Later that morning, Vihaan stirred again.
He looked tired.
But he also looked like he'd been thinking.
His eyes found mine instantly.
There was no smile this time.
Just a quiet understanding.
He patted the bed next to him.
I hesitated.
Then sat.
Carefully.
And for a second —
Just one —
His fingers found mine under the blanket.
Soft ,hidden and real.
The room was finally quiet.
Not hospital quiet — not the kind you get used to with machines humming and nurses shuffling in and out.
But the kind of quiet that follows a storm.
Vihaan's parents had stepped out to talk to the doctor.
Arjun and Riya were getting coffee down the hall.
And now — for the first time since he'd woken up —
it was just us.
He lay there in the bed, still looking pale, still bruised, but alert now.
Watching me.
I stayed by the window, arms crossed, pretending I wasn't avoiding him.
"Mehul."
Just my name. Soft.
But it hit harder than all the chaos earlier.
I turned slowly. "Yeah?"
He was staring at me. No smile. No teasing. Just him.
"Come here," he said.
I hesitated. "I'm fine here."
"You're not," he said quietly. "And I don't want you over there."
So I walked.
Because even after everything —
I still went where he asked.
I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to bump anything.
His fingers found mine, immediately, under the blanket.
Still warm. Still grounding.
"I meant it," I whispered. "What I said."
He didn't pretend not to know.
Didn't ask what part.
"Yeah," he said. "I know."
A beat passed.
Then another.
And then, Vihaan's voice — low, tired, honest:
"Was it that obvious?"
I exhaled a quiet laugh. "To me? Always."
He smiled faintly. "I should've told you first."
"You weren't ready."
He closed his eyes briefly. "I hate that it happened like that."
"I don't," I admitted.
And he looked at me, surprised.
"Why not?"
"Because you're here. You're alive. You're still... you."
His thumb brushed across my knuckles, soft and slow.
"You were scared."
I didn't answer.
"You didn't leave," he added.
I met his eyes. "I couldn't."
"I'm sorry, Mehul."
His voice cracked.
"I didn't know it would hurt you like that."
I leaned in, pressing our foreheads together.
"You didn't know you could be hurt either."
Silence, for a while.
But it wasn't heavy this time.
It was ours.
Then Vihaan whispered, "My parents know now."
I pulled back slightly. "Yeah."
"They didn't say anything when I asked them to go outside. Just left the room like... it didn't happen."
"They're scared," I said. "They think if they ignore it, it'll go away."
He nodded. "They've always seen me a certain way. Loud. Uncomplicated. Straight."
I smirked. "Two out of three."
He laughed, weakly. "They'll never un-hear what you said."
"I didn't say it for them."
My voice softened. "I said it for you."
He looked at me like I'd given him something he didn't know he needed.
"I don't know how they'll react when they come back," he admitted.
"But I'm not taking it back."
"Even if they don't accept it?"
He squeezed my hand.
"Even then."
That did something to me.
Because for the first time —
I didn't feel like I was in this alone.
His voice dropped. "But if it gets worse… if they start pushing you out—"
"I'm not going anywhere," I cut in.
Then, after a breath, "Not unless you ask me to."
Vihaan didn't speak.
He just looked at me, eyes soft, like he was seeing everything he never let himself believe before.
"You've ruined me, you know," he whispered.
"I've barely started."
That made him smile. For real this time.
And when he leaned up, slow and careful, I met him halfway.
His lips were chapped.
His breathing was still shaky.
But the kiss?
The kiss was everything.
Real.