05

Shield

Viom's fingers trembled as he held the phone to his ear.

It was past 7 AM. Outside, the city was waking up. Inside him, a storm was already raging.

The moment Radhika Chaddha picked up, he didn't wait.

"Ma, it's him. Param. He transferred the property after the fire. He's been following her ever since. All those injuries — they weren't accidents. They were attempts. I think he's still trying to get to her."

Radhika's silence on the other end was louder than any scream.

"Are you sure?" she finally asked, though her voice betrayed the answer.

"I have enough evidence to make it to a judge — just short of an arrest. But it's fragile. It won't last if he lawyers up."

"I always knew something was off with Param," she said slowly. "But this... this is murder. And motive. And cover-up."

Viom stared through the glass of Piya's hospital room. She was asleep again — peaceful, unaware that the man she feared might still be circling her life like a vulture.

"I need to protect her," he whispered.

"You do."

"But I don't know how. If I tell her all this now, she'll run. She'll shut down. She always does."

"That's why you don't just tell her," Radhika said quietly. "You marry her."

Viom blinked. "What?"

"I'm serious, Viom." Her tone sharpened. "If she's your wife — even temporarily — it gives you legal grounds to act on her behalf. To press charges, block property transfers, get court protection, and demand police security. You can move faster than the courts, and trust me, that is the only thing that can save her."

He turned from the window, overwhelmed.

"Ma, marriage isn't a solution—"

"It's a shield," Radhika cut in. "And maybe it's not fair. Maybe it's complicated. But if you love her — even if she's not ready to love you back — this might be the only way to keep her alive long enough to have that chance."

He exhaled, torn between his heart and the ethics he'd lived by.

"Won't it look like I'm controlling her life?"

"No," she said, softer now. "It'll look like you're standing between her and the people who destroyed it."

Silence stretched between them. The decision hung heavy.

"Come to the hospital," he finally said. "Bring the file. I want her to know the truth... but I'll do it your way."

"On my way," she said. "And Viom?"

"Yeah?"

"She always looked at you like you were her safe place. Don't waste that now."

In the Hospital Room

Piya stirred again in her bed. Her lashes fluttered.

She didn't know yet that by nightfall...

Someone would propose marriage.

And someone else would want her dead.

The hospital corridor smelled of disinfectant and too many secrets.

Radhika Chaddha walked with sharp purpose beside her son, her arms folded, clutching a thick, sealed envelope — the file that held Piya Kaur's stolen past. Her expression was calm, but her eyes held the rage of a mother who had seen too many girls destroyed by men who were never held accountable.

"Room 306," Viom muttered, stopping at the door.

The blinds were pulled. The lights were off.

"Odd. She never sleeps in darkness," he said, pressing his hand against the door and pushing it open.

The room was silent. Too silent.

"Piya?" he called, cautiously stepping in.

No response.

Just a strange, unnatural stillness — as if the air itself had frozen.

Then — a sound.

A choked sob, barely audible, from somewhere low.

Radhika flicked on her phone's flashlight, sweeping the beam across the empty bed, the IV stand, the food tray...

And then froze.

Beneath the bed, curled up in a tight fetal position, her bandaged hand clutched to her chest and her eyes wide with terror, was Piya.

She was trembling.

Her breath came in ragged gulps, and streaks of tears glistened down her face. Her hospital gown clung to her skin, and her legs were pulled tightly to her chest as if trying to make herself disappear.

"Piya!" Viom dropped to his knees. "What happened? What's wrong?"

She didn't speak.

She just shook her head again and again, tears falling faster, mouth opening — but no words would come.

It was Radhika who moved first.

She knelt beside her son, gently reaching out a hand, her voice a soft balm.

"Sweetheart, you're safe. It's just us. I'm Radhika — Viom's mother. You're okay now."

Piya flinched at the touch, but something in Radhika's tone — the warmth, the quiet authority — broke through the terror.

Finally, in a cracked whisper, Piya said:

"He was here. I heard him. I know that voice. He was in this room."

Viom's blood ran cold.

"Who?"

Her lips trembled.

"...Param."

A moment of absolute silence passed.

Radhika's eyes flicked to her son. Her grip tightened on the folder.

Viom swallowed the fury building in his throat and instead reached gently beneath the bed.

"Come out, Piya. Please. I swear on everything I have — no one's ever going to touch you again."

She hesitated... then slowly, shakily, slid out into his arms.

He held her close. She was cold. Light. Fragile in a way he'd never seen her before.

And Radhika — the ever-practical doctor, the justice-seeker, the woman of sharp edges — felt her own eyes sting as she watched this broken girl bury her face into her son's chest like a lost child finally found.

Radhika (softly):

"She needs more than healing, Viom.

She needs a name that no one can touch.

She needs to become your wife — tonight."

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