Page 60 of One Hellish Love

“Kashish, I know Daadi shouldn’t have acted so impulsively by handing you over to the police without understanding what truly happened. But try to see it from her perspective—she loves Rudra deeply, and he was bleeding. What else could she have done in that moment?”

“I’m not blaming her anymore, Shekhar,” she murmured, her voice devoid of emotion.

Shekhar raised a brow, surprised.

“If you’re not holding a grudge, then why won’t you ease up and take care of yourself?”

Kashish swallowed hard. The events of the last 24 hours replayed in her mind like a relentless storm—Rudra’s painful confession, his desperate plea for forgiveness, the knife, the blood, the police interrogation, Rudra saving her, Daadi’s wrath, her own understanding that the accident 11 years ago wasn’t intentional. Then Rudra’s shocking decision: if she wouldn’t forgive him, he would leave the house to set her free from theburden of hatred. The weight of it all pressed down on her, and tears welled up, spilling from her eyes.

Shekhar reached out to wipe her tears, but she pushed his hand away and stood abruptly.

“This is his house, Shekhar, his family. I can’t force him to leave. Why does he have to be so... selfless?” She cursed herself for thinking of him with such complexity.Stop it, she told herself.

Shekhar grew worried, seeing how sensitive the situation had become. He just wanted to calm her down.

“Kashish, you’re overthinking. It’s affecting your health.” He tried to steady her as she swayed, feeling dizzy, and guided her back to the bed.

“Please, leave me alone,” she whispered.

“Only if you drink this,” he insisted, holding out the juice again.

Kashish looked away, refusing to even glance at it. Shekhar sighed.

“Fine. There’s only one person who can make you drink it then—Rudra.”

Her head snapped around; eyes wide with disbelief. Why did he bring him into this? Rudra meant nothing to her. Absolutely nothing.

“Don’t look at me like that. If he can get you to talk, he can get you to eat. So, what if his stitches are still fresh? He’s never put anything above your well-being. I’ll call him.”

He started to leave, but Kashish grabbed his arm, stopping him. Reluctantly, she took the glass from his hand and drank the juice slowly. Shekhar smiled, pleased that his little manipulation had worked.

After finishing, she set the glass down and met his gaze.

“He means nothing to me, Shekhar. Don’t ever use that excuse again.”

Shekhar nodded, respecting her words, and left her alone as she requested.

**************

Meanwhile, Rudra was packing his bags. He hadn’t brought much when he came from Paris, just a few essentials. His villa there held most of his belongings. Every time he bent down to pack, the stitches in his chest pulled painfully, but he didn’t care. His mind was fixated on one thing—leaving this place.

A knock at the door interrupted him. Daadi stormed in, her face flushed with anger as she saw what he was doing.

“What are you doing, Rudra? Why are you packing your bags?”

“I’m going back to Paris,” he replied quietly.

Her frustration spiked.

“Paris? Already? You were supposed to leave in two months!”

“Something urgent came up. I need to go,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

Daadi’s suspicions flared—she knew this wasn’t about Paris, it was aboutKashish.

“Since when did your entire life start revolving around that one girl?” she snapped.

Rudra stopped packing and turned to her with a calm but hard expression.

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