He felt his heart clench, torn between gratitude and guilt.

Kneeling beside her, Prithvi hesitated before he reached out and brushed a few stray locks of hair away from her face.

He gazed at her for a long moment, his heart swelling with a love so deep it was painful.

How had he been so lucky to have her? And how could he have let her down so profoundly?

He leaned in close, his lips just barely brushing her forehead as he kissed her gently, careful not to wake her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

His hand lingered on her cheek for a moment, his thumb gently stroking her soft skin before he withdrew. He wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive him, but he would spend every day trying to earn it.

As he stood, Prithvi looked down at them both, his chest tight with the weight of everything he had failed to protect.

He wiped another tear from his face before stepping back, knowing that while they rested, he would have to carry the burden of the truth alone for now. But he would fight—for them, for his family—no matter the cost.

With one last glance at his sleeping wife and son, Prithvi quietly slipped out of the room, leaving them in peace, while he carried the storm inside.

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Tara stirred awake, her eyes fluttering open to the soft morning light streaming in through the window. The first thing she saw was Manik, lying peacefully beside her, his small chest rising and falling steadily.

Relief washed over her, though exhaustion still clung to her bones.

Just as she was about to settle back into her thoughts, the door creaked open, and Prithvi quietly stepped inside, carrying a plate of food.

His face was tired, his eyes shadowed from a sleepless night. He moved slowly, almost hesitantly, as if he were afraid to intrude.

“Doctor checked on Manik last night while you were both sleeping,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence in the room.

“He said... he’s stable now.”

Tara’s gaze stayed fixed on Manik, absorbing the reassurance, but she didn’t say a word.

The atmosphere between them was still heavy with unspoken emotions, and Prithvi stood there, unsure of how to proceed.

“I brought you some food,” he added, his voice quieter now, filled with hesitation.

He placed the plate on the side table near her, glancing at her face for any sign of how she was feeling, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

For a moment, Prithvi stood there, his hands awkwardly fidgeting at his sides. He swallowed hard, his throat tightening with guilt.

He couldn’t bear to meet her gaze, knowing how much pain he had caused her. Finally, he took a step back, ready to leave the room.

“I’ll... I’ll go. You should eat something,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. He turned to leave, convinced that Tara wouldn’t want him around after everything that had happened.

Just as he reached the door, her voice stopped him.

“You don’t have to go,” she said quietly, her eyes still on their son. “Not today.”

He froze in place, his heart hammering in his chest. Slowly, he turned back to face her.

Tara was still looking at Manik, but there was a softness in her voice that hadn’t been there before.

Prithvi stood there, his emotions caught between relief and regret.

He didn’t dare move closer, but hearing her words, he felt something shift inside him, a tiny thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be mended in time.

He nodded, though she couldn’t see him, and sat down quietly in the chair beside the bed, watching over them both in silence.

Tara remained quiet for a while, her hand gently stroking Manik’s soft hair as he slept peacefully.

The tension between her and Prithvi lingered in the air, but there was something different now—less anger, more exhaustion, as if the fight had drained out of her.

Prithvi watched them from his chair, his eyes tracing every curve of his son’s face, every breath he took.

The sight of Manik lying there, stable but still so fragile, made his chest ache. He had never felt more helpless in his life.

After what felt like an eternity, Tara finally spoke again, her voice soft but steady.

“You stayed the whole night?” she asked, her eyes still not meeting his.

Prithvi nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “Yes... I didn’t want to leave him... or you.”

There was a pause, and Tara finally turned her gaze toward him, her expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked to the plate of food sitting untouched on the table.

“You should eat,” he urged quietly, his voice gentle, trying to shift her focus.

“You haven’t had anything since the transfusion. The doctor said you need to keep your strength up.”

Tara looked at the plate, then back at him, her exhaustion evident.

“I’m not hungry,” she murmured, though her body betrayed her—weak from the blood loss, she felt drained in every way possible.

Prithvi hesitated, then stood up, walking slowly toward her. He sat on the edge of the bed, keeping a respectful distance, but close enough to be present.

Gently, he took a piece of fruit from the plate and held it out to her.

“Tara... please,” he whispered. “You need to take care of yourself... for him.”

She glanced at the fruit in his hand, then back at Manik. For a long moment, she said nothing, the silence growing heavy.

Then, with a quiet sigh, she relented, taking the fruit from his hand and eating it slowly.

Prithvi’s heart felt lighter at her small act of acceptance. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a sign that, even in the midst of the pain, there was still a connection between them.

He watched her carefully, making sure she ate a little more before setting the plate aside.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt less suffocating.

Prithvi stayed where he was, not daring to leave, afraid that any movement might shatter the fragile peace between them.

After a while, Tara’s eyes fluttered, heavy with fatigue. Prithvi gently pulled the blanket up over her, his movements slow and careful, not wanting to disturb her.

“Tara...” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I’ve hurt you... and I can’t undo that. But please... let me be here. Let me help.”

Tara didn’t respond right away. Her eyelids drooped, and sleep was quickly overtaking her again. But just before she drifted off completely, she whispered one word, so faint it was almost lost in the quiet room.

“Stay.”

Prithvi’s heart clenched at that single word, a tear slipping down his cheek. He sat back down, keeping his silent vigil beside his wife and son, knowing that while forgiveness might be far off, this moment was a step toward healing.

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𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙀𝘿...