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“He’ll be fine,” I cut off his words, not wanting to hear the unimaginable. “Dad is a fighter. He will survive this. I know.”
Uncle gives me a weak nod before leading me to the ICU, where Dad is fighting for his life. As we reach the room, a fresh wave of emotions wash over me at the sight of Dad hooked up to various machines and monitors. I stand frozen at the threshold of the ICU, my heart sinking as I take in the sight before me. My Dad, once a pillar of strength and vitality, now lies immobile, his body vulnerable and fragile. Tubes and wires surround him, connecting him to machines that monitor his every breath and heartbeat. It’s a sight I never thought I would witness, a stark reminder of the unpredictability of life.
Fear, sorrow and a sense of helplessness wash over me in relentless waves as my chest tightens, suffocating me with a mix of despair and determination. A nurse is monitoring and noting his vitals, but as soon as she sees me, she leaves the room to give me a moment with my father. As I enter and gaze at Dad’s still form, memories flood my mind. . I recall the conversation we had on the phone just hours ago, where he had told me that he already knew about my relationship with Meher and had accepted it with open arms. And then his voice crackled with urgency, his fear palpable, and the phone disconnected with the horrifying sound of the crash. My mind replays that split second of panic, where I realised that something had gone terribly wrong. The memory is still etched in my consciousness, haunting me with its suddenness and severity.
Tears well up in my eyes as I reach out to hold Dad’s hand. He feels so fragile to my touch. I squeeze it gently, wishing and hoping my touch will infuse him with strength and healing. Seeing the one you love the most in danger and pain is the most agonising and helpless feeling anyone can experience.
“Mr. Shergill?” The voice of an unfamiliar man breaks through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I turn to face him, my eyes still filled with tears and worry.
“I’m Doctor Vaibhav. I’ve been assigned your father’s case.”
“Yes, Doctor,” I manage to say, my voice strained but determined.
He looks at me with a mix of sympathy and professionalism, seemingly aware of the pain I’m going through.
“I won’t sugarcoat it, Mr. Shergill. Your father’s condition is critical. His brain injury is severe, and we are doing everything we can to stabilise him. However, it’s important to understand that the next 48 hours will be crucial. We will need to wait and observe how his body responds to the treatment.”
I clench my fists, my knuckles turning white as I struggle to maintain my composure.
“Just do whatever it takes,” I beseech. “Call the best brain surgeons from around the world if you have to. But please ensure that my father survives.”
The doctor’s face softens at the face of my desperation.
“We are already doing everything in our power to revive your father, Mr. Shergill. The coming hours will be crucial, and all we can do now is pray and hope for the best.”
I nod, my resolve unwavering, even as tears continue to stream down my face.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
As the doctor leaves the room, I turn back to Dad and grip his hand tightly. My dad is my hero. I cannot even think of a life without him.
“You’ll be fine, Dad. Everything will be fine. I promise. I know you can hear me. Please fight for me, Dad. I cannot live without you. Please fight for me and come back. I need you,” I whisper, kissing the back of his palm while wiping my tears, which refuse to stop.
Inside, I’m breaking, my heart shattering into a million pieces. But in the midst of this pain and uncertainty, one thing remains clear—I will do whatever it takes to bring him back to me.
Bhaskar uncle strokes my back gently.
“Ayaan, I cannot even fathom what you are going through. Don’t lose hope, son. Kailash will be fine soon. He will come back to us. Let’s have faith in God.”
I take his hand in mine and squeeze it gently, thanking him for the assurance and for being there for Dad.
“You’ve had quite a day. Why don’t you go home for some time and rest? I’ll be here with Kailash,” Uncle suggests.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Ayaan, please understand. You are fraught with worry and have been juggling to control everything since morning, right from that scandal to Kailash’s accident. You need rest, son. Kailash would have wanted the same had he been conscious and seen your current state.”
Rest is the last thing on my mind. I have a multitude of responsibilities weighing on me, and I cannot afford to rest until I unravel the mysteries that haunt my thoughts. Just then, my phone vibrates in my jeans pocket. Ever since this incident came to light, there have been endless calls and messages from our well-wishers, draining my phone’s battery. It’s high time I charge it.
I take one look at Dad and make my way out to answer the call from Krish, who has been on his toes since morning, taking care of the scandal of Meher and my Dalhousie picture leak in the media. Meanwhile, he has also been gathering details regarding Dad’s accident.
“Krish,” I say, answering the call.
“Ayaan, how is uncle?”
I swallow nervously, recalling what the doctor said a while ago.
“The next 48 hours are critical,” I reply before taking a few more steps away from the ICU.
