Page 91 of Mrs. Rathore

A sickening snap tore through the stillness, and my right leg gave out beneath me.

I gasped, caught mid-spin, and crumpled to the ground with a thud. The air was ripped from my lungs and replaced by an agonized cry.

The pain was blinding like a wildfire in my leg, searing up to my hip. My hands clawed at the cold floor, my body curled in on itself like a wounded animal.

“No… no… not again,” I sobbed, my voice breaking as my nails scraped the ground. My ghungroos lay tangled beside me, the anklet torn and glinting like a fallen crown.

The silence that followed was unbearable, filled only by my own broken cries echoing off the walls. Cries not just of pain, but of heartbreak.

I had danced my way through the healing, and now I was broken again.

I stared at my leg, at the swelling, at the bruises forming right before my eyes. Strangely, I didn’t feel any pain at that moment.

I felt… nothing.

Then, without warning, laughter bubbled up inside me. It was a laugh so wild, so unhinged, that it frightened me. I laughed until my stomach ached and tears poured down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I must have looked like a madwoman, but I couldn’t stop.

I laughed at the irony, at my own stupidity, at the hope that had brought me here, dancing like a fool on feet that weren’t ready.

I was angry, and I was in pain, but most of all, I was heartbroken.

Wiping away my tears, I tried to stand, but this time, my body refused. The sharp sting in my leg told me exactly what I didn’t want to admit: I wouldn’t be walking again for weeks.

“Avni…”

I froze.

Aryan.

His voice cut through the silence like a knife, startling me. I hadn’t even heard him approach.

Quickly, I wiped my face again, scrambling to hide my vulnerability. How long had he been standing there? Had he seen everything?

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, kneeling beside me.

His fingers hovered over my leg, but I flinched the moment he reached for me. He knew which leg was injured because he’d been watching, but I didn’t know how long.

“Don’t you dare touch me!” I snapped, my voice sharp and venomous. I shoved his hand away and glared at him through narrowed, tear-filled eyes.

He pulled back, stunned. I had never spoken to him like that before, not even after he hit me with his car.

But this rage… it wasn’t new. It had been festering beneath the surface for weeks. I could almost taste it on my tongue, like smoke and ash. He was the reason I couldn’t dance anymore, the reason I had to rely on crutches just to feel human. He was the nightmare I never asked for, the shadow I couldn’t outrun.

“Leave me alone,” I growled when he stayed rooted to the spot, still unsure of what to say or how to fix the damage.

He hesitated, trying to reach for me again. “Avni…”

I turned away from him, my tears falling freely now. “You took away what kept me alive, Aryan,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Do you understand that? I was a dancer. Kathak was my life, my joy, my strength… my freedom. And now? I can’t even stand without pain shooting up my spine.”

His face went still as he watched me.

“You thought I forced you into this marriage,” I said, my voice rising, bitter and raw. “But have you ever stopped to think about what you did to me? You crushed my legs under your car and then crushed my spirit with your silence.”

His shoulders tensed. The air between us thickened with everything we had never said aloud—all the guilt, the unspoken apologies, the resentment too heavy to carry anymore.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly, his voice so low I could barely hear it. “Avni, I swear I never meant to ruin anything for you.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “It doesn’t erase the consequences, Aryan. You didn’t mean to break my bones, but you did. You didn’t mean to ignore me that night, but you did. You didn’t mean to forget I existed, but I sat there alone and invisible while you chased after the only woman you’ve ever loved.”