Mahir looked up at the endless flight of stone steps leading to the old Durga temple. Perched high on the hill, it was ancient enough to whisper forgotten stories and sacred enough to cradle centuries of faith.
The wind howled through the silence, cold and sharp, brushing against his face as if testing his resolve. Mahir remembered Shreya telling him that if a person climbed these stairs and offered prayers with a pure heart, chanting the mantra with unwavering faith, the Goddess would listen; no devotee's prayer had ever gone unanswered here.
Mahir believed in gods, but not in myths. He didn't believe in tales wrapped in superstition or rituals born out of fear. He believed in action, in effort, and in the kind of faith that came through doing, not merely hoping. He trusted in consequences, in hard work, and in the things he could hold and understand but not in miracles.
However, today was different. Standing at the foot of those age-old stairs, with the sky darkening and thunder cracking like an echo of his own turmoil, something inside him jolted.
Mahir joined his hands, closed his eyes, and slowly sank to his knees. The chill of the stone seeped into his skin, rough and unyielding, scraping against his flesh as he began his climb, one trembling step at a time. Pebbles cut into his knees, small but merciless, yet he didn't flinch. He didn't stop. With each mantra that escaped his lips, his voice remained as unwavering as his faith.
The storm roared and the wind lashed against him, yet he kept going; bleeding, soaked, and praying.
This wasn't a businessman climbing. This wasn't the ruthless Mahir Dhanrajgir the world feared or bowed to, nor was it a rockstar who charmed his fans with his smile. This was just a brother. A brother who had failed to protect his sister when she needed him most. A brother who couldn't bear to see her lying there, lifeless and pale. A desperate brother who could not afford to lose his sister and would go to any length for her.
The clouds parted and it started to pour heavily. The rain crashed against the ancient stone steps as if the heavens themselves were testing the bond between two souls, a bond not bound by blood, but woven with threads deeper than flesh.
It was a connection forged through love, responsibility, and the kind of pain that reshapes a person's very being; something that felt Beyond Blood.
Mahir stopped for a heartbeat, the rain mixing with the sweat and exhaustion on his face. His body was trembling, yet unmoving. He felt another presence beside him and slowly, he opened his eyes.
Shreya stood there, drenched from head to toe. She held her dupatta over his head, shielding him from the relentless downpour even as her own shoulders shivered from the cold.
"Aap apna kaam kijiye... aur mujhe mera kaam karne dijiye, (You do your work... and let me do mine.)" She said softly, her voice almost lost in the roar of the rain.
Mahir blinked at her, a flicker of questions passing through his eyes. Before he could speak, Shreya added quickly, "Please, Mahir..." Her tone softened further, almost breaking.
Mahir exhaled sharply and gave in silently. Right now, his focus was on Radha, his sister fighting for her life. He would talk to Shreya later. She didn't need to do this, yet deep down, he knew she wouldn't leave even if he asked her to.
Shreya gripped her dupatta more tightly, keeping it stretched over his head, taking each step alongside him. Her pace perfectly matched his slow, trembling ones. Luckily, her dupatta was long and thick enough to offer some protection; not much, but just enough to keep him from falling sick.
It was Arjun who had called her earlier, telling her everything that had happened, about Radha, about Mahir leaving suddenly, and providing her with his location. She would have gone straight to the hospital to stay with the brothers, but she knew them too well. If Mahir had ordered them to stay behind, they wouldn't disobey. Arjun must have tracked Mahir's location only because Mahir himself allowed it, not wanting them to worry.
Shreya's eyes lifted to the temple looming above as they neared the final few steps. Despite the storm, Mahir's pace didn't falter. His determination was unshakable, his pain so tangible that it made him numb to physical suffering. Her heart clenched seeing the blood, his trembling fingers, and the sheer desperation in his movements. Seeing him like that; so broken, pleading silently with the heavens, something inside her to crack wide open.
