DIVYA
The antiseptic smell of the hospital room was the first thing that hit me as I drifted back to consciousness. My head throbbed, a dull ache that pulsed with every beat of my heart. I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my vision, and the sterile white walls gradually came into focus. The beeping of monitors was steady, almost calming in its regularity.
My eyes fell on a figure sitting on the sofa, no-actually sleeping in a sitting position. He looked so calm in his sleep, but the question nagged at me: what is he doing here, sleeping in such an uncomfortable position? Had he been keeping an eye on me this whole time while I was unconscious? No, why would he? But that seemed like the only logical answer I could think of.
My eyes roamed over his face. His brows were furrowed even in sleep, giving him a serious, almost brooding look. His sharp jawline and full pink lips were striking. Everything about him seemed so perfect, like God really took his sweet time in creating him. Probably he was one of God's favorite and best creations.
I tried to sit up on the bed, but as I put a bit of pressure on my left side where I had been shot, a scream escaped my mouth. The pain was sudden and sharp, reverberating through my body.
Raghav woke with a start, his eyes wide with alarm. He was by my side in a second, his hand hovering over me, unsure where to touch without causing more pain.
"Divya..." he whispered, his voice a gentle caress in the quiet room. He helped me sit up, wrapping his hands around my back and waist with a tenderness that sent a shiver down my spine. He carefully arranged the pillows behind me, and I instinctively placed my hand on his shoulder to steady myself. His touch was electrifying, and I found myself momentarily lost in the sensation.
He moved me into a comfortable position, his face just inches from mine. My heart fluttered as I looked into his eyes, but the intensity of his gaze was too much, and I quickly diverted my eyes.
Once I was settled, he straightened up and fetched a glass of water. I took it from him with a shaky hand, grimacing as a fresh wave of pain coursed through me. It took a few minutes for the pain to subside, and during that time, I caught Raghav's concerned expression. His beautiful grey eyes were filled with worry, a depth of emotion I had never seen in him before.
He looked so tired, his eyes still heavy with sleep. Guilt washed over me for waking him up with my carelessness. He ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier than before, yet somehow he still looked effortlessly handsome.
"I will go and call the doctor to check on you," Raghav said, and he left the room. A few minutes later, he returned with a doctor who appeared to be in his early forties. The doctor checked my heartbeat and vitals, then said, "Ms. Aggarwal, your health seems fine. The wound is deep, so it will take time to heal. I'll run some tests, and you'll probably be discharged within two days."
He gave me a reassuring smile before exiting the room. I sighed in relief. That was good news. I never liked hospitals; they always gave me creepy vibes. Thanks to my good immune system, I hardly ever visited one.
I tilted my head and found Raghav sitting on a stool beside me. I thought he would leave once he woke up, but he didn't. I was glad he hadn't left me like my parents did. His expression was stern, and an awkward silence hung between us. Sensing my gaze, he looked at me, our eyes meeting. I held his stare for a few seconds before averting my eyes.
The sound of the door opening snapped my head around. Ananya walked in with a smile, rushing towards me and giving me a tight hug.
"I am glad you're awake," Ananya said, her relief evident.
"Where is Aakash?" I asked, my concern for him gnawing at me since the moment I regained consciousness. Ananya's expression shifted to one of sadness, taking me aback.
"He was shot," she muttered, and my eyes widened in shock. Seeing the worry on my face, she quickly added, "But he's out of danger and is fine."
I sighed in relief, my heart pounding from the brief scare. "Thank God," I whispered. Ananya looked a bit tired and stressed, her usual vibrant energy dampened.
"Are you fine?" I asked, worried about her well-being. The recent events had been a nightmare for all of us, but especially for her.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, but then a hint of frustration crept into her voice. "But your friend is giving me a headache."
I giggled at her exasperation. "What's he done now?"
"Since the second he woke up, he's been throwing tantrums and insisting on going back home. But he needs to stay in the hospital for better recovery, and I don't know how to convince him," she said with a sigh.
A dark chuckle echoed through the room, and my head tilted toward the source of the sound. Raghav was laughing, a rare sight that made my heart skip a beat.
"He was stubborn and a very difficult kid in childhood," he said, a small smile creeping onto his face as he seemed to recall old memories.
Ananya smiled back at him, then turned to me. "Take care of yourself and get some rest," she said, standing up to leave. "I'll check on you later."
"Thanks, Ananya," I said, appreciating her concern.
Raghav also stood up. "I need to freshen up, but if you need anything, I'm just a call away," he said, giving me a reassuring look before leaving.
Now alone in the room, I leaned back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. I had no idea why I took the bullet meant for Raghav. It had been an instinctive action, a split-second decision that left me bewildered.
I replayed the moment in my head, trying to make sense of it. Before I even understood what was happening, I was already running towards Raghav to save him. The risks had been clear, but the thought of him getting hurt made my heart ache in a way I couldn't explain.
Why did I care so much? Why did his safety mean so much to me? These questions swirled around in my mind, leaving me more confused than ever.
As I was engrossed in my thoughts, I heard someone knocking on the door. I quickly straightened up and said, "Come in." I thought it would be Raghav coming to check on me, but I was proved wrong when a feminine figure entered the room.
