Chapter- 21

The air seemed to thicken, pressing down on them, making it harder to breathe; each passing moment felt like walking through a suffocating silence. Eshita and Ekansh stood in two different corners, eyes fixed on the ER where Virendra had been taken moments ago.

Their heartbeats spiked, their thoughts spiraling out of control, guilt heaving down their shoulders far heavier than they had ever realized. None of them had words of comfort to offer; they didn't know where to start from or even how to face each other after everything that had been said.

Ekansh felt his chest tighten. He should have controlled himself. He should have been within his boundaries while telling the truth, rather than bursting like a volcano; he should have held back his anger, or better yet, he should have found a different way to approach instead of letting his anger cloud his judgment.

He didn't regret the questions he asked his father, but he regretted his way of approach, and the only thing haunting him was his questioning his father's love for him. That was his cross to bear. Now that what he asked repeated in his mind like a broken cassette, he didn't understand how to silence the storm within him.

Eshita blinked, staring at the door, waiting for the doctor to step out and tell them that their father was fine. Her heart twisted. Guilt clawed at her from within. She should have stopped her bhaiya; she should have at least defended her father, or better yet, found a different way to calm everything, but the truth of her brother's words stung in ways she couldn't help but relate to in that moment.

She should have said something earlier, but there they stood, ignoring their father's health, drowning in guilt, regret, and fear. She didn't know how to fix what had already begun to break.

The door of the emergency room opened, and the doctor stepped out. Ekansh and Eshita moved in sync, standing before him, their hands reaching out, holding onto each other, desperate and hoping for reassurance that everything was still fine.

"Doctor... Papa thik hai?" Eshita asked first, fragile hope lacing her voice.

"Your father is suffering from acute liver failure," the doctor informed gravely. "From the reports, it's found that the intake of alcohol is extreme over a prolonged period of time. Though he appeared fit and fine, the alcohol had damaged his liver beyond recovery."

"The condition... It's curable, right?" Ekansh asked, cutting him off. The more he heard, the more his mind dragged him back to the past.

Once, he had heard about his mother's condition with his father standing beside him. Now it was his father inside. Last time, he had held himself together because of the man who supported him... this time... he wouldn't be able to.

The doctor shook his head slowly. "He had stopped alcohol consumption abruptly, which can lead to weakness in the body, seizures, and sometimes even organ shutdown or collapse. The chances of surgery being successful at this stage are one percent."

He glanced at the siblings with sympathy in his eyes, "I am sorry... your father has only a few months left."

For a moment, the words didn't register.

Ekansh and Eshita stood there, frozen, unmoving, as if time itself had come to a halt.

Then, slowly, reality began to sink in. Their world started to collapse, quietly, painfully. Their hold on each other's hand loosened, fingers slipping apart; even that small support wasn't enough to hold them steady anymore.

The ground beneath their feet felt unsteady, like everything they knew was crumbling piece by piece. They weren't prepared for this.

Ekansh staggered back, Eshita sank down on the bench, the world tilting around them as if it had lost all sense of balance.

Ekansh felt the same sharp pain he once felt when the doctor had repeated similar words for his mother, the same lines, except for different conditions and different circumstances.

He glanced at Eshita, his body stilled for a moment before reality hit him like a tidal wave. He rushed to her side, sitting beside her, pulling her rigid figure into his warmth.

"Esha..." he began, only to trail off, not knowing what to say. The words of comfort and reassurance died down in his throat.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled back, cradling her face in his palm. Tears streaming down her face gave away the pain she was trying so hard to hold back.

"Esha... look at me," he coaxed.

Eshita lifted her gaze, meeting his steady ones. She tried to speak but couldn't muster the courage. She had already lost her mother; the pain of it still felt fresh. When she saw her batchmates talking about their mothers, their handmade food, the care... or even when she saw a mother-daughter duo anywhere, a pang of envy always rose in her heart. They had that one bond that was so irreplaceable in the world, while she was deprived of it too soon.

Now it was her father. She had so many complaints for him, so much anger, so many words to spit out, but here he was, slipping away from her before she could even say them aloud.

"I am so unlucky, Bhaiya," She whispered quietly. "Pehle maa... aur ab papa bhi. They don't love me... that's why... that's why they are choosing to leave me behind. Kya main itni buri beti hoon? Kya main kabhi acchi beti nahi thi ki unke saath yeh sab..."

