Fiza's injuries and her stay at Alan's house cast a shroud of uncertainty over the eve of their long-awaited pennukaanal.

He'd hastily rearranged her travel plans, ensuring she'd journey with his family to Cochin.

The plan was for Alan to drop Fiza to her own house, his family to their hotel, all before converging on Fiza's residence for the official ceremony. Little did they know, this night held secrets that would challenge their destinies.

"Alan, is she doing okay?" Fiza's mother had inquired anxiously, her voice tinged with concern.

Fiza had conversed with her parents several times since the accident. She had briefly explained how she had tripped in her hotel room, resulting in the night lamp crashing onto her, requiring stitches. "Alan was the one who did my stitches," Fiza had assured them, "and I'll be back home tomorrow."

Alan cradled her gently, mindful of the broken rib on her right side, a painful reminder of the table's impact. Even though they shared the same bed, he was afraid to hold her, fearing he might cause her more pain given her broken ribs. It struck him as peculiar, given their closeness, that they lay apart in the midst of adversity.

As Fiza stirred fitfully in her sleep, Alan's heart ached. He kept a vigilant watch, checking on her every hour, fearing she might slip into unconsciousness.

He assisted her in packing her belongings, carefully retrieving the items Chandran had hastily tossed into plastic bags from her hotel room before bringing them to his house.

He had initially intended to return the amethyst ring during the pennukaanal, but a compelling urge prompted him to do so earlier.

"Fiza," he softly uttered, rousing her from her fitful slumber. Her restless night mirrored his, but at the sound of his voice, a smile graced her lips as she opened her eyes. He took a moment to admire her before he spoke.

"I love you, Fiz. You mean everything to me," Alan professed with unwavering sincerity. Kneeling beside her, he saw her flinch as she sat up.

"Alan..."

"Fiz, there's only you in my world," he continued, his voice brimming with emotion. "I can't love anyone else or be with anyone else the way I am with you. Without you, there is no me. I promise, if you choose to be mine, I'll cherish you, love you, and honor you. I'll strive to be the best version of myself for you, always putting your happiness above mine. Will you be my wife?"

Alan's eyes glistened with tears as he peered into Fiza's tired, yet deeply affectionate gaze.

"Yes Alan, I've always been yours. Just yours." She leaned over to kiss him but straighten up due to pain.

Gently sliding the ring onto her finger for the second time, he couldn't help but notice the subtle bluish discoloration that had begun to form around her eyes. She was still undeniably beautiful, but the sight of those marks pained him.

"You look like a panda," he teased, attempting to inject a bit of humor into the somber moment.

Fiza chuckled but winced as she clutched her side.

"It's nearly time, Fiz. I've packed your bags. Grab a bite to eat, and we'll make our way to the airport," he said, trying to keep his tone reassuring despite the challenges they faced.

"Fiza, mole, are you okay?" Alan's mother asked, gently clasping Fiza's hands in her own. "I'm just grateful Alan was with you when this happened."

Fiza nodded, taking comfort in the support of Alan's family. She reassured herself that Alan hadn't pushed her, and her situation was different from her mother's. It wasn't comparable. Alan had been trying to walk away, and she had unintentionally obstructed his path, hadn't she?

In her mind, she drew a parallel to basketball, a game they both cherished. It wouldn't have been considered a foul; it was akin to falling while playing defense, something she had done countless times before, defending him in court with the same determination.

Fiza shared the same taxi from Cochin Airport with Alan's family, their intention being to drop her off at her home en route to their hotel. Throughout the car ride and at the airport, Alan's father wore a worried expression.

Fiza pressed the doorbell, and Alan stood beside her while his parents remained in the car.

The moment Fiza's father saw her, his eyes widened in shock. It was like a dejavu. He rushed forward and confronted Alan, his voice filled with anger and accusation. "What did you do?" he shouted, grabbing Alan by the collar.

Alan's father, hearing the commotion, swiftly exited the car and intervened, attempting to defuse the tense situation.