As they reached the last step, Mahir rose to his feet but stumbled. Shreya instinctively reached out to steady him, but he stopped her with a firm raise of his palm.
She froze, stepping back without a word. It wasn't arrogance; it was simply who Mahir was. The man would bleed for his siblings and the people he cared for, but he would never take help or share his burdens, choosing instead to collapse alone.
Mahir walked into the temple and joined his hands before the Goddess. His fingers trembled against the gust of cold wind, his lips moving in silent prayer for his sister's recovery, for her to wake up, and for her to smile again the way she used to. He prayed for her to live a life filled with peace, laughter, and every ounce of love she so selflessly gave to others.
He prayed not just for her heartbeat to steady, but for the light in her soul to return and for her broken spirit to find its way home. He prayed that the universe, the gods, or whatever power existed, would give him her pain instead, just so she could open her eyes once more.
The priest, an old man in a white dhoti and saffron shawl, stepped out of the small sanctum. His eyes softened as they fell on Mahir, who was now kneeling before the idol.
The bleeding from Mahir's knees had mixed with the muddy rainwater, leaving dark trails behind him. His face was pale and hollow from exhaustion, his drenched clothes clinging to him like a second skin. Yet, even the storm couldn't drown the devotion in his eyes, a devotion born not out of mere religion, but out of a profound, desperate love.
The priest stood silently for a moment, watching him. Then, with quiet steps, he walked closer. The sight before him spoke volumes: the desperate faith of a man who looked as though he had fought the world and lost, yet still refused to give up. There was something truly sacred about that kind of pain.
"Kisi ke liye aaye ho, beta? (Have you come here for someone, son?)" He asked gently, his voice calm despite the thunder echoing through the temple walls. It wasn't a question born of curiosity, but of empathy; it was clear this young man wasn't there for himself.
Mahir looked up, slowly rising to his feet and folding his hands respectfully. "Meri bhen..." His voice came out hoarse and cracked. "Uski tabiyat thik nahi hai. Woh hospital mein hai... uske liye aaya hoon. (My sister... she isn't well. She's in the hospital... I came for her.)"
The pandit blinked, startled for a moment, but said nothing. A brother praying for his sister wasn't new; he had seen countless devotees come and go, offering prayers for their families. But something about this man was different. There was a weight in Mahir's tone and a rawness in his eyes that went beyond mere brotherly concern.
Though the priest couldn't explain it, he could feel it: the man before him wasn't just a brother. Beneath the grief, the anguish, and the exhaustion, hidden under layers of tenderness, anger, fear, and guilt; a father had been born. It was visible to the world, if not yet to Mahir himself. He was a father who loved too fiercely, who protected too instinctively, and who would trade everything he owned, everything he was, for the child he didn't give birth to, but loved with every shattered piece of his soul.
After the pooja, Mahir looked up as the priest approached and handed him a sacred thread.
"Yeh kya hai? (What is this?)" Mahir asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
The priest smiled softly. "Mata ka raksha dhaga hai. Sacche mann se ise apni bhen ki kalaai par baandh dena. Maa uski raksha karegi. (This is the protective thread of the Goddess. Tie it on your sister's wrist with a pure heart. Maa will protect her.)"
"Isse woh thik ho jayegi? (Will she get better because of this?)" Mahir asked instantly. He was desperate for something to hold onto, something that could give him the courage to return to the hospital and face the sight of his sister. He was currently too paralyzed by fear to even take a step back toward reality.
The priest glanced at the idol."Woh yahan se kisi ko khaali haath nahi bhejti. (She never sends anyone away from here empty-handed.)" He looked back at Mahir. "Un par vishwas rakh kar apni saari pareshaniyan unke charnon mein daal do. Dil mein shraddha ho toh sab kuch sahi ho jata hai. (Place all your worries at Her feet with faith. If there is true devotion in your heart, everything will fall into place.)"
Mahir took the thread. At that moment, he was starved for any kind of mercy. If a simple thread could save his child's life, then so be it.
