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I rush into the hospital, my heart pounding with anticipation and urgency to see Dad. Bhaskar uncle meets me first, and I can see the relief and happiness on his face.
“Ayaan, this is nothing short of a miracle,” he says, his voice choked with emotion. “The moment Kailash woke up, the first thing he did was ask for you. I called you immediately.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I can’t contain my emotions. I’ve missed my father so much while he was in a coma. Knowing that he asked for me the moment he regained consciousness fills my heart with warmth and love. I follow Bhaskar uncle towards the ICU, where the doctors are checking my father’s vitals and running some tests. A few minutes later, the doctors come out.
“Mr. Shergill, we have good news. Your father’s vitals look stable, and his condition has improved,” Doctor Vaibhav mentions.
“Thank you, doctor. That’s a huge relief to hear. Can I see him now?”
“Yes, of course. He’s been asking for you. It might be best to keep the conversation light and not discuss anything too stressful at the moment.”
“I understand. I just want to be with him right now. Thank you for taking care of him.”
“You are welcome. He’s a strong-willed man, and with your support, he’ll recover even faster. Just remember to keep the visit short and let him rest.”
“I will. Thank you again, doctor,” I say before rushing inside the room.
My heart lurches in my chest as I lay eyes on him, lying on the bed, connected to machines, with his eyes wide open. It feels like an eternity since I last saw him look at me and smile. I rush to his side, my eyes brimming with tears that I refuse to let fall. Dad wants to see me strong, and I will be for him. The lump in my throat makes it hard for me to speak, but I manage a weak smile as I reach for his hand, gently holding on to it, not wanting to overwhelm him further.
“My son,” he murmurs with love, his voice laced with emotion. I can see tears in his eyes as he tries to hold my hand. At the moment, he is still weak to put too much pressure on his body.
“You scared us, Dad,” I say, my voice trembling. “I missed you so much.”
I wipe the tears that roll down his eyes. Dad looks at me with love and affection and nods gently.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he replies softly. “Not until I see my grandchildren.”
His words prick my heart. He has no idea how I’ve hurt Meher, and that she has ended our relationship. But deep in my heart, I know I won’t give up on our love. I sit next to Dad, kiss his hand, and feel grateful that he will recover and soon return to his usual self.
“Ayaan,” Dad murmurs, “the accident—”
“I know,” I interrupt him. “Let’s not speak about it. You need to rest, Dad.”
He presses my hand this time.
“I’ve rested enough. Let me speak. How… How is Ramesh?”
I knew Dad would immediately inquire about his driver Ramesh, who was driving the day the accident happened.
“Dad, we’ll talk about it when you are feeling better. Not now,” I say, trying to find an excuse, but Dad reads my face and concludes why I’m reluctant to speak about Ramesh. “He didn’t make it, right?” he asks, his voice feeble and in pain.
I avert my eyes and shake my head, indicating his guess is right. Ramesh couldn’t make it. Dad exhales, and suddenly the oximeter displays low readings.
“Dad, please,” I plead. “Please calm down. I promise you, I’m not going to let the culprits get away. Pratap Walia will pay for his sins.”
Dad stares at me in shock for a long moment and grips my hand.
“Pratap?” he asks.
“Yes. He is the one responsible for your accident. It was his car that rammed into yours on the ghats.”
Dad takes a minute as if trying to process the information. His face contorts with fear and confusion, and for a moment, I see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. But then, he denies it outright, his voice shaky with disbelief.
“No. Pratap...Pratap is innocent. He has nothing to do with the accident,” he insists, his words tinged with desperation.
My eyes widen in shock. What? Why is he lying?
