• Eternal Night •

43

Shivaay leaned back against the hospital bed, the crisp sheets tucked too neatly for his liking. The room was bathed in an artificial glow of the ugly white light, the kind he hated. The steady beep of monitors formed a rhythm that felt too loud in the silence. Dr. Paul stood at the foot of the bed, his clipboard held with the precision of a man used to delivering both hope and despair.

"So," Shivaay began, his voice deliberately light, "how bad is it, doc? On a scale of 'minor speed bump' to 'end credits rolling.'"

Dr. Paul blinked at the unexpected humour, his lips quirking in a faint smile before settling into a more professional line. "Shivaay, I'd rather not quantify it that way."

Shivaay smirked, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Okay, let me make it easier for you. What are my odds of walking out of here with this,"—he gestured vaguely at his chest—"still ticking?"

Dr. Paul sighed, taking a moment to set the clipboard aside. "The surgery carries significant risks. The complexity of your atrial septal defect, combined with the strain on your heart, means the chances of complications are... not negligible."

"Not negligible." Shivaay let the phrase roll off his tongue, his voice wry. "That's doctor-speak for 'brace yourself,' isn't it?"

Dr. Paul hesitated, then nodded. "We'll do everything we can. If you agree to the surgery, then I assure you that we will fight tooth and nail to repair all this. But you have to understand—"

"I understand." Shivaay cut him off gently, his humour fading into something more vulnerable. He shifted slightly, the movement slower than he'd have liked. "I fully understand. I've been living with this my whole life. You think I don't know what the risks are?"

There was a beat of silence. Dr. Paul studied him, the usual barrier of professionalism softening just a fraction. "You're remarkably calm about this."

"Calm?" Shivaay chuckled, though there was no joy in it. "I'm not calm. I'm just good at hiding the panic. I have been trained in this for years." 

He looked down at his hands, tracing the faint scars on his knuckles. "Do you know what's funny? Everyone's been telling me to fight, to hold on, to be strong. But no one tells you how exhausting that gets after a while."

Dr. Paul didn't reply immediately, giving Shivaay the space to continue.

"I've got a family waiting outside," Shivaay said, his voice quieter now. "They think I'm invincible. The great Shivaay Singh Oberoi. But what happens if this doesn't work? What happens if I'm not as strong as they think I am?"

Dr. Paul stepped closer, his tone steady but compassionate. "You don't have to be invincible, Shivaay. You just have to trust that we'll do our best—and that it's okay to lean on the people who love you."

Shivaay's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Trusting others has never been my strong suit, Paul. You sure you're ready for that level of pressure?"

Dr. Paul chuckled softly. "It's my job."

Shivaay's smile lingered as he leaned back into the pillows. "Well, I hope you're good at it. Because if this goes south, I'm coming back to haunt you. I will be a vengeful ghost. That's a promise."

The doctor shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting despite himself. "Noted."

As Dr. Paul left, the humour faded from Shivaay's face, leaving only the weight of unspoken fears. He stared at the ceiling, the sterile light overhead blurring as he blinked.

"Invincible," he murmured to himself, the word tasting bitter. Then he wondered, was this really the end?