ALMOST THERE

CHAPTER 16: You're fine...oh.

Shayad - Arijit Singh
🪐🌧️🌪️⛓️

He looks… fine.

That’s the first thought that hits me, and it slams into me with the force of a slap.

Shahaan is standing there in the hallway, his right arm wrapped in a simple crepe bandage, nothing more.

No cast, no sling, no grimace of pain etched into his face.... like I had imagined a thousand times over these past few days.

Just a bandage, like something you’d put on after a minor scrape. He doesn’t look like he’s been through anything at all.

I frown, my brows knitting together as I try to reconcile this image with the one that’s been haunting me since Thursday.

My stomach twists, not in relief, but in confusion, in something that borders on anger.

I was expecting—no, preparing—for something worse. Something that would match the level of dread that’s been sitting heavy in my chest for days.

But there’s nothing here that justifies the way I’ve been feeling, the sleepless nights, the ache in my chest that hasn’t left me since I heard the news. 

He’s just… fine.

And I'm so relieved I could cry.

Shahaan’s expression mirrors mine, but there’s confusion in his eyes, too. He takes a step closer, his head tilting slightly to the side. “Saysha?” His voice is careful, as if he’s trying to gauge what’s wrong with me, but I don’t answer right away. I’m still stuck, staring at that damn crepe bandage, trying to make sense of everything. 

He looks me over, and I can see it in his eyes when he notices my state—tear stains on my cheeks that I hadn’t even bothered to wipe, my eyes red and puffy from the crying that never seemed to stop, my voice hoarse from whispering his name into the silence of my room like a mantra.

I must look like I’ve been through hell, and for a moment, he looks almost… worried.

“What happened?” His voice is low, cautious. “Shehzadi, are you okay?”

I want to laugh, but the sound that escapes my throat is more like a choked scoff. “Am I okay?” The words come out flat, emotionless, like they belong to someone else. “I should be asking you that.”

He blinks, still not understanding, and I’m just about to open my mouth and demand some sort of explanation when I see it—movement at the edge of my vision.

Hamza, standing a few feet away, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. His shoulders are shaking with suppressed laughter, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.

The fractured arm.

The reason I couldn’t reach Shahaan.

The panic that’s been clawing at me for days.

All of it.

A prank. 

My blood runs cold, and for a moment, I don’t feel anything at all. I’m just… numb.

Hamza sees me looking and tries to stifle a laugh, but it escapes him, a short, breathless burst that echoes through the hallway. Shahaan follows my gaze, and understanding dawns on his face, too. 

“Wait… what did you tell her?” Shahaan’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping in disbelief. 

Hamza raises his hands in mock surrender, still grinning like he’s just pulled off the greatest trick of the century. “I might have… exaggerated a bit."