"Shhh..." Ekansh pulled her back into his warmth. "You are the best daughter any parent could ask for, baache. God's gift maa and papa always prayed for."

He kissed her crown tenderly. "They both love you the most. Tujhse acchi beti iss duniya mein koi nahi apne parents ke liye. It's just..." His voice cracked a little, "not everything is in our hands. Kabhi kabhi zindagi ke kuch faisle hume Bhagwan ke haathon mein chod dene chaiye."

"I don't believe in your God," Eshita murmured against his chest. "Mom always prayed to Him for a happy family, for keeping us together... but He snatched her away from us. Dad... he always prayed for our well-being, but see where we are today. Bhagwan sirf unki sunte hain jinki woh sunna chahte hain. He ignored Mumma's prayers... and we are all paying the price. Agar woh... woh aaj hoti toh..."

"Toh hum yaha hote hi nahi, Eshu," Ekansh cut her off softly. "Agar Mumma hoti toh humari zindagi kuch aur hoti. Humare rishton mein jo faasle hain, woh kabhi hote hi nahi."

He felt the ache in every vein of his body. If his mother had been there, she wouldn't have let things stretch this far. If Abha hadn't entered their lives... if their father hadn't let his grief and alcohol speak for him... if he hadn't walked away...

There were so many what-ifs colliding inside him, only to crash against the harsh reality that nothing could be undone now. They had no choice but to face it...together.

✨✨✨

Eshita stumbled inside the ward on trembling feet. Ekansh went to meet the doctor for further details and precautions while she walked in to see her father. According to the nurse, he would stay here for a day before his condition became stable.

She walked up to the bed, her gaze fixed on her father, the tense crease on his forehead faintly visible under the dim lights. She reached out, running her hand over his forehead tenderly, her touch hesitant yet filled with unspoken longing.

Like magic, or love, her simple touch relaxed Virendra even in his unconscious state, as if somewhere deep within, he recognized his child's presence.

Eshita settled down on the small stool, reaching out to hold his hand in hers, clutching it like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Papa..." She whispered quietly, "I hate you..." She choked on her own lie instantly.

"Aap world ke sabse bure pita hai." Her eyes glistened with tears. "Jab main choti thi toh aap hi kehte the ki aap mere Santa Claus ho... Har Christmas par mere liye wahi gift leke aate the jo main socks mein likhti thi sone se pehle... You used to arrange it quickly within a few hours."

"Aur ab dikhaiye. Aap mujhe mauka bhi bhi de rahe hai aapni wish puri Krne ka. You are just running away like you always do. Kitne saal ho gaye... maine koi wish hi nahi maangi." She took a shaky breath, resting her cheek against his hand, seeking comfort in a warmth that now felt distant yet familiar. "Iss baar maang rahi hoon... Please sab kuch theek kar dijiye, Dad. I-I can't deal with all this... Bhaiya toh abhi abhi aaye... Aur ab aap... Mujhe meri poori family saath mein chaiye, papa... please..."

A sob escaped her lips. Tears trickled down her face, falling silently, landing on Virendra's hand, marking every unspoken pain she had buried inside.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she buried her face in Ekansh's midriff, her body wrecked with uncontrollable sobs and helplessness. She had had enough. Why couldn't she have all the love she craved at the same time? Why did it always come at the cost of losing someone else? Why was everything so broken and out of her control?

Ekansh blinked away his tears, switching to his stoic self. His sister needed him the most at this moment; he couldn't let his pain, his anguish, spill over onto her. He locked it all away behind quiet strength.

He glanced at his father once before looking away, gently pulled Eshita up on her feet, and guided her out. He wouldn't let her fall apart... the way he once had.

Ekansh opened the water bottle he brought earlier and helped her drink. The tremor in her hands worried him, each shake reminding him how close she was to breaking down.

"Eshu... relax," He whispered softly, making her sit on the bench.

"Dad theek ho jayenge." He lifted her face, making her look at him, wiping away her tears.

"I talked to the doctor... according to him, there are still chances of surgery," He added, trying to sound hopeful even when his own voice lacked conviction.

"One percent, bhaiya..." Eshita reminded him, shaking her head, looking away. She was hoping for more, some miracle, something certain, anything but hanging on a thread, balancing between hope and fear. She didn't know how to do that... not when it was about her family. Logic walked out of the window, leaving behind raw emotions only.

Ekansh's heart clenched at her words. Once, he had faced the same turmoil... replied the same way to his father, losing every inch of hope. Subconsciously, he wanted everything to be perfect and fine like they were before, but his conscious mind knew the truth, knew the harsh reality they couldn't escape from.

