I reach out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I want to have lots of kids with you,” I whisper, the words coming out like a promise I didn’t know I was holding inside. “I want to see you become a published writer. I want to make you happy every single day. You’re my home, Shivani. And I’m nothing without you.”
I pause, my throat tight. The silence in the room presses against me. Just the steady beeping of machines and the soft sound of her breathing fill the air.
I lean forward, resting my head gently against her chest, listening for the faint beat of her heart. “Please,” I whisper, “please, Shivani, don’t leave me. I need you. I love you.”
I squeeze her hand, willing her to feel it. Willing her to come back to me. “I love you, Shivani. I love you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I’m sorry for everything. Please... just wake up for me.”
And then I feel it. Her hand twitches in mine, and my heart leaps. For a second, I freeze, unsure if I imagined it. But no—there it is again. A slight, shaky movement. Like she’s trying to squeeze back.
I lift my head, staring at her face, willing her eyes to open. “Shivani?” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”
I wait, watching her intently. Her eyelashes flutter lightly. Barely there, but it’s real. It’s her.
My grip on her hand tightens. “Shivani,” I call again, my voice coming louder, “please, open your eyes. Look at me.”
“I love you too, Rudra.” The words are so gruff and shaky I still think I’ve imagined them. But then her eyes slowly open, and she looks at me—weak, tired, but full of love, like she always does.
“I love you too, Rudra,” she whispers again, her voice hoarse.
My heart nearly stops. I feel it all at once—relief, love, disbelief—crashing over me like a wave. Tears stream down my face, this time not from fear but from joy.
“I—Doctor!” I yell, voice full of hope and urgency, pressing the emergency button repeatedly. “She’s awake! She’s awake!” The doctor rushes in, and I step back slightly, still holding her hand.
They ask me to leave, but Shivani whispers hoarsely, “I want him to stay.”
The doctor nods and checks her vitals, smiling after a moment. “She’s stable. Responding well.”
“She’s going to be okay,” the doctor informs me, and I finally exhale, not even realizing I was holding my breath. The words hit me hard. It’s over. She’s out of danger.
Relief crashes into me, knocking the fear out of my chest like a fist. I look at her—my Shivani.
“You heard the doctor,” I whisper with a shaky smile. “You’re going to be okay.”
She nods, eyes glistening with emotion. “I love you, Shivani,” I tell her again, needing her to know. “I love you so much.”
She smiles weakly, squeezing my hand. “I know, Rudra. I know. And I love you too.”
She looks around the room, then at me, slowly. “Is Maa okay?” She whispers, her voice hoarse.
“She’s okay,” I reply, brushing her hair back gently. “She kept blaming herself. But it’s okay now. You’re okay, and she will be too.”
“Can you bring her in?” She asks softly.
I nod, wiping my tears, trying to collect myself. “I have a reputation to maintain,” she adds with a tiny chuckle—then hisses in pain.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but don’t laugh!” I say, half-scolding, half-relieved. I hesitate for a second. I don’t want to leave her side. Not even for a moment. But they need to see each other.
So, I walk out of the room.
Everyone looks up, hopeful smiles on their faces. The doctor must’ve told them. “Maa, she’s calling you in.” I inform her with a small smile.
She doesn’t waste a second, rushing toward the room. Aarav and Aditi immediately ask when they can see her.
“Soon,” I promise. Papa’s still sitting quietly, chanting Lord Shiva’s name under his breath. I let him be and head back into the room. I asked Dadaji and Chachi to stay at home. Dadaji needs to rest; he has been worrying too much. I didn't want him to fall ill, and Chachi willingly agreed to stay back. She knew it's not good to crowd the hospital, so she decided to stay back and look after Dadaji.
When I enter the room again, Shivani is in Maa’s arms, holding her tightly. Her eyes are closed, resting against her shoulder. They stay like that for a while, and I don’t interrupt. I just watch.
When they finally pull apart, Maa’s face is streaked with tears, but there’s peace there now. A smile stuck onto her face. “I’m glad you’re okay, beta,” she smiles.
