The Second Survival
The deafening flatline shocked the room. Runa and the medical team worked frantically, applying counter-shock and emergency measures. The emotional trauma of the letter had been far more lethal than the physical trauma of the accident. Runa's desperate chant—the very words Aryan had written—was a prayer and a command.
Miraculously, after long, agonizing minutes, Aryan's heart jolted back into a fragile rhythm. He had survived the accident and the surgery, but the emotional blow had nearly killed him again. He was pulled back from the edge, but this time, he returned severely mentally fractured.
When he woke up again, his recovery was marked not by gratitude, but by a consuming, volatile rage.
Vandalism and Vows
He reread the letter repeatedly, searching for a loophole, a sign of affection, anything that contradicted the cold dismissal. Finding none, the pain transmuted into pure, destructive fury.
A guttural roar tore from his throat. He shredded the letter, scattering the pieces like confetti. With unexpected, brutal strength, he shoved the bed away from the wall, sending the IV pole—his lifeline—crashing to the floor, medicine bottles shattering. He pounded his fists against the nearby glass window, cracking it, his shouts echoing down the hallway.
When he finally collapsed, exhausted, he seized his phone. His tear-filled eyes, reflecting both deep sadness and burning anger, guided his fingers to Ayra's digital presence. He deleted every picture, every message, every piece of information about her. Then, he fainted from the sheer exertion of his emotional explosion.
The Mental Scars
Aryan was placed under immediate psychiatric supervision. For an entire month, the psychological team managed his volatile state. Physically, he recovered; mentally, he was irrevocably changed. The love that defined him had curdled into a vicious, burning anger.
He began talking about Ayra with cold venom, labeling her as "heartless" and "a liar." Yet, even in his rage, the core conflict remained: he hated her for what she did, but he couldn't erase her. He was unable to digest the fact that the object of his seven-year journey was now so completely unreachable.
A few months after his discharge, he received a text message. It was from Ayra. How are you?
His reply was short, brutal, and final: "You asked me to forget you. I have not even tried to know about you these days. I find it difficult to digest this fact, but please don't step into my life again. Let me live in my way."
He received no reply. He immediately deleted her number, not out of strength, but out of a paralyzing fear that he might yield to his weakness and call her, only to be rejected again.
The Descent
As months passed, the pain slowly faded into a dull, constant ache. Aryan was trying to habituate himself to a life defined by her absence. He made a vow: he would never fall in love again. His mind was a battleground; where he once obsessed over Ayra, he now feared any thought of her. He refused to hear her name.
His shattered dreams haunted his quiet moments. He often thought: "Ayra spoiled my dreams. I imagined us growing old, playfully teasing you with our daughter. All my dreams were ruined because of one lie."
The Punch
One afternoon, Runa, worried, came to his home unannounced. Aryan opened the door with a forceful yank. She was immediately struck by his appearance: unkempt, a patchy, ugly beard, and a general air of dereliction. Then she saw the blood dripping from his hand.
"Aryan! What happened to you?" she shouted, rushing toward him.
"Nothing, Runa. Just leave it," he snarled.
When she insisted on knowing the source of the injury, he replied, "A mirror fell from the wall, it cut my hand."
Runa, a doctor, efficiently washed the wound. But when she saw the sharp, concentrated damage, she knew. She grabbed his collar, her own anger mirroring his. "You punched the mirror, Aryan! Why? Are you mad?"
"Out of my frustration!" he roared back, his voice thick with tears. "Runa, give me medicine to forget Ayra. I can't resist myself! Or else, leave me alone! It will not be good for you if you won't stop questioning me!"
Runa, desperate, tried a practical solution. "All this will be set right if you get married soon. Find someone new."
He recoiled from the idea with visceral pain. "I don't want a girl to welcome my life! I loved Ayra with all I had. I cannot transfer that to someone else! I will be better off like this. I asked you for medicine, not a suggestion!"
Scared by his volatility, Runa called Jay and Aneesh. They spent the evening with him, trying to coax him out of his darkness, but failed.
Day by day, Aryan was completing his transformation into a 'brutality gear.' He made several clumsy, unsuccessful suicide attempts. The man who built his fame on discipline and focus was replaced by a scarred, volatile figure. His friends, once proud of his success, were now genuinely afraid to even visit him. The topper was gone. The gangster remained.