CHAPTER 20: THE CONFRONTATION

CHAPTER 20: THE CONFRONTATION

[Arjun's POV –]

I remember every detail of that day like it's been etched into my soul. The silence of my office had become a comforting lull. I was staring at my laptop, half-reading an email when I heard hurried footsteps in the corridor. Before I could look up, the door burst open.

And there she was—Pia.

Her eyes were wild. Confused. Angry. Hurt.

She stood there, chest rising and falling, as though the sheer act of breathing was too much to bear. I knew instantly—she knew. Something had snapped.

"How could you?" Her voice trembled, raw and broken.

I stood up. My breath caught in my throat. "Pia—"

"Don't," she snapped, taking a step back as if my voice physically stung her. "Don't you dare say my name like you care."

I opened my mouth but no words came. I had imagined this moment, feared it, tried to prepare for it—but nothing could have prepared me for seeing that expression on her face.

She was sobbing now. "You said you loved me, Arjun. But what kind of man does this to his wife? You lied to me. You... you betrayed me."

My hands shook. I couldn't bring myself to speak. The truth sat heavy on my tongue, like a stone I was too weak to lift.

"You and your mother knew. You were hiding it from me," she continued, her voice rising. "You knew I was pregnant and still... still you let me believe it was only a month! You let me live a lie!"

My heart shattered as I watched her cry. She wasn't just angry—she was scared. Lost. And I couldn't blame her. We had all hidden too much. For her protection. For her sanity.

She took a step toward the door, her entire body trembling. "I trusted you! I thought you'd never hurt me. But you... you—" Her voice cracked. "You did something to me. That night. I don't remember everything but—"

"No!" I blurted out, my voice louder than I meant it. She flinched.

I lowered my tone immediately, hands out in front of me. "Pia, I didn't do anything wrong. I swear on everything I love. You don't remember because—because something happened. Something big."

She shook her head, stepping back, her face pale. "I can't... I can't trust you. Not anymore. I'm leaving."

Her breathing was shallow now, uneven. Her fingers clutched her chest. I recognized the signs instantly—panic, hyperventilation. My father's voice echoed in my mind from weeks ago:

"If Pia ever starts showing signs of panic or distress—heart rate up, disorientation—inject her with the dose. Her condition is fragile, Arjun. It's not just mental. It's neurological."

I reached into the drawer with trembling fingers, pulling out the emergency vial and syringe. I never thought I'd need to use it. Not like this.

"Please, Pia. You have to calm down. Just breathe with me—"

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, stumbling as she reached for the door.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, catching her gently before she could fall. She was shaking, her eyes wide with terror, and it was killing me.

I gently rolled up her sleeve and injected the medicine into her arm. Her body tensed at first, eyes darting toward the syringe. "W-What are you doing? What is that?"

"It's okay," I said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead. "You're going to be fine. It's just to calm you down."

She blinked, her breath slowing. Her muscles gradually relaxed, the panic in her eyes dimming as the medicine took effect. She looked at me—tired, confused, betrayed—and whispered, "Why, Arjun? Why would you hurt me like this?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I would never hurt you. Not ever."

But she had already closed her eyes, her body going limp in my arms.

I held her there for a long moment, resting my forehead against hers, as the silence settled around us again. The kind of silence that doesn't comfort—it haunts.

"You'll understand one day," I whispered. "And I'll be waiting when you do."

---

Back at home, I placed her gently on the bed, tucking the covers over her. Rhea was already waiting in the hallway, eyes brimming with worry.

"Did she find out?" she asked.

I nodded. "She thinks I did something to her. She doesn't remember the accident. She doesn't remember the past. She thinks we've been married a month."

Rhea exhaled, hands pressed against her chest. "This is exactly what we feared."

I sat beside Pia and took her hand in mine. Her fingers twitched slightly, the only sign that she was still with me in some capacity. I kissed the back of her hand and whispered again, more to myself than her:

"Please come back to me, Pia. The real you. The one I married five years ago. The one who smiled through our first vacation, the one who cried when we lost our first child, the one who painted our baby's room with her own hands."

I leaned back, brushing her cheek with my knuckle. "Not this scared, broken girl who thinks I hurt her."

---

That night, I couldn't sleep. I sat by her bedside, watching her breathe. Every so often, she'd twitch in her sleep or murmur something incoherent.

I remembered when we found out she was pregnant again. I was shocked. Joyfully shocked. We hadn't even realized. After the accident, the doctors said the chances were slim. And yet, here she was—carrying our miracle.

And yet, she didn't remember.

Her eyes fluttered slightly, and I moved closer, brushing a kiss on her forehead.

"We've come so far, Pia. I just wish you could remember the journey."

She stirred slightly but didn't wake. And I stayed beside her, watching her like she was the most fragile thing in the world.

Because right now, she was.

And I couldn't afford to break her again.