The Billionaire's Forgotten Wife

Chapter 4: Shattered

The phone slipped from Aarya's trembling fingers, clattering onto the marble floor of the villa's kitchen. The half-mixed cake batter sat forgotten on the counter, the fairy lights half-strung across the terrace now mocking her with their cheerful glow. Rain had begun to pour outside, a sudden monsoon deluge hammering against the glass windows overlooking the lake, as if the heavens themselves were weeping.

"Accident? Rishaan ka accident?" (Accident? Rishaan's accident?) Aarya's voice was a broken whisper as she snatched the phone back up. The frightened voice on the other end—a young woman, perhaps a secretary or a stranger—spoke rapidly. "Ma'am, please come to City General Hospital in Jaipur. The helicopter... it went down shortly after takeoff. He's been rushed into emergency."

The world tilted. Aarya gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles white. "Nahi... yeh jhooth hai. Rishaan theek hai na? Batao mujhe!" (No... this is a lie. Rishaan is fine, right? Tell me!) But the line had already gone dead. Disbelief crashed over her like a wave, followed by a raw, gut-wrenching fear that clawed at her chest. This couldn't be happening. Not after their perfect days, not after the temple vows, not after his tight hug and whispered "I love you" just hours ago.

Tears blurred her vision as she ran to the bedroom, grabbing a simple raincoat over her yellow salwar kameez. Her hands shook so violently she could barely zip it. "Bhagwan, please... meri Rishaan ko kuch mat hone dena. Woh mera sab kuch hai." (God, please... don't let anything happen to my Rishaan. He is my everything.) She whispered the prayer repeatedly, her bare feet pounding against the cold floor as she rushed out.

The villa staff, alerted by her cries, had already arranged a car. The driver, an elderly man named Ramu Kaka, looked pale. "Beti, baarish bahut tez hai. Careful rehna." (Daughter, the rain is very heavy. Be careful.) But Aarya barely heard him. She climbed into the backseat of the SUV, her mind a whirlwind of terror and denial. As the vehicle sped down the winding hill roads toward Jaipur, the rain lashed against the windows like angry fists. Thunder rumbled in the distance, mirroring the storm in her heart.

*Flashback:* Their first morning in the villa. Rishaan lifting her onto the kitchen counter, his laughter echoing as chocolate smeared on her nose. "Tum meri duniya ho, Aarya." (You are my world, Aarya.) How safe she had felt in his arms. Now, those same arms might be broken, bleeding...

"Drive faster, Kaka! Please!" she urged, her voice cracking. The hills blurred past in sheets of gray rain, the lake now a churning mass of water far below. Every minute felt like an eternity. She clutched her phone, dialing Rishaan's number again and again. Straight to voicemail. "Utho, jaan... please utho." (Pick up, my love... please pick up.)

The journey to Jaipur took nearly two agonizing hours through the downpour. By the time the SUV screeched to a halt outside City General Hospital, Aarya was drenched despite the raincoat, her dupatta clinging to her like a second skin. The emergency entrance was a chaos of flashing red and blue lights from ambulances, their sirens wailing into the stormy night. Doctors in white coats ran through the corridors, shouting orders. Terrified family members huddled in corners—some weeping openly, others staring blankly at the walls, clutching prayer beads.

Aarya pushed through the sliding doors, her heart pounding louder than the rain outside. The sterile smell of antiseptic mixed with the metallic tang of blood hit her like a slap. "Rishaan Malhotra! Kahan hai woh? Mere pati ko kya hua?" (Rishaan Malhotra! Where is he? What happened to my husband?) she cried out to the receptionist, her voice rising in hysteria.

The woman behind the desk looked frazzled, typing rapidly. "Madam, please wait. He's in the trauma bay. Only immediate family—"

"Main uski patni hoon!" (I am his wife!) Aarya slammed her hands on the counter, tears streaming down her face. But without official papers— their secret marriage offered no proof here—she was met with sympathetic but firm resistance. Security guards hovered nearby as she tried to slip past the double doors leading to the emergency rooms.

