Kismat Connection♡

Rudraksh

The colour faded from her face.

Someone whose body was trembling with guilt and shame just moments ago suddenly went numb. Something is wrong.

I moved to her side and took the phone from her, and the world shattered as I heard the news. I looked back at her—oh shit. I immediately knelt to her level, “Samyuktha, no, no, this isn’t the right time. Come back, don’t go there, bachcha, please.”

No, this isn’t right. She is building her walls, unresponsive. She is returning to that dark void. I shook her hard, trying to get any reaction, to bring her back. Slowly, a hint of recognition appeared as her hollow-looking eyes started focusing on me.

I sighed, held her in my arms, but then helped her to stand as we rushed to the hospital.

During the ride, tears wouldn’t stop, and I felt utterly helpless, unable to comfort her.

She looked restless, repeatedly itching her thighs—something she does when she is overwhelmed.

Gently, I took her hand in mine, and she turned to look at me. Her nose was running, and her eyes were brimming with tears.

“Don’t worry, they are strong. They will be fine.”
My words only made her cry harder. She murmured something I couldn’t understand, squeezing my hand.

We reached the hospital and hurried into the emergency ward, where they were in surgery.

The hospital was alive with urgency. Corridors flooded with people—families clutching files, anxious faces scanning every nurse passing by. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air, barely masking the mix of sweat, fear, and urgency. As I looked for Ayaansh in the crowd, I noticed Samyuktha had disappeared beside me. No longer by my side, my heart pounded as I searched the crowd, and there she was—standing still in the middle of the corridor like a statue.

My eyes widened as I rushed to her. Seeing her face, it was as if someone had slapped her. Her face paled, her eyes fixed on the same abyss that had swallowed her. As if she returned to the present, she looked around; this place was suffocating her. Her breathing grew heavier with each second, struggling to stand. I hurried to her before her legs gave way.
“Samyuktha, come with me.”

There is so much more than she ever told me. Her reaction suggested she had suffered this pain before, had been broken before, and now she is breaking again. What is it? We haven’t even reached the ward, and she is already at her breaking point. Some things are difficult, but we must face them anyway.

No matter how hard it is for her, she has to go there - for her parents, for her brother, she has. We walked through the corridors, and there was Ayaansh, sitting on one of the hospital benches and staring blankly at the wall. His face displayed no emotion; he seemed surprisingly calm given the circumstances. Although he was barely an adult, there was no trace of innocence on his face, and he suddenly appeared older than his years.

Perhaps noticing my gaze or hearing the sound of sniffles, he turned to us. Seeing her sister stirred something within him, prompting him to stand and close the distance between them. He reached for her, enveloping her in a comforting hug.

And that hug was what she needed, and the fragile sniffling broke into a hard sobbing as her legs gave up. And while she sobbed harder, burying her face against her brother's chest, hugging her brother, her whole body trembling with every cry, clutching him as if he were the only thing she needed. He held her still, his hand resting on her back and rubbing it to give her comfort. His eyes— dark and wet- betrayed what his lips couldn’t do.

A pang of pain I felt in my chest, not just for my wife, but for both these siblings. Going through something like this is something no one should ever experience. And even though she betrayed me, something I couldn’t cope with, but still saw her in pain, my chest clenched, almost making it unbearable for me.