Sameera's POV:
My world didn't just break.
It collapsed.
I saw it.
I saw them.
For a second, my brain refused to register what my eyes were screaming at me. Saharsh—my Saharsh—standing there, frozen. Gauri too close. Her hand gripping his collar. Her body leaning into his space like it belonged there.
Like I didn't.
And then—
She noticed me.
Her eyes flicked to mine, sharp and quick, and something unreadable crossed her face. Before I could even process that, Saharsh turned.
Our eyes met.
The look on his face—shock, panic, fear—hit me all at once. He opened his mouth, took a step forward.
"Sameera—"
He moved toward me.
Hope—stupid, fragile hope—rose in my chest for half a second.
But then Gauri's hand closed around his wrist.
She held him back.
That was it.
That was the moment something inside me snapped.
Tears blurred my vision, hot and uncontrollable. I didn't wait. I didn't listen. I didn't think.
I turned and ran.
I ran through the campus—past smiling graduates, proud parents, clicking cameras. Someone called my name.
Someone tried to stop me.
I didn't stop.
My chest felt like it was caving in, breaths coming too fast, too shallow. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
Hands grabbed my arms.
"Sameera!"
I struggled, frantic, until I recognized their faces.
Janhvi.
Daksh.
"What happened?" Janhvi asked, her voice already shaking. "Why are you crying?"
Daksh's eyes scanned me quickly. "Hey—hey—look at me. What's wrong?"
"I need to go home," I sobbed. "Please. Right now. I can't—I can't stay here."
My legs felt weak. The world tilted.
Daksh swore under his breath. "Janhvi, take her home. Now."
I barely remember getting into the auto. I just remember the way the city blurred past as tears kept falling, one after another, unstoppable. Janhvi sat beside me, holding my hand tightly, whispering my name over and over.
I didn't hear her.
All I could see was him.
That moment.
That image.
By the time we reached home, I was numb.
I walked inside like a ghost, straight to my room. Janhvi followed me, calling my name, asking questions—What happened? Why are you crying?—but her voice sounded distant, like it was coming from underwater.
I shut the door.
Locked it.
The silence inside my room was deafening.
And then my mind betrayed me.
Morning.
Saharsh standing in my room, smiling at me in my graduation gown. His hands steadying mine. His lips brushing mine, gentle, reassuring.
I'm here.
Then—
That scene.
Him.
Her.
Too close.
Her hand on his collar.
A scream tore out of my chest before I could stop it.
I screamed again.
And then I broke.
I sank to the floor, sobs wracking my body, my hands shaking so hard I couldn't control them. My chest burned, my throat hurt, my heart felt like it was being ripped apart piece by piece.
I grabbed whatever I could—pillows, books, a photo frame—and threw them.
Glass shattered somewhere. I didn't care.
"He promised," I cried out loud, voice cracking. "He promised me."
The knocking started.
"Sameera!" Janhvi's voice was frantic now. "Open the door. Please!"
I curled in on myself, nails digging into my palms as if pain could anchor me to reality.
My heart was broken.
Not bruised.
Not cracked.
Shattered.
And outside, the knocking grew louder.
"Sameera, open the door!"
But I couldn't.
I really, truly couldn't.
Janvhi's POV:
"Sameera—open the door."
My knuckles were red by the time I realized how hard I was knocking.
Inside, something crashed.
Glass.
My heart slammed into my throat.
"Sameera!" I yelled, panic clawing its way up my chest. "Please, talk to me.
Say something."
No answer.
Then I heard it.
A sound I will never forget.
Her crying—not quiet tears, not muffled sobs—but the kind that rips out of someone when they're breaking apart from the inside. The kind that makes your hands shake even if you're standing outside the door.
Another crash.
My breath hitched.
"Oh my god," I whispered. "Oh my god, Sameera."
I tried the handle again. Locked.
"Sameera, I'm coming in, okay?" My voice cracked. "Just—stay where you are."
For half a second, my mind went blank.
Then it hit me.
The spare key.
I ran.
I don't even remember crossing the hall or flinging open my cupboard. My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the key twice. I sprinted back, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.
I shoved the key into the lock.
Twisted.
The door opened.
