Night of 25TH

CHAP 60: Collision of Fates

Past:

Shubman

After Chucky left, Anika too abandoned me, leaving me to drown in the pool of alcohol for the damage control of her image. It was 3 AM when the effects of my excessive drinking took their toll. Two pairs of hands pulled me up from the depths of my intoxication, a blurry scene in the dark. I was disoriented, unaware of my surroundings.

The next morning brought a harsh reality. Sanket and Rahil stood by my bed, their expressions a mix of anger and disappointment. My head throbbed painfully from the aftermath of the previous night's escapade as I reclined against the bedrest.

Sanket's voice cut through the silence, filled with frustration, "What were you thinking, drinking and getting wasted like that?" He hurled a vase in anger, and I flinched, regret coursing through me. The room seemed to amplify his anger, intensifying the throbbing in my head. I chose silence, acknowledging my wrongdoing.

He continued, his anger escalating, "Answer me!" With a swift motion, he pulled the blanket off me.

"I was scared of the consequences and tired of Anika's constant pressure," I admitted, my voice barely audible, avoiding eye contact.

Sanket, gripping my collar, retorted, "There's something called opening up."

"Sanket, cool down," Rahil intervened, his expression softening as he handed me a much-needed medicine.

"Rahil, this boy has already messed up his reputation because of that girl, and now, drinking all night? What if the paparazzi had caught him? Luckily, Anya told us about his whereabouts." Sanket vented, his frustration palpable.

"Don't utter that woman's name in front of me," I growled, my breaths heavy with anger radiating from every pore.

"Uske vaajah se hume pata tha tu kahaan tha," Sanket's voice pierced through the early morning silence, loud and accusing.

"Aur uski vaajah se hi main iss consequence mein phasa hoon. She was the one who leaked this news out!" I shouted back with the same intensity, but the pain in my head made me quickly retreat, clutching my temples.

"Then you need a psychologist and reliable sources to check out the news. Truly, your brain is being ruined by alcohol," Sanket retorted, his voice echoing with frustration.

"What do you mean, stop defending her?" I questioned, my voice lowered due to the persistent headache, but the anger still seething beneath the surface.

"I am not defending her. If only you would have stopped drinking and actually gone out to the publisher, you would have known that it was not Anya but Sameer Agnihotri," Sanket clarified, his voice now back to normal but still carrying the authority in the conversation.

The revelation hit me like a sudden jolt. The weight of my assumptions and impulsive actions became painfully evident. The haze of alcohol had clouded my judgment, leading me to blame Chucky without verifying the facts. The room felt heavy with the realization of my mistake, and a mix of embarrassment and regret washed over me.

"I... I didn't know. I just assumed..." I stammered, unable to meet Sanket's gaze.

"You assumed, and that assumption cost you. It's time to face the consequences of your actions and make amends," Sanket stated, his tone firm yet urging me to take responsibility for my misguided actions.

"Why would he do that?" I asked, genuinely perplexed by the revelation.

Sanket scolded, frustration evident in his voice, "Voh bhi hum hi dhunde, tu khali peeke baitha rahega?"

"Sorry I'll just go and find out this man is gonna face hell," I said ready to show Sameer the wonders of hell.

I was ready to move, picking up my phone, but what I saw confused me even more - there were 100 missed calls and texts from Chucky's Mom and Dad and another 100 from Ishan.

"Why have Ishan, Chucky's Mom, and Dad called me so many times?" I asked, looking at my friends.

"How would we know? Your drunk self broke both of our phones yesterday," Rahil cried out in frustration.

"Just call him; you'll know instead of asking questions," Sanket said, rubbing his temple.

I was nervous; the multitude of calls and texts indicated that something was undoubtedly wrong. My hands trembled as I called Ishan.

"Hello," I asked, scared.

"Goli maar tere hello ko. Where the hell are you? Not picking up calls, or answering texts. Not even Sanket and Rahil are doing that," Ishan sobbed as he shouted.

"I broke their phones while being drunk, and mine was on silent. And why are you crying? It's scaring me. Kya hua?" I asked, running my hands through my hair.

"Anya..." Ishan sobbed, unable to speak.

"Anya what? Ishan, Anya what?" I shouted, scared, my hands trembling, and my heart beating fast.

"She is in the hospital; her car was wrecked in an accident last night due to which her condition is critical," Ishan sobbed uncontrollably.

The words hit me like a sledgehammer, and a chilling silence enveloped the room. The weight of my reckless actions and the consequences of my drunken stupor suddenly felt insignificant compared to the news about Anya. A wave of guilt and remorse crashed over me as Ishan struggled to convey the severity of the situation.

My friends, Sanket and Rahil, exchanged concerned glances, their frustration with my recent behaviour momentarily replaced by genuine worry for Anya. I stumbled for words, my mind racing to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

"Hospital? Critical condition?" I muttered, unable to grasp the reality of what Ishan had just disclosed.

"Her car was involved in a severe accident last night. She's unconscious, and the doctors say it's critical. You need to get here now," Ishan urged, his voice a mix of desperation and sorrow.

The room seemed to spin as the magnitude of the news sank in. I felt a knot tightening in my stomach, the weight of guilt becoming almost unbearable. Without a second thought, I rushed to gather myself, ready to face the consequences of my actions and be there for Anya in this moment of crisis.

Sanket, Rahil, and I hurriedly made our way to the hospital, each step heavy with the realization that my reckless behaviour might have contributed to the unfolding tragedy.

The drive to the hospital was a blur, my mind oscillating between the guilt over my recent actions and the urgency of reaching Anya's side. Sanket and Rahil, usually vocal in their opinions, were now silent companions in the car, their expressions reflecting the gravity of the situation.

As we entered the hospital, the antiseptic smell and the hushed whispers of worried family members added to the sense of foreboding. Ishan guided us to the intensive care unit, where Anya lay unconscious, connected to a web of machines monitoring her fragile state.

My eyes welled up with tears as I beheld Chucky, my girl who once navigated effortlessly between cricket equipment, now lying amidst hospital apparatus. Her vivacious chatter, which could outpace the cricket commentary, was now silenced by the presence of an oxygen mask. Her fingers, which had always intertwined with mine, providing comfort and reassurance, were now attached to an oximeter.

Approaching her bedside, I delicately caressed Chucky's hand, which was gently attached to a saline drip. Leaning my forehead against hers, I closed my eyes, allowing the warmth of our connection to overcome the sterile atmosphere of the hospital room. My tears fell freely, tracing a path down my cheeks and landing softly on her face.

"Sorry meri jaan," I sobbed out, my voice breaking as I delicately traced the scar from the accident on her face.