Fiza desperately tried to position herself between the two men, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and urgency. She glanced at Alan, whose face had drained of color, rendering him incapable of speaking or defending himself. Shock held him in its grip.

Alan's parents approached the tense scene.

"Pappa!" Fiza implored, her voice tinged with desperation. "It was an accident, I promise."

Fiza's mother, witnessing the unfolding drama, stepped in with a calming presence. "Let's go inside and talk. Come on," she said gently, tapping her husband's shoulder.

"I know we were all planning to meet this evening, but why don't you come in now? I'll make some tea," she suggested with a warm smile.

Fiza's father released his grip on Alan's collar, and Fiza reassured him by holding Alan's arm and whispering, "It's okay, he's just freaking out."

Alan's gaze remained fixed on Fiza, and he couldn't help but notice her worsening condition. As he should have expected, the blood from the forehead wound had started to pool around her eyes, making the injury appear more prominent and concerning.

Meanwhile, Alan's parents found themselves seated in the opulent drawing room of Fiza's family home. While they were aware that Fiza came from an influential family, they were taken aback by the grandeur of the house, from the elegant chandeliers in the living room to the overall majestic appearance of the residence.

Fiza slipped into the elegant anarkali suit her mother had purchased for this significant occasion. She carefully applied concealer around her eyes, trying to mask the discoloration, and swiftly added a touch of mascara and lipstick.

When she descended the stairs, the tea was prepared, but as she carried the tray, a sharp pang of pain shot through her side, causing her to flinch.

Alan immediately noticed her change in expression and rose from his seat to relieve her of the tray. Fiza's father, seeing this, frowned with a mix of concern and suspicion.

"Okay," he began, "before we do anything else..."

"Hiya!" interrupted a chirpy voice. It was Farzana, who had come from Chennai to attend the event but had initially planned to return home a few hours earlier after spending time with her friends. She was taken aback to find everyone already assembled. With a playful wink at Alan, who scowled in response, she seated herself next to their father and crossed her legs.

Returning to the topic at hand, Fiza's father cleared his throat. "What I was saying is, I can't proceed without knowing what happened to my daughter."

"Pappa, I've told you," Fiza interjected, her voice tinged with frustration. "I tripped and fell on my nightstand, knocking the table lamp onto my head. It was just a clumsy accident."

"I'm asking Alan," he said, fixing his unwavering gaze on Alan.

Alan swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "She fell, uncle."

Fiza's father's eyes narrowed, suspicion evident in his demeanor. "What were you doing in her room? Did you just walk in there in the morning and find her?"

"No," Alan responded softly, his eyes pleading as he glanced at Fiza, seeking her assistance.

Fiza hesitated but ultimately spoke up, her voice tinged with apprehension. "Pappa, we were together," she admitted, her worry growing. This situation was spiraling out of control.

Her father's accusatory gaze returned to Alan. "So you spent the night with Fiza?" he inquired. Alan nodded, his anxiety evident.

"And then you fought, didn't you? You hit her with the lamp!" Fiza's father erupted angrily.

Fiza, tears streaming down her face, stood up in a desperate attempt to defend Alan. "Pappa, no! Alan didn't hurt me. He helped me."

Her father finally turned his attention to her, his eyes filled with pain. "Why are you defending him? You're just like your mother."

"Pappa, no, Alan would never hurt me," Fiza insisted, her gaze shifting to Farzana, who was eyeing Alan skeptically, clearly unconvinced by the story.

"I should have stopped this a long time ago. A characterless boy, not worth..." her father began to say again.

"That's enough," Alan's father interjected sternly, rising to his feet. "Let's go," he told Alan.

"Please, Achha, let's talk this out," Alan pleaded with his father.

Fiza knelt by her father's knee, her voice trembling with emotion. "Please be reasonable. Just because I am hurt doesn't mean he hurt me. I am not Fiza Ammai," she implored.

"Fiza, you can find a better match than this boy," her father insisted.

"But I don't want anyone else. I love him, Pappa. Please, give him a chance, for me," she pleaded.

