The Rhythms Of Her Dreams✨️

16. Waiting for Time✨️

Shubman’s world seemed to crumble in slow motion, each second stretching into eternity as he sat by Kaira's side, her fragile form struggling against the grip of life and death. The beeping of the machines, once a steady rhythm, now felt like a countdown—each beep louder than the last, pressing down on him with an unbearable weight. His breath caught in his chest, his hand still holding hers, but it was no longer enough. She needed more. She needed time.

As the hours passed, a quiet emptiness began to settle over the room. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, cutting through the silence that seemed to have taken over the space. Meera had left hours ago, unable to keep her composure any longer. She had promised to call with any updates, but for now, it was just Shubman, alone in the sterile, clinical silence of the ICU.

His eyes never left Kaira’s face. He studied her, as if memorizing the way her features shifted with each labored breath, the way her hair framed her pale face. He wished he could somehow rewind time, go back to when everything was simple—when their conversations had been light-hearted, when they had joked around, and when he had only been thinking about how to avoid the inevitable, the conversation that had lingered in the back of his mind.

Do we have too much time left?

The question haunted him now, and the irony of it all hit him hard. He had told her they had plenty of time. He had avoided confronting the truth of what they could be—what they were, really. And now, as he watched her struggle for each breath, he realized just how much time they didn’t have. Time, which he had taken for granted, was slipping through his fingers. And all he could do was sit there, holding her hand, praying that time would stretch long enough for her to make it through, that he could have just a few more moments with her.

The moments stretched on, each one colder than the last. He refused to leave her side, even though his body ached with exhaustion. He had only slept for a few hours in the past two days, but the tiredness didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did except for Kaira’s recovery. His mind wandered back to the first time they met, the moments they had shared together, their late-night talks about their dreams, their fears, their futures. He never thought that this—this—would be where they were.

His fingers brushed against her cheek, a soft caress, trying to remind her that he was there. That he wasn’t going anywhere. His voice was a whisper, barely a breath. "Kaira... please... you’ve been so strong all this time, don’t stop now. Please don’t leave me."

The monitors hummed around them, the room quiet except for the sound of her shallow, labored breathing. His heart clenched every time her chest rose and fell with such difficulty. It felt like a fight against time—against the inevitable.

Minutes stretched into hours, and then, just when he thought he might lose all sense of reality, something shifted. It was subtle at first—a tiny movement, just a flicker of hope. Kaira’s hand, which had been limp in his, stirred. His breath caught. Could it be?

"Kaira?" he whispered, leaning closer, his voice shaking with hope. "Please... please, open your eyes."

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a slight flutter of her eyelids. Her lashes trembled as her eyes slowly opened. Shubman’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. It was as if time had paused for a second, and then everything rushed back in at once. Her eyes, though cloudy and distant, found his, and for a brief moment, they connected. He couldn’t find words, only a flood of emotions.

“Kaira,” he choked out again, his hand tightening around hers. “Oh God, you’re awake. You’re awake…”

Her eyes fluttered, as if the effort of staying awake was too much. She struggled to focus on him, her lips moving but no sound coming out. The mask on her face was the only thing keeping her alive, but it seemed to suffocate her at the same time. He could see her trying to speak, her chest rising with the effort.