The Heart's Unexpected Twist

•||CHAPTER 19||•

The rain had been relentless that week, drumming against the windows with a rhythmic persistence that mirrored the anxiety growing in Shruti's heart. Sahil had fallen ill, three days and counting, his body trapped in the grip of a stubborn fever that refused to let go. It started subtly-a few complaints of fatigue, then the tell-tale heat rising from his skin, the lethargy that hung over him like a thick, heavy fog.

Shruti's concern, quiet at first, began to bloom into something deeper, like the slow unfurling of a storm. She couldn't focus. Between her college admissions, the papers strewn across her desk, and the constant back-and-forth with faculties, her mind kept slipping back to Sahil. Every few hours, she would glance at her phone, fingers dancing over the keys to send him another message: "How are you feeling now?" or "Did you get any sleep?"

His responses came, but they were brief, threaded with exhaustion. He wasn't getting better, and it ate at her. The idea of him lying alone, feverish, without her by his side, made the air around her feel too thin, her heart too heavy.

By the third day, her worry had deepened into something more pressing, almost desperate. She urged him to see a doctor, her texts becoming insistent, her concern creeping into every word: "Please, Sahil, it's been too long. You need to check this out. What if it's serious?"

The silence on the other end of the line between her messages was deafening. Finally, he relented, agreeing to go. And though Shruti was miles away, her heart was in that waiting room with him, pacing nervously as he sat under the clinical glare of fluorescent lights, waiting for answers.

Hours stretched like shadows. She tried to distract herself, throwing herself into the labyrinth of paperwork for her college admissions. The hustle of deadlines, forms, and requirements consumed her physically, but mentally, she was elsewhere. Her mind kept drifting back to him, imagining the waiting room, the doctor's concerned expression, the sterile smell of antiseptic hanging in the air.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her back to the present. It was Sahil.

"Hey," his voice was soft, more tired than before."What did the doctor say?" she asked, bracing herself."They think it might be dengue." His words landed like stones in her chest. The dreaded mosquito-borne illness had been sweeping through the city, and the idea that Sahil could be next in its line made her stomach twist.

"Dengue?" she echoed, her voice tight with worry. "But what about your reports?"

"They're still waiting on the test results, but the symptoms..." His voice trailed off. Shruti could hear the fatigue in him, the weight of it pressing down, squeezing him into silence.
"Okay, listen to me," she said, her tone softening but firm. "You need to start taking care of yourself-really taking care. Drink plenty of water. Eat fruits, especially papayas. I've read that they help with platelets, and you can't take any risks."

Sahil chuckled weakly, the sound hollow, but it brought a small smile to her lips. "Papayas, huh?"."Yes, papayas. And oranges. Maybe some kiwi too." She rattled off fruits like they were armour, a way to protect him in the only way she could. And though the distance between them felt unbearably vast, Shruti clung to the hope that her words could bridge it, even for a moment.

Days passed, and Shruti found herself juggling between two worlds-her own life, filled with the chaos of college admissions, and Sahil's, where the shadows of illness loomed. Every morning, she would wake up to check on him, their conversations slipping in between calls from universities and appointments with counsellors.

Even as she filled out her forms, attended meetings, and prepped for the next phase of her academic journey, Sahil was never far from her thoughts. In quieter moments, when the rush of the day slowed, she would picture him lying in bed, his face pale, eyes heavy with fatigue. And every time the image crept into her mind, she felt a pang of helplessness. She could only offer her words, her concern, her care from a distance. It wasn't enough.

But then, as if drawn by her concern, Sahil started to improve, slowly but surely. His fever waned, the aches subsided, and the light returned to his voice, piece by piece. Shruti noticed the shift in his texts first-longer replies, small jokes slipping back into their conversations. It was like watching the sun rise after days of endless rain, the first glimmer of light breaking through the clouds.

"You're getting better," she texted him one evening, relief flooding her chest."Yeah," he replied. "Thanks to your fruit recommendations, I think."
She smiled, leaning back in her chair, the weight she had been carrying for days finally lifting. There was still a long road ahead-Sahil's recovery wasn't complete, and her college admissions were in full swing-but for now, things felt lighter. The storm that had loomed over them had begun to pass.

And as the days blurred into one another, Shruti realised something. Amidst the chaos, the concern, and the endless uncertainty, she had found strength in their connection. Even when miles apart, even when separated by illness and life's demands, they had faced it together, side by side.

In the quiet moments, when the world slowed and her heart settled, Shruti knew one thing with certainty: no matter what challenges lay ahead-whether it was the threat of illness or the anxiety of new beginnings-they would meet them together, always.