Chapter 5
IRA
I went to my favourite restaurant and had brunch with my friends.
They laughed, I laughed too, but it was fake.
They talked, I talked too, but the words just floated through my head.
They ate, I ate too, just for the sake of it.
It had been weeks since Aryan called off our marriage.
He had tried reaching out, but I had blocked him everywhere.
Prashant, on the other hand, had simply erased my existence.
"You should've seen her face when she got caught with her ex-boyfriend," Meera laughed, mocking Tia who had spent eight years in a toxic relationship.
I didn't know how she found it funny, but suddenly I found myself laughing too. Maybe because Meera nudged my shoulder and gave me that look, the one that said laugh, or else.
It was a practiced sound that fooled even my closest friends.
I watched them, their faces alight with genuine amusement, and envied the ease with which joy came to them.
Mine was a performance, a hollow echo in a life that felt increasingly empty.
We were just stepping out of the restaurant when I saw him.
Aryan.
My laughter died a painful death in my throat. My blood ran cold, and I froze. He was a ghost, standing there, so solid and real, when I had spent weeks trying to bury his betrayal.
"Hey..." he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. I saw his nod to my friends, a silent dismissal, and watched them melt away, leaving us in the stark, terrifying spotlight of our shared past.
I couldn't breathe, and couldn't speak. All I could do was turn and walk, fast, away from him, away from the turmoil he brought to me. I was unable to forget how cruelly he sent me those texts.
"Ira..." he called, his voice following me, a relentless current pulling me back. "Just talk to me."
Talk? What was there to talk about? Every word was a blade, every memory a fresh wound. I kept walking, ignoring him, ignoring the ache in my chest. How could he do this? How could he show up now like a shameless bastard!
"Ira!" His voice was sharper this time, and I stopped. The suddenness of it almost made me stumble. He caught up in two long strides, his hand gently turning me. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum against the cage of my chest.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes searching mine, as if he could truly see the desolation within, as if he didn't know what he just sent a few days ago.
"What's wrong?" I repeated, the words erupting, sharp and trembling, the carefully constructed dam finally cracking. "You were the one who told me to move on, Aryan. And now that I'm trying, you show up like this? Why can't you leave me alone?" The bitterness coated my tongue.
"Ira..." he began, confusion clouding his face, but I cut him off. I couldn't bear to hear his voice, not now.
"I don't need you," I snapped, my voice cracking with a pain I hadn't realized was still so raw. "Not anymore..."
He just stared at me, his gaze lingering on my face. I knew what he saw: the sharper cheekbones, the pale, lifeless skin, the hollow eyes. The ghost. That's all I was now, a pale imitation of the girl he once knew, fragile and haunted.
"What are you talking about?" he asked softly, and the softness was almost unbearable. It was the same Aryan who promised to marry me but his betrayal was still fresh in my chest.
"Please leave me alone!" I screamed, ripping my arm from his grasp.
Tears shimmered in my eyes, hot and threatening, but I wouldn't let them fall.
Not in front of him. I turned, bolting toward the road, toward my car parked across the street.
My feet felt unsteady, my movements frantic, but I had to get away.
"And don't you dare come into my life again!
" I shouted over my shoulder, the words torn from me by the wind and the agony.
But I wasn't listening anymore because the very moment I saw the car.
It just appeared out of nowhere, a blur of metal and speed, headlights glaring.
A sick dread rooted me to the spot as I tried to run but. ..
"Ira, watch out!" Aryan's scream was a distant echo, a frantic warning that came too late.
The car's brakes shrieked, a desperate protest against the inevitable. The driver swerved, but it was useless. I turned at the last second, my eyes widening in terror as I saw it, monstrous and unforgiving, bearing down on me.
My scream tore through the air, raw and terrified as the vehicle slammed into me.
The impact was a brutal, bone-jarring force.
My body was flung upward, hitting the windshield, then tumbling across the hood before landing on the unforgiving pavement with a sickening thud.
Pain exploded through me, a thousand white-hot needles, and I saw my limbs bent at unnatural angles.
Blood, dark and viscous, bloomed on the asphalt around me.
Then, silence and time stopped.
Aryan was there, suddenly, dropping to his knees beside my crumpled form. His hands, shaking, reached for me. My blood seeped through his fingers, warm against his skin.
"Ira..." he choked out my name, his voice thick with unshed tears. He brushed my hair away from my face. My lips were parted, my breath shallow and ragged.
Sirens wailed in the distance, a rising crescendo of urgency, but the world around me had gone mute. All I could feel was his hand, cold and limp in mine, and hear his desperate prayer.
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I tore my eyes open, staring blankly at the white ceiling, cringing at the sharp sting of disinfectant in the air.
The moment I tried to move, a groan escaped my lips as did my arms, legs, neck, even my mouth.
Everything hurt like someone had given me a proper beating.
I could feel my bones screaming, as if each one had cracked open just to remind me I was still alive.
God, you saved me? I smiled bitterly at the irony. Even that small tug at my lips burned my skin.
"Ira!" Aryan shot up from his chair the second he saw my eyes open. "Thank God," he breathed, offering a broken smile. "You're okay."
"I'm not okay, Aryan," I hissed, my voice low but sharp, and turned my face away from him. His presence only deepened the suffocation I already felt crawling over my chest.
"Ira..." he whispered, reaching for my hand.
I flinched and pulled it away. "I just need to be alone, Aryan. Please... just go."
For a second, there was only silence. Then I heard his hesitant footsteps retreating from the room.
I turned my head toward the couch and found my mother sitting there, eyes red and puffy.
Without a word, she rushed to my bedside and wrapped her arms gently around my fragile body, sobbing into my chest like she was the one who had barely survived.
I didn't cry. I couldn't. I had no tears left in my body.
"You scared me, Ira," she choked, crying harder.
I rolled my eyes. Did I have to get into an accident for her to finally feel my pain? Where was this concern when Mr. Patel tried to take advantage of me? Where was her protection then? I had wanted her to fight for me. To hold me and believe me and scream for me but she hadn't.
"It's alright, Mom. I'm alive," I said, forcing a small smile. "Now please stop crying... it's honestly very annoying."
She nodded, wiping her tears, even though they kept flowing. I wanted to comfort her, to say something better. But all I could focus on was the dull throb in my limbs. I kept wondering how long it would take to recover physically, at least.
The rest of me? I wasn't so sure.
"Where's my phone?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
"In your purse," she replied cautiously. "Why?"
"Can you please bring it to me?"
"Maybe... after a few days," she said. "Right now, you need to rest as much as possible."
I sighed heavily, pressing my head deeper into the pillow, jaw clenched. I was feeling powerless, trapped and broken.
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