CHAPTER 13: IN THE SHADOWS OF SILENCE
CHAPTER 13: IN THE SHADOWS OF SILENCE
The phone call had nearly stopped Arjun's heart.
He had been in a board meeting, surrounded by people in suits and strategy sheets, but the second he heard the words—"your wife...fainted in the street...taken to the city hospital"—everything blurred.
The car barely stopped at signals as he raced through traffic, heart pounding like a wild drum. He stormed into the emergency room, demanding to know where she was. Her name on his lips like a prayer.
"Pia! Pia Mehra!"
A nurse pointed toward the trauma ward. "She's stable, sir. She fainted in the middle of traffic. Mild head trauma, but we haven't diagnosed fully yet."
His footsteps echoed through the white halls until he found her.
There she lay—hooked to machines, her beautiful face pale and still.
He couldn't breathe.
He sat down beside her, brushing her hair away from her forehead. She looked so small in that hospital bed. Vulnerable. Fragile.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed.
"Maa," he said as soon as the line connected. "Pia fainted. She's unconscious."
There was a pause on the other end.
"Where are you?"
"City General. I'm shifting her to our hospital. Please tell Dad to be ready."
"We'll be there," Rhea said, her voice calm but laced with urgency.
Within the hour, Pia was moved to Mehra's Hospital. Everything happened in a blur of doctors, elevators, white coats, and quiet tension. Arjun never left her side.
Aryaveer was already waiting, along with Rhea. They reviewed her vitals, ran immediate scans, bloodwork. Their movements were efficient, but there was something unspoken between them. Something familiar.
After what felt like an eternity, Aryaveer stepped out of the room with the test results.
"Physically, she's fine," he said, voice low, meant only for Arjun and Rhea. "The pregnancy is stable. The fall wasn't serious. But..."
He looked over his glasses, his eyes grave.
"There are traces again."
Arjun's heart sank. Rhea placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
"We always knew this could resurface," she murmured. "Especially under stress."
"I thought we were past it," Arjun whispered, rubbing his temple. "She seemed okay. She was moving on. Happy."
"Until the truth started to nudge at the edges," Aryaveer replied. "Memories are never truly buried, Arjun. They wait."
Arjun closed his eyes. "She remembers pieces. Hazy moments. She's not sure what's real anymore."
"And we mustn't force her," Rhea said softly. "Let her mind come to it naturally. If we push too hard, she'll spiral."
"What if we lose her before she gets there?" Arjun's voice cracked.
"You won't," Aryaveer said. "Just keep showing up. Stay close. Her heart still knows you, even if her mind is unsure."
Rhea's eyes softened. "You've always been her anchor. Don't stop being that now."
They said no more. There were no easy answers. Only silence, heavy with what was unsaid.
That night, Arjun sat beside Pia in the quiet of the private room. The machines hummed their lullaby, and the dim light from the bedside lamp painted soft shadows across her face.
He traced his fingers over the back of her hand.
She hadn't stirred.
He leaned forward, resting his head gently near hers.
"They told me to be patient. That this is not new. That you've lived with this shadow longer than I've known."
His voice was barely a whisper.
"I just wish you'd told me. Or maybe... maybe you didn't know yourself."
A long pause stretched between them. She didn't move.
"They said the pieces would fall into place," he murmured. "I just hope they do before everything else falls apart."
Then, unable to help himself, he kissed her gently on the lips.
"Come back to me, Pia. I'm right here. And I always will be."
A single tear slipped down his cheek.
In the stillness of the hospital room, surrounded by beeping machines and secrets too old to name, Arjun waited.
For her.
For the truth.
For whatever came next.
He would be ready.
Even if the past wasn't.
Even if the future was more uncertain than ever.