Stepping Back, Not Away

Aayansh’s POV

Ruhi was clutching her head like she was trying to keep herself together .Her face twisted in pain, breath uneven, eyes unfocused like she was somewhere far away and I couldn’t reach her no matter how loudly I called her name.

“Ruhi… look at me,” I said, gripping her shoulders gently, desperately. “Ruhi, listen to me. I’m here.”

She didn’t respond.It was like she couldn’t hear me at all.

Her body trembled once hard and then her strength gave out.

She collapsed.

I caught her before she could hit the ground, pulling her against my chest, holding her as tightly as I dared, terrified she would slip away even like this.

“Ruhi!” I shouted.

Rishabh bhai, Vikrant, and Shrey rushed toward us instantly. One look at her pale face and the way she lay limp in my arms was enough.

“Hospital,” Rishabh bhai said firmly. “Now.”

I don’t remember the drive. I remember holding her hand. I remember praying. I remember blaming myself for not reaching her sooner.

That was all.

She was inside the room now, doctors moving around her, machines beeping softly. The door had closed, cutting us off.

I stood there, frozen, staring at the wall like it might give me answers.After some time, they let me sit beside her.

It’s been half an hour. She still hasn’t woken up.

She looks fragile lying there too still, too quiet. Her fingers are cold in mine, and I keep rubbing my thumb over her knuckles, like that might somehow bring her back faster.

I haven’t let go of her hand once.

Flashback

When Ruhi walked out of the house earlier, panic spread through everyone. I tried to stop her. I really did.

But when Shrey called and said she was with him, I finally breathed a little easier. Just a little.

Still, something didn’t sit right in my chest.So I decided to go to Shrey’s place.

Rishabh bhai came with me. Vikrant too was just as restless, just as scared.

We didn’t go inside. We were afraid.

Afraid that if Ruhi saw us, her anger would flare again. Afraid that her health couldn’t take another shock.

So we waited nearby. And then I saw her.

Ruhi came out of the building.

My heart dropped. Before I could react, Rishabh bhai said, “Follow her. Quietly.”

We did. No questions. No second thoughts.

Then Rishabh bhai’s phone rang.

It was Shrey.

“Ruhi isn’t here,” Shrey said, panic clear in his voice. “I don’t know when I fell asleep, but when I woke up she was gone.”

Rishabh bhai told him the truth that we had just seen her, that we were following her right now.

Shrey told us to share  our live location and said he was on his way.

Ruhi’s car moved farther and farther away from the city.Streetlights disappeared. Roads emptied.

Then she stopped.An abandoned factory.

My stomach twisted.She went inside.

We followed.

When she climbed up to the terrace, Rishabh bhai told us he had already called the police.

“Let’s wait,” he said quietly. “If things get dangerous, we step in.”

I remember standing there, every muscle tense, heart hammering, knowing something terrible was about to happen and hating myself for not stopping it sooner.

As we reached the terrace, we froze.Ruhi was sitting on a chair in the middle of the open space.
Her back was straight, her hands clenched in her lap.

And in front of her a man sat calmly, his posture relaxed, a mask covering his face.

They were talking.

My heart started pounding. Everything in me screamed that something was wrong.

We stayed hidden, not daring to move.

Then the man slowly lifted his hand.And removed the mask.

The world tilted.Ruhi’s entire body went rigid. The color drained from her face as if all the blood had left at once.

But she wasn’t the only one who reacted.

Vikrant stumbled back like he had been punched. His knees nearly gave out, and Shrey grabbed him just in time, holding him upright.

“No…” Vikrant whispered, his voice shaking. “This isn’t possible.”His eyes were locked on the man, wide with disbelief and horror.

“He’s dead,” Vikrant breathed. “He’s supposed to be dead.”

Rishabh bhai turned sharply toward him.
“Who is he?” he asked, tension lacing his voice.

Vikrant swallowed hard. His lips trembled as he forced the name out.

“R… Rakshit.”

Present

I’m holding Ruhi’s hand when I feel it. A slight movement.So faint I almost think I imagined it.

I lean forward instantly.Her fingers twitch again. Her eyelids flutter.

“Ruhi,” I whisper, my voice breaking without permission. “I’m here.”

