Night of 25TH

CHAP 64: Dawning Farewell

Past:

Shubman

A few hours ago, Mum, Dad, and Shahneel, accompanied by Chucky's parents, departed for Chucky's house. Despite their daughter being in critical condition, Chucky's mom and dad insisted that my family should be at their house.

As I sat alone in the hospital, immersed in the quiet moments between scrolling through reels, my gaze often lingered on Chucky, yearning for her to awaken so I could finally confess. The reels, however, were dominated by cringe-worthy shippers, absurdly suggesting that I had let go of a gem in the form of Anika. I couldn't fathom the blindness of these individuals. Even after the news and images had been unveiled, they continued to perceive Anika as pure and good.

Amidst this sea of misguided perceptions, a particular reel managed to pierce through the noise, bringing a smile to my face. It showcased the beautiful moments between Chucky and me, both on and off the field. As I watched, I found myself smiling like an idiot, blushing uncontrollably. I lay down, burying half my face in the pillow, continuously savouring the beauty of those captured moments. Little did I know that my simple 'like' would set off a social media explosion.

Setting my phone aside, I rubbed my tired eyes, aching from the prolonged screen time. I shifted my gaze upward, fixating on the blank canvas of the white ceiling, lost in contemplation about the trajectory of my life. Questions swirled in my mind – why did I allow myself to fall in love with Anika? Why did I agree to that dinner?

In that moment of reflection, I couldn't help but entertain the what-ifs. What if those choices had never unfolded? Perhaps, without those twists of fate, I would still have Chucky by my side – maybe as my girlfriend or even fiancee.

Yet, the harsh reality remained – no one has ever been able to alter the plan set by fate or destiny.

I heard Chucky groan, signalling her awakening after a prolonged seven hours of medication. Hastily, I rose from my seat, tossing aside the blanket, and gently assisted her in sitting up, allowing her to lean against the bedpost. She appeared more weakened than before, breathing heavily and moving her head from side to side, moaning in pain.

Concern etched across my face, I pondered on what might be causing this continued weakness, despite the administered treatment. Hopeful that the doctors would identify the underlying issue soon, I yearned for an accurate diagnosis to guide the right course of treatment.

"Manny, my body is aching, and the pain in my right leg is unbearable," she cried, gripping my hand tightly. In an attempt to soothe her distress, I gently kissed her hand and reassured her, "Wait, I will massage it." I moved my hands towards her right leg, massaging it with a delicate touch. As my fingers worked to alleviate the pain, I could see a sense of tranquillity wash over her face, providing momentary relief from the relentless discomfort.

The door of the room creaked open, and the doctor entered, wearing a solemn expression. My heart skipped a beat, anticipation and fear tightening my chest. I braced myself for the news he was about to deliver.

"I am sorry to inform you," he began, his voice carrying a weight of sorrow, "but the autoimmune disorder she had has been triggered again due to the accident. According to the information provided by her mother, all lines of treatment have been exhausted, and there is no further course of action available at the moment, so..." He hesitated, unable to bring himself to complete the sentence, his gaze shifting to me.

"So, I suggest you take her home and spend the last day..." The doctor's words trailed off once more as he observed my expression, then shifted his gaze to Chucky, who appeared surprisingly unbothered.

"I'll leave you two alone," the doctor said, recognizing the need for privacy in such a difficult moment. With a sympathetic nod, he exited the room.

In a mechanical daze, I reached for my phone and dialled home, each digit feeling heavy as I announced the heartbreaking news. The moment the words left my mouth, I could hear the gut-wrenching wails of Chucky's mother and father on the other end. The sheer agony in their voices pierced through the phone, and I found myself unable to endure it any longer. With a heavy heart, I abruptly cut the call, unable to bear the sound of their grief any longer.

"I will complete the formalities," I mumbled, my voice betraying the numbness that had enveloped me. I couldn't bring myself to face Chucky at that moment. My mind was a chaotic mess, emotions elusive, and tears seemingly dried up. The overwhelming reality had left me in a state of mental fog.

As I navigated the sterile hospital corridor, my thoughts became consumed with a singular purpose: how to make Chucky's remaining days on this earth special.

I paid the bill and collected the necessary paperwork, I walked through the hospital hallways, my eyes gliding over the diverse array of people. Some were engaged in fervent prayers, seeking well-being for their loved ones, while others exuded joy, celebrating the complete healing of those dear to them. In this sea of emotions, I found myself numb, detached from the contrasting spectacles of hope and happiness around me.

Entering the room, I began packing our belongings, a heavy silence settling in. I awaited the arrival of the nurse, who would soon come to remove Chucky's IV and assist in changing her clothes, preparing her for the journey home. As I meticulously packed, arranging things with mechanical precision, I took a moment to sit beside her.

Positioning myself to face away, I stared out of the window, gazing at the expanse of the sea visible from our vantage point in the room.

I faced away, hiding my tears, and asked, "Where do you wanna go - Greece, Italy, Germany? I'll take you."

Whispering in a feeble voice, she replied, "Pind le chal apne," her voice expressing a fragility that mirrored her weakened strength.

In a hushed tone, she whispered once more, "I want to be the special one, to witness where your dream of cricket began, and the place where the star was born."

Cupping her face gently, I held her gaze, our foreheads touching as tears rolled down my cheeks. "I promise," I whispered, "we'll go together. Your wish is my command."

At that moment, I felt fortunate to realize that the girl before me cared not for my status or wealth. Instead, her concern centred solely on Shubman Gill, not the title of the prince of Indian cricket that I carried. I didn't know what I would do after she would no longer be with me. However, I was determined to make the most of the remaining days we had together. My plan was simple – to retreat to my roots, my 'pind,' with just the two of us and our families. In that serene setting, I hoped to rediscover the essence of the real Shubman Gill, unburdened by titles or external expectations. It was a deliberate choice to create an environment where authenticity and connection could thrive, allowing us to savour the precious moments we had left together.