• Eternal Night •

44

The door creaked open quietly, and Shivaay, still lying in his bed, didn't need to look up to know who it was. There was only one person who could enter his room with such calm, a steady presence that always made him feel as though everything would somehow be okay. The moment Mallika stepped into the room, he felt a wave of comfort, though he was too exhausted to even pretend to be composed.

She didn't say a word. She didn't need to. Instead, she walked silently over to his side and without hesitation, pulled him into a tight hug. Her arms were strong, comforting, like an anchor in a sea of uncertainty. For a few seconds, the entire world seemed to stop. Shivaay, who had been holding everything in for days, felt the dam he'd carefully constructed begin to crack.

No one had seen him like this—not even Anika, despite their many struggles. He had been so careful to maintain his composure, to stay strong for her, for everyone else around him. But here, with Mallika, in the quiet of the room, he didn't have to be strong. He just had to be himself—the vulnerable, scared version who wasn't sure if he'd survive the next few hours, let alone the surgery.

Shivaay's chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, he let out a shaky breath, followed by a broken sob. He buried his face in her shoulder, gripping her like she was the only thing holding him together.

Mallika didn't speak. She just held him, her hand gently rubbing his back in steady, rhythmic circles. There was no rush, no pushing him to talk, just an unwavering presence. For the first time in a long while, Shivaay felt the overwhelming weight of his emotions pour out, as though the dam inside him had finally broken. His tears weren't just from fear of the surgery, though that fear was there—so sharp, so real—but they were also tears of exhaustion. Exhaustion from pretending, from hiding behind the walls he had so carefully built around himself.

Mallika was one of the few who had known him long enough to understand his need for control, his fear of losing it. Yet here she was, helping him lose that control without any judgment. And for that, Shivaay couldn't thank her enough.

After a long moment, when the sobs began to quiet, Shivaay pulled away, wiping his eyes hastily with the back of his hand, trying to regain some composure. But there was no hiding it now, the rawness of the situation, the vulnerability he had only shown to a select few. He looked at Mallika, his voice hoarse.

"Mallika..." He swallowed hard, as if his throat had a lump in it. "Thank you. I don't... I don't know what I would do without you."

She smiled softly, brushing his hair away from his forehead with a tenderness that made his heart ache. "You don't have to thank me. You never have to thank me for this, Shivaay. I'm here. I'll always be here."

He nodded, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. It wasn't just the words that comforted him, but the way Mallika was there—fully present, no pretense, no demands. She just understood.

But as the silence lingered, she suddenly pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Alright, now I'm going to ask you for something."

Shivaay raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to expect. "What's that?"

Her eyes sparkled as she leaned in closer, and her voice dropped in mock seriousness. "I need you to promise me something. When I get married—whenever that happens—you will be my bridesmaid."

Shivaay blinked, his mind struggling to process the request, then let out a small laugh—though it was shaky, not quite the usual easygoing laugh everyone was used to hearing from him. "Bridesmaid? You mean the best man or something?"

Mallika rolled her eyes dramatically, her voice filled with playful mockery. "Oh, please, Shivaay. Bridesmaid! You're going to wear the dress, carry the bouquet, and do a dance routine at the reception. I'll make sure of it."