The hospital room hummed with the faint rhythm of machines and the muted footsteps of nurses beyond the door. Afternoon sunlight spilled in broken stripes across the white tiles, falling across Dennis's still body. He lay half-propped by pillows, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, where cracks formed patterns he had memorized in silence.
But today he wasn't studying cracks. He was counting the pieces of his life that had shattered.
Dennis's POV
Every breath reminded me that I was alive—but half of me felt buried. My right arm lay useless against my side. My leg felt like stone. I had once been a man who could run, who could lift Ann into his arms, who could spin her around until she laughed breathlessly. Now, I could barely turn my head without help.
And Ann—God, Ann. She was still waiting, still dreaming. I had seen it in her eyes each time she came to sit beside me, her smile unwavering. She thought this was temporary, that I would rise again and take her hand down the aisle. But the truth pressed like iron against my chest: I would not be that man again.
If I loved her —truly loved her— I had to free her.
I swallowed hard, summoning the strength to speak. My voice cracked as I whispered, "Ma… Papa…"
Both my parents looked up instantly. Mother's knitting needles froze mid-air. Father lowered the newspaper he had been pretending to read. They came closer, eyes full of worry.
"Dear," my father said softly, "do you need something?"
I shook my head, lips dry. "No… I need to talk."
Mother reached for my hand, her touch trembling. "Tell us, Dennis. What's on your mind?"
The words burned like fire, but I forced them out.
"I want… to call off the wedding."
The silence that followed was so sharp I could hear the faint drip of the IV beside me.
Mother's hand slipped from mine. "What did you say?" Her voice cracked.
"I can't marry Ann," I said slowly, each word like a blade. "Not like this. Not when I can't even move half my body."
Father's face tightened. "Dennis, listen to yourself—"
"No," I cut him off, my voice stronger now. "Look at me. Look at what I've become. Ann deserves a husband who can walk with her, who can carry her dreams with both hands. Not a cripple who can barely lift his head."
"Don't say that!" Mother burst out, tears brimming in her eyes. "You are alive, Dennis. That's what matters. You are still you—"
I turned away, shame filling me. "I'm not. I'm half of who I was. And soon, I'll be nothing but a burden. Do you want Ann to spend her youth pushing my wheelchair? Wiping my mouth when I choke on words? Watching her friends dance while she sits beside me in silence?"
Mother covered her mouth with her dupatta, sobbing softly. Father remained still, his jaw tight, eyes shadowed.
After a long pause, he spoke. "You love her."
"With everything in me," I whispered.
"Then why break her heart?"
"Because love means letting her live," I said, the words tearing my throat. "If I keep her tied to me, I steal her laughter, her freedom. I'd rather die alone than drag her into my prison."
Mother clutched my hand again, desperate. "She will never agree. You know her, Dennis. She will fight for you, no matter what."
"That's why I have to do this now," I said. "Before she wastes her life. She's blinded by love— she thinks this can be endured. But twenty years from now, she will resent me. And I cannot let that happen."
Father's eyes glistened though his face was stone. "You sound like a man preparing for sacrifice. And perhaps… perhaps you're right."
Mother turned to him, horrified. "Shaju! How can you side with him? You want Ann to leave him?"
Father's voice was low, heavy. "I don't want it, Jancy. But I understand. We love Ann too, don't we? We've always said she is already our daughter. And what parent would want their daughter to spend her life in sorrow? If Dennis believes he cannot give her joy… then perhaps letting her go is the only kindness."
Mother broke into sobs, clutching her dupatta. "You will kill her with these words."
Her grief cut me deeper than the stroke itself, but I held firm. "Better a wound now than a lifetime of chains."
The room drowned in silence again. The clock ticked. Nurses walked past in the corridor. My heart pounded against my ribs.
At last, Father said, "If this is your decision… then we will stand by you. But Dennis—" He bent closer, his eyes piercing mine. "You must tell Ann yourself. Not us. She deserves the truth from you."
The words struck like thunder. To face her eyes, her trembling lips, and rip the dream from her—I wasn't sure I had the courage. But it had to be me.
I nodded faintly.
The hours that followed stretched endlessly. Mother sat near the window, staring at nothing. Father paced the small room, his hands folded behind his back. I lay still, my heart racing with dread.
Every sound of footsteps in the corridor made my chest tighten. Every creak of the door made me flinch.
Finally, the knob turned.
Ann stepped inside.
She looked tired, her hair falling loose around her shoulders, but her eyes lit up the moment they found me awake. She carried a small box of fruit, her dupatta slipping from her head as she hurried forward.
"Dennis!" she breathed, rushing to my side. She cupped my cheek, her cool hand soothing my fevered skin. "You're awake. I was so scared."
Her voice, her touch—everything in me wanted to melt into her. To forget what I had decided. To believe, just for one moment, that life could go on as before.
But Father's steady gaze at the door reminded me why I couldn't.
"Ann," I said, my voice rough.
"Yes?" She leaned closer, smiling through her exhaustion.
I hesitated, my heart screaming against my decision. But I forced the words out.
"There's something… we need to talk about."
Her smile faltered. "What is it?"
I swallowed hard, gripping the bedsheet to stop my hand from trembling.
"Ann… I can't marry you."
Ann froze, blinking. "What… what did you just say?"
Mother let out a quiet sob in the corner. Father took a step forward, his expression grave.
"Dennis, no—" Ann's voice cracked. She turned back to me, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Tell me you're joking. Tell me you didn't just say that."
I forced myself to hold her gaze though it broke me inside.
"I can't do this to you. I can't ruin your life by tying you to a man who can't even walk across the room. You deserve more than this… more than me."
Her lips parted, trembling. She looked at my parents, desperate for contradiction. But Father lowered his eyes, and Mother wept silently.
Ann's breath hitched. She turned back to me, her face pale.
"Dennis… no…"
And I stopped there, my strength gone, unable to watch the light in her eyes fade.
The room drowned in silence.