Chapter 9 – A Question He Couldn’t Answer

Ravi stood near the hospital window, his arms crossed, his gaze distant.

Something wasn’t adding up.

What Poornima told… it explained a lot. But not everything.

“The way she broke…” he muttered under his breath. “That wasn’t just one incident.”

He exhaled slowly, running his hand through his hair.

“There’s more,” he thought. “Something deeper… something she hasn’t said.”

For a moment, he considered asking her directly.

But then he stopped himself.

“Not now,” he decided quietly. “She’s already carrying too much.”

He looked through the glass panel toward her room, where she lay resting.

“I’ll know… when she’s ready,” he said to himself.

The doctor’s words echoed again in his mind.

“Take care of her. Talk to her. Start therapy as soon as possible.”

Ravi nodded slightly to himself.

“I’ll handle it,” he whispered.

A little later, inside the room, Gayathri sat up slowly as the doctor checked her vitals.

“You need rest,” the doctor said gently. “No stress, no overthinking. And we’ll begin therapy soon.”

Gayathri gave a small nod. “Okay, doctor.”

Her voice was soft, but this time—

It didn’t carry resistance.

It carried acceptance.

By evening, they were back home.

The Devraj mansion felt different now.

Quieter.

More careful.

As if everyone had silently agreed not to disturb the fragile peace around Gayathri.

She walked in slowly, her steps hesitant.

Before she could say anything, a small voice rushed toward her.

“Mumma!”

Inayat ran straight into her arms, hugging her tightly.

Gayathri’s eyes softened instantly as she bent down and held her.

“I’m okay, baby,” she said gently, kissing her forehead. “Mumma is fine.”

Inayat looked up at her, still worried. “Promise?”

Gayathri smiled faintly. “Promise.”

Ravi stood a few steps away, watching them.

Something about that moment… it stayed with him.

Later that night, Ravi made sure Gayathri lay down properly.

“Sleep,” he said, adjusting the pillow behind her.

She looked at him hesitantly.

“Ravi…” she called softly.

“Hm?”

“Please… don’t make fun of me,” she said, her voice almost fragile. “For… what happened.”

Ravi stilled.

For a second, he just looked at her.

Then something in his expression changed—softer, quieter.

“I won’t,” he said simply.

No sarcasm.

No teasing.

Just truth.

Gayathri held his gaze for a moment, as if trying to believe it.

Then slowly, she nodded.

Within minutes, exhaustion took over, and her eyes closed.

Inayat curled up beside her, holding onto her arm, and soon she too fell asleep.

The room grew silent.

Ravi stood there for a while, just watching them.

Gayathri’s face looked calmer in sleep, but the traces of pain were still there—like something unfinished, something unresolved.

He walked to the window and stood there, staring into the darkness outside.

“What is this…” he murmured.

He wasn’t confused about the situation.

He understood what had happened.

What he didn’t understand—

Was himself.

“Why am I… so concerned about her?” he asked quietly.

This wasn’t him.

He didn’t get involved like this.

He didn’t think this much.

Didn’t feel this much.

And yet—

Every time she cried, something in him reacted instantly.

Every time she broke, it felt… personal.

He frowned slightly.

“This is not just because of bhai,” he admitted to himself.

That realization stayed.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

He looked back at the bed again.

At Gayathri.

At the quiet way she held onto Inayat even in sleep.

At the vulnerability she never tried to show—but couldn’t hide anymore.

Ravi exhaled slowly.

“I don’t understand this,” he said under his breath.

Then after a pause—

“But I’ll figure it out.”

He didn’t move closer.

He didn’t say anything else.

But his eyes lingered on her a little longer than necessary.

And somewhere deep inside—

A question had begun.

Not about her.

But about himself.