And my world tilted.
Her room was wrecked.
A photo frame lay shattered near the bed. Books were scattered everywhere. A lamp had been knocked over, glass splintered across the floor.
And then I saw her.
Sameera was on the floor, her back against the bed, knees pulled to her chest. Her body was trembling violently, breaths coming too fast, too shallow—like she was drowning in air.
Her hands—
My stomach dropped.
Her palms were bleeding.
Thin red lines streaked across her skin, glass shards near her fingers. She didn't even seem to notice. Her eyes were unfocused, wide, tears spilling endlessly down her cheeks.
"Sameera…" My voice came out broken.
I stepped inside slowly, like one wrong move might shatter her completely.
She was crying, but there was no sound now. Just gasps. Sharp inhales that didn't seem to go anywhere. Her chest rose and fell erratically, her shoulders shaking.
Panic attack.
Full-blown.
I dropped to my knees in front of her.
"Hey," I said softly, even though my own eyes were burning. "Look at me. Sam. Look at me."
She didn't.
A tear slipped down my cheek before I even realized I was crying.
I reached out, carefully taking her bleeding hands in mine, ignoring the sting. "You're safe," I whispered. "I'm here. I've got you."
That's when she looked up.
Her eyes met mine—and something inside her completely gave way.
She broke.
A sob tore out of her chest, raw and desperate, as she collapsed forward into me. Her hands clutched my kurti like I was the only thing keeping her from falling apart entirely.
"I can't," she cried. "I can't breathe. It hurts—it hurts so much."
I wrapped my arms around her tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other pressing her against me.
"Breathe with me," I said, my voice shaking but steady enough for both of us. "Just me. In… out… I'm right here."
Her body convulsed with sobs.
Her breaths came faster instead.
Her grip tightened.
"Janhvi," she gasped. "Make it stop. Please."
My heart shattered.
"I know," I whispered, tears sliding freely now. "I know. I've got you."
Her cries grew weaker, more broken. Her head felt heavy against my shoulder. Her breathing stuttered once—twice—
And then her body went limp.
"Sameera?" I pulled back slightly, fear exploding in my chest. "Sameera!"
Her eyes fluttered.
Then closed.
She fainted in my arms, tear tracks still wet on her cheeks, her fingers slack against my shirt.
I held her tighter, my own sob finally escaping.
"Please," I whispered into her hair.
"Please be okay."
I don't know how I got her onto the bed.
One moment she was limp in my arms, terrifyingly still, and the next I was somehow dragging cushions away, lifting her legs, murmuring her name over and over.
"Sameera… please… wake up."
I sprinkled water on her face. Nothing.
I pressed my fingers to her wrist—there was a pulse, thank god, but it felt too fast, too weak.
My hands were shaking so badly I dropped the glass.
That's when panic finally swallowed me whole.
I grabbed my phone with trembling fingers and dialed the one number that made sense.
Daksh.
He picked up on the first ring.
"Janhvi?" His voice sharpened instantly. "What happened? Is Sameera okay?"
"She fainted," I choked out. "She's not waking up. Daksh, I—I don't know what to do."
"I'm coming," he said without hesitation. "Don't hang up."
He was there in less than ten minutes.
The moment he saw her, his face changed—gone was the calm, composed Daksh. He moved fast, decisively.
"We're taking her to the hospital," he said, already lifting her into his arms.
Watching him carry her like that—so carefully, like she might shatter—made my chest ache.
The drive was a blur.
Sirens. White lights. Nurses rushing. Questions I barely registered. My hands were still stained with her blood, dried now, and I couldn't stop staring at them.
They admitted her quickly.
Too quickly.
That's when my phone rang again.
Sameera's mom calling.
My stomach dropped.
I looked at the screen, then at Daksh.
He met my eyes and shook his head slightly. "Not yet," he said quietly. "Let's hear from the doctor first."
I swallowed hard and declined the call.
The wait felt endless.
I paced the hospital corridor, every beep and footstep making my heart jump. Daksh stood near the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight—but steady. Like he was holding the ground together for both of us.
Finally, the doctor came out.
"She's stable," he said.
I felt my knees almost give way.