Seeing that same version of himself, so broken, so defeated, in his baby sister's eyes, he didn't know what more he could offer. The doctor had stated clearly to him that even that one percent chance was fragile and uncertain... and if the surgery didn't go well, they might lose.... He shook his head, refusing to walk down that path.

Quietly, he sat beside his sister, offering silent support, just like how his father once had for him. Sometimes words felt meaningless before the pain that had no answers.

✨✨✨

Night cloaked the world like a blanket of heavy silence and unspoken longing. The hospital corridor was quiet, still, and eerily calm after the chaotic day.

Ekansh took a deep breath, composing his emotions. He grasped the cold knob, pushing the door open. Half an hour ago, he had sent Eshita home; the hospital was the last place he wanted her to spend her night. He was there to be with their father; he couldn't let her fall apart seeing him still unconscious, attached to those wires and IV drips. He could endure that pain for both of them.

However, as he walked in, his steps froze. He couldn't bring himself to move beyond the threshold, his feet rooted to the ground. Memories flickered back, sharp and unforgiving, his mother lying on the bed when the doctor had announced she had only a few minutes left.

His walking in, shattered and terrified, yet there was a smile on her face, as if she was at peace, as if she was fine with whatever was happening... as if she was fine even with him walking away from her days ago. He had hurt her with his words, hadn't spoken to her for a whole week, and now he stood there in her last moments, not being able to gather his words, not even a simple apology.

"Ansh..." Anvita called out to him, her hand lifting in his direction, weakly to hold her son one last time.

Ekansh rushed in, reaching for her hand, but before he could fully grasp it, her grip loosened. Her hand dropped lifelessly, the machine went flat with a piercing, continuous beep, and just like that, everything ended.

The unspoken apologies, the words, the love, the promises... or even the chance to make things right, everything ended cruelly, like a punishment he deserved for not understanding his mother's health, for being angry at her, for hurting her when she was already suffering.

Ekansh stared at his father. His trembling hand reached for the only hand that remained on his head like a blessing for life, holding onto it the only anchor keeping him from falling apart. He couldn't afford to lose it too... not again. Tears fogged his eyes, blurring the present with the ghosts of his past.

"D-dad..." He whispered quietly, pressing his forehead against Virendra's hand, "I am sorry..." He murmured into the quietness of the night.

He looked up at his father. "Please, dad... ek baar uth jaiye. Mujhe bas aapse apne sawalon ka jawab chaiye the. Aapko iss haalat mein dekhna nahi chahta tha main. I-I just wanted to set everything right with you, dad... not without you."

"Esha... usse aapki sabse zyada zaroorat hai." His voice cracked. "I failed, Mom... I don't want to fail you. Please, Dad... just get up. Ab aur nahi ho raha mujhse."

The nurse had told him his father should have woken up a few hours ago. The sedative had already worn off, and when she tried to wake him earlier, he hadn't budged. Even his BP was high. His condition was supposed to improve; he had fainted due to the lack of withdrawal alcohol in his system, but the more he remained asleep, the more fear clung to Ekansh, tightening around his chest in an invisible grip.

Feeling the tug at his hand, Ekansh's head snapped up. He rose to his feet as Virendra opened his eyes groggily.

Ekansh reached out, pressing the call button. He leaned forward, "Dad...?"

Virendra blinked, looking around the room. His gaze landed on Ekansh, and like a sudden surge of reality hitting him all at once, everything came crashing down, the last arguments, or better yet, the questions his son had asked him. Even before he could reply to them... he had fainted.

He looked around the room for his daughter, but not finding her, his heart squeezed painfully. His youngest one was the kindest soul ever; even after everything he had done to her, he was sure she might be crying for the man who had inflicted wounds on her, both physically and emotionally.

At times in life, death felt better, like an escape from the weight of one's own guilt and mistakes. It didn't show signs of cowardice or weakness; it was simply giving in when the burden became too heavy to carry, being done with everything.

When he had fainted in his children's arms, he felt he was done with life... but now that he opened his eyes again, noticing the tears in his son's eyes and already imagining his daughter's broken state...

He refused to escape the consequences of his actions. Not even death was allowed to welcome him so easily just yet. He wanted to set everything right for his children, and he would. Only then would he be able to look at his wife and tell her he failed... but he didn't run away from his responsibilities till the very end.

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