He glanced at the idol one last time. "Main aaj tak tere darwaaze sirf apne bhai-bhen ke liye aaya hoon, aur aaj bhi main yahan sirf apni bhen ke liye aaya hoon. Mujhe bas ek mauka chahiye apni uss galti ko sudhaarne ka jo maine ki. Bas ek mauka apni bhen ko sahi raasta dikhane ka, usey zindagi jeena sikhane ka. Tu chahe toh meri jo pariksha leni hai le le... bas meri bacchi ko thik kar de. Uski zindagi ki saari takleefe meri jholi mein daal de, main kuch nahi kahunga... bas mujhe usey wapas lauta de. (I have only ever come to your doorstep for my siblings, and today is no different. I just want my sister to wake up. I just want one chance to fix the mistake I made. Just one chance to show her the right path, to teach her how to live. Take whatever test you want from me... just make my child well. Put all her suffering into my life; I will bear it all without a word. I want nothing for myself... just return her to me.)"
Tears threatened to fall as Radha's lifeless figure flashed before his eyes, but he held them back with iron resolve. If he dared to let even a single tear drop, it would mean he had already surrendered to defeat; and Mahir could not give up. He would never give up when it came to his sister.
Just as the priest had asked, he surrendered his worries and his pain at the Goddess's feet, clinging to the singular hope of getting his child back.
Mahir walked into Radha's ward, and the moment he stepped inside, his breath faltered all over again. The rhythmic beeping echoing through the room felt like a knife twisting deeper within him. Still, he gathered whatever courage remained and moved toward Radha's bed.
She was unconscious and frighteningly still. The doctor had repeated the same update that Arjun had passed on to him earlier.
His eyes pooled with tears, but he blinked them away and tied the mauli (sacred thread) the priest had given him around her wrist. With trembling fingers, he leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly.
"Uth ja, bacche...(Wake up, bacche...)" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Isse zyada... tera bhai nahi seh payega. (Your brother won't be able to bear any more than this.)" His fingers slipped around Radha's, gripping her hand gently as he tried to anchor himself to her.
A single tear escaped, falling silently onto Radha's hand.
The machine caught a faint flicker, an almost invisible spike in rhythm that went completely unnoticed by Mahir. He stood there in utter stillness, staring at Radha with a hollow, defeated ache consuming him slowly.
Radha stirred, feeling the warmth of the tear landing on her skin. A faint whimper escaped her throat before her fingers weakly curled, instinctively squeezing Mahir's hand back.
Mahir snapped out of his daze, his head jerking up in stunned silence.
Radha opened her eyes groggily, blinking against the harsh white light. Her gaze drifted around the room, confused and unfocused; before finally settling on Mahir. He stood there holding her hand, calling her name, but it was the unshed tears in his eyes that made her frown slightly.
"Radha..." Mahir choked on his own words. The hours of terror he had suffered finally came to an end, and words failed him.
Radha tried to lift her hand to wipe his tears away, but a sharp pain ripped through her arm at the effort, shooting through her entire body. Reality crashed into her mind like a physical blow, bringing back the memory of how she had landed in the hospital.
The false accusations, Sakshi's biting words, the dreadful past, the pills, her reckless flight from the house, and finally, the car hitting her. The oxygen mask pressed against her face made it hard to speak. Her mouth felt dry and her throat scorched after hours of unconsciousness.
The despair of the situation, the helplessness from before and after the accident; hit her like a tidal wave. Tears rolled down her face, born both from physical pain and the emotional shock of seeing tears in her Bhaiya's eyes for the first time.
Mahir lowered her hand immediately as she tried to lift it again. "Don't, Radha..." He said softly, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. "Your hand is in a cast. Don't move it. It will hurt."
Right on cue, the doctor stepped into the room, asking him to step out for a few minutes.
Mahir looked at Radha, giving her a faint smile and caressing her head gently. "Let the doctor check you. I am right here, okay?" He waited until Radha blinked in understanding before stepping back, letting the doctor take over.
