Sapphire Moonlight

Chapter 2: A Glimpse of Light

The first rays of dawn peeked through the intricately embroidered curtains, painting golden stripes across Shiva's room. Ash, ever vigilant, lifted his head, ears perked, before nudging Shiva's hand with his wet nose. A small smile played on Shiva's lips - even in the darkness, Ash was his constant companion. With a sigh, he stretched, the familiar ache in his unused muscles a constant reminder of his limitations. Today, though, a sliver of excitement cut through the usual dread.

"Alright boy, time to face the day," Shiva murmured, his voice husky from sleep. The morning routine was a well-oiled machine. Ash, trained to perfection, guided Shiva through the bathroom. The cold water on his skin was a welcome shock, momentarily dispelling the remnants of sleep. He could feel the familiar contours of the sink, the smooth texture of the soap bar - these were his anchors in a world devoid of sight. The water cascaded down, washing away the remnants of sleep, leaving behind a steely resolve.

"Almost ready, champ?" he murmured to Ash, drying himself meticulously. He pulled on a fresh pair of boxers, the smooth cotton a familiar sensation. Choosing clothes was a process now, guided by Ash's gentle nudges, Shiva reached for the clothes laid out on the bed. Ram, his ever-reliable friend and assistant, had become an extension of Shiva's own eyes. "Black Armani suit, sir," Ram announced, holding up the impeccably tailored garment.

Shiva ran his fingers across the fabric, savoring the smooth texture. He missed the days when he could pick his own clothes, but Ram did an excellent job of anticipating his preferences. "Thank you, Ram," he said, his voice filled with a quiet gratitude.

Ram, a man of average height with a sharp mind and a dry wit, was the rock that had held Shiva steady through the storm of the past three years, he was Shiva's friend since their childhood.

He dressed slowly, savoring the familiar textures – the coolness of the silk lining, the smooth drape of the fabric. When he finally stood, the suit hung impeccably, a testament to Ram's meticulous choices. He straightened his tie, a ghost of his former self staring back from the full-length mirror Ram had insisted upon installing. He felt a flicker of pride, a reminder of the man he was before the accident. He straightened his posture, a king in his own right, even if his kingdom was shrouded in darkness. The face was handsome – strong jawline, high cheekbones, but the eyes, once pools of warm chocolate, were now empty voids.

A deep breath filled his lungs, pushing down the yearning for what he'd lost. He couldn't let his blindness define him. Today, he would face the world, not as a victim, but as the CEO of his family's empire – Shivaansh Industries.

Downstairs, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and cardamom-laced tea filled the air. Susheela Devi, his grandmother, a woman whose strength belied her age, sat at the head of the mahogany dining table. She was regal in her crisp white saree, her silver hair pulled back in a tight bun.

"Kuttyma, come here," she said, her voice a warm melody. Even though he was a grown man, she still treated him like her little boy. He navigated his way to the table with Ash by his side. Susheela reached out and cupped his face, her touch a familiar comfort.

"You look dashing today," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Just like your father used to in his business meetings."

Shiva forced a smile. "Thank you, Nani," he murmured. He hated the way everyone fussed over him, but he loved his grandmother dearly.

Susheela, oblivious to his internal struggle, took it upon herself to feed him breakfast. Hot crispy dosas with tomato chutney, disappeared into his mouth, each bite a reminder of his dependence.

"Have you eaten enough, Kuttyma?" she asked.

"Yes, Nani, thank you," Shiva choked back the lump in his throat. He hated this helplessness.