"Ma'am, aap yahan nahi aa sakti. Rules hain." (Ma'am, you can't come here. There are rules.) A nurse gently but firmly guided her back to the waiting area. Aarya collapsed onto a plastic chair, her body shaking with sobs. Around her, other families whispered prayers. A mother clutched her child's hand, murmuring "Om Namah Shivaya." Aarya joined them silently at first, then aloud.

"Ram ji, Krishna ji... meri Rishaan ko bachao. Hum abhi abhi shaadi kiye hain. Uski zindagi ab shuru hui hai. Please..." (Ram ji, Krishna ji... save my Rishaan. We just got married. His life has just begun. Please...) Her prayers mingled with the beeps of monitors and the distant shouts of medical staff. Doctors rushed past with stretchers, IV lines dangling, their faces grim under the harsh fluorescent lights.

*Flashback:* The ancient temple at sunrise. Marigold garlands swaying, Rishaan applying sindoor to her parting with trembling fingers. "Ab tum meri ho, poori tarah." (Now you are mine, completely.) His eyes had held the universe. The way he had kissed her as husband and wife, the bells ringing in celebration. How could that moment lead to this?

She rocked back and forth, memories flooding her like the rain outside. Their playful cooking sessions—"Arre, yeh kaise kiya tune?" (Hey, how did you do that?)—his boyish laughter by the lake, skipping stones. The intimate nights where he shed his billionaire armor, whispering dreams of children. "Ladki ho toh tumhari tarah sundar..." (If a girl, beautiful like you...) Now those dreams hung by a thread.

Hours seemed to blur. Aarya paced the corridor whenever the guards looked away, peeking through small windows into the trauma area. She caught glimpses: flashing red monitors, a team of surgeons huddled over a gurney, blood-stained scrubs being discarded. Her chest tightened with every passing second. "Rishaan, sun rahe ho na? Main yahan hoon. Fight karo, jaan. Humara future wait kar raha hai." (Rishaan, can you hear me? I am here. Fight, my love. Our future is waiting.)

Exhaustion and fear warred within her. She called the villa staff, her voice breaking as she asked them to send any documents they could find. She even tried contacting Rishaan's family, but the numbers went unanswered—perhaps they didn't know yet, or perhaps the Malhotras' cold world was already closing ranks. Alone in this storm of uncertainty, Aarya felt smaller than ever. The powerful Malhotra heir's secret wife, reduced to begging for information in a crowded hospital hallway.

More flashbacks assaulted her: Rishaan's tight hug before leaving, his words heavy with unspoken weight. "Main tumse bahut pyaar karta hoon... chahe kuchh bhi ho jaaye." (I love you so much... no matter what happens.) Had he sensed something? The mysterious call at the temple echoed again—"If you don't leave her now, she'll regret it." Was this no accident? The thought sent fresh waves of dread through her.

" Bhagwan, agar aapne humein milaya tha toh aise mat chheeno. Main uske bina nahi jee sakti." (God, if you brought us together, don't snatch him away like this. I can't live without him.) She prayed fervently, kneeling on the cold floor near the waiting area, ignoring the stares from others. Rain continued to pound the hospital roof, thunder cracking like judgment from above.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doors to the trauma bay swung open. A tall doctor in blood-speckled scrubs emerged, his face etched with fatigue. He scanned the waiting crowd and his eyes landed on Aarya's tear-streaked, desperate form. She rushed forward, nearly collapsing at his feet.

"Doctor sahib... Rishaan Malhotra? Mera pati... woh theek hai na?" (Doctor sir... Rishaan Malhotra? My husband... he is okay, right?) Her voice was barely a whisper, hands clasped in desperate supplication.

The doctor placed a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder, his expression grave. The corridor seemed to hold its breath—no more running footsteps, no more sirens, just the weight of his next words.

"He's alive... but there's a complication."

Aarya's world shattered anew. Alive. But what complication? Her knees buckled as the doctor continued speaking, but the roar in her ears drowned out everything else. The rain outside intensified, as if nature itself mourned with her.

To be continued...