"I did give him a chance, but look at what he's doing to you. A few months ago, your leg broke. Now your face," her father remarked, a tear tracing its path down his cheek.

Fiza buried her head in her father's lap, overcome with emotion.

"Fiza Ammai told me the same thing. It was never Ronald. She fell, hit her head on the cupboard, broke her arm... We didn't even know he was hurting her until she died. I can't take that chance again," her father implored, desperate not to see his daughter repeat her biological mother's mistakes.

"Pappa, Alan isn't like that," Fiza insisted, looking into her father's eyes.

Alan's mother signaled for his father to sit back down, but then another voice chimed in.

"He is like that, Fiza," her sister Farzana declared, shocking everyone in the room.

"Farzana, please stay out of this. This isn't the time," Fiza pleaded, knowing that if her sister was in one of her unpredictable moods, she could potentially ruin everything.

"He raped you, Fiza. I don't believe that he didn't do this to you," Farzana said slowly, her words casting a heavy pall over the room.

All eyes turned to Farzana at her words.

Fiza's father was breathing heavily. "Did he hurt you, Fiza?" he asked her, his voice trembling. Fiza shook her head, denying any harm.

"Did you touch her without her consent?" Fiza's father bellowed at Alan. Alan remained frozen in place, incapable of uttering a word. His silence was all the answer her father needed. In a fit of anger, he stood up and delivered a resounding slap to Alan's face.

"What are you doing?" Alan's mother shouted in defense of her son. "Don't you dare lay a hand on my son!" The room was engulfed in turmoil, emotions running high, as the situation escalated to an alarming level.

Fiza was crying. Everything was going horribly wrong. Why did Farzana have to say the worst thing possible?

"We knew you had no character. And we've heard things about your brother too. But we didn't think you were this bad," Fiza's father hollered at Alan. He stepped toward Alan again, but Fiza got on her feet and stood in front of him.

"We did not come to your house to be accused and insulted. Do you know who is characterless? Your daughter. For the last several years, she comes and stays with him, sneaking out of her hostel. Whatever you are accusing Alan of, it was her doing," Alan's father shouted.

"You are coming to my house and calling my daughter characterless?" Her father responded.

Fiza stood there, her gaze shifting between her two arguing families, feeling utterly helpless. Her eyes met Alan's, and she could see the tension in his clenched jaw. Fiza couldn't bear the idea of him leaving her, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. "Don't leave me," she pleaded with desperation in her voice.

Her father glanced at her for a fleeting moment before the heated exchange between the two families continued unabated.

Alan held her tightly, but in his embrace, she winced in pain. She rested her head on his chest, seeking solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat that drowned out the chaos around them. His fingers entwined in her hair, and she inhaled his familiar masculine scent.

Fiza was certain she couldn't leave him. They were soulmates, destined to be together. He had saved her as much as she had saved him, and he hadn't hurt her.

"Fiza!" Her father's voice pierced through her thoughts, snapping her back to the harsh reality of the situation.

"You're never seeing him again. Leave him," her father declared firmly, and Fiza clung to Alan even tighter, her eyes searching his for an answer.

"Alan, let's go," his mother urged, taking his hand firmly.

Fiza's heart sank as she realized that Alan's father had already left the house. Her pleas intensified, desperation in her voice. "I'm yours, Alan. Take me with you. You told me I'm yours," she implored, tears streaming down her cheeks. This couldn't be the end.

In a tender moment, he leaned in and kissed her cheek before reluctantly following his mother out of the house.

Fiza couldn't contain her grief, breaking into loud sobs as she watched the love of her life vanish beyond her threshold.

"Pappa, I'll never forgive you for this," she uttered between her sobs, her anger and heartache raw.

Her father's eyes mirrored the pain of losing his sister all over again. "Your life is more important than your forgiveness for me," he replied, his voice heavy with regret and sorrow.

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

Author's note

Did you see that coming?
My heart broke while writing this chapter.
Share your thoughts and don't forget to comment
❤️Faiza