Zara stood outside the hospital room, fingers trembling around a paper cup of cold tea.
"He's awake," the nurse said softly.
Her heart raced.
She stepped in—and froze.
Kabir looked at her the way people look at strangers on trains.
"Who… are you?" he asked.
The words crushed her chest.
She forced a smile. "I'm… Zara. Your classmate."
A lie.
A necessary one.
Because the man who once held her hand like it was oxygen now couldn't recognize her face.
And Zara decided—right then—that she would love him silently.
Again.