"She fainted due to a severe panic attack combined with low blood sugar," he continued. "But"—his tone shifted slightly—"there was also extreme emotional stress involved. Some kind of shock. That kind of response doesn't come out of nowhere."
My throat tightened.
"She'll be fine?" I asked.
"Yes," he nodded. "She's resting now.
One of you can go in."
Daksh looked at me. "You go."
I hesitated. "You—"
"She needs you," he said gently. "I'll be right here."
I nodded and followed the nurse.
As I stepped toward the room, my phone buzzed again in my hand.
Sameera's mom. Calling. Again.
I stared at the screen, my heart pounding.
I ignored the call. Again.
And again.
I couldn't look at that name right now. Not when the girl lying in front of me looked like someone had ripped the life out of her and left the body behind.
Sameera lay on the hospital bed, eyes closed, face pale against the white pillow. Her lashes were wet even in sleep, tear tracks dried on her cheeks. One of her hands rested near her chest, bandaged clumsily where she'd hurt herself earlier.
My throat tightened.
I stepped closer, sitting beside her, my fingers trembling as I reached for her hand.
"Sameera," I whispered. "Hey… I'm here."
Her lashes fluttered.
Slowly, painfully, her eyes opened.
They were empty.
Just… broken.
She looked at me, and something in my chest cracked open.
"Hey," I said softly, forcing my voice to stay steady. "You scared me. What happened?"
She stared at the ceiling for a long second, like the words were too heavy to lift.
"Tell me," I urged gently. "Is this because of Saharsh… or because of your parents?"
Her jaw trembled.
Her fingers tightened weakly around mine.
"They kissed," she whispered.
The room tilted.
I leaned closer, keeping my voice calm even though my blood was starting to boil. "Who kissed, Sameera?"
She swallowed. A single tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and disappeared into her hair.
"Saharsh… and Gauri."
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
"What the hell?" The words burst out of me before I could stop them. "What the actual hell—"
The door opened.
Hard.
Footsteps. Fast. Uneven.
I turned just as Saharsh rushed in, chest heaving, hair a mess, eyes wild like he'd run here without stopping. Daksh followed right behind him.
Saharsh froze the moment when he saw us.
Sameera turned her face away instantly, curling slightly into herself.
Daksh looked between us, confused, alarmed. "I called him," he said quickly. "He needed to know. He's her boyfriend—he should know she's in the hospital."
My vision went red.
Before I could stop myself, I marched straight up to Saharsh and slapped him.
Hard.
The sound echoed in the room.
He didn't even flinch.
Didn't raise his hand. Didn't say a word.
His eyes never left Sameera.
I grabbed his collar, fury shaking through my hands. "How dare you," I hissed. "How dare you do this to her."
"Please," he said hoarsely. His voice cracked. "Just… please let me see her once."
He looked destroyed. Like someone had ripped his heart out and thrown it at his feet.
But it didn't matter.
He took a step toward the bed.
"Please," he whispered again. "Sameera—"
Her voice cut through the air, weak but firm.
"Janhvi," she said without looking at him. "I don't want to meet anyone right now."
The words hit him harder than the slap.
I saw it—his shoulders sagged, his eyes filling, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but didn't know how.
"Please listen to me once," he begged. "You don't know the whole—"
"That's enough," I snapped.
I grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the door. He didn't resist. He just kept looking back at her like if he stared long enough, she'd turn around.
She didn't.
Outside the room, I shoved the door shut.
Daksh stood there, completely lost.
"What's going on?" he asked quietly. "Why are you both—"
"Daksh," I said sharply, my voice shaking now, "please take him home."
Saharsh looked at me, eyes red.
"Please. She's not listening. She's hurting—"
"And you think you didn't hurt her?" I shot back. "Just go. If you care about her at all—go."
Daksh hesitated, then nodded, placing a hand on Saharsh's shoulder and steering him away.
I didn't look back.
I went inside the room again.
Sameera was staring at the wall, tears silently slipping down her temples.
I sat beside her and pulled her gently into my arms.
She broke.
A quiet, shattered sob left her chest as she clutched my kurti like she was drowning.
And all I could think was—
This wasn't just heartbreak.