Page 23 of Protect my Heart
Mumma collapses on the floor. Her eyes fluttered shut.
“No, no, no,” I gasp, running to her side and dropping to my knees. My heart thuds with fear as I stare at her almost limp body. body.
“Mumma! Wake up! Please, wake up!” I cry, shaking her gently, my hands trembling. I call out to her again and again. But nothing. She doesn't respond.
Tears burn my eyes as I shake her harder. “Mumma! Please! Don’t do this, please!” My voice cracks, and the room spins around me.
I can’t lose her. I can’t. Not her. Not now.
I press my forehead against her hand, whispering desperate prayers I’m not even sure I remember properly. My whole body shakes with panic as I fumble for my phone to callfor help, my mind screaming over and over—Hold on, Mumma. Please, please hold on.
Don't leave me alone.
CHAPTER 14
AARAV
"Still can't locate him, Aarav," Samarth informs, his voice tight. I sigh heavily, dragging a hand through my hair, frustration clawing at me.
"Okay, but keep looking. I want that bastard to pay," I whisper, my voice coming out darker than intended. Samarth nods and leaves, shutting the door softly behind him.
Vikram hasn’t just messed with me—he almost ruined Anika’s life. God knows what he would have done after marrying her. My jaw tightens, teeth grinding together at the thought. Anika trapped with that motherfucker... If I hadn't gotten there in time—I shake my head, pushing the thought away before I lose it completely.
My phone buzzes on the desk, screen lighting up with Anika's name. That's... strange. She’s never called me before. Not after our marriage, not even before obviously. A humorless chuckle escapes me as I grab the phone and answer.
"Yes?" I say, voice flat, stripped of any emotion.
"Aarav," she breathes out, her voice breaking halfway through my name.
"I... I need money." My body goes rigid. I shoot up from my chair so fast it scrapes loudly against the floor. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong. She's one hell of a stubborn, proud woman, she would rather die on the streets than ask for someone's help—but if she is, then it means she needs me.
"What's wrong, Anika?" I pace around, my heart pounding like a drum, tension curling tight in my chest. Her voice—God, it sounds like she’s trying not to cry, and that sound... it guts me. I never could handle her tears. Never knew what to do with them. They’re my biggest damn weakness.
"Anika," I press when she doesn’t answer, voice tight with panic. "Talk to me. Why do you need money? What’s going on?"
"My mother..." she finally says, and her voice cracks, slicing right through me. I stop dead in my tracks, the world around me slowing down. A sick and heavy feeling settles in my stomach.
"What happened to your mother?" I rasp, throat dry. "Is she okay?" I grip the phone tighter, knuckles turning bone white. Every worst-case scenario flashes before my eyes and I can't think straight.
"The doctor says she needs surgery," she sniffles.
I don't even wait for her to explain further. "Where are you?" I'm already halfway out of my office, grabbing my car keys like my body is moving on autopilot.
"I’m at Kiran Hospital," she whispers between sobs. "But you don’t have to come, Aarav. I’ll be fine. I just wanted some money, if you could please—"
Is she fucking serious right now? Does she think of me as some stranger she'd need to ask? That woman—her mother—is practically another mother to me too. She’s fed me, scolded me, loved me like her own son when I had no one. And Anika thinks she needs to plead for money at a time like this?
"Don’t," I grit out, anger and pain swirling together inside me. "I’m on my way. You tell the doctor to go ahead. If anyone asks anything, give them my name. Tell them you're my wife." And I hang up before she can say a word. On my way out I ask my secretary to call Kiran hospital immediately and ask them to move on with the operation and that they will get the money.
The drive to the hospital feels endless, every red light, every slow driver making me want to punch something. I tap my fingers restlessly against the steering wheel, replaying her broken voice in my head. Please. Don’t come. I'll be fine.
She should know better. She’s my wife. She’s not alone in this.
Finally, I screech into the hospital parking lot, barely locking the car before rushing inside. The woman behind the reception desk stiffens the second she sees me approach. I don’t have time for her wide eyes and gaping mouth.
"I’m looking for Rekha Kapoor," I say briskly. "My wife is with her."
Her mouth parts in shock, as she fumbles quickly on the keyboard. "Your... your wife?" she stammers, blinking up at me.
