With a sense of urgency gripping him, Abhimanyu wasted no time in taking action. He quickly instructed his men to trace her, urging them to leave no stone unturned in their efforts to locate her.

"Call every contact we have," he instructed, his voice tinged with desperation. "Leave no avenue unexplored. I need to find her."

As his men sprang into action, dialing numbers and making inquiries, Abhimanyu paced restlessly, his mind racing with a million possibilities. With each passing moment, the weight of her absence pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket, driving him to push forward with unwavering determination.

"Kab aye beta?" Vansundhara Devi's voice cut through the air as Abhimanyu paced around the living room, his mind consumed with worry.

(When did you come, son?)

As soon as his presence was known, the once quiet mansion erupted with noise as family members gathered around to welcome him. They had all went to the nearby Devi temple to attend the kirtan.

"A couple of hours back," he replied, bowing down to touch Vansundhara Devi's feet in a show of respect.

Glancing over at his mother, he noticed the concern etched into her features, her quivering eyebrows betraying her unspoken thoughts. Unable to meet her gaze, he lowered his eyes and proceeded to touch every elder's feet in turn.

But when he approached his mother, he sensed her scrutinizing gaze, though it was tempered with a softness that spoke of her concern.

"Come to my room," she ordered gently, her words carrying both authority and warmth as she blessed him.

With a sense of trepidation gnawing at him, Abhimanyu followed his mother, knowing that a serious conversation awaited them behind closed doors.

As he entered the room, his mother closed the door behind them, the soft click echoing in the silence.

Abhimanyu stood there, his head hung low, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a leaden weight.

His mother settled the aarti plate on the table beside the bed before turning to face him.

"Pata bhi hai wo kahan hai?" she asked sternly, her eyes boring into his soul.

(Do you even know where is she?)

He shook his head, unable to meet her gaze, a silent admission of his failure. The truth hung heavy in the air, a palpable reminder of the distance that had grown between them, fueled by his own mistakes and insecurities.

"Kiski galti hai?" She asked, her tone unwavering.

(Whose fault is it?)

"Meri," he admitted once more, the weight of his confession hanging heavy in the air.

(Mine)

"Kya karoge ab?" she pressed, her gaze never wavering.

(What'll you do now?)

He looked up at her, tears streaming down his cheeks, and broke down, enveloping her in a tight hug. His sobs racked his body, each one a testament to the depth of his remorse.

"I want her back, maa," he cried, his voice choked with emotion.

Nandini said nothing. She simply kept stroking his hair, a silent presence offering comfort in his moment of despair.

Tonight, she would let him cry. She would let him hold her and release the flood of emotions that threatened to consume him.

Abhimanyu's childhood was vastly different from that of Samyukta and Abhishree's. While the girls were pampered and remained with the family until college, Abhimanyu and Samrat, along with their friends, were subjected to rigorous training in Mussoorie to serve the underworld. This separation kept them away from their mothers for extended periods, robbing them of their childhood innocence.

As time passed, they each coped with their hardships in different ways. Samrat masked his pain with his humorous silliness, using laughter as a shield against the harsh realities of their world. In contrast, Abhimanyu internalized his emotions, burying them deep within himself until they festered into insecurities.

When he finally decided to open up to Samyukta, he did so with the hope that she would understand his emotional turmoil, just as she had always seemed to in the past. Whenever he was stressed or overwhelmed, she would come to his rescue, offering comfort in the form of head massages, arranging cozy home dates, or simply being there to help him sleep.

Slowly but surely, she had become his confidant, the one person he felt he could trust with his innermost thoughts and fears. Yet, when she had to prioritize looking after his family, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of insecurity. It was as if everyone else in his life was gradually drifting away, leaving him to face his demons alone.

Despite the presence of others who cared for him, Abhimanyu found himself unable to break down the barriers he had erected around his heart. Only with Samyukta did he feel safe enough to be vulnerable, to let down his guard and truly be himself. And now, faced with the possibility of losing her, he realized just how much he relied on her to anchor him in the stormy seas of his emotions.

As Abhimanyu cried, his tears wetting the hem of his mother's blouse, he clung to her tightly, seeking solace in her comforting embrace.

"Enough is enough. I'll make everything right. I've to," he declared, his voice wavering with emotion as he sniffed and rubbed away his tears.

"Khana khaya beta?" Nandini asked gently, her concern evident in her voice.

(Did you eat, son?)

"Nahi maa. Subah se kuch nahi khaya," he admitted like a baby, his words punctuated by sobs, his demeanor reminiscent of a ten-year-old boy seeking comfort from his mother.

(No, mom. I haven't eaten anything since morning.)

