On the wedding night, my husband left me the keys to the safe and a message that brought me to tears: “I’m sorry I betrayed you.”

On the wedding night, as the sound of drums and the laughter of relatives still echoed through the small village of Jaipur, I entered the bridal room, my heart filled with joy. The room was decorated with hundreds of red rose petals and the flickering light of dim yellow oil lamps. But he—my husband—Arjun—was not there.

On the wooden table next to the bed, a bunch of safe keys lay quietly beside a folded piece of paper. I opened it with trembling hands, and the slanted words appeared:

“Anjali, I’m sorry. I know I betrayed you. The whole truth is in that safe. By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Don’t look for me.”

I was stunned. My heart felt as if it were a slam. My hands trembled as I opened the safe. Inside, there weren’t gold, silver, or property documents, as I’d expected, but a stack of records from Delhi hospitals—test results had confirmed cancer. There was also a savings account in my name, totaling lakhs of rupees.

Bottom, a long, hastily written letter:

“I know I don’t have much time left. I hid my illness because I didn’t want you to suffer. This marriage is my last wish, so you won’t be called a ‘girl past her prime.’ I saved, borrowed, and sold everything I had for your future. From now on, you live for me, don’t cry…”

As I sat down next to the cold safe, I burst into tears. The wedding night—which was supposed to be the beginning of happiness—turned into the beginning of a lifetime of pain.

In despair, I ran out of the room, running down the corridor of the Jaipur hotel, my heavy traditional wedding dress tangled.
“Arjun…! Where are you…?” – a choked voice echoed through the night.

I went to the reception and asked. The receptionist was confused:

“Your husband called a taxi to Delhi Airport 15 minutes ago.”

My chest swelled. I quickly hailed a taxi and headed straight to Indira Gandhi Airport, ignoring the smudged makeup and curious glances of passersby. But when I arrived, all I could see was Arjun’s back slowly disappearing through security, his suitcase creaking as it rolled.

I screamed:

“Don’t go! Come back to me!”

But he didn’t look back. A security guard stopped me. I fainted, my tears mixing with the flight departure announcement over the loudspeaker.

Several days later, I tried to contact him, but his phone number was blocked, and his email address was unavailable. I was like a lost soul, clutching only medical records and a savings account. Why did he choose to run away instead of facing me?

One afternoon, as I was flipping through files, I suddenly found a round-trip plane ticket in the folder—the return date was the following week.

My heart was pounding. He hadn’t left me yet. Maybe Arjun just wanted to leave for a while, so I could get used to the reality?

Through tears, I whispered:
“Arjun, I will find you. Wherever you are, I won’t let you go.”

The wedding night turned into a tragedy, but it also paved the way for a journey where I was determined to hold on to the man—even if there was only darkness and pain ahead.

Part 2: The Journey to Find Arjun

A week had passed since that fateful wedding night. The return ticket in the file was the only ray of hope that held my heart. I counted the days and hours, hoping Arjun would return on time. But that day came and went, and there was no sign of him at the airport.

My fear grew: maybe he had changed his ticket, or… he didn’t have the strength to return.

Unable to wait any longer, I decided to go to Delhi. I told my parents I wanted to meet someone, but in reality, I brought only a small suitcase and Arjun’s medical records.

It was suffocating in Delhi.

Delhi was crowded and stuffy, the dust and congestion bothered me. I searched the file for the names of the hospitals written on the bills. After two days of wandering, I found AIIMS – the hospital where Arjun had been treated.

I asked the nurse on duty in a trembling voice:

“Excuse me, patient Arjun Kapoor… is he still being treated here?”

The nurse hesitated, her eyes slightly downcast.

“His name is still on the list, but his condition is very serious. His family has requested limited contact with outsiders.”

I was stunned. Family? Arjun had said his parents had passed away early, so who else?

Meeting the Husband’s Family

When I asked for permission to meet him, a middle-aged man came out, his appearance dignified, his eyes cold. He introduced himself as Rajesh, Arjun’s uncle—the only remaining family member.

He stopped me:

“Who are you? Why have you come to see Arjun?”

I stammered:

“I… am his legal wife. We just got married in Jaipur.”

Mr. Rajesh’s face changed, his voice hardened:

“Wife? Arjun promised he wouldn’t let anyone interfere with his illness. He lied to you because he didn’t want you to suffer. So why have you come here?”

I bit my lip, tears welling up:

“I didn’t come to blame him. I just wanted to be with him, even if it were his last days.”

Mr. Rajesh was silent. I knew he was in pain too, but he thought stopping me was a way to protect his grandson.

Seeing him dejected again,

After much pleading, I was finally allowed into the hospital room.

The room was white, and there was a strong smell of disinfectant. Arjun lay on the bed – gaunt, pale, his frail body hooked up to various IV tubes.

I went to him, my hand shaking as I held it. He opened his eyes, his vision blurred, and when he saw me, he was shocked:
“Anjali? Why are you here? I told you to find me…”

I burst into tears, clutching his hand tightly:
“You’re so stupid. How could I leave you? You once swore to protect me, so what makes you think I’m not brave enough to protect you?”

