Dr. Sinha's voice trailed off, the final words of his explanation settling into the room like dust. Silence followed—thick, hesitant, and unbearably heavy.
Everyone stood still, processing what had just been said. The proof was undeniable now. There was no more speculation, no more quiet doubts. He had made his point. Riya—the girl who had been lost to the world for so long—wasn't gone. She was there. And she was listening.
Rajveer stood by the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his eyes never left the bed. Vikram sat in the chair closest to her, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together, as if holding on to something fragile.
Riya lay motionless, the same as she had for months, but something about her felt different now—more present. More alive.
Then it happened.
So soft, so brief, it could've been imagined.
"Dhruv…"
The name slipped from her lips like a forgotten whisper, fragile and full of meaning.
Vikram's head snapped up. "Did she just—did she say Dhruv?"
Dr. Sinha nodded slowly. "She did."
Vikram stared at his sister, mouth slightly open in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?" He stood, walking to the side of her bed. "I've been here every single damn day, talking to her, reading to her, even watched that stupid drama she loved, and the first name she says is Dhruv?"
He looked around the room, throwing his hands in the air. "Unbelievable. My baby sister doesn't care about me anymore. I'm just background noise now."
A smile slipped onto Rajveer's face—quiet, unexpected, and fleeting—but real. The tension in the room eased just a fraction. Even Dr. Sinha chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.
Vikram leaned down, brushing a hand over her forehead, gentling. "At least say my name next time, huh? Just once. Make me feel important."
But Riya didn't respond again. The room had fallen still, but it was no longer the same kind of silence. Now, it was charged—with hope, with memory, with something unspoken.
And though her eyes were still closed, everyone there felt it.
Rana looked around the room, confusion etched deep in his features. "This is… strange. She's never even met Dhruv, they met only as kids."
Rajveer didn't respond right away. He stood still, eyes on Riya, jaw tight with thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, weighted."She didn't. Riya never crossed paths with Dhruv."
He turned slightly, facing the others now, his expression unreadable. "And Dhruv—he never lets anyone close except Sruthi and after her disappearance you all know how he is. He's built walls no one can climb. Ruthless with everyone, even colder with his family."
Rana's brows furrowed. "But if that's the case—"
Rajveer raised a hand to stop him. "Getting him involved with Riya… will be impossible. It might backfire he would never allow someone in Sruthi's place even if it's for act. He'd walk away without a word. Or worse."
The silence returned, heavier this time.
Rajveer's eyes flicked to the girl on the bed. "But why… Riya why. Of all names, his."
The silence was broken by Saratha's trembling voice.
"I still don't understand what's happening," she said, her gaze fixed on her daughter. "They told us she was brain dead… that there was no coming back. They asked us to prepare ourselves. To let go."
Her voice cracked. "But I couldn't. I sat by her every day, hoping for something—anything. And then one day… she just started breathing on her own. Out of nowhere. Like life had returned to her body."
She looked at everyone, eyes wide with fear and confusion. "But that's not all. That same day, something strange happened."
Rajveer's brows drew together. "What do you mean?"
Saratha hesitated, swallowing hard. "A scar. Just above her heart. Like a gunshot wound. It wasn't there before. I swear on everything—it just… appeared."
Rajveer stiffened instantly. "A gunshot scar?"
Saratha nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Doctors were baffled. They ran tests, checked old reports. There's no medical reason. No surgery, no injury. But it's there now, like it had always been."
She blinked away tears. "And today, out of nowhere, she says Dhruv's name. She hasn't met for decades. She doesn't know him. She's always been close to her brother, to us. Why would his name be the first thing she says?"
The room fell into stunned silence.
Rajveer's gaze lingered on Riya's still form, his jaw tight. The scar. The name. The impossible recovery.
Rajveer took a sharp step forward, his voice uncharacteristically urgent. "Wait. This scar… are you absolutely sure it wasn't there before?"
Saratha nodded slowly, confused. "Positive. I've cared for her every single day. I would've noticed something like that."
Rajveer swallowed hard. "Where exactly is it?"
Saratha glanced at Vikram, who shifted uncomfortably. "Left side. Just above the heart. Like someone shot her—clean wound, perfectly healed, like it's been there for years."
Rajveer's breath caught in his throat.
His fingers lifted instinctively, hovering just over his own chest—the same spot. Left side. Just above the heart.
The room seemed to tilt slightly. Air left his lungs in a staggered rush, and for a moment, he couldn't hear anything but the sudden, racing pulse pounding in his ears.
No. It couldn't be.
It was impossible.
But the scar. Dhruv's name. The timing. The cold, brutal truth that began clawing its way out from the darkest corners of his mind was something he didn't dare say aloud.
Not yet.
Rajveer took a step back, his gaze fixed on Riya's still form like she might open her eyes and confirm the nightmare dancing behind his own. "It can't be…" he whispered to himself.
Rajveer's throat was dry as he turned sharply to Rana. "Can I… see it?"
Rana paused, startled by the weight in his voice. He studied Rajveer carefully. The calm, calculating man who never faltered now looked like he was standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying.
Rajveer never asked without reason.
Something about his reaction—his haunted expression, the way his hand had hovered instinctively over his own chest—sent a chill through Rana.
