chapter 2

The drive in the gigantic black Mercedes had a royal feeling, but Amaira did not share that sentiment at the moment. The journey back from the church, which felt like nothing more than a formality, seemed rather dull and colourless, even as they passed through the well-developed streets. The atmosphere outside was sunny and bright, yet Amaira's heart was filled with fear and confusion. She didn’t understand why he had married her or what he intended to do, but she had no choice but to accept his proposal. Remembering something important, she said to the driver, "Sir, could you take me to Icon Hospital first?" "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't take you anywhere else," he replied in his perfect British accent. "I have been strictly instructed to take you back to the mansion and not let you out until I receive further instructions." Feeling defeated, Amaira leaned back in her seat, folding her arms and staring out of the window with a lost expression. She felt outraged that she was not allowed to go out, even to see the person she cared about the most. The thought of him brought tears to her eyes. **Flashback**Amaira was working at a café, busy with her daily tasks when she received a phone call. "Hello?" she answered absentmindedly while carrying trays to customers. "Hello, is this Amaira Patel?" came a voice with a British accent. "Yes, it is. Who am I speaking to?" Amaira made her way to the kitchen door. "I'm a doctor from the Icon Hospital Association in Bristol. We have urgent news for you," he said hurriedly. "One of your relatives is hospitalized at our centre, and the patient is currently in critical condition." For a moment, Amaira's heart stopped. "Are you sure you have the right person?" she asked, her voice trembling and her breath quickening. "Yes, we are sure. The patient's name is Dilip Patel." Amaira's legs gave way beneath her. "D-Dilip? What happened to him?" "We can't discuss details over the phone. You need to come in person. The doctor would like to meet you, and we have scheduled an appointment for 4 PM, which is 30 minutes from now." Amaira hung up the phone and, without a second thought for her job, her appearance, or her exhaustion, she rushed out to hail a cab. When she arrived at the hospital, she dashed inside, gasping for breath. Her throat ached with panic, but she managed to ask, "Dilip Patel?" The receptionist provided her with the ward number. Amaira hurried down the corridor, desperately seeking to catch a glimpse of her brother. Finally, she saw him in one of the general wards. There lay Dilip, covered in bandages and wearing a hospital gown. Upon seeing him, Amaira gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks. He was the brother she had adored and cared for like a mother, the only family she had, and now he lay there in a deep but painful sleep. Although the ward was noisy—filled with the chatter of visiting families—Amaira heard none of it. She was lost in her world, consumed by worry. It wasn't until the doctor tapped her shoulder that she realized there were others around her. "Are you the patient's family?" the doctor, who appeared considerably aged, asked as he observed her cautiously. "Y-yes, doctor. I am his sister. W-what happened to him?" she stammered. "Well, the patient was involved in a serious accident in a hillside area. He was brought here by emergency ambulance this morning, and he has sustained severe head injuries. We needed to contact you." "What do you mean? He will get better, won't he?" Amaira panted, a wave of unease washing over her. "First, please try to remain calm. I won’t be able to provide you with information until you are in a clearer state of mind. Please follow me," the doctor instructed. Amaira cast a final glance at her brother before following the doctor through the crowd. Once they were in the doctor's office, he said, "First, have a glass of water and please take a seat." Amaira complied. After the doctor sat down, he began typing rapidly on his computer. Once he finished, he turned to face her but remained silent, as if unsure how to proceed. "Please, doctor, just tell me what is wrong with him. Please," Amaira pleaded, prompting the doctor to turn the computer screen toward her. Displayed were several brain scans, each showing different but similar structures. "You see this," he began, pointing to the first image, "this is a normal human brain. And over here," he said, gesturing toward the second image, which appeared more compressed and disfigured, "this is the scan of your brother's brain after the accident. You should know that the accident has affected two areas: his leg and his head. We have managed to stabilize the patient's leg, but the situation with his head is more complex. We are truly sorry.""What do you mean, 'sorry'?" Amanda struggled to find the right words."We can't do anything more. As you've seen in the scan, his brain has been compressed, affecting the conscious regions. If you look closely, you'll notice that there is bilateral damage to the cerebral cortex—meaning both sides are affected—as well as damage to the reticular activating system. This system controls arousal and awareness within the cerebral cortex. As a result, he is not only in a coma but also in a state of senselessness.""So when will he wake up?" she asked, her voice filled with hopelessness."That's the worst news. The damage is so severe that we cannot repair it.""So you mean...""We are truly sorry, but your brother will never wake up," the doctor stated in a sorrowful tone.