CHAPTER LVII
I always thought that loving someone...and having that love returned...was the hardest thing in the world. But after experiencing it firsthand, I realized that it wasn't just the act of loving that was difficult...it was living with it, navigating it, protecting it. When both hearts beat for each other, the challenges only multiply. And that's exactly what happened with Sita and me.
After our love confession, when the storm between us seemed to settle, my phone rang. That call shattered the calm and shook my world all over again. It was news that brought me back to the very beginning of my life, to a chapter I thought I had closed.
Rama had regained consciousness. She was awake, and she wanted to meet me.
Hearing this, my heart split in two. Joy and dread collided inside me. I was happy...because Rama was alive, because hope had returned to someone I once cared about. But I was terrified too. What if Sita found out about all these years I had hidden the truth from her? What if she realized how much I had deceived her in the name of Rama? Losing Sita was something I could never bear.
The weight of my secret pressed down on me, heavier than ever. I knew I had to face Rama, but I also had to protect Sita, who had just given me her heart so completely. The thought of hurting her, even unintentionally, made my stomach twist.
I drove Sita home first, keeping the storm of emotions bottled up, pretending everything was normal while my mind raced with fear and anticipation. Once she was safely inside, I didn't even wait. I drove straight to the hospital, to Rama, to face the past I had tried so hard to bury.
Every step toward her room was a step back into a life I had left unfinished. My heart beat faster, each second stretching into eternity. I knew this encounter could change everything again...could shake my world, test my love for Sita, and challenge the promises I had just made.
But I also knew one thing with absolute certainty: no matter what happened, I had to face it. I had to meet Rama. I had to confront the past. And I had to do it without losing the one person who had finally shown me the meaning of true love.
As soon as I reached Rama's side, I realized Sasha and Mia were already there, standing quietly, their faces etched with concern. Rama's eyes were open, but she wasn't speaking much. She looked fragile, like the world itself had been taken from her.
I turned to the doctors, my voice shaky as I asked about her condition. They explained softly, "She has come out of a coma after eight long years. It is a shock to her system...she's realizing now that she has lost so much of her precious life."
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Can I… talk to her?"
The doctor nodded gently. "Yes, but please keep it brief. She has just awakened. Don't overwhelm her."
I nodded, my hands trembling slightly, and stepped closer to her bed. Seeing her like this...awake, yet so fragile...brought tears to my eyes. Eight years had passed, and now she was here, yet everything felt surreal. My chest tightened with a mix of relief, fear, and uncertainty.
I didn't even know what to say first. How do you greet someone who has been lost to the world for eight years? How do you even begin to bridge a lifetime of silence?
Finally, my voice barely above a whisper, I asked, "Rama… how are you feeling?"
Her eyes met mine, wide and cautious, searching for familiarity in a world that had moved on without her. My heart ached as I saw the confusion and sadness lingering there. It was a difficult moment...one of the hardest I had faced. I wanted to comfort her, to make her feel safe, yet I felt the weight of all the lost years pressing down on both of us.
I could feel tears brimming again as I watched her, unsure if she even recognized me, yet desperately hoping that my presence, my voice, would reach her. It was a fragile moment, a bridge between the past and the present, and I had to step carefully, every word carrying the weight of eight years.
Rama gazed at me for a long moment, her eyes searching, trying to anchor herself in a world she had lost for eight years. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but carrying a trace of disbelief.
"Vedu… huh! You've changed so much. You… you're so beautiful now. And so smart. You've really grown."
I felt a flicker of warmth in my chest, relief washing over me. For a brief moment, everything seemed okay—like maybe, just maybe, we could catch up on all the lost years without pain.
Then, as if the wind had shifted suddenly, her words took a sharper turn. "Vedu… you… where is Sita? How is she? She must be worried, right? She hasn't come to see me?"
My heart stopped. My world seemed to freeze in place. I opened my mouth, but no words came. My mind raced, trying to grasp what she had just asked.
Sasha, standing nearby, stepped in gently, trying to calm the tension. "Rama… Sita hasn't found Vedu yet. We're still helping her look for her."
At that, Rama's fragile composure began to crumble. Her eyes widened, panic threading through her voice. "But… you said you'd find her! You promised me! Where is she?"
The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating, as the reality of her words hit me like a tidal wave. The calm moment—the relief of seeing her awake and recognizing me—shattered instantly. Her pulse raced, her breaths came faster, and fear and confusion clouded her delicate face.
The doctors quickly moved in, sensing the sudden escalation. They spoke softly, guiding her back to the bed, checking her vitals. "Rama… please relax. You've been through so much. Take a deep breath. Everything will be fine."
They gave her a mild sedative to calm her down, and I watched helplessly as her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted into sleep, her small body finally succumbing to exhaustion and shock.
I sank into the chair beside her bed, my chest tight and my mind spinning. Just moments ago, everything had seemed so fragilely beautiful, so full of possibility. And now… it had all tipped sideways. The calm had shattered, and the storm had returned, fiercer than ever.
What had begun as hope had suddenly become a reminder of all the responsibilities, promises, and fears I still carried—and the fragile balance I had yet to master.
To be continue...