In the next few moments, blurry and haunting images from the past began flashing before Izaan's eyes. Panic gripped him. He could feel it—this was the moment where his past and present collided, and he would have to face the truths he had long buried. He knew he had made many mistakes in his life, and now, that very past stood before him.
"This... this can't be happening," Izaan whispered, and suddenly, his eyes shut tight. Just as he was about to fall, he completely lost consciousness. Darkness engulfed him.
When Izaan opened his eyes again, he found himself in a hospital. The room was bright, with sterile white walls and glowing fluorescent lights. Some machines stood nearby, and everything about the place screamed expensive. For a moment, he couldn't understand where he was. But as his vision cleared, he felt the heavy ache in his head and pain pulsing through his body.
More than anything else, it was the hospital bill that struck him with fear.
"How much will it be?" Izaan muttered, slowly reaching his hands toward his pockets. Anxiety swelled in his chest. He knew he didn't have the kind of money it would take to pay for this. His eyes were full of worry—not just for the bill, but for the rent, his sister's school fees, and all the other burdens stacked on his shoulders.
As he tried to piece his thoughts together, a nurse entered the room. Seeing him trying to sit up, she scolded gently, "You can't get up yet. You need to rest for a while. If you push yourself too soon, it could make things worse. Understand?"
Izaan, still shaken, asked her softly, "Um… the hospital bill… how much do I need to pay?"
Understanding the concern in his voice, the nurse offered a small, kind smile. She looked into his eyes and replied, "You don't need to worry about the bill. The man who brought you here—he already paid for everything."
For a moment, Izaan said nothing. A wave of relief washed over him, but a question lingered.
"What?" he said a little louder. "Who…?"
The nurse smiled again. "The one who saved you from the road—the man who pulled you back from the truck. He covered your medical expenses."
Izaan was stunned. How could he forget the boy who had pulled him from the edge?
"He… he did that?" Izaan's eyes drifted toward the ceiling, dazed. He didn't know what to say. He simply muttered to the nurse, "Thank you… really, I… I'm very grateful."
The nurse advised him once more to rest, but Izaan lowered his head. He was anxious to go home. It was already night, and he had work the next day.
"Can… can I go home?" Izaan asked politely. "I have to be at work early tomorrow. I really need to go."
The nurse looked at his condition, thought for a moment, then said, "Alright, you can leave. But be careful—you're not fully recovered yet. If you strain yourself, your body may break down again."
Izaan nodded and thanked her. Slowly, he got out of bed, trying to balance on his feet. He was still in pain, but he tried walking without help. Watching him, the nurse said, "Take care. Walk slowly."
As he stepped outside the hospital and onto the street, his mind was tangled in thoughts.
"Could that have been Ved…? But no—how could Ved be here?"
He stopped for a moment, trying to make sense of it all.
"No… that's not possible," Izaan whispered to himself, shaking his head as if trying to toss the questions from his mind entirely.
He changed direction and began walking again—toward home. His pace was slow, almost dull, like someone trying to shake off a storm inside. But deep in his heart, he couldn't ignore the questions. He kept thinking about the boy who had saved him, and the feeling lingered—that perhaps his past and present were finally beginning to merge into something unexpected.
Izaan opened his eyes and let them rest on the still waters of the river. For a moment, he lost himself in the calm. The gentle sunlight and the distant hum of traffic gave him a brief escape from the weight of his struggles. He knew the problems in his life were far from over, but in this moment, he realized how necessary it was—sometimes—to pause and look inward.
He sat on the edge of the bridge, watching the passing vehicles. It felt like every car had its own story, its own destination. Just like Izaan—everyone was on their own path. But the unrest within him reminded him that he hadn't yet found his own destination.
After a while, a certain stillness came over his eyes. He began to reflect on his choices.
Was this the path he was meant to be on?
Or was there something else in his life he hadn't yet seen?
He stood up slowly, walking down from the bridge and along the riverbank. His steps were tired, but there was something more—something like a faint wave of hope. Izaan knew that many parts of his life remained unsolved, but perhaps… perhaps it was time to start trying to understand them.
As he made his way home, a quiet resolve took shape inside him.
The day had been full of pain and confusion, but he made a promise to himself—
"No matter what, I have to keep going. No matter how hard it gets, I must never give up on my dreams."
Izaan quickened his pace. His curiosity and inner battles had taught him that sometimes…
the hardest roads lead to the most meaningful destinations.