Diya slowly stepped in, tears glistening in her eyes. She rushed towards me and enveloped me in a tight hug, her tears soaking into my hospital gown. Seeing her like this, my own eyes filled with tears. Diya was never the one to cry easily-between the two of us, I was always the sensitive one.
"Calm down, stop crying. I'm not dead," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. But Diya pulled back and glared at me, her eyes flashing with anger.
"Don't you dare joke about death like that," she said sternly. Then she cupped my face in her hands, her touch warm and soothing. "You are the most precious thing in my life, and I can't lose you. Money and fame mean nothing to me if you're not here."
Her words hit me hard, and I felt a lump form in my throat. She placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, her love and concern wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
People often say that if God takes something away, He gives you something even more precious in return. For me, that precious gift was Diya. God had taken away my parents' love, but He blessed me with an amazing elder sister who loved me fiercely. She was my everything.
"Diya," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion, "I'm sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
She shook her head, her tears still flowing. "It's not your fault, Divya. You were brave and selfless. But please, promise me you'll take care of yourself. I can't bear the thought of losing you."
I nodded, overwhelmed by her love and the bond we shared. "I promise, Diya. I'll be more careful."
"So, tell me what the doctor said," Diya asked, her voice still tinged with concern.
"Nothing much," I replied. "He just advised bed rest, and I'll probably be discharged in two days."
I glanced behind her, hoping against hope that they would show up. But a small part of me knew it wouldn't happen. They wouldn't come to see me, not even if I were dying.
"They didn't come to see me, did they?" I asked, already knowing the answer. Diya gave me a sad look and shook her head. Sometimes, your own expectations are the reason behind your heartbreak.
"I could have been dead by now if I hadn't gotten medical aid, and they didn't bother to see their own daughter," I mumbled, feeling the familiar sting of abandonment.
"It's not like that. They're just busy," Diya said, but her excuse felt hollow. I couldn't help but laugh bitterly.
"They'd probably be busy at the time of my funeral too," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Please, Divu, don't say that," Diya pleaded, deciding to end the discussion. It was useless to think about those who didn't care about me.
I sighed, leaning back against the pillows. Diya's hand gently squeezed mine, her presence a balm to my wounded heart.
I looked at Diya, who had pulled a stool beside my bed. She was nervously biting her lower lip, a sure sign that she wanted to say something but didn't know how.
"What happened? Tell me," I said, trying to coax it out of her.
"Actually, my really good friend is getting married, and I need to leave for London tomorrow since I'm her bridesmaid," she said.
A smile broke on my face. "That's great! Then why do you look sad?"
"It's just that I won't be here to take care of you," she admitted.
I squeezed her hand in assurance. "It's okay. I'll be fine."
"Yeah, I hope so. But don't worry, I'll make all the arrangements for you. I'll ask my secretary to take you home, and I'll also appoint a nurse to look after you..." she started, but I frowned at her words.
"I don't understand. What are you saying?" I asked, and she looked confused.
"I'm not going home," I said firmly.
"What? Have you decided to stay here for the rest of your life or what?" Her sarcastic remark made me smile.
"No, I mean I will go back to my apartment, not home," I clarified.
"What? No, you can't. I won't let you stay alone in these conditions. Someone needs to take care of you," she shouted.
"Diya, keep your voice down. This is a hospital," I gritted. She heaved a sigh.
"Look, I can't let you stay alone," she said.
"Don't worry, I'll be fine," I assured her, but she wasn't convinced and shook her head in refusal.
"Don't worry, they won't bother you," she said.
I chuckled at her words. "They didn't even bother to come to the hospital to see me; what will they bother me about?"
"Then what's the problem?" she asked.
"The problem is that they abandoned me since the day I was born. I always hoped to be loved by them, but soon I realized that they don't care about me at all. They abandoned me years ago, and now I have abandoned them," I said.
Diya sighed and said, "Then I will cancel my plan to go to London and stay with you."
"No, you have already sacrificed a lot for me. Not anymore," I said. I couldn't let her sacrifice always because of me.
"Divya, why don't you understand? You are injured, and someone has to take care of you," she insisted.
I chuckled. "Don't worry, I have a few amazing friends who would put their lives on the line for me."
She gave me a smile and finally agreed to let me stay in the apartment. We talked for a few more minutes, making sure everything was settled. Then, with a final hug and a promise to call if I needed anything, Diya left.
As the room grew quiet again, I leaned back against the pillows, feeling a mix of gratitude and determination. Diya was right; I did need someone to look after me. But I also needed to stand on my own two feet and face my life, even if it meant dealing with the pain of my parents' neglect.
Alone in the quiet of the hospital room, my thoughts swirled in a chaotic dance. I found myself grappling with emotions I couldn't quite name, especially when it came to Raghav. His presence had become a comforting anchor in the storm of uncertainty that had become my life.
As my eyelids grew heavy, the image of his handsome face drifted through my mind, like a beacon in the darkness. It was the curve of his smile, the depth of his gaze, that stirred something deep within me. A warmth spread through my chest, a feeling that defied explanation but felt undeniably real.
In that moment, as sleep began to claim me, I surrendered to the tumult of emotions, allowing myself to acknowledge the flutter in my heart, the yearning in my soul. For in Raghav, I found not just someone, but a connection that transcended words-a connection that whispered of possibility, of hope, of something more.
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