CHAPTER LXIX
The Storm That Took Everything from Me
I went to Mon's house that day with a heart full of regret and a soul aching for forgiveness. I knew I had hurt her — more than words could ever mend — but still, some part of me hoped she'd look at me, hear me, and maybe, just maybe, understand that I never meant to let things spiral so far out of control. But when I reached her home… it was empty. She wasn't there.
Panic bloomed in my chest like poison.
I rushed back outside, desperate to find her — scanning streets, calling her name, running without direction or sense. My thoughts were a chaotic storm of guilt and longing.
That's when the phone rang.
It was just one ring, one moment…
But that one moment shattered me.
The voice on the other end was trembling, distant… and heavy with the weight of tragedy.
And in that instant, everything I knew — every hope I had of making things right — came crashing down.
The sky, as if mirroring the collapse of my world, broke open. It began to rain, furiously and without mercy. But I didn't care. I didn't even pause to open an umbrella. I ran — faster than I ever had — through the downpour, slipping on wet roads, soaked from head to toe. Rain mingled with the tears on my face until I couldn't tell one from the other. My hair clung to my skin. My breath hitched with every step. And my heart… my heart was already breaking.
When I reached home, I was drenched — not just in water, but in dread.
And then…
I saw her.
Hannah.
Lying still.
Cold.
Dead.
Right there — in the middle of the mandap that had been decorated for our wedding just hours ago.
She wore the same outfit we had chosen together. Her hands still held remnants of bridal mehendi. The sacred fire that was supposed to bless our union now flickered alone, casting shadows over a lifeless body.
My scream got caught in my throat. I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't even cry properly. My knees felt weak. My entire being trembled with the weight of the moment.
And that wasn't all.
Anshuman and Ritu were gone too. Murdered.
Anamika… was missing.
The home that once echoed with laughter had turned into a haunted temple of mourning.
Everyone around me was wailing, but all I could hear was silence — the kind of silence that feels louder than any scream.
And then my mother came to me — her face etched with pain so raw it nearly broke me more.
She raised her hand and slapped me across the face. The sting wasn't physical. It was the truth behind it.
"Sam," she cried, her voice shaking, "if you had hurt everyone, if you had put all of us in danger, I could have found it in my heart to forgive you. But not Hannah. She didn't deserve this. What did she ever do to you? What was her fault? That she loved you? That she gave you everything, even when you gave her nothing?"
She broke down, clutching her heart, sobbing.
"She kept saying your name, even in her final moments. Even as her life slipped away, she thought of you…"
And then, she told me what Hannah had said before she died.
"She said… 'Tell Sam… she promised me she'd find my sister. Tell her not to break that promise. And tell her to live. To be happy. If there's any room left in her heart for me… then let her keep me there. And if fate is kind… maybe in our next life, I can be born as hers. Maybe then, I'll get to die in her arms. I never had a father's love… and I never had Sam's either. I came into this world without meaning… and now I'll leave it the same way. But tell her… I loved her. With everything I had.'"
Her words…
They burned into my soul. Like a curse. Like a blessing. Like a punishment.
I collapsed. My legs gave up. My heart cracked open and poured out everything I had been holding inside. I sobbed like a child, gasping for air between broken apologies whispered too late.
And just when I thought the pain had reached its peak, another call came — this time, from the hospital.
My father picked it up.
His expression drained.
"Hannah's mother…" he whispered. "She's gone too."
They said her last wish was for her belongings to be handed over to her elder daughter. She wanted her daughter to know that even in her final moments, she was remembered. That her love didn't die with her heartbeat.
Everything I touched…
Everything I tried to hold onto…
I destroyed.
I didn't just lose people that day.
I lost my right to love.
My chance at redemption.
Myself.
And now, all I had left was the silence of a mandap soaked in rain, stained with blood, and echoing with the voice of someone I could never hear again.
THE BRIDE WHO WAS NEVER MEANT TO STAY
Preparations had begun — not for a wedding, not for a celebration — but for a farewell no one had anticipated.
