Arjun lay in the hospital bed, the faint beeping of the heart monitor a constant reminder of how close he had come to the edge. His body ached, every muscle sore from the collapse during the surgery. His mind, foggy and numb, couldn’t focus on anything except the hollow feeling in his chest. He didn’t know how to piece himself back together—if that was even possible anymore.

The door to his room creaked open softly. Ishita stepped in, holding a tray of food. Her face was a mixture of concern and heartbreak, her eyes swollen from sleepless nights and worry. She walked over to the side of the bed, placing the tray on the small table beside him.