“I don’t need a wheelchair, I can walk,” Sana’s mom grumbles, looking at the nurse with mild defiance.
“You need it, Mom. No arguing,” Sana says in her best teacher voice, making me grin. Her mom huffs as the nurse and I help her into the wheelchair.
“You don’t have to drive us. I can book a cab,” Sana says, looking at me. I don’t answer her; instead, I begin pushing the wheelchair forward. Sana huffs and falls into step beside me as we head out through the hospital’s front doors.
“Wait here. I’ll bring my car,” I say before walking to my car and driving it around to the front to pick them both up.
I help Sana’s mom out of the wheelchair and guide her towards the backseat while Sana climbs into the front.
“Where to?” I ask, glancing at Sana as I settle into the driver’s seat. Even though I’ve got her address, I wait for her to give it to me. No way I’m making her or her mom suspicious by asking how I found out. Can’t let my stalker side show. I’ve got to keep it clean.
Sana gives me her address, and after punching it into the GPS, I pull the car out of the parking lot.
The drive is quiet, with Sana sitting stiffly beside me, her arms crossed as she seems lost in her own thoughts. I steal a glance at her before shifting my attention back to the road. It takes everything I’ve got not to reach over, take her hand, and press it to my lips.
Her mom clears her throat, breaking the silence. “I must say, I didn’t expect to wake up and find my daughter using a handsome man’s shoulder as a pillow.” I almost choke on my own breath, my eyes darting to the rearview mirror.
Sana’s face immediately turns pink, and I can’t help but smirk, trying to suppress a laugh. Her mom, clearly enjoying the moment, adds, “I must say, Aditya, you’ve got quite the charm.”
Sana’s head snaps towards her mother in the backseat. “Mom, will you stop?”
“It’s just a little fun,” her mother chuckles before her tone turns serious. “Thank you, Aditya, for staying with my daughter… for handling everything. It means a lot.”
I glance at the rearview mirror and meet her warm gaze. “You don’t have to thank me, Aunty,” I say with an easy smile. “I wanted to be there.”
Her mother, however, isn’t done. “You know, a young man like you shouldn’t be spending his nights in the hospital. You should be out enjoying life.”
I glance briefly at Sana before looking at her mom in the rearview mirror and say, “This was more important.”
Her mom hums in approval. “I really like you.” Then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, she adds, “You should come by the house sometime. To have lunch with us.”
Sana groans. “Mom, seriously?”
“Sana, stop fussing. It’s just an invitation for a meal, not a wedding proposal.”
“God help me,” Sana groans, covering her face with her hand. I glance at her again, the flush on her cheeks impossibleto miss. If she had her way, she’d pretend none of this ever happened.
“I’ll take you up on that offer, Aunty,” I say, while Sana lets out a defeated sigh. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she exhales.
I just grin. “Oh, it’s happening.”
Ten minutes later, I pull up in front of Sana’s house and shift the car into park. I then step out and move to the passenger side, opening the door for her mother. She gives me a small, tired smile as I help her out, supporting her gently as we walk towards the house.
I follow Sana as she leads me to her mother’s room. I take in the cosy space, filled with soft pastels, a collection of books stacked neatly on a shelf and framed family photographs lining the dresser. A large window lets in the morning light, casting a golden hue over the queen-sized bed, draped in a simple, embroidered quilt.
I help her settle into bed, adjusting the pillows to make sure she’s comfortable. She sighs, exhaustion weighing on her, but her eyes hold warmth when they meet mine.
“Thank you, son,” she says, reaching out to pat my hand.
I nod. “Just rest, Aunty. You need it.”
“You’re a good man,” Sana’s mom smiles. Then, as if the words she’d meant to say all along escape her mouth, and she adds quietly, “You have my blessings.”
Something shifts in my chest at her words, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I give her a respectful nod before stepping out of the room.
Sana follows me. When we reach the front door, I turn to tell her she can call me if she needs anything, but she speaks first.
“Before you say goodbye, can you please tell me how much the hospital bill was? I need to pay you back.”