Hannah was gone.
And now, she and her mother were to be given their final rites.
But how does one say goodbye to someone they were supposed to build a forever with?
How does one drape a shroud over a dream?
According to tradition, her body was to be cleansed — a ritual of purity before the soul's final journey. Her skin, once glowing with laughter and life, was now still… cold. As the haldi was gently applied to her lifeless body, I stood there frozen. This was supposed to be a pre-wedding ritual, filled with laughter, teasing, and joy. Instead, it felt like I was watching a cruel parody of the life we had planned together.
They were about to dress her simply, plainly — but I couldn't bear it.
I stepped forward, my voice trembling but firm.
"She was going to be my bride today… Then let her go as my bride."
A silence fell.
The air felt thick with tension.
My mother turned to me — her face pale from grief, her eyes burning with restrained fury. The pain in her stare was undeniable. I thought she might lash out again, scream that I'd done enough damage already.
But she didn't.
She simply looked away… and said coldly, "Dress her like a bride."
And so, they did.
She was adorned in the bridal lehenga we had once laughed about — the one she had chosen after hours of indecision. Her favorite jewelry — the ones she said made her feel like royalty — were placed on her gently, like fragile memories being returned to a place they belonged. Her hands were filled with red and gold bangles, and her hair braided with jasmine. A red dupatta was draped over her like a veil of silence.
She looked divine.
But she wasn't mine anymore. Not in this world.
Tears blurred my vision as I knelt beside her. "You were supposed to be walking toward me… not away from me like this."
No words could express the ache in my soul — a pain deeper than regret, darker than guilt. Her lifeless fingers had once traced constellations on my palm. Her voice had once been the only thing that could calm me after long days at work.
And now… silence.
They carried her away, and I followed like a shadow.
The funeral pyre was built with care, each log placed with ritual precision. Her mother lay beside her — the woman who had loved Hannah more fiercely than anyone, even through our conflicts. The flames rose, devouring silk, skin, and story alike.
I stood, my legs barely holding me, my spirit already burnt to ash.
I thought I would scream.
But I didn't.
Grief doesn't always make noise.
Sometimes, it just breaks you quietly.
I couldn't stop blaming myself. I had insisted on this marriage. I had pushed against every wall, every warning — even my mother's instincts. I had been so obsessed with the idea of love conquering all that I never once asked whether Hannah was truly safe.
I ignored signs. I ignored people.
I ignored my own voice.
I was the one who led her to this.
And now… she was gone.
I sat at the doorstep of my house — not inside. I didn't deserve the warmth of home anymore. The weight of guilt crushed my spine, and I buried my face in my palms, shivering not from the cold, but from self-hatred.
That's when my father arrived.
He looked at me — not with pity, but with the sad clarity of a man who had just lost everything.
"Samriddhi," he said, "you're still my daughter. That's the only reason I'm not throwing you out of this house… But please… just go."
That hurt more than any punishment he could've given me.
But before I could move, my sister — brave, fierce, loyal — stepped forward. Her voice trembled with passion.
"Papa, please," she said. "Just listen to her once. She didn't know this would happen. Yes, maybe she was selfish… but she was human. She could only make one person happy. Either Mon… or Hannah. She couldn't have made both feel whole. So why crucify her for choosing? Is it a crime to choose love… even if the world doesn't understand it?"
Then she turned to me, and her words shattered me completely.
"Sam," she said, "you may have been amazing in every relationship… but in your own life, you became the villain. Please go. And if possible… never come back."
It felt like the last nail in my coffin.
I didn't argue. I didn't plead.
I just left.
With no bags, no shoes, no direction. Just pain.
I walked to the police station — the only place that hadn't yet rejected me. I sat in my chamber, alone. The walls that once echoed with justice now felt like a prison for a criminal who hadn't yet been charged.
My heart was on fire.
I didn't know how to breathe without Hannah.
I didn't know how to forgive myself.
I didn't even know if I deserved to be forgiven.
And worst of all… I didn't know how to silence the storm inside me.
To be continue....