AFRAID
I sat outside the ICU, my elbows resting on my knees, my hands clasped together so tightly that my knuckles had turned pale, as if holding on harder would somehow keep everything from slipping further out of my control.
God… please… please… nothing should happen to her… please.
The ICU doors hadn’t even been closed properly before doctors started rushing in, one after another, their movements quick, urgent, their faces carrying a kind of tension that made everything inside me twist tighter.
Something wasn’t right.
Something was really wrong.
I pushed myself up from the chair, my legs unsteady as I moved toward the corridor, my eyes following every person in a white coat like they held the answers I was desperate for.
A nurse walked past me in a hurry.
“Excuse me—she’s okay, right? What happened?” I asked, my voice breaking through the noise, desperate, holding onto anything.
But she didn’t stop.
Didn’t even slow down.
Just rushed past me like my questions didn’t exist.
More doctors came in.
Running.
Panting slightly.
Pushing the door open wider as they entered.
My heart slammed harder against my ribs.
“Say something!” I called out, my voice louder this time, more desperate, as another doctor passed me without a glance.
No one answered.
I stood there, helpless, my hands trembling at my sides, my chest rising and falling too fast as my eyes stayed fixed on that door, on the movement inside, on the shadows shifting behind the glass.
Because she was in there.
Fighting for something as simple as a breath.
Vihaan rushed into the corridor, his steps hurried, his face filled with a kind of panic I had never seen on him before as his eyes searched for answers the moment they landed on me.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice tight.
I wiped my face quickly, my fingers trembling as I tried to pull myself together.
“I don’t know,” I said, the words coming out uneven. “She just… she suddenly couldn’t breathe.”
My throat tightened as I forced the rest out.
“The doctors aren’t saying anything… they’re not answering me… please—just ask them,” I almost pleaded, the desperation in my voice no longer something I could hide.
He didn’t waste another second.
They let him inside.
Of course they did.
He owned the place.
And just like that, the door closed again.
Leaving me outside.
Alone.
I stood there, staring at that door like I could somehow see through it, like I could catch even a glimpse of her, any sign that she was okay, that she was still there… but all I saw was my own reflection—helpless, restless, breaking in ways I didn’t understand.
My eyes wandered without focus, searching for something—anything—to hold onto.
And then—
I saw it.
A small corner of the wall, dimly lit, where a soft glow rested around the image of Jesus Christ.
For a moment, I just looked at it.
Then something inside me gave in.
I walked toward it quickly, almost stumbling in my steps, as if being closer would somehow make a difference.
I brought my palms together, my fingers pressing tightly as I closed my eyes, my head bowing slightly.
I didn’t think about religion.
Or beliefs.
Or whether I even deserved to ask for anything.
All I knew was—
I needed her to be okay.
“Please…” I whispered, my voice breaking under the weight of everything I couldn’t control.
“Please don’t take her away from me.”
My breath shook as the words left me, my chest tightening painfully.
“I didn’t even realize when she became this important… I didn’t even get the chance to tell her anything…”
Another tear slipped down, unnoticed.
“I’ll do anything… just… let her be okay…”
I opened my eyes as I heard voices overlapping behind me. I turned around, as I saw Vihaan talking to a doctor. I quickly rushed to him.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice tight, my eyes moving between them as they spoke in low tones like I wasn’t even standing there.
But neither of them answered me.
Just quiet words between themselves before the doctor finally walked away.
I turned to Vihaan immediately, my eyes searching his face, desperate, restless.
“What happened? She’s okay, right?” I asked again.
He looked at me.
Just for a second.
And then—
He looked away.
Without saying a word, he walked past me toward the metal benches in the corner and sat down, leaning forward slightly, his hands clasped together, his silence heavier than any answer he could’ve given.
Something inside me snapped.
“Vihaan,” I called out, my voice sharper now as I walked toward him, stopping right in front of him.
He didn’t look up.
“I am fucking losing my senses here,” I said, my voice shaking despite the anger laced in it. “Say something.”
Still nothing.
My hands curled into fists.
“What happened to her?” I demanded, my voice breaking at the edges now. “Is she okay?”
He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over his face before finally looking up at me.
“She's okay… for now,” he said.
The words hit me and for a second—just a second—everything inside me loosened, the tight grip around my chest easing enough for me to breathe again, and I let out a shaky breath as tears slipped down my face, relief and fear mixing into something I couldn’t even name.
“She’s okay…” I whispered under my breath, like saying it would make it real.
But then—
“What do you mean… for now?” I asked, my voice faltering as I looked at him again.
He exhaled, his gaze dropping.
“The doctors said… she has some — something I couldn’t even pronounce,” he said.
I shook my head slowly, disbelief settling in as my mind refused to process it. I turned away from him without another word and walked back toward the ICU door, my steps slower now, weighed down by everything I didn’t understand.
I stopped right in front of it.
Just stood there.
Staring at the glass.
At the faint movements inside.
My hand lifted slightly, hovering near the door like I could reach her through it, like I could do something—anything—to make this better.
But I couldn’t.
And that helplessness settled deep inside me, painful and sharp.
......
“Adithya!”
The voice cut through the thin layer of sleep I had barely fallen into, dragging me back abruptly as my eyes snapped open, my body stiff and sore from the awkward position I had been sitting in for hours.