Without another word, Rana stepped outside and called the nurse. He returned moments later and nodded toward her. "Please… show us."
The nurse hesitated only a moment before moving toward Riya's bed. With practiced care, she unbuttoned the top of the hospital gown and gently pulled it aside to reveal the scar.
There it was.
Clean. Precise. A faint circle of pinkish skin, healed long ago, resting just above her heart. A wound with no past—but all the weight of a story untold.
Rajveer's entire frame froze.
His eyes widened, jaw slack. "No… no way," he whispered, stumbling back a step like the floor had shifted beneath him. "It's not possible. It can't be…"
His hand lifted, pressing over his own chest again, right over the same spot. His fingers trembled.
Rana immediately stepped forward, alarmed. He had never seen Rajveer shaken like this. "Rajveer?" he said cautiously, eyes flicking between him and Riya. "What is it?"
Rajveer didn't answer. His lips moved but no sound came out.
"Everyone out," Rana ordered suddenly.
The nurse, Saratha, and the others left without protest. Even Dr. Sinha moved toward the door, but Rana stopped him. "Doctor, stay. Vikram you too."
The door clicked shut, leaving only four men in the room—Vikram, still pale and stunned; Dr. Sinha, tense with curiosity; Rajveer, who looked like he'd seen a ghost; and Rana, who now faced him squarely.
Rana's voice dropped low. "Rajveer, look at me. What did you just figure out?"
Rajveer's eyes were still locked on the scar. When he finally tore them away, he looked at Rana, barely managing to speak.
"I've seen that scar before," he said, voice hollow. "I've… seen it on someone else."
Vikram's brows drew together in confusion "Who ?"
He opened his mouth, but the words caught. He dragged a shaky hand through his hair, then let out a breath that trembled with the force of what he was holding back.
"I've seen it… on Shruti," he said finally, almost too quiet to hear. "She had that exact scar. Same place. Same shape. She got it… protecting Dhruv."
Vikram blinked, confused. "Shruti? Who's Shruti?"
Rana didn't speak. His face had gone blank—not with confusion, but with something far heavier.
Rajveer turned slightly, his voice steadier now, but colder. "Shruti was the only person Dhruv ever cared about. The only one who could touch his soul, calm his rage. She was—his world."
Vikram frowned, still trying to catch up. "Wait. Are you saying— no where is Sruthi now"
Rajveer let out a tired breath. "No one knows, Vikram. Not me, not anyone. She and her brother disappeared without a trace. No messages, no leads… just gone. Back then, everyone assumed she left Dhruv because of some misunderstanding. That's all we could think of."
He looked toward the girl lying silently, then turned back to Vikram, voice low but certain. "I didn't want to believe it," Rajveer said quietly. "But if it's not Riya lying there… if it's Shruti… then doesn't everything that's happened suddenly make sense?"
Vikram's voice cracked as he stared at the doctor. "But… it's Riya. Not Shruti. That's my sister there."
Dr. Sinha didn't respond immediately. He studied Rajveer for a long moment, then spoke calmly but firmly. "Are you saying that Riya really died that day?"
Vikram froze. "What… what are you talking about?"
"You remember the day we told you there was no hope," the doctor continued. "Minimal brain activity. Her heartbeat was sustained only through support. All our scans confirmed what we feared—Riya was gone. Medically, emotionally, mentally. Everything we did after that was just to keep the body breathing."
"But now," he said, gesturing toward the room, "Riya is breathing by herself without any support. And she has a scar—one that appeared when we saved her, with no medical explanation."
He stepped closer, his tone heavier. "If what you're implying is true… if Riya was really gone back then… then maybe we weren't wrong. Riya did die that day only her body might have survived."
The words echoed in the room like a slow detonation.
Rana sat still, the weight of the words sinking into his bones like a slow poison. His breath hitched, but he didn't react. Not outwardly. No loud gasp, no tears — just a terrifying stillness. His world had paused, the noise around him muffled by the pounding in his ears.
"Ria did die that day only her body might have survived"
The words echoed, over and over, slicing through him with each repetition. He had raised Riya, watched her take her first steps, held her through every fever, every nightmare. Now the thought that her soul, her essence — the laughter, the stubbornness, the fire — might be gone? It was too cruel to grasp.
His lips parted slightly, trembling, but no sound came. There was no space for grief yet. Only disbelief.
Beside him, Vikram's face had turned pale, every trace of color draining away as if someone had pulled the life out of him too. His chest rose and fell in uneven heaves, as if breathing had suddenly become a battle.
"No..." he whispered, barely audible. His hands shook as he clenched them into fists. "No, she can't be gone. She—she fought... she always fought."
The silence that followed was sharp and merciless.
Rana finally looked at Vikram, his eyes red but dry, as if the tears were too proud to fall yet. "We need to know for sure," he said, his voice like sandpaper.
The doctor took a deep breath, eyes scanning the monitors one last time before nodding slightly. "We can confirm… there's brain activity. She's responding."
He stepped aside, giving room to the man who had barely breathed since entering the room. Slowly, almost in disbelief, he walked toward the fragile figure on the hospital bed.
Kneeling beside her, his voice cracked as he whispered, "Riya…"
No response.
He hesitated… then, with a trembling breath, "Shruti? Can you hear me?"
A beat of silence.
Then, her fingers twitched.