All he wanted was to pull Radha into his arms and hold her tightly, making sure she was truly awake and safe. But he knew he couldn't. Her injuries were severe, and he had to be careful.
The moment he stepped out of the room, he was engulfed in a bear hug by his little brother, who sobbed into his chest. The same wave of relief Mahir had felt moments ago now washed over Abhi.
Mahir held onto Abhi, stroking his back soothingly. "Shh... She is fine, Abhi. Why are you crying now? Once the doctor is done with the checkup, you can go in and meet her."
Abhi pulled back, shaking his head and wiping tears away with the back of his hand. "I am angry with her. Mujhe nhi baat krni usee (I don't want to talk to her!) She...she was so wrong to think of leaving us behind. I... I will never talk to her again..." He trailed off, sobbing over his own desperate words, knowing how impossible it would be for him to survive even a single day without talking to Radha.
He was deeply hurt. Arjun had tried to shield him from the truth at home, but Abhi couldn't ignore what Arjun had told the doctors the previous night. The mere thought of Radha trying to take her own life sent a shiver down his spine. He had heard such news before, but seeing it happen to his own sister was unimaginable and awfully painful.
Mahir cradled Abhi's face gently in his palms. He understood the hurt and the anger; he understood the fear, too. But with Abhi, it went deeper than what he himself or Arjun faced. At the end of the day, Abhi was still a teenager. Circumstances might have forced him to mature, but the truth remained: behind the young man was still a scared child, terrified of losing his sister to the world.
However, the reality of the situation couldn't be denied, at this moment, Radha needed love and support, not distance or indifference.
"Look at me, Abhi..." Mahir said softly as the boy looked down.
Abhi lifted his teary gaze slowly.
Mahir shook his head firmly. "Stop crying, baccha... Radha is fine. She's right here in front of us."
Abhi nodded weakly.
"Your anger is justified, beta," Mahir continued, "and so is your hurt. Main aur Arjun aaj tak tere aur Radha ke beech nahi aaye hain, aur aaj bhi nahi aayenge. (Arjun and I have never come between you and Radha, and we won't.) But just so you know... Radha ko iss waqt apne bhai se zyada apne dost ki zarurat hai. Woh dost jo usse gussa toh hai, par usse samajh bhi sakta hai. Uski woh kadam uthane ki wajah na sahi, par uske dard ko samajh sakta hai. (But just so you know... right now, Radha needs her friend more than her brother. A friend who might be angry with her, but can still understand her, someone who might not agree with her choice, but can feel her pain.) Just be yourself with her, Abhi. Stay by her side rather than staying away. Hmm?"
Abhi nodded, throwing himself at Mahir. He understood what his Bhaiya had explained. He realized he could express his emotions without being harsh, which was the last thing Radha needed at this moment.
"Where is Arjun?" Mahir asked once Abhi pulled back.
Abhi shrugged. "He went to the canteen with Di, I guess."
Mahir shook his head. "I will go and check..." He stopped as the doctor stepped out of the room.
"She is stable now. Her vitals are returning to the normal range," The doctor informed them, looking relieved. "We will be able to shift her into a general ward within a few hours. However, the injuries to her leg and arm are quite severe. She won't be able to walk for at least a week or more. She will have to wear a cast to prevent the fractures from shifting and to allow for proper healing."
Mahir nodded, absorbing the news. "Can we meet her?"
The doctor nodded before walking away to attend to other patients.
Mahir turned to Abhi. "Go and sit inside with her. I will find Arjun."
Abhi frowned. "I called him and messaged him earlier, but he didn't reply, nor has he read the texts." His Bhaiyu was suddenly behaving strangely, and Abhi was starting to worry.
Mahir nodded, sending Abhi into Radha's room before turning on his heel to find his other brother. He, too, had found Arjun's behavior odd since the previous night. Amidst the chaos, he hadn't had the time to check on him, but now he didn't wish to delay the much-needed conversation any longer.
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