As soon as the call ended making a beep sound, the phone fell from her hand breaking into pieces. She was shocked, utterly shocked. As if someone had Pearce a knife through her heart and forcefully snatched out her soul from her body.

She was still processing the words of the inspector he said a while ago. Hearing the breaking sound of something, all the maid and butlers working turns towards her with curious eyes.

Soniya's pov

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. The words 'accident' and 'hospital' keep echoing in my mind. My husband, my rock, my everything... how could this happen?

I'm numb, yet every nerve in my body screams in agony. Tears blur my vision, but I refuse to let them fall.

Guilt grips me, twisting my heart. Tears fall from my eyes. When the head maid of our house, who is more like a mother to me came towards me. When I  married to Dev three years ago, I met her, she loves me like a mother, she made me feel the motherly love.

She grasping my shoulders examining me.

"Kya Hua beta, Kon Tha phone par kuch toh Bol" she asked concern showing on her face.

"Kaveri Amma" hugged her tightly crying on her shoulder.

"Bacche, Bata na mujhe Kon tha phone par Bata mujhe ab darr lag raha Hai, Kya Hua,"

"Amma Dev....Dev Amma," I couldn't form the words.

"Kya Dev?....Kya Hua Dev ko" she asked anxiously.

"Amma Dev ka accident ho Gaya, inspector ka phone tha, woh keh rahe Hai gadi ka brake fail hone ke Karan gadi out of control ho gayi, aur footpath se na takrayi....woh city hospital Mai Hai unki halat bohot nazuk hai" she said braking down.

"Kya...."

Author POV

Kaveri could just muttered her face went blank the earlier worry on her face replace by the coldness, her face unreadable. She pulled Soniya into her arms more patting on her head. Like a mother, consoling her daughter.

"We should head to the hospital quickly" she said still with a cold face, but Soniya haven't noticed her much her heart filled with fear and agony of the thought of her husband's critical state.

____________________________________

Soniya's pov

As soon as we arrived at the hospital

I rush through the hospital doors, my heart racing with every step. The antiseptic smell and fluorescent lights overwhelm me.

I approached the reception desk, my voice shaking. "My husband... his accident... what's his condition?"

The nurse's sympathetic gaze pierces me. "Let me check."

Endless seconds tick by.

"Ma'am, please follow me."I trail behind her, dread building with each step.

We enter a small room, filled with the eerie silence of bad news.

A doctor greets me, his expression somber. "I'm sorry... your husband suffered severe injuries. We did everything we could..."

I feel like I'm drowning, unable to breathe. "What are you saying?" I beg, clinging to hope.

The doctor's words sliced through me. "We lost him. I'm so sorry."

Time stops.

"No, no, no. This can't be."

I collapsed onto the nearest chair, shattered.

The doctor's words fade into the background as I cradle my head in my hands.

How can he be gone? Our forever, cut short.

Tears pour down my face, mourning the loss of our dreams, our laughter, our life together."

I was lost into my thoughts when the inspector, come to me.

"Mrs Shekhawat?," he asked, I nod in agreement.

"I'm inspector Jadhav, I was the one who called you." He introduced.

Inspector jadhav's eyes filled with compassion. "Mrs Shekhawat, can I ask, did your husband mention any issues with the vehicle?"

I shook my head, memories flooding. "No, never. He was meticulous about maintenance."

"Did he drive aggressively or recklessly?"

"No, he was a cautious driver."

Inspector Jadhav nodded thoughtfully. "We'll review the black box data and inspect the vehicle. Our preliminary findings suggest brake failure, but we need to confirm."

"Could it have been prevented?" I asked, desperation creeping in.

"We'll investigate possible causes—manufacturing defects, wear and tear... We'll leave no stone unturned."

I sighed heavily. "It doesn't change anything, does it?"

Inspector Jadhav placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Losing someone is never easy."

Silence filled the space between us, heavy with shared understanding.

Doctor's gentle hands carefully examined my husband's body, his face somber.

"Time of death, 9:47 PM," he murmured to the nurse.

I watched, numb, as they worked together to prepare him for the morgue.

The doctor's eyes met mine, filled with compassion. "I'm sorry we couldn't save him."

I nodded, unable to speak.

With precision, the Doctor cleaned and dressed the wounds, respecting the body with gentle care.

The nurse handed him a small container. "Personal effects, Doctor."

The Doctor carefully removed my husband's watch, wedding ring, and phone, placing them in the container.

"Would you like to take these with you?" he asked gently.

I nodded, my heart heavy.

As they transferred his body to the morgue, I felt a pang of separation.

The doctor approached me again. "We'll perform an autopsy to determine the exact cause of death."

I nodded, understanding.

"Is there anything you'd like to know or ask?" he offered.

I hesitated. "Was he in pain?"

The doctor's expression softened. "We don't think so. The impact... it was quick."

Tears fell as I imagined his final moments.

Kaveri Amma's hands wrapped around mine, her touch warm and comforting. Yet, her face remained a mask of calm detachment, her eyes veiled with an air of mystery.

"Go home, child. Rest now," she whispered, her voice softening ever so slightly.

Her cold face belied the warmth in her words, leaving me puzzled.

As I looked into her eyes, I searched for a glimmer of emotion, but they remained inscrutable.

"Thank you, Amma," I whispered, my voice trembling.

With a gentle nod, she released my hands and stepped back.

Her expression remained unreadable, a poker face that concealed her true feelings.

I felt a shiver run down my spine as our eyes met.

Was she hiding something?

Did she know more than she let on?

The questions swirled in my mind, but I had no answers.

I sat inside the car.

The road was silent, save for the soft hum of the car's engine.

Streetlights cast long shadows, illuminating the empty pavement.

No chatter, no laughter, no horns honking.

Just an eerie stillness.

The driver's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, a somber glance.

I gazed out the window, lost in thought.

The city's usual bustle seemed to have receded, leaving only silence.

As if the world itself was mourning.

The car glided smoothly, a lone vessel in the quiet night.

I felt disconnected, suspended in a sea of sorrow.

Time itself seemed to have slowed.

Every mile marker, every traffic light, every turn – a countdown to facing the emptiness at home.

I arrived at the home, driver quick with his motions opened the car door for me.

I absent minded just walk towards the entrance, open the door.

The home, once filled with joyful anticipation, now felt eerily still.

Balloons, once vibrant and cheerful, now limp and defeated, hung from the ceiling.

Streamers, tangled and twisted, seemed to mock me.

The anniversary banner, "Happy 3rd Anniversary," taunted, its letters now a cruel reminder.

The dinner table, set for two, remained untouched.

Candles, meant to flicker with romance, stood cold and unlit.

The flowers, once fragrant and vibrant, now wilted and lifeless.

Every decoration screamed: "Celebration!"

But the silence screamed louder: "Loss!"

I wandered, lost, through the rooms.

Each reminder pierced my heart.

This surprise, once meticulously planned, now felt hollow.

The candles, the flowers, the delicate china – all meant to celebrate three years of love.

But his absence suffocated every detail.

I had envisioned his smile, his laughter, his eyes sparkling with delight.

Instead, emptiness echoed through our home.

The surprise party, once a secret, now lay bare.

Uncelebrated. Unshared. Unloved.

Tears streamed down my face as I gazed upon the unused decorations.

The thought of his touch, his voice, his presence – now forever lost.

My heart shattered into a million pieces.

How could life change so suddenly?

One moment, planning a future.

The next, mourning its loss.

The anniversary cake, untouched and uneaten, sat on the coffee table.

Its inscription, "Forever and Always," now a haunting echo.

ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠'⁠ʔ

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