From Heartbreak To Love

Chapter 29 : The Accident

Ankita’s POV

As soon as my mother called, I knew she was in a hurry. She wanted to meet me before heading home since I was staying a few hours longer to catch my train. Walking back toward the hotel room, my thoughts were a tangled mess.

What was with Arjun today? The whole misunderstanding about my so-called marriage to Varun had me baffled. He thought I was getting married, and that’s why he ghosted me? But why would he care so much? Could it mean he felt something for me, like I did for him?

I shook my head, frustrated. “No, Ankita,” I muttered to myself. “He’s in love with that mysterious girl he refuses to talk about.” I sighed, thinking how Arjun had a knack for complicating everything.

When I entered the room, I found my mom already packing some of my stuff. It warmed my heart—she was always looking out for me.

“Beta, take care of yourself,” she said gently, folding my kurti neatly. “Don’t overwork yourself at the hospital. Stress is not good for you.”

As she was about to leave, she suddenly turned around, her expression serious. “Ankita,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “I saw you and Arjun talking in the corner earlier.”

I froze.

“I trust you, beta,” she continued. “But don’t break my trust. You know how our family is—how society talks. If you choose someone who isn’t from our background, it’ll bring shame to us. Arjun is a nice boy, but his background is different. Please don’t make a decision that will bow our heads in shame.”

I stared at her, my heart pounding. “No, Maa, it’s nothing like that. He’s just my friend. We had a fight three months ago, and he was apologizing—that’s all.”

She gave me a long, searching look, then nodded. “Okay, beta, I trust you.”

I walked her to the car and watched her leave, feeling a wave of unease. Her words weighed heavily on me. Avoiding Arjun felt like the safest option for now, especially since my mother already had her suspicions.

Back in the room, I quickly changed into a jeans and kurti, packed the rest of my belongings, and avoided lingering too long. Smriti was at the mandap, glowing with happiness. I waved at her from a distance, and she nodded, her smile warm and reassuring.

Soon, I was in a cab heading to the railway station. Once I found my seat on the train, memories of Arjun dropping me off the last time flooded back. The silly banter, the misunderstanding—it all felt so vivid.

“Not Arjun again,” I muttered, plugging in my earphones. I scrolled through my playlist, hitting shuffle. The first song that played was Yeh Raatein Yeh Mausam Nadi Ka Kinara.

I groaned. Of course. This was the same song he’d mentioned during that car ride, saying how much his preferences had changed. Desperate to escape the memories, I switched to a rock playlist and closed my eyes, letting the music drown out my thoughts. Slowly, sleep claimed me.

When I woke up, it was morning, and Delhi was bustling as usual. I grabbed a cab to head to the hospital. On the way, I noticed several missed calls and texts from Arjun. Two missed calls were just a minute ago.

I felt a pang of guilt. Maybe I’d overreacted. Deciding to clear the air, I called him back. He picked up on the first ring.

“Ankita! Did you reach safely?” he asked, relief evident in his voice.

“Yes,” I said softly. There was a moment of silence before I broke it. “Arjun, we need to talk. You can’t keep doing this—ghosting me, avoiding me. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “I’m sorry, Ankita. I promise I won’t do it again.”

He started to say something else, but before I could respond, there was a loud crash. The sound of shattering glass, metal grinding against metal, and panicked voices shouting "Accident! Accident!" filled my ears.

And then, nothing.

The next thing I remember was darkness. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and the faint beeping of a monitor sounded somewhere close. Slowly, I opened my eyes. The stark white walls confirmed it—I was in a hospital.

“Maa,” I croaked, my voice barely audible.

My mother, sitting beside me, immediately stood up. Her eyes were red and swollen, evidence of hours—maybe days—of crying.

“Ankita! You’re awake!” she exclaimed, tears streaming down her face. She rushed to call the doctor before turning back to me. “Beta, you scared us so much. You were unconscious for two days. I couldn’t imagine my life without you. Please, don’t do this to me again.”

I tried to calm her, though my own voice wavered. “Maa, I’m okay now. Don’t cry. Please.”

The doctor arrived and explained my condition. “You lost a lot of blood and sustained a minor head injury, which caused prolonged unconsciousness. Additionally, you’ve fractured your elbow. It’s not serious, but we’ll keep you under observation for a few more days due to the fever that hasn’t subsided yet.”

I nodded, still processing everything. My father and brother came in next, their worried faces breaking my heart. My father, who rarely showed emotion, had tears in his eyes.

“Papa, please don’t cry,” I said, tears streaming down my own face now. My brother put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Di,” he said gently. “Papa was just worried. Now that you’re awake, he’ll be fine.”

As the days passed, my father and brother had to return home due to work, leaving my mother to stay with me. My fever remained stubborn, delaying my discharge. While she fed me slices of apple—something I was growing to despise—I reached for my phone to reply to Smriti’s message.

She had been worried, of course, but it was understandable that she couldn’t call frequently with her new responsibilities as a bride. What puzzled me was the lack of any message from Arjun. Didn’t he know?

“Maa,” I asked, looking up from my phone, “who informed you about my accident?”

“It was Arjun,” she replied, surprising me.

“What?” I asked, my voice rising. “Arjun? How?”

She explained how he had heard the crash while talking to me on the phone. Realizing something was wrong, he immediately contacted Smriti to get her number and informed her about the accident. My mother called my number repeatedly, only to have a stranger answer and confirm the horrifying news.

“Arjun called every day after that,” my mother continued. “He wanted updates on your condition and even offered to come here if I needed help. When I told him you’d regained consciousness, he sounded so relieved.”

I stared at her, stunned. So Arjun had been worrying about me all along? My heart felt heavy with emotions I couldn’t quite place.

“He’s a good friend, Ankita. A true one,” my mother added.

Her words lingered in my mind long after she said them. Why did I feel both warmth and confusion hearing them? Was he really just a friend to me—or something more?