Love Rivals: The Day I Saw Your Tears

32. Fear Of Loss Hinders The Fight

"Ryan, Ryan," a familiar voice called out, pulling me out of my brief nap. As I blinked my eyes open, I realized I was still in the hospital, having dozed off during my break.

"What's the matter?" I mumbled, still trying to fully wake up.

Nitya stood in front of me, holding a file. "Take a look at this," she said, placing it in my hands.

I frowned, trying to shake off the grogginess. "What is it?"

She replied, "It's for the meeting later this evening. You need to be prepared to explain everything."

"Thanks," I muttered, flipping through the file.

Just as she reached the door, she turned back and reminded me, "Don't forget, after lunch, we're going to the cemetery."

I nodded. "I haven't forgotten. I know today's your mom's death anniversary. I'll be ready on time. Don't worry."

With a small smile, she left, and I began reading the file.

When the time came, I picked her up, and we drove in silence to the cemetery. The sky was overcast, matching the heaviness in the air. As we walked among the gravestones, she stopped by a weathered stone and knelt down, placing a small bouquet.

I stood nearby, giving her space.

"You okay?" I asked, unsure of what to say.

She looked up, her eyes damp but calm. "Yeah. Just needed to be here today."

I stayed quiet, offering my quiet presence. After a few more minutes, she stood, wiping her eyes. "Thanks for coming with me everytime," she said with a faint smile.

I nodded again. "Anytime."

After leaving the cemetery, we silently got into the car and drove towards the meeting. The atmosphere felt a bit heavy after our visit, but neither of us said much. As we approached the meeting venue, I glanced at her.
She confirmed, "I'm okay. Stop staring."
I nodded back, parking the car. We both stepped out, and we entered the hotel.

I sat next to Dad, across from Dr. Bharadwaj and Dr. Patel, both specialists in ocular technology.

Dr. Bharadwaj began, "We've reviewed the proposal. It's ambitious, but is it realistic within the budget and timeline?"

Dr. Patel, adjusting his glasses, responded, "Yes, it is, but we're looking at five years of development and testing. The technology exists, but perfecting it for different patient needs will take time."

Dad added, "Customization for each patient adds complexity, which could extend the timeline."

Dr. Bharadwaj glanced at the blueprints. "How scalable is this for manufacturing?"

Nitya replied, "Once we develop a working prototype, scaling is possible, but the early stages will be resource-heavy. High-quality materials and a specialized team are essential, and it won't be cheap."

Dr. Bharadwaj leaned back, thinking. "We have the funding, but the board needs assurance this isn't a pipe dream. Can you guarantee that?"

Dad smiled confidently. "It's not. With commitment and patience, this can be achieved."

After a moment of consideration, Dr. Bharadwaj chimed in. "The potential is huge, but the risks are significant too."

Dr. Patel leaned forward. "That's true. But the rewards-both for medicine and the people who need this-are worth it."

Dad looked at me, then back at the doctors. "We're ready for that risk."

Dr. Bharadwaj nodded. "Okay. I'll consider it."

Sarah and her dad suddenly appeared in the middle of the meeting.
Sarah's dad, wearing a broad smile, exchanged pleasantries with him. Sarah, looking a bit uncomfortable, subtly nudged her dad toward the exit.

Dad responded with his usual charm, "It's great to see you both, but we're in the middle of a crucial discussion."

"Oh, I'm sorry for the interruption," Sarah's dad said, with an apologetic nod.

As they started to leave, Dad leaned closer to me, speaking just loudly enough for Sarah to hear, "I told you not to make friends with just anyone. Look how you've embarrassed me today."

Sarah's cheeks reddened, clearly hearing the rebuke. I felt a pang of frustration and guilt. My fists clenched at my side. I felt helplessness as I stood there, unable to say anything to my dad. Cursing my inability to respond, I watched as Sarah and her dad walked out, feeling a mix of regret and disappointment.