To anyone who witnessed his distress, it would have evoked a sense of pity. Here was a man, known for his strength and brutality in dealing with criminals, now broken and vulnerable before his own mother. But why shouldn't he cry? Wasn't he human? Did men not carry feelings too? Why must they always maintain a facade of stoicism and emotional detachment? What validation did faking strength provide, other than leading to severe heartbreaks?

Nandini felt a pang of heartache as she looked at her son in his moment of vulnerability. It was both heartening and heartbreaking to see him finally release the emotions he had bottled up for so long. She was glad that he was no longer burying his feelings deep within himself, yet she couldn't help but shed tears of her own at the sight of his pain.

Nandini steeled herself, wiping away her own tears along with her son's, her touch a soothing balm against the rawness of his pain. With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she led him out of the room, guiding him like a lost child in need of comfort.

"Go to your room," she instructed softly, her voice trembling slightly with the weight of their shared sorrow. "I'm coming with your dinner. Till then, get fresh. Then we'll talk."

Abhimanyu nodded in silent acquiescence, his heart heavy with the burden of his emotions. Each step felt like a struggle, his body weighed down by the crushing weight of his heartbreak. Tears continued to stream down his cheeks, refusing to be quelled by mere willpower alone.

As he made his way to his room, his footsteps echoed hollowly in the empty corridors, a stark reminder of the emptiness that now pervaded his life. The memories of their time together haunted him, each one a painful reminder of what he had lost.

Inside his room, he sank onto the edge of the bed, the tears flowing freely now, unchecked and unrestrained. His heart ached with a pain so deep, it felt as if it would consume him whole. The love he had felt for Samyukta, now tainted by regret and longing, threatened to engulf him in its depths.

He wiped his tears futilely, his fingers trembling with the intensity of his emotions. 

How could I have let her slip through his fingers so easily? How could I have been so blind to the depth of her love, to the point that I compelled her to leave me?

As he undressed himself and stepped into the shower, the rush of water mingled with his tears, cascading down his head, chest, and abdomen before vanishing between his thighs. Each drop seemed to carry the weight of his sorrow, washing away the remnants of his shattered dreams.

His eyes were raw and aching from the constant shedding of tears, their once vibrant color now dulled by the pain that consumed him. The pallor of his face mirrored the emptiness he felt inside, a stark contrast to the vibrant hues of the memories he held dear.

For what felt like an eternity, he stood beneath the steaming water, allowing it to cleanse him of both body and soul though it was evidently unsuccessful. The warmth of the shower offered a fleeting sense of comfort, a temporary reprieve from the turmoil raging within him though not entirely.

Eventually, he emerged from the washroom, draped in nothing but a white towel, his heart heavy with the weight of his emotions. With hesitant steps, he made his way to the wardrobe, where the sight of her belongings lay scattered before him once more.

The black saree, the red gown, the anklets, the necklace—each item served as a painful reminder of the love he had lost. And yet, despite the overwhelming ache in his heart, he refused to allow himself to break down any further. His body could no longer bear the weight of his grief, and so he forced himself to push past the pain, to steel himself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

With a heavy sigh, he reached for his clothes, his movements slow and deliberate. Though his heart still yearned for her, he knew that he had to find the strength to carry on, to face the harsh realities of his new reality without her by his side. And so, with each passing moment, he resolved to cling to whatever fragments of hope remained, knowing that someday, somehow, he would find a way to mend his broken heart.

As Nandini entered his room, she placed a tray of food in front of Abhimanyu, the aroma of home-cooked simple delicacies filling the air. Yet, despite the tempting array of dishes laid out before him, his gaze was drawn irresistibly to the gajar ka halwa placed beside the larger plate.

The sight of it alone was enough to send a shiver down his spine, the memories it evoked causing the magnitude of his trauma and pain to escalate. He could almost taste the sweetness of the halwa on his tongue, a bittersweet reminder of the love he had lost.

With a heavy heart, he forced himself to pick up the utensils and begin to eat, though his appetite was nonexistent. Each bite felt like a struggle, the food turning to ash in his mouth.

But amidst the array of dishes laid out before him, he couldn't bring himself to touch the halwa. It lay untouched, a silent testament to the pain and heartache that had consumed him since that fateful day in his office.

His eyes were washed by the memories of that halwa—the halwa she had left behind on that fateful day in his office. The mere sight of it brought back a flood of emotions. He remembered how he had gulped it down in a desperate attempt to numb the pain of her departure, he had failed to see the depth of her love, the depth of her sacrifice.

As Abhimanyu finished eating, Nandini spoke up, her voice gentle and hopeful. 

"Beta, gajar ka halwa banaya hai humne. Chakh kr dekho. Aapka pasandida halwa hai na?" she urged, trying to lift his spirits with his favorite dish.

(Beta, I've made carrot halwa. Taste it! Is it your favorite halwa, right?)

With a heavy heart, he forced a smile onto his face, his eyes betraying the turmoil within. 

