Her pov
I had never seen Alex scared in our two-year relationship.
Not once.
Not during fights. Not during breakups threats. Not even when things got ugly.
But today—
Today he was afraid.
And the man standing in front of him was Rishabh.
My patient.
My hands were trembling, even though I tried to hide them by gripping my sleeves tighter. My heart was racing so hard it felt like it might tear through my chest. The air between them was thick, suffocating.
Rishabh stood still, his posture calm, controlled—yet dangerous in a way that made my breath hitch. He wasn't shouting. He wasn't threatening.
He didn't need to.
Alex shifted his weight, his jaw clenched, his eyes flickering toward me for just a second. That glance—uncertain, almost desperate—sent a cold shiver down my spine.
I had never been the one he looked at like that.
Rishabh took another step forward.
Instinctively, I moved.
Not toward Alex.
Toward Rishabh.
The moment my body reacted before my mind could stop it, everything inside me froze.
Rishabh noticed.
Of course he did.
His gaze snapped to me instantly, sharp and searching, as if asking a silent question I wasn't ready to answer. Are you hurt? Did he touch you?
Alex noticed too.
"Riya," he said, his voice tight now, no longer smooth. "Come here."
I didn't move.
That silence—my silence—was louder than any scream.
Something cracked in Alex's expression.
"Riya," he repeated, slower. Firmer.
Rishabh didn't look at him.
"You don't get to call her like that," he said quietly.
Alex let out a short, humorless laugh. "And you don't get to decide anything about us. You're just—"
"My doctor," Rishabh finished calmly.
But there was nothing just about the way he said it.
I swallowed hard.
Because in that moment, I understood something terrifying.
Rishabh wasn't here as my doctor.
He was here as my shield.
And for the first time in two years—
I felt safe. The door closed behind me with a soft thud.
The world outside blurred as the car started moving, city lights smearing against the window like tears I refused to shed. The silence inside the car was heavy—but not uncomfortable.
Just… full.
I sat rigid, my hands folded tightly in my lap, nails digging into my skin. My breathing was shallow, uneven, like my body didn't remember how to do it properly anymore.
Rishabh drove without a word.
That made it worse.
Because he wasn't demanding explanations.
He wasn't asking why didn't you leave earlier?
He wasn't telling me what I should feel.
He was giving me space.
And space was dangerous.
My chest tightened. My throat burned.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching the streetlights pass, one after another, counting them like that might keep me together.
One.
Two.
Three—
"I tried," I whispered.
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Rishabh's grip on the steering wheel tightened—but he didn't look at me. "I know."
That was it.
That single sentence broke something open inside me.
My breath hitched, a sharp, ugly sound escaping my chest as tears spilled over, blurring everything. I brought a hand to my mouth, trying to quiet the sob that followed, but it was no use.
"I tried so hard," I cried softly. "I kept thinking if I loved him enough… if I stayed calm enough… he'd stop making me feel so small."
My shoulders shook violently now.
Rishabh slowed the car, pulling over to the side of the road without a word. The engine idled, a low hum beneath my breaking breaths.
He finally turned toward me.
Not angry.
Not intense.
Just… there.
"You don't have to be strong here," he said quietly. "Not with me."
That did it.
I curled inward, pressing my face into my hands as sobs wracked through me, every emotion I'd swallowed for two years pouring out all at once—fear, guilt, shame, relief.
I felt the car shift slightly as Rishabh moved.
Slow. Careful.
He didn't pull me into him.
He didn't cage me.
He simply placed his jacket over my shoulders, the weight of it grounding, warm.
"I've got you," he said, low enough that it felt like a promise, not a comfort.
I clutched the fabric like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
For the first time in a long time—
I let myself cry.My breathing was still uneven, my chest rising and falling like it didn't trust the air anymore. Tears kept slipping free no matter how hard I tried to stop them, warm trails down my cheeks I was too exhausted to wipe away.
I felt him move.
Not suddenly.
Not close enough to scare me.
Just enough that his presence shifted the air beside me.
"Riya," Rishabh said quietly.
I didn't look up.
I couldn't.
Then I felt it.
The lightest touch against my cheek.
His thumb brushed beneath my eye, slow and careful, wiping away a tear like he was afraid it might shatter me if he pressed too hard. His hand was warm—steady.
I flinched for half a second out of habit.
And then… I relaxed.
Because there was no demand in his touch.
No claim.
No expectation.
Just comfort.
"It's okay," he murmured. "You're safe."
Another tear escaped, and he wiped that one too, his movements unhurried, patient, like he had all the time in the world to let me fall apart.
I finally lifted my eyes to his.
They weren't dark with intensity now.
They were soft.
Concerned.
And that somehow hurt more than anything else.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, the word slipping out automatically. Years of apologizing for existing.
His thumb stilled.
"Don't," he said gently. "You have nothing to apologize for."
The words sank deep, settling somewhere I didn't know was wounded.
My lips trembled.
"I didn't know how to leave," I admitted, voice barely there.
Rishabh's hand lowered slowly, resting back where it belonged—giving me control again.
"You did," he said. "Tonight."
I swallowed hard, nodding as another quiet sob escaped me.
And for the first time—
I believed him.I didn't realize when my crying slowed.
Or when my breathing finally evened out.
The world felt far away, wrapped in a soft haze where nothing hurt quite as sharply anymore. My eyelids grew heavy, my body sinking into the seat like it had been holding itself upright for far too long.
The last thing I felt was warmth.
Not overwhelming.
Not confining.
Just… there.
My head tipped slightly to the side, resting against the window, then shifting—barely—toward him.
I must have fallen asleep.
Because the next thing I knew, the car wasn't moving anymore.
The engine was off.
And silence wrapped around me like a blanket.
I stirred faintly, half-aware, caught somewhere between sleep and waking. My lashes fluttered but didn't open.
I felt it then—
Rishabh's jacket tucked more securely around my shoulders.
The seat adjusted, reclined just enough so my neck wouldn't strain.
A hand hovered near me for a second—hesitating—before gently brushing a strand of hair away from my face.
So light it barely registered.
I sighed softly in my sleep, my fingers loosening their grip on the fabric.
Safe.
That was the word my mind clung to as I drifted deeper.
Rishabh didn't wake me.
He stayed right there, watching the rise and fall of my chest, making sure nothing—not the night, not the past, not anyone—could reach me.
For the first time in a long time—
I slept without fear.
Riya has finally found a safe haven, but will Alex let her go so easily? If you loved this emotional breakthrough, please support the story with Power Stones! Every vote helps us climb the rankings. ❤️"