Vihaan stood in front of me.
I blinked a few times, trying to steady myself, before pulling my phone out of my pocket, the screen lighting up to show the time—past eight.
Morning.
I had been here the entire night.
Sitting on that same chair.
Waiting.
Staring at that same door.
I didn’t even remember when I had drifted off.
“Go to your house, I’ll take care,” he said.
I didn’t respond.
Didn’t even acknowledge it.
I just stood up slowly, my body protesting, my legs slightly unsteady as I turned and walked straight toward the ICU door again, like that was the only place I belonged right now.
“Can I go inside and see her?” I asked, my voice rough from exhaustion and everything I hadn’t said all night.
“I’m taking her to our house,” he replied.
I didn’t react to that either.
“Can I go inside and see her?” I repeated, my voice quieter this time, but firmer—like this was the only thing that mattered.
He looked at me for a moment.
Then slowly nodded.
The next second, my hand was already on the door, pushing it open without hesitation.
My eyes found her immediately.
She lay there on the bed, too still, too quiet, wires attached, the steady sound of the monitor filling the room like a reminder that she was still here.
I walked closer, slower than I expected, like I was afraid that getting too close would make this feel more real than I was ready for.
I didn’t even bother to sit.
My legs gave in halfway and I just crouched down beside the bed, the cold floor pressing against my knees as my vision blurred again, tears slipping out no matter how hard I tried to hold them back.
There were too many things connected to her.
Too many wires.
Too many machines.
The oxygen mask covered her face, rising and falling with every breath she struggled to take, each movement of her chest slower, heavier than it should have been.
Just hours ago—
She was smiling at me.
Touching my face.
Standing so close that I could feel her breath.
And now—
This.
This terrifying stillness.
This distance I couldn’t cross.
My hand moved on its own, reaching for hers.
Her hand lay there, small and still, needles fixed into her skin, wires running from it, making something as simple as holding it feel… complicated.
I gently wrapped my fingers around hers, avoiding the tubes, holding onto whatever part of her I could without hurting her.
The tears didn’t stop.
They just kept falling, one after another, blurring everything in front of me, and I didn’t even bother to wipe them away anymore, like I didn’t have the strength left to pretend I was fine.
My fingers tightened around hers as I carefully lifted her hand, mindful of the wires, holding it like it was the only thing keeping me grounded, and then I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against our intertwined hands.
My eyes closed.
And everything I had been holding back—
Broke.
A quiet sob escaped me before I could stop it, my shoulders trembling slightly as the weight in my chest finally spilled out, raw and unfiltered.
“This… isn’t fair,” I whispered, my voice shaking against the silence of the room.
“You don’t get to walk into my life like that… turn everything upside down… and then lie here like this…”
“I wasn’t even ready…” I breathed out, the words barely forming through the lump in my throat. “I didn’t even understand what you were becoming to me…”
Another sob broke through, quieter this time, more tired.
“And now… you’re scaring me like this?”
I suddenly felt a faint, trembling pressure against my fingers, her numb fingers curling just enough to hold onto mine.
I lifted my gaze, to her face. Her eyes were barely open.
But they were looking at me.
I stood up immediately, almost stumbling in my urgency, my heart slamming violently against my chest as I moved closer to her.
“Viyana…” I called out, my voice breaking.
Her gaze stayed on me.
She slowly lifted her other hand, her movements weak but stubborn, and before I could even react, she pulled the oxygen mask away from her face, taking in a shallow breath of air.
“I thought I was dying,” she said.
I shut my eyes immediately, my jaw tightening as irritation surged through me, sharp and uncontrollable, because how could she say something like that so easily—how could she speak about leaving like it was just another sentence, just another passing thought, when I had just been standing outside breaking apart at the possibility of it?
“Stop talking like that,” I muttered.
“Stop crying and help me sit, bastard,” she said, her voice weak but still carrying that same familiar edge.
I slid one arm behind her shoulders, the other supporting her carefully as I helped her sit up slowly.
“You don’t get to joke about dying like that,” I said quietly, my voice losing its earlier irritation and settling into something heavier, something that came from a place I couldn’t hide anymore.
“I literally thought I was dying… because that’s how terrible it was… I couldn’t even breathe,” she said, her voice weak, each word dragging itself out like it cost her effort.
Something twisted painfully inside my chest.
I pulled a chair closer without saying anything, the metal legs scraping softly against the floor, and sat down beside her bed, my hand still wrapped around hers.
“You scared me,” I said quietly, the words coming out without resistance this time, stripped of all the pride.
She looked at me.
And then a faint, tired smile touched her lips.
“Could see it on your face,” she said softly.
I exhaled slowly, lifting my free hand to wipe my face, brushing away the dried tears and the ones that hadn’t completely stopped yet, my fingers dragging over my skin like I was trying to erase what she had already seen.
But I knew it was pointless.
She had seen everything.
The fear.
The panic.
My thumb moved unconsciously over her fingers again, slow, absent-minded, like I was grounding myself through her presence.
“Sorry for troubling you too much,” she said.
I shook my head immediately, my grip on her hand tightening just a little
“You’re not troubling me,” I said quietly.
“You know what?” she said softly after a pause. “When I couldn’t breathe… when I thought I was dying…I was afraid for the first time.”
"I was afraid of dying for the first time"