RishNova Story Universe
The Price of Avenging Love.
Short Story
The Last Witness
The Last Witness
“Revenge can punish the guilty, but it can never heal the broken.”
The rain poured relentlessly that evening, blurring the city lights into smeared streaks across the asphalt. Arjun sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. His heart thudded violently, not because of the storm, but because he knew what awaited him inside the house.
Ever since that night, every shadow, every creak of a floorboard, reminded him of the faces he had lost—the faces of his family. One by one, each had been torn away from him, their lives extinguished with meticulous precision, leaving no trace behind. No fingerprints. No weapon. No clue. Nothing.
The first was his younger sister, Priya. She had been coming back from college when he got the call. Then his mother. And his father. By the time he realized what was happening, there was only him and his wife, Ananya. And the last person standing to witness the killer’s face—him.
It had happened a week ago.
Arjun had been at work when he heard the muffled cries on the phone from Ananya. By the time he reached home, the house was in chaos. Furniture overturned, blood stains forming a grotesque map across the marble floor. He found Ananya’s body in the bedroom, eyes wide with terror. She had been the last. And in that fleeting moment before he could react, he saw him—just for a second, the eyes of the man who had destroyed his world. A flash of familiarity, a cruel twist of fate, before darkness overcame him as a blow struck his head.
When he awoke, it was in a dimly lit alley, drenched in rain, with a searing pain on his head. His limbs ached, but his mind burned with fury. He knew what he had to do. He ran to the police, he told them, but no one believed him. The man who had killed his family? A respected businessman. Influential, powerful. Untouchable.
Arjun’s screams of justice fell on deaf ears. And the killer? He moved with calculated silence, ensuring the world never saw the monster behind the suit.
Days turned into weeks. Arjun spent every waking hour piecing together the story, trying to find a crack in the armor of the man who had taken everything from him. And then he learned the truth.
It was personal.
The killer wasn’t just a businessman. He was Ananya’s father. And the reason he had destroyed Arjun’s family wasn’t random vengeance—it was retribution. Ananya had married Arjun against her father’s wishes. Her father’s pride and ego had demanded blood, and Arjun’s family had paid the price.
Arjun felt bile rise in his throat. The world had turned upside down. The man who had smiled at charity events and business summits had been a harbinger of death all along.
Weeks later, Arjun received a call that chilled him to the bone.
“I’m coming for you,” said the calm, cold voice on the other end.
The time had come.
That night, Arjun hid in the shadows of his own home. He heard the faintest rustle of leaves, a footstep against wet concrete. The door creaked open.
“Arjun…” The voice was eerily familiar. Smooth, composed, even friendly, as though nothing horrific had ever happened.
Arjun’s eyes burned with fury. “Why? Why my family?”
The man smiled, unshaken. “You know why. Your wife defied me. She betrayed me. And so, I took what was mine to restore order.”
“You’re a monster,” Arjun spat. “You don’t get to play god!”
“I am not a monster. I am justice. I gave them a choice. They chose wrongly,” the man replied softly, stepping closer, his shoes silent against the floor. “And now, you will too.”
Arjun’s hands shook, but he had made a decision. He couldn’t wait for the law, because the law had failed him. He lunged, and a struggle ensued, brief, brutal, and unforgiving. In a twist of fate, Arjun’s desperation overcame the man’s precision. One wrong step, one exposed vulnerability, and Arjun’s hands wrapped around the neck of the man who had haunted his nightmares.
When the struggle ended, the man lay lifeless on the floor, his suit now a canvas for the crimson evidence of his deeds.
Arjun fell to his knees, chest heaving, tears mingling with the rain still dripping from his hair. He had avenged his family—but at what cost?
The trial was merciless. Despite the revelation of motive, despite the confession of the businessman’s crimes, the law could not bend. Arjun had taken a life. No amount of evidence about the killer’s misdeeds could absolve him. He was sentenced to death.
In the quiet of his cell, he reflected on the path that had led him here. Anger, grief, love, betrayal, and vengeance—each emotion a thread woven into the tapestry of his life. And yet, there was no pride in killing, no relief. Only sorrow, bitter and lingering.
Days before his execution, he wrote. Every word etched with the anguish of a man who had been forced to cross the line between justice and sin.
He wrote to the newspaper:
"I have no regrets in avenging my family. The man I killed was a killer, a monster who orchestrated the death of those I loved. But in taking his life, I have become something I never wished to be. I am not a hero. I am not justice incarnate. I am merely a man who loved and lost, who acted in desperation. I pray that God, the witness of my soul, grants me peace. For in killing a killer, I have become a victim of my own violence."
When the article was published, it caused a sensation. Some called him a hero. Others called him a criminal. Arjun didn’t care. Words and opinions meant nothing now. He had walked the path fate had laid before him, and he would walk the last steps with his own eyes open, facing the consequence of a world that had failed him.
On the day of execution, the dawn was mercilessly clear. The sun cut through the darkness like a blade, illuminating the stark walls of the prison. Arjun was calm, almost serene. He had accepted what was to come.
As the guards led him forward, he whispered a silent prayer. Not for forgiveness, not for mercy, but for the souls of his family—and perhaps, for the man whose life he had taken, even though he had been the architect of his family’s demise.
The chamber was silent but for the clinking of chains and the soft shuffling of feet. He closed his eyes, imagining the faces of those he loved, the laughter and warmth that had been ripped away. And he whispered once more:
"May my soul find peace. May justice find its balance. And may the truth of my actions live beyond the confines of this world."
The switch was pulled, and the world faded.
Afterwards, the city buzzed with stories of Arjun, the man who had avenged his family yet paid the ultimate price. In offices, cafes, and homes, the article circulated, each reader grappling with the unsettling truth: sometimes, justice wears the face of a criminal, and sometimes, monsters hide behind the mask of the respectable.
But in the heart of the storm, Arjun’s words remained:
"I have no regrets. I acted to protect love, to honor memory. I only regret that the weight of justice fell upon my shoulders instead of his."
And somewhere, beyond the veil of life and death, the souls of his family rested, finally free.
“
When justice fails, revenge may feel righteous—but it still leaves another victim behind. – Rishabh Bhatt
”
STORY SOURCE
This story is adapted from “Incompleteness At Every Turn”
"Incompleteness At Every Turn" is a book about life’s unfinished stories, deep feelings, and the beauty of being imperfect. Instead of happy fairy-tale endings, it shows real life—moments of love, loss, hope, and healing that do not always have a perfect answer. Written in a simple yet touching way, the author shows that it is okay to feel incomplete. In fact, our incomplete parts are what help us grow, learn, and keep moving forward every day.
