Ojasvi
He opened his eyes slowly, his brow furrowed in pain as he groaned softly. I couldn’t hide the worry on my face.
My heart was pounding in my chest, still anxious from everything that had happened. Was he okay? Was the drug they injected him with still affecting him?
My hands were trembling as I gently touched his arm, my voice barely steady as I asked, "Are you alright?"
He didn't respond immediately, his hand reaching up to his head in clear discomfort. He asked for bottle, his voice dry and raspy.
Without hesitation, I grabbed the bottle of water and handed it to him. His fingers brushed against mine as he took it.
I watched every movement, still too shaken to fully comprehend that he was safe, that we both were.
But the weight of guilt pressed down on me harder than ever. This was all my fault. If I hadn’t… if I hadn’t gotten him involved, maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation.
Tears welled up in my eyes again, blurring my vision. My lips trembled as I tried to hold back the sobs, but they escaped, one after another. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, the guilt clawing at my insides.
He turned to me, his expression softening despite the pain in his eyes. He reached into the backseat and grabbed the handkerchief, pressing it gently into my hands.
“None of this is your fault, Ojasvi,” he said firmly, his voice low but reassuring. “I chose to help you. You didn’t force me into anything.”
His words felt like a lifeline, pulling me from the swirling storm of guilt and self-blame. He wiped the tears from my eyes, his touch surprisingly tender.
It was as if the whole world had stilled for a moment, just us sitting in that car, his gentle words easing the turmoil inside me.
When he felt steady enough, he started the car and we pulled away from the village. The sound of the engine and the motion of the car helped calm me, but my mind kept replaying everything that had happened.
I couldn’t help but feel like I was still responsible for his pain.
As we drove, Vedant suddenly broke the silence. “Did you understand what I said earlier?” he asked, glancing at me briefly, his tone probing, as if making sure I truly believed him.
I hesitated. “I… I got it,” I mumbled, looking down at my hands. I understood the words, but the guilt was still gnawing at me.
He shook his head. “I can’t hear you, Ojasvi,” he teased lightly, though there was something firm in his voice. He needed me to believe him.
I swallowed hard and repeated, “It wasn’t my fault.” My voice was a little louder this time, but still shaky.
“Still can’t hear you,” he said again, his eyes on the road, but I could feel the warmth behind his words, coaxing me to free myself from the weight I was carrying.
This time, I gathered the strength to say it clearly, “It wasn’t my fault.”
A small smile appeared on his face, and seeing it lifted something inside me. Maybe he was right. Maybe I wasn’t to blame.
As the tension eased, I realized I hadn’t even asked his name. It felt strange, considering everything we’d been through together.
“Mujhe aapse kuch puchna tha,” I started awkwardly, unsure of how to ask after everything. “Aapka naam kya hai?”
He glanced at me, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Vedant Singhania.”
His name hung in the air between us for a moment, and I repeated it softly, “Vedant Singhania…” It felt like a name I’d never forget, etched into my mind as the name of my savior.
