At the hospital
The waiting room outside the emergency unit smelled faintly of antiseptic and old plastic. Iraaya sat in a molded chair that creaked under her shifting weight, her dupatta still damp against her back. Her hair, tied hastily in a low bun, was dripping cold water down the back of her neck. She rubbed her arms for warmth, eyes fixed on the closed doors through which they'd wheeled the unconscious man—Ehan, the doctor had said after checking his wallet.
The murmurs of locals who had gathered around the riverbank earlier still echoed in her head. Some had accompanied her to the hospital, watching with wide eyes as the emergency staff moved quickly.
"You did well, beti," an older man had told her, his voice raspy with age. "You saved a life today."
But Iraaya didn't feel like a savior.
She felt... stunned. Heavy. Like her body was still in the river, fighting the current, lungs gasping for air that didn't come fast enough.
She looked down at her hands, pruned, bruised, trembling. The weight of what she had done was sinking in with every passing second.
A nurse walked out and approached her. "We've stabilized him. He regained consciousness a few minutes ago. Doctor wants to speak with you."
Iraaya nodded and followed.
Inside, the room was quiet except for the steady beep of the heart monitor. The young doctor, probably in his early thirties, looked up from his chart.
"Are you the one who brought him in?" he asked.
"Yes."
He gave her a tight nod. "You probably saved his life. The water could've caused hypoxia, but he's lucky. No signs of brain damage. He was unconscious for about fifteen minutes due to shock and lack of oxygen. His vitals are stabilizing. We'll keep him overnight for observation."
"Will he be okay?" Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.
"Physically, yes. But... sometimes the body isn't the only thing in danger." The doctor looked at her meaningfully. "He told us he jumped."
She stiffened. "I saw him fall. I didn't... I wasn't sure."
The doctor folded his arms. "If you know anything about him, family, friends..."
"I don't. He's a stranger. I pulled his phone from his pocket after they moved him. It still worked somehow. I was going to try calling someone."
The doctor nodded, then stepped aside. "You can sit with him, if you'd like. He's still dazed."
Iraaya hesitated outside the door, then entered the dimly lit room. Ehan lay motionless, eyes closed, his breathing shallow but even. There were scratches on his arms. Mud still clung to his nails.
She stared for a long time. Then pulled out his phone and tapped open the emergency contacts.
Emergency Contact 1: Ma
Switched off.
Emergency Contact 2: Baba
Switched off.
Emergency Contact 3: Home
Also switched off.
Her thumb hovered over the last one: Zaid.
She tapped. It rang.
Her heart jumped.
"Hello?"
A male voice. Breathless.
"Is this Zaid? I—Iraaya here. I found your number on your friend Ehan's phone. He's... he's safe now, but he tried to... He jumped into the river. I pulled him out and brought him to the hospital."
"WHAT?! Where? Where are you?"
She gave the hospital's name and the room number. "Please come soon. He's conscious but weak."
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
When Zaid arrived, he stormed through the door, panting, sweat clinging to his collar despite the evening chill.
"Ehan!"
Ehan turned his head weakly.
"Zaid," he whispered.
"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Zaid blurted, voice shaking. "You were supposed to call me. Not pull a disappearing stunt! What the hell were you thinking?"
Ehan stared blankly at the ceiling. "I wasn't. That was the problem."
Zaid sat beside the bed, gripping the rail tightly. "Why, yaar? Why? You know I'm here. You know I would've come running."
But Ehan's eyes weren't on him. They were scanning the room.
"The girl," he said suddenly. "Where's the girl?"
"What girl?"
"The one who saved me. She was here. Green kurti. Wet hair. I saw her."
Zaid blinked. "There was no girl here. When I came, the doctor said someone brought you, but the nurses didn't know her name."
Ehan tried to sit up. "No. No, she was real. I saw her face. She jumped in after me. Why would I imagine that?"
Zaid looked uncertain now.
Then a nurse came in with some forms. "Sir, the discharge process will need someone to cover the bill and sign here."
Zaid reached for his wallet and stood up.
"I'll handle it."
He walked to the billing desk, muttering under his breath. When he got there, the receptionist checked the records.
"That's already been paid, sir."
"What? By who?"
"A woman. She left before we could get her details. But she signed the intake form. Name was... Iraaya Anand."
Zaid's eyes widened.
He turned on his heel and rushed back into the room. "I have a name. Iraaya Anand. That's her. She paid your bill."
Ehan closed his eyes again.
But this time, it was different.
His lips curled upward. Just slightly.
"I knew she was real."
At Iraaya's Home
That night, back in her small apartment on the second floor of a modest housing colony, Iraaya peeled off her damp kurti and tossed it into the laundry basket. Her limbs felt like they were made of stone. Her head throbbed, partly from fatigue, partly from something she couldn't name.
The adrenaline had drained. All that remained now was a hollowness. And something else, something fragile. A thought that wouldn't stop looping.
He didn't want to be saved.
Yet she had saved him.
She sat at her tiny desk near the window, the dim light of the streetlamp casting long shadows across her journal. Pulling the diary toward her, she opened to a fresh page.
The pen felt heavy between her fingers.
"Today, I jumped into the river to pull a man from the jaws of death. A stranger. A broken boy who had let go of everything. I don't know his story. But I saw something in his eyes. Something so quietly shattered it made my chest ache...
Maybe someday, I'll write about him. About tonight. About the way the river didn't take him. About the way I didn't let it.
She paused. Then wrote in bold at the bottom:
"The Bridge Between Us."
A story title. Maybe a beginning.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
And finally, Iraaya allowed herself to cry. Softly. Quietly.
For him.
And for all the parts of herself that still needed saving.