REDAMANCY - Love's Timeless Path

31st Note

(Rajendra)

—

"Remember the messages you sent to me when you were drunk?" she asked, laughing about me.

I wrote about the stars. How beautiful they were. How alone I was that night. But I wasn't drunk. I never am, just pretending to be, to have an explanation of all that love leaking out of me, feeling embarrassed about it, as if it is something bad, something abnormal.

In truth, I am in love. With her.

And she was my saviour.

I felt my head was spinning when I woke up this morning. My eyes felt swollen, and my chest felt tight. I just woke up from a nightmare, and sadly, I myself am now living my nightmare.

A sliver of sunlight snuck through a crack in the curtains, landing like a judgement on the rumpled mess of the bed. It took me a moment to register the cold emptiness beside me, the silence that screamed louder than any alarm clock.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself back into the oblivion of sleep, but the dull ache behind my eyelids and the familiar weight in my chest brought it all flooding back. I groaned, throwing my arm over my face. The once-inviting haven of my apartment feels suffocating now.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. My stomach lurched as I dragged myself out of bed, every muscle protesting. The once-familiar space seemed alien, the walls closing in. The mismatched socks on the floor, the stray bobby pin on the nightstand—each tiny detail was a stark reminder of what I'd lost.

My Queen.

The bathroom was a battlefield too—her toothbrush in its usual cup, a half-empty bottle of her favorite shampoo—taunting me with the ghost of her presence.

The cold water from the shower did little to quell the firestorm in my gut. Looking in the mirror, I barely recognized the man staring back. Bloodshot eyes rimmed with dark circles, hair sticking out in disarray—a physical manifestation of the emotional wreckage inside.

But the clock ticked relentlessly. I had a surgery scheduled, and a life was waiting to be saved on the other side of that hospital door. The weight of responsibility, a stark contrast to the hollowness within, settled on my shoulders.

"Oh fuck.." I murmured.

The drive to the hospital was a blur. The usually bustling streets seemed to move in slow motion, a stark contrast to the frantic storm raging inside me. Every passerby, every happy couple, was a painful reminder of what I'd lost.

The white coat felt heavy on my shoulders, a stark contrast to the turmoil within. As I walked the sterile corridors of the hospital, the antiseptic smell did little to mask the bitter taste of regret in my mouth. Every step was a battle, a war between the professional I had to be and the broken mess I truly felt like.

Scrubbing in for surgery, the familiar routine felt foreign. My hands, usually steady, trembled slightly. The sterile environment, once a comfort, felt like a mockery of the emotional maelstrom I was in. But I know that as I reached the OR, I steeled myself. Today, I wouldn't be Jendra, the man who'd just lost the love of his life. Today, I would be dr. Jendra, the surgeon with a steady hand and a clear mind. But for the first time in my career, I wasn't sure if I could separate the two.

"Doctor, today's patient has an atrial septal defect (ASD)."

I could vaguely hear what the nurse in front of me was saying. I just nodded after reading the file that was handed to me.

I was indeed pathetic and needed to be pitied, but the children who, from the start, made me swear as a doctor to save them are much more worthy of attention than me, who just fell out of love.