Tears streamed down Arjun’s cheeks. He smiled weakly:
“I’m afraid you’ll be hurt… afraid you’ll waste your youth with someone who’s about to die…”

I shook my head, pressing my forehead to his hand:
“Even if I only have one day left, I want to be with you. Let me fight with you.”

Struggling between hope and despair

For the next few days, I stayed in the hospital to care for Arjun. I stayed up all night, wiping his sweat, helping him get up to take his medicine, and reading to him the pages of the Bhagavad Gita he’d loved since childhood.

The doctor told me clearly: the disease had spread, and the chances of survival were slim. Mr. Rajesh advised me several times to return to Jaipur so I wouldn’t have to witness that heartbreaking scene.

But I was determined:
“No. If I have to see him go, I want to hold his hand until the very last moment.”

One night, Arjun woke up, stared at me for a long time, and whispered:
“Anjali, if there is a next life, I just want to see you again when I’m healthy and can marry you fully.”

I burst into tears and replied:
“There’s no need for a next life. I need you right now. As long as I’m breathing and alive, I still believe in miracles.”

Hope is dim

One morning, the doctor told me that a new experimental treatment had arrived in America, which, though very expensive, could extend life by a few more years. Mr. Rajesh immediately objected:
“It’s useless. It costs millions of rupees just to add a few more years of pain. Stop dreaming.”

But I held Arjun’s hand tightly, my eyes firm:
“I will find a way. Even if it costs me my life, I will try.”

At that very moment, I knew my journey was not only about being with Arjun, but also about fighting to snatch him from the clutches of fate.

Part 3: The Price of Hope

The news of the experimental treatment was like a ray of light in the darkness. But its steep price—over one crore rupees—stood like a mountain in my path.

The doctor said clearly:

“If you want it, the family must prepare immediately. The chances aren’t high, but at least there’s hope.”

I looked at Arjun. He smiled slightly and nodded:

“Don’t be foolish, Anjali. Don’t waste your life for someone like me. I can’t live a few more years and see you suffer.”

I squeezed his hand, sobbing:

“I don’t want anything else, just you. Whether it takes a year or a month, I have to try.”

Borrowing Money Wildly

I ran everywhere in Delhi. I sought help from banks, charities, and even old friends. But when they heard the huge amount, everyone shook their heads.

That night, I sat on the hospital steps, my eyes dry and my heart empty. Mr. Rajesh said coldly:
“You’re daydreaming. Sometimes accepting loss is liberation. You don’t understand that.”

My throat choked. But at that very moment, a voice echoed behind me:
“Not everyone can let go of a loved one easily. You showed me something else.”

I turned around. It was Mr. Vikram Malhotra, the CEO of the corporation where I worked before marriage. I was stunned—I didn’t expect him to be here.

The Unexpected Donor

Mr. Vikram looked at me, his eyes stern but warm:
“I read your sudden resignation, so I looked it up. And I know the whole story. Anjali, the company owes you a lot. You once saved a major project with your bold idea. If you’ll let me, I’ll cover the cost of Arjun’s treatment.”

I was stunned, tears streaming down my face:

“You… you’ll really help us? Such a huge amount is too much…”

Mr. Vikram shook his head slightly:

“Money can be earned back. But a love like yours, I don’t want to see it end because of lack of money. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Family Secret Revealed

Just then, Mr. Rajesh interrupted, his voice laced with venom:

“Anjali, don’t act naive. Do you think Arjun is an ordinary person? He’s the sole heir to the Kapoor family business. But because of his illness, he gave up everything, leaving me to manage. Don’t you understand? If he survives, that huge sum of money will fall into your hands. That’s why I don’t want you to interfere!”

The room fell silent. I looked at Arjun, his eyes filled with tears, filled with shame.

“I don’t want you to get involved in the family’s financial disputes. You deserve peace, not these fights.”

I shook my head slightly, stepped forward, and whispered:

“I only need you. I never needed wealth or fame. I just want your heart beating beside mine.”

A Life and Death Decision

Mr. Vikram put his hand on my shoulder:
“Tomorrow, the hospital needs an answer. If you agree, I’ll pay in full. But the final decision is yours and Arjun’s.”

I turned and looked at him. His face was gaunt and weak, but when he looked at me, his eyes lit up.

Arjun shook his hand and whispered:
“If you think we still have a chance, I’ll try. Provided you don’t leave me.”

I burst into tears and hugged him:
“We’ll fight together. I promise, no matter what, I won’t leave you.”

The Bell of Fate

The next day, the hospital prepared a new treatment for Arjun. I stood outside the recovery room, my heart pounding as if it were being pricked by thousands of needles.

Inside, Arjun was looking at me through the small window, smiling slightly but brightly. I knew that even though there was a deep abyss ahead, at least we were moving forward, holding each other’s hands.

The bell rang for treatment to begin. And I understood: this was the biggest life-or-death battle of my life—a battle for love.