Threads of Tradition: Tales Of Indian Arranged Marriages

3.

The sun had begun to set, casting a warm golden glow through the living room windows as Mira sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a mess of scripts and notebooks. She was lost in thought, her mind racing with ideas for her next film project, when the sudden ping of her phone disrupted her concentration.

With a sigh, she reached for it, expecting another work-related message. Instead, her heart sank as she read the text from her mother. "Mira, we need to talk. It's about your father."

Her stomach twisted into knots, and she could feel the colour draining from her face. Panic surged within her. “Neel!” she called out, her voice trembling. He appeared in the doorway, a look of concern etched on his features.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately sensing the urgency in her tone.

“It’s my dad. He’s been hospitalized,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. “The doctors are saying it’s serious.”

Neel's heart ached for her. He moved closer, instinctively reaching out to comfort her. “I’m so sorry, Mira,” he said, his voice low and steady. “What do you need? Do you want to go see him?”

Mira nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “Yes, but I don’t know if I can handle it alone. I have to be there for my mom too.”

“Then let’s go together,” Neel offered without hesitation, his mind already racing through logistics. “We can leave tonight. I’ll drive.”

She looked at him, gratitude shining through her fear. “You really don’t have to do this. I don’t want to impose,” she said, biting her lip.

“I want to,” he insisted, placing a hand on her shoulder, the gesture grounding her. “You’re not imposing. We’re in this together, remember?”

As they prepared for the journey, the atmosphere in the apartment shifted from the comfort of their usual routine to the weight of impending worry. Neel watched as Mira quickly packed a bag, her hands trembling slightly as she folded clothes and grabbed her father’s favourite blanket. The sight of her distress tugged at his heart, igniting a protective instinct he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

Once in the car, Mira stared out the window, her thoughts racing. The familiar streets blurred into a hazy backdrop as they drove toward the hospital. Neel tried to break the tension with small talk, but the gravity of the situation loomed over them like a storm cloud.

“Can you tell me about him?” Neel asked gently, hoping to distract her, to draw out the warmth that was so characteristic of Mira.

Mira took a deep breath, grateful for the question. “He’s… he’s a fighter. Always has been. He loves movies as much as I do. He’s the one who took me to the first film festival when I was a kid,” she shared, her voice trembling slightly. “I can’t believe this is happening. He’s always been so healthy.”

Neel nodded, absorbing her words, his heart aching for her. “You’re a lot like him, you know. The way you talk about stories and life—there’s a spark in you that reminds me of everything you’ve described about him.”

A soft smile touched Mira's lips, a flicker of warmth amidst her anxiety. “Thank you, Neel. That means a lot.”

As they arrived at the hospital, a heaviness settled over them. Neel parked the car, and as they stepped inside, the sterile smell of antiseptic washed over them, intensifying Mira’s unease. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.

Navigating the maze of hospital corridors, Neel stayed close, offering silent support. Mira’s fingers trembled as she clutched her phone, her mother’s last message replaying in her mind. When they finally reached her father’s room, Mira paused, her heart racing.

“Are you ready?” Neel asked softly, his presence a calming anchor amidst her turmoil.

She nodded, though her throat felt tight. “I think so.”

Entering the room, Mira’s breath caught in her throat as she saw her father lying in the hospital bed, pale and frail, wires and machines surrounding him. Her heart shattered at the sight. “Dad,” she whispered, rushing to his side.

Neel stayed back for a moment, allowing Mira to have her space, but when he saw her face crumble, he stepped forward, resting a hand on her back. “I’m here,” he murmured, his voice a steady presence.

Mira turned to Neel, tears streaming down her cheeks. In that moment of vulnerability, she felt a crack in the walls they had built between them. “I don’t know what to do,” she choked out, her voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” Neel replied, his eyes softening. “Just take it one moment at a time. You have your mom, and I’ll be right here with you.”

With those words, a surge of gratitude flooded through her, and she leaned against him for support, grateful for his unwavering presence. Neel wrapped an arm around her shoulders, providing the comfort she desperately needed.

As they stood there, Mira realized just how much Neel had stepped up for her in this crisis. In that moment of shared vulnerability, she saw not just a roommate, but a partner willing to share the weight of her burdens.

As the hours passed, they exchanged small smiles and whispered reassurances, a delicate bond forming between them amidst the uncertainty. The crack in the walls separating their hearts had deepened, revealing the potential for something more profound than either of them had anticipated.

In the dim light of the hospital room, as Mira held her father’s hand and Neel stood steadfastly by her side, they began to understand that the road ahead, though fraught with challenges, could also lead to unexpected places—places where love could flourish even in the shadow of adversity.