48. FINDING WAY BACK
DIYA
I bury myself in the inventory sheets inside the NGO storage room, forcing my eyes to move from one row of donated paint jars to another.
Paint.
Wooden blocks.
Storybooks.
Craft supplies.
Anything to keep my mind busy.
Since yesterday, work has become my escape. If my hands are busy, maybe my heart won't hurt so much.
I keep talking to the staff. Checking supplies. Organizing shelves. Doing anything that stops me from thinking about Veeraj. I keep telling myself that staying away from him is the right thing to do. That someone like me doesn't belong in his world.
That he'll be better off without carrying someone as broken as me. My phone suddenly starts vibrating on the metal table.
A strange fear settles in my chest.
For one terrifying second, I think it's Papa calling again. With shaking hands, I pick it up.
It's Vihaan.
Relief barely has time to settle before I answer. "Hello?"
"Diya." His voice doesn't sound like Vihaan at all. There's no teasing.
No jokes. Only panic.
"You need to come to City Hospital. Right now." My heart stops.
"What happened?"
"It's Veeraj." My knees almost give way. "There was an accident." I can't breathe. "His SUV was hit by another car." The sounds of sirens and people shouting echo behind him. "They've taken him into the trauma bay. Devraj bhai sa is handling the press outside."
His voice breaks. "You need to get here."
The phone slips from my fingers and crashes onto the floor. The room spins around me. Everything goes silent.
Then suddenly . . . Nothing inside me stays standing.
Every wall I've spent the last three days rebuilding falls apart in a single second. "No . . . " I whisper, before the word turns into a sob. "No . . . please . . . "
I run. I don't even remember grabbing my bag. I don't remember locking the office. I only remember running out into the courtyard, waving desperately at the first auto I see.
My hands shake so badly I can barely tell the driver where to go. The auto speeds through traffic, but it feels unbearably slow.
Every red light feels cruel. Every second feels like an hour.
I curl into myself in the back seat, pressing my trembling hands together so tightly my fingers hurt.
Please . . . Please let him be okay. Please don't take him away from me.
Nothing else matters anymore.
Not the arrangement. Not the palace. Not my father's words. Not my insecurities.
None of it matters if Veeraj isn't there.
The truth crashes into me harder than ever before.
I love him.
I love him. With every part of me. The thought of losing him hurts so much that I can barely breathe.
I think about his quiet smile.
The way he always calls me Trouble. The way he gently touches the patches on my skin without hesitation. The way he holds my hand whenever he knows I'm scared. The way he looks at me as though I've always been enough.
He doesn't just protect me. He gives me a place where I finally feel safe. A place where I don't have to hide.
The auto finally stops outside the emergency entrance. Before the driver can even say anything, I throw the money onto the seat and run.
Tears blur my vision as I rush through the hospital doors. The smell of antiseptic fills the air. Doctors and nurses hurry past me.
Someone calls my name.
I don't stop.
I don't care about the cameras gathering outside.
I don't care if the whole world sees me crying.
I don't care who knows how deeply I love him anymore.
I just need to see him. I need to know he's breathing. I need to hear his voice one more time.
I turn the final corner toward the private trauma bay.
Devraj bhai sa is standing outside his room. The moment I see his face . . . My heart sinks.
And in that moment, I realize something with complete certainty.
Veeraj is never a temporary chapter in my life.
He isn't just my husband. He isn't just the man I marry because of an arrangement.
He is my home. And if I lose him . . . I don't think I'll ever find my way back again.