And that—That is enough. For now. My legs finally give in and I sit down on the nearest chair, my body trembling, my mind still trying to catch up with everything that just happened.
He’salive.He’s alive.He’s alive.
The words repeat in my head like a prayer I didn’t know I believed in.
And for the first time since the gunshot—I let myself cry without fear of losing him.
CHAPTER 62
ARYAN
Waking up feels like dragging myself through something thick and heavy. A steady, rhythmic beeping that presses into my skull like it owns the space. Then the faint hum of something mechanical.
Pain. It hits sharp and deep, blooming from my stomach and radiating outward in a way that makes my breath hitch before I can stop it.
“—” Nothing comes out. My throat feels dry, like I haven’t spoken in days. I try again, slower this time, forcing my eyes open. The world swims into focus in pieces.
White ceiling. Too-bright lights. A blur of wires.
Then I feel something soft curled around my hand. I turn my head slightly, wincing as the movement pulls at something that definitely should not be pulled right now. And there she is.
Ishika.
Slumped in the chair beside my bed, her head resting dangerously at an angle that is absolutely going to give her the worst neck pain of her life. One hand wrapped around mine like she refused to let go even in her sleep. Her hair is messy, falling over her face in uneven strands. There’s a faint crease onher cheek, probably from where she’s been leaning like this for hours.
She looks…exhausted. I shift my fingers slightly against hers. Her grip tightens instantly. And then she jerks awake. Her eyes snap open, unfocused for a second—and then they land on me. Everything changes.
“Aryan—” She’s out of the chair before I can even process it, throwing herself forward—straight onto me. The impact knocks the air out of my lungs. Pain flares, sharp and immediate, and I can’t stop the wince that escapes me. She freezes.
“Oh my god—sorry—sorry—” She pulls back instantly, panic flooding her face, her hands hovering like she doesn’t know where to touch without hurting me more.
“It’s okay,” I manage, my voice rough, weaker than I’d like it to be.
It doesn’t convince her. Not even a little. “I—I’ll call the doctor,” she says quickly, words tumbling over each other. “And your mom—everyone’s outside—I’ll just—”
“Ishika—” But she’s already stepping back.
“I’ll be right back.” And then she’s gone. I stare at the door for a second longer than necessary. Because I know that. That right there? That wasn’t just panic. That was her running. And I don’t have the strength to go after her. Not yet.
The doctor comes in a few minutes later, followed by a nurse, checking vitals, asking questions, shining a light in my eyes like I’m supposed to be thrilled about it.
I answer what I can.
Ignore what I can’t.
My focus drifts to the door, waiting for her to show up again. Eventually, they leave.
And then—Ma walks in. The second she sees me properly awake, something in her face breaks and steadies at the same time. “Aryan,” she breathes.
I give her a small smile. “Hi, Ma.”
Her hand is on my face in seconds, brushing my hair back like she used to when I was a kid, like I’m still something that can be protected just by her being here. “You scared us,” she says, voice thick but controlled.
“Wasn’t my intention,” I murmur. She exhales, shaking her head slightly, like she’s choosing not to scold me right now even though she probably wants to.
“Everyone’s here,” she says after a moment. “Waiting.”
I nod faintly, “Can you send Ishika in?” Something flickers in her eyes. Understanding.