"Nahi maa, shayad baad mein," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

(No mom, maybe later.)

Nandini nodded understandingly, unaware of the trauma inflicted on him by the memories the halwa carried with it.

But for Abhimanyu, the taste of gajar ka halwa would forever be tainted by the pain of his past, a bitter reminder of the love he had lost and the wounds that still remained unhealed.

Placing the tray aside, Nandini approached Abhimanyu, her heart heavy with concern for her son. Without hesitation, she gently pulled him onto her lap, and to her relief, he willingly gave in, seeking solace in the comforting embrace of his mother.

"Aap thik ho beta?" she asked softly, her voice filled with love and compassion.

(Are you alright, son?)

"Nahi maa..." Abhimanyu's voice trailed off, choked with emotion. The weight of his pain was too much to bear, and in that moment, he felt as if his heart would shatter into a million pieces.

(No mom.)

Nandini held him close, her arms a safe haven amidst the storm of his emotions. She knew that there were no words that could erase his pain, no easy solutions to mend his broken heart. All she could offer was her unwavering love and support, a silent promise to stand by his side no matter what.

"Sab kuch bikhar gaya hai, maa. Sab kuch," Abhimanyu uttered, his voice heavy with sorrow and regret. "Humne bigara hai. Humne. Wo to itna koshish ki sab kuch thik karne ki, humne unhe thukra diya or chale jane ke liye kahan. Akhir wo bhi kitni sehti? Chali gayi wo hume chhod kar, maa. Chali gayi," he continued, his words punctuated by sniffles and breaks in his voice.

(Everything has been scattered, mother. Everything. I've ruined everything. I've. She tried so hard to make everything right but I rejected her and asked her to go away. After all, how much could she bear? She's left me, mother. She has left me.)

Each syllable carried the weight of his anguish, the depth of his remorse laid bare for his mother to see. In that moment, he felt the full weight of his actions, the consequences of his choices crashing down upon him like a tidal wave.

Nandini held him tighter, her heart breaking for her son and the pain he was going through. 

"Kuch bhi nahi bigra hai, bete. Aap jao unke paas. Maafi mango. Wo ayengi wapas," Nandini reassured him, her voice gentle but firm.

(Nothing's ruined, son. You go to her. Apologize. She will come back)

"Agar nahi ayi to? Nafrat karti hain mujhse wo," Abhimanyu's voice trembled with uncertainty, his heart heavy with fear of rejection.

(What if she doesn't come? She hates me.)

"Ah uh! Nafrat nahi karti bete. Ekdam nafrat nahi karti hain. Pyaar karti hain isiliye aapse door chali gayi. Abhi aapko unhe manana hoga," Nandini's words carried the weight of conviction, her unwavering faith in Samyukta's love evident in her tone.

(Ah uh! She doesn't hate you, son. She doesn't hate you at all. She loves you, that's why she went away from you. Now you have to convince her.

"Nahi maani to?" Abhimanyu's voice wavered, his doubts still lingering in his mind.

(If you don't agree, then what?)

"Maan jayegi beta. Hume vishwas hai. Aapko ka lagta hai aap sirf afsos kar rhe hain? Wo kitni tatap rahi hain hume pata hai. Humne unke chehre par dekha tha usdin jab wo jaa rahi thi," Nandini's voice softened, her eyes reflecting the pain she had witnessed in Samyukta's eyes on the day she left.

(She will agree, my child. i have faith. Do you think you're just regretting and in pain? I know how much she is suffering. I saw it on her face that day when she was leaving.)

"Kaisi hogi wo maa?" Abhimanyu's voice was filled with concern, his heart aching for the woman he loved.

(How will she be, mother?)

"Aapke tarah dard se ulajh rahi hogi. Aap jao unke paas. Unhe manake wapas lao. London me hai wo," Nandini revealed, her words igniting a spark of hope within Abhimanyu's heart.

(She must be struggling with pain just like you. Go to her. Convince her to come back by apologising. She is in London.)

With a nod, he sat up and embraced his mother tightly. 

"Aaj aapke bahon me sone ka man hai maa," he expressed, his eyes still watery but his resolve stronger than ever.

(Today, I feel like sleeping in your arms, mother.)

I don't have tears left to cry.

"Phir aajao!" She said with a wide smile playing on her face.

(Come then!)

he laid on her lap feeling comparatively lighter as he let out whatver he was feleing a little finally.

As Abhimanyu lay on his mother's lap, he felt the weight of his burdens slowly begin to lift, replaced by a sense of peace and comfort that he hadn't felt in days. Though his journey ahead would be fraught with challenges and uncertainties, he knew that with his mother's love and guidance, he would find the strength to face whatever lay ahead. And as he prepared to embark on the journey to win back the love of his life, he vowed to never give up hope, to never stop fighting for the happiness he so desperately longed for.

˜”*°•°*”˜