Ek villain

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝚾𝐈𝚾: 𝚳𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞

The sterile white walls of the hospital room blurred in and out of focus as Rocky drifted in and out of consciousness. The rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring Reena's vitals was a constant drone, a counterpoint to the frantic drumming of his own heart.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. Time had become a distorted entity, stretching and contracting like an overused rubber band. The last 48 hours had been a blur of worry, tension, and a desperate clinging to hope.

His phone, once a constant companion, remained silent on the bedside table. No news was good news, he kept telling himself, but the gnawing anxiety refused to be quelled. His loyal assistant and best friend, Sam, had made several attempts to persuade him to eat or take a break, each one met with a resolute shake of the head. Food felt like a betrayal, a moment of self-indulgence when Reena was teetering on the edge.

Exhaustion finally claimed him, pulling him under like a heavy wave. He dreamt of Reena, her eyes sparkling with laughter, her voice a melody that soothed his soul. But the dream morphed, the laughter turning into a faint gasp, her face etched with pain. He woke with a jolt, his heart pounding in his chest, a cold sweat clinging to his skin.

Disoriented, he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just past noon, a single day had passed since the doctor's grim announcement. But to Rocky, it felt like an eternity. He looked at Reena, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, a testament to the delicate hold she had on life.

The door creaked open, and Sam peeked in, his face etched with concern. "Rocky," he said softly. "You need to eat something. You'll be no good to Reena if you're running on fumes."

Rocky managed a weak smile. "I know, Sam. I just..." he trailed off, the words catching in his throat.

Sam understood. He walked over and placed a tray on the table beside him. It wasn't much – a bowl of soup and a piece of fruit – but it represented a lifeline, a chance to regain his strength.

Rocky forced himself to eat, the lukewarm broth a bland but comforting sensation in his dry mouth. Every bite felt like a small victory, a step towards being there for Reena when she needed him most.

As the afternoon wore on, a sense of cautious optimism began to bloom in Rocky's chest. The doctor hadn't returned, which he took as a good sign. Maybe, just maybe, the surgery had bought Reena some precious time.

He cleaned himself up in the restroom, splashing cold water on his face, trying to shake off the lingering remnants of sleep. As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he saw a haggard version of himself – sunken eyes, a five o'clock shadow that had morphed into a full beard, and lines etched deep into his face. But within those tired eyes, a determined spark still flickered.

He returned to Reena's bedside, taking her hand in his. It was cool and clammy, but he held on tight, drawing strength from the faint flutter of her pulse beneath his fingertips. He spoke to her in hushed tones, recounting stories of their life together, hoping his voice would somehow reach her subconscious, a beacon guiding her back to him.

The hours ticked by, each minute an agonizing wait. Just as despair threatened to creep in again, the door swung open and the doctor entered. This time, his expression held a hint of a smile.

"Mr. Bairya" he began, his voice carrying a welcome note of confidence. "Reena's vital signs have stabilized. She's still critical, but she's shown remarkable resilience. It's a long road ahead, but for the first time in 48 hours, I can say with some certainty that she's fighting."

Relief washed over Rocky in a tidal wave. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring the doctor's image. He fought them back, the need to remain strong for Reena overriding his own emotional turmoil.