Adrian's POV:
It had been barely an hour since the doctors left. The hospital corridors were dimly lit, the kind of quiet that feels wrong—too heavy, too still. Vihaan had stepped outside for a moment; the doctor had called him to sign a few papers. Jia was still half-asleep on the bench, exhaustion wrapped around her like a second skin.
That's when I saw Albert approaching Eric.
His voice was smooth, polite even, the tone of a man too calm for a night like this."Eric, right?" he said with a faint smile. "Why don't you come with me for a moment? I'll get you something to eat. You've been standing here for hours, son."
Eric looked up from where he was sitting near Ama's door, his eyes red but steady. "I'm fine, sir."
Albert crouched a little, pretending to sound concerned. "No, no, you shouldn't be alone here. The nurses can handle things. Come on, get some air. It's not good for your head to be cooped up."
I watched from the corner, my jaw tightening. His words were soft, but there was a careful rhythm in them—like he was measuring each one, making sure they landed just right.
Eric shook his head. "I said I'm fine. I'm not leaving her alone. Not even for a second."
That answer made Albert's face stiffen, just for a moment. His eyes flicked toward Ama's room, then back to Eric."You're just a kid," he said lightly, forcing a chuckle. "You don't need to be this serious."
Eric's expression hardened, his small hands clenched at his sides. "She's my family. My elder sister, not a burden. And my brother said not to move from here."
That one line—my brother said not to move—broke Albert's composure. For a second, I caught a flash of irritation behind his eyes before he straightened up, putting on his usual calm mask again.
"Of course," he said, voice tight. "Stay if you must. I'll just check in with the doctors."
He walked away, but not before glancing toward Ama's room one last time. It wasn't a casual look—it was the kind of look that measured distance, time, and opportunity.
The twenty-fourth hour came like a silent storm. No one said a word, but every second that ticked by felt like a countdown. Jia sat motionless, her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Eric was curled up in the chair beside her, his small frame shaking every few minutes though he tried to hide it.
And Vihaan—he hadn't moved in hours. His eyes stayed fixed on the glass window of the ICU, as if sheer willpower could make her wake up.
Then the door opened. The doctor stepped out, his face a blend of exhaustion and resignation. I didn't need him to speak to know what he was about to say.
He exhaled heavily, glancing between us. "The poison has done irreversible nerve damage. Her vitals are stable for now, but she hasn't regained consciousness. I'm sorry… Amara has slipped into a coma."
The words didn't echo; they just landed—heavy and final.
Jia broke first. A choked sound escaped her as she buried her face in her hands. Eric tried to be brave, but his lips trembled, and soon he was crying too.
I turned toward Vihaan.
He didn't move. Not even a blink. His shoulders fell, and that was it. No words, no reaction—just a quiet collapse from within. The kind that doesn't make noise but leaves you hollow. He stood there like a statue, staring at the door as if everything behind it had been stolen from him.
When the doctor walked away, the silence felt unbearable.
I went to Vihaan's side, gently touching his shoulder. "Vihaan—"
He shook his head once, slowly. "No," he whispered, voice raw, almost unrecognizable. "You promised to fight, to not give up."
None of us could say anything after that.
Minutes passed—or maybe hours; it all blurred. The hallway lights flickered dimly, the machines inside the ICU beeped in a steady rhythm, and grief settled over us like thick smoke.
Then—
A sudden commotion broke the stillness. A nurse came running down the corridor, breathless, words tumbling out.
"Doctor, Doctor... she opened her eyes."
The doctors ran towards the ER.
For a second, no one moved. We just stared at her, not daring to believe it.
Then Vihaan's chair screeched back, and he was gone—running before any of us could react.
The nurse's words still echoed in my head. She opened her eyes.
Hope—fragile, trembling, but real—had finally found its way back into that cold, sterile hallway.
As we entered the ER, I saw Amara's eyes—tired, heavy, and searching the room. For a second, everything went still. And then I looked at Vihaan. I won't lie—it was one of the most beautiful moments I've ever seen.
After two endless days of watching him break apart and then go completely numb, it finally felt like the world returned to him. The way his face changed—shock melting into disbelief, disbelief into relief—was something words could never capture. Tears shimmered in his eyes, and for the first time, he smiled. A real one.
Jia was crying too, her hands trembling as she reached out for her sister. Her tears weren't just from fear anymore—they were from gratitude, from that overwhelming joy of getting someone back you thought you'd lost forever.
Jia's mother stepped closer, brushing a few strands of hair from Amara's forehead. She leaned down, kissed her gently, and whispered something only a mother could say—something that made Amara's tired eyes soften, her lips twitch faintly as if trying to smile.
And in that moment, the entire room exhaled. The weight everyone had been carrying finally loosened, replaced by something fragile but pure—hope.
Vihaan's POV:
When I saw her eyes open, the world didn't just stop—it shattered around me. Every second of fear, every sleepless night, every thought of losing her… it all crashed into me at once.
I couldn't move. My legs refused to obey. My hands shook violently, and my chest heaved like it was going to burst. Her eyes—so fragile, so tired, so alive—were staring straight at me, and I felt my knees give way.
"You're here… you're really here," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I thought I lost you… I'm so sorry, Ama. I was late. I should've been here."
Tears streamed down my face, unrelenting. I reached for her hand, trembling, clutching it like it was the only thing keeping me upright. "Thank God… thank God you're alive."
I pressed my forehead against her hand, sobbing uncontrollably, shaking with relief and guilt all at once. "I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am… for you, for being here, for fighting… for not leaving me behind."
Every broken piece of me seemed to stitch itself back together with the simple truth that she was alive. Her weak blink, her shallow breath—it was enough. Enough to make the world feel right again, even if just for a moment.
"I'm here now… I've got you… I swear, I won't let anything happen to you again," I murmured through gasps and tears. "You're safe… finally safe… Thank God!"
And for the first time in days, for the first time since that attack, my heart felt like it might survive this world after all—because she was here.
She was silent, smiling faintly and observing everything, and smiling.