Page 52 of Protect my Heart
For once, she doesn’t argue. She lies back down, exhaustion pulling at her features. "I’m going to take care of everything," I promise her quietly. "Don’t worry about a thing, Anu."
"Thanks, Aaru," she mumbles, her eyes already drifting shut.
I sit there for a long time after she falls asleep, holding her hand. Watching over her. And I make a silent promise to her—and to myself—that no matter what happens next, I’m not letting her fight this battle alone. Even if she wants to.
CHAPTER 32
ANIKA
"Maa, you really don’t have to do this," I plead, but of course, she doesn’t listen. She carefully starts removing the bandage, her hands steady even though I can see the tension in her body.
I’m so grateful, honestly, that the person who did this didn’t manage to throw it on my face. I can’t even imagine how unbearable that would’ve been. Just this small patch on my leg feels like it’s on fire, and that alone is enough to break me. If it had been my face... I don’t think I’d have had the strength to even look at myself, let alone face the world.
I know I’m not mentally strong—not the way people like to pretend to be. Physical strength is something everyone talks about and trains for. We had PT periods in school to make sure our bodies stayed fit. But no one ever taught us how to make our minds stronger, how to deal with pain that isn’t visible.
"Aarav, can you please tell Maa I can handle it myself?" I beg, looking at him with a glimmer of hope.
He just shrugs, completely unbothered. "No. First, she’s not going to listen to me either. And second, I think you should just rest." His voice leaves no room for argument. I huff and turn my head away, annoyed and helpless.
Maa finishes taking off the bandage. I shut my eyes tight. I can’t look. I don’t want to see whatever mess is left behind. My hand is suddenly squeezed, and my eyes flutter open in surprise. Aarav’s hand is wrapped around mine, firm and steady. I glance up at him, half-expecting to find pity in his eyes. I hate pity. It makes me feel small and broken. But there’s none of that there. Just... care. Genuine, quiet care. It’s such a rare thing, and I’m so damn grateful for it, I could cry.
Maa starts cleaning the wound gently. Her hands are rock steady, but I can see her eyes glistening with tears she refuses to shed. She’s trying so hard to be strong for me. It breaks my heart into a thousand pieces, seeing her like this, hurting because of me. I missed her so much. So, so much.
"It’s okay, Maa," I whisper, my voice barely holding itself together. "I’m fine. Really?"
She doesn’t reply, just gives a tiny nod, focusing harder on cleaning the wound like it’s the only thing anchoring her right now. I have always heard mother-in-laws are a torture, but I feel I might have done some really good deeds to have one who is so concerned for me. I turn my gaze back to Aarav. He’s still holding my hand like he’s my anchor too. In the heavy silence of the room, all I can hear is the soft sound of gauze and the occasional hiss of pain that escapes me even when I try so hard not to react. Aarav never once looks away. His presence is so solid, so unwavering, that for a few precious seconds, I forget everything—the pain, the fear, the shame.
When Maa finishes dressing the wound again, she quietly says she’ll send food up with Aarav, then leaves the room. Aarav follows her out, the tray still in his hands. Left alone, I just stare blankly ahead. I feel so stupid. This is all my fault. I knew Iwasn’t strong enough to deal with this on my own. So why did I keep it hidden?
Because you hate being a burden. That bitter voice in my head never misses a chance to remind me. I could have told Aarav. I knew he would protect me. But I didn’t want to pull him into my mess. I’ve always been so proud of being independent, of standing on my own. Now, sitting here with my bandaged leg throbbing painfully, that pride feels like a joke. Maybe I wasn’t independent. Maybe I was just too stubborn. Too scared. A single tear slips down my cheek, and I let it. There’s no point pretending anymore.
I hate this feeling. This helplessness. I hate that even glancing at my own leg sends a shiver down my spine. I hate that someone did this to me—someone decided I deserved to suffer for reasons I’ll probably never understand. And most of all, I hate the fear that’s dug its claws into my brain and refuses to let go.
I shift a little, letting my toes touch the floor. It's just been three days, but it feels like it's been so long since I walked without help. It feels like forever.
"Anika!" Aarav’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. I jerk my head towards him. He’s standing at the doorway, a tray in his hands, his eyes wide with panic. He rushes toward me, practically dropping the tray onto the side table.
"What is wrong with you?" he snaps, exasperated. "Didn’t I tell you? If you need anything, just tell me or call someone! You don’t have to get up by yourself." His forehead creases with worry, and guilt floods my chest.
"I just wanted to go to the washroom," I whisper, feeling like a scolded child.
His expression softens immediately. He bends down before I can even react, sliding one arm under my knees and the other around my waist. My eyes widen in horror. "What are you doing?" I shriek.
He pauses, his face level with mine, voice calm and so maddeningly stubborn. "I’m taking you to the washroom, Anika."
Before I can even open my mouth to argue, he cuts me off, "No, you’re not walking on your own. Not happening." His voice is firm but not harsh. There’s something in it—an unspoken promise—that leaves no room for protest.
I bite my bottom lip hard, torn between frustration and a wave of something far more dangerous: relief. Comfort. Aarav isn’t judging me. He’s not pitying me. He’s just here. Solid and steady. And even though my pride screams at me to push him away, I finally nod, feeling defeated and grateful all at once.
"Fine," I mutter under my breath, looking away from him.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, careful and gentle. I clutch his shoulder instinctively, the heat of his body seeping into mine. It’s been so long since I let anyone get this close. Since I allowed myself to lean on someone else, even for a moment. Aarav’s arms are strong and sure, and for once, I don’t fight it. I let myself be held.
He sets me down gently in the bathroom, making sure I’m steady before stepping back. No teasing. No snide comments. Just quiet, patient support.
"If you need anything, just call me," he says, his voice softer now. Almost... tender.
I nod quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Thank you," I whisper, feeling the weight of everything I can’t say pressing down on my chest.
