The Medical Verdict
Ayra's cries were muffled against her mother's chest, a sound of pure, helpless despair. Ayra's mother, regaining composure, took the phone back from her daughter.
"Jay, please, tell me everything exactly. Why isn't he responding?" she demanded, needing factual details to ground the fear.
Jay, exhausted and honest, itemized the horrific catalog of injuries. "Due to the severity of the impact, some vertebrae are damaged, ma'am. There's nerve compression, and we're dealing with internal clots and leaks of blood. His ribcage is fractured. His head injuries are slight, but critical. His heartbeat is stable, but he remains unconscious. The doctors are worried about his long-term neurological outcome." .
He confirmed their plan: they could not tell Aryan's parents over the phone; they had to deliver the news in person. Ayra's mother agreed, her voice trembling, and advised them to leave immediately. Sonal was entrusted with the sacred duty of watching over Aryan.
The Pilgrimage
The next morning, Jay and Aneesh reached Aryan's hometown. His parents, still believing the "project" lie, received them with relieved smiles that quickly evaporated into ash as the truth was revealed. The sudden, bitter news of their son's near-death state shattered their joy.
The group immediately embarked on the journey back to Mumbai.
Arriving at the hospital, Jay stopped dead in his tracks, astonished. Ayra was already there, a silent, solitary figure standing guard outside the Intensive Care Unit. She looked like a statue carved from anxiety and grief.
Aryan's parents stumbled into the hospital wing, his mother collapsing in despair at the sight of her son. Ayra, seeing the anguish, rushed to Aryan's mother, and the two women, linked by the love for the man fighting for his life, hugged tightly and wept together.
Aryan's father, the picture of controlled fear, approached the nurses' station and spoke to the attending physician.
"He showed a slight positive response this morning," the doctor cautiously informed him. "But his life is still very much in the balance. We are doing our absolute best. We have brought in the best expertise. Yesterday, Dr. Runa started overseeing his case. She is one of the youngest and most successful neurosurgeons in the country, and she has taken personal responsibility for Aryan."
The Sister and the Secret
Aryan's parents and Ayra quickly sought out Dr. Runa. The parents were stunned: Dr. Runa was a long-time family friend, almost a sister to Aryan.
Dr. Runa, maintaining a professional composure that cost her visibly, stepped into the hallway. "He will be alright soon," she assured Aryan's parents, injecting a confidence she didn't possess. "Please, both of you need to take care of your health. Worry won't help him now." Her words offered a crucial, temporary anchor of hope.
She then pulled Ayra aside, her expression softening into raw honesty.
"Ayra," Runa began, her voice low and laced with pain. "I honestly think it would have been easier on him if you had accepted his proposal sooner. He loved you so much. He confided in me constantly about his feelings, his plan to build a career just to be worthy of you. If he knew his love had succeeded, his soul would have had that satisfaction."
Ayra stared at her, her voice thin with fresh terror. "But... you just told his parents he'd be alright! Then—"
Runa's composure finally broke. A single tear tracked down her cheek. "I said that, Ayra, while holding a mountain of worry inside me. Even now, I'm on the verge of bursting out. His situation is utterly bad. There are very few chances for his survival. I have consulted my top colleagues, the best scholars in medicine, and requested my professor to join us. They will arrive any moment. We will try till the last second to save him. I can't lose my brother."
Just then, the elite team of doctors arrived at Runa's request and moved into Aryan's room to begin a critical re-examination. Runa, trying to manage her own grief, returned to console Ayra and Aryan's shattered parents.
Ayra, seeking distraction from the terrible prognosis, asked about the one bitter memory Runa had mentioned—the time Ayra and Aryan refused to speak for a year. "Please, leave it, Runa. Tell me, is he responding to the team?"
"No, Ayra," Runa replied, her voice strained. "The team is trying. We can only hope they succeed."
The False Concern
The solemn vigil was suddenly interrupted. Aryan's former friends—the same group, led by Sajin, who had psychologically isolated him—arrived. They had somehow heard the news and now stood in the hallway, offering false, shallow expressions of concern.
Runa, seeing them, snapped. Her grief and her loyalty boiled over. She stepped toward them, her voice cracking with fury, but her words cutting like glass.
"Please," Runa hissed, her eyes blazing. "Do not show your false concerns here! You people are heartless. You left him and made him feel empty and isolated when he needed you most. He trusted you. Get out."
The former friends recoiled, stunned by the ferocity of the highly respected doctor. They had been soundly, publicly defeated, their hypocrisy exposed by the one person who truly knew the cost of their betrayal. The only people who remained were those whose love was genuine: Runa, Jay, Aneesh, his parents, and Ayra—the fragile core of his kingdom.