Her eyes begin to move beneath closed lids, slowly, like she’s trying to fight her way back.

Hope raw and terrifying floods my chest. I tighten my grip on her hand, afraid that if I loosen it even a little, she’ll disappear again.

“Come back,” I murmur softly. “Please… just come back.”

And for the first time since she collapsed 

Ruhi starts to open her eyes.Her eyes opened slowly.

Not panicking. Not lost.

Just… hard.

The first thing she saw was me. And the way her expression changed hurt more than if she had screamed.

She pulled her hand away.

I didn’t stop her.

“Ruhi,” I said quietly. “You’re in the hospital. You fainted. The doctor said ”

“I know where I am,” she cut in, her voice hoarse but controlled. “And I know why.”

Silence fell between us.

She turned her face away, staring at the blank white wall like it was safer than looking at me.

“How long?” she asked suddenly.

My chest tightened. “How long… what?”

“How long were you all going to keep lying to me?” she asked, finally looking at me again. Her eyes weren’t crying anymore. They were burning. “My past. Rakshit. My father. My mother.”
She laughed once, bitter. “My own life.”

Rishabh bhai, Vikrant, and Shrey stood near the door. None of them spoke. None of them could.

“You all knew,” Ruhi continued. “Maybe not everything but enough.” Her voice shook now despite her effort. “Enough to decide I couldn’t handle the truth.”

That one sentence broke something in me.

“We were trying to protect you,” I said softly.

She snapped her head toward me.
“Don’t, she said sharply. “Don’t you dare use that word. You weren’t protecting me you were breaking me.”I swallowed.

“You didn’t protect me,” she said. “You controlled the truth. You decided for me. Again.”
Her hands clenched in the sheets. “My whole childhood, people decided things for me. What I should endure. What I should forget. Who should I trust?”

She looked at me then. Really looked.

“And you,” she whispered. “You promised you wouldn’t be like them.”

The guilt hit me full force.

“I know,” I said, my voice breaking. “And I failed you. I won’t defend myself. I won’t justify it.”
I took a step back, deliberately giving her space. “You can be angry with me. I deserve it.”

Her breathing trembled.

“I need space,” she said finally. I can’t breathe with everyone around me.”

Rishabh bhai opened his mouth. Vikrant did too.

Ruhi lifted her hand.“Please,” she said. “Just… respect this one thing.”

I nodded immediately. “Okay.”

Everyone turned toward me, surprised.

“I’ll do what you want,” I said. “But hear this once, Ruhi.” I met her eyes, steady. “I’m not leaving. I’ll step back, not away.”

Her jaw tightened.

“I’ll be outside,” I added. “You don’t have to see me. You don’t have to talk. But I’ll be here.”

She didn’t respond.But she didn’t tell me to go either.

That was enough.

Later, the doctor came in  Then the police.

Ruhi listened quietly as an officer spoke gently, carefully.

“Your mother has been taken into custody,” he said. “During Rakshit’s interrogation, multiple financial transactions and witness statements came up. We reopened old complaints.”

Ruhi’s face went completely still.

“They found records,” he continued. “Medical neglect. Abuse reports buried by influence. Evidence of involvement in your father’s murder.”

Her fingers curled into the bedsheet.

“She tried to destroy evidence,” the officer added softly. “But it was too late.”

For a moment, I thought she would cry.

She didn’t.

She closed her eyes instead.

“I used to think,” she said quietly, “that if I was better… quieter… easier… she’d love me.”

No one spoke.

“She never did,” Ruhi whispered. “And now I finally know it wasn’t my fault.”

Something shifted in her voice then.Not relief.

But release.

When her family came in later the apologies poured out.

“We should have asked more questions.”
“We should have listened.”
“We thought keeping quiet was safer.”

Ruhi listened.

Then she said, very calmly, “I don’t need apologies right now. I need honesty. From today onwards.”

They nodded, ashamed.

“I’ll decide later what forgiveness looks like,” she added. “If it exists at all.”

No one argued.

That night, I sat outside her room. I didn’t go in. I didn’t knock.

I just stayed.

Because loving her now didn’t mean fixing things.

It meant standing still while she rebuilt herself without lies, without secrets, without being owned by anyone ever again.

And this time…I would wait.