Page 26 of Protect my Heart
CHAPTER 16
AARAV
I don’t know what to do. I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, my hands restless on my lap, heart thudding against my ribs. When Anika’s mother gained consciousness, Maa called us, and we hurried here, hearts in our throats. Only one person is allowed in at a time—doctor's orders, so it doesn’t overwhelm her. And I fully intend to let Anika be that one. Because, honestly, what would I even talk about with Aunty? We’ve grown apart... so much distance now, so many silent years stretching between us.
In childhood, her mother was like a second mother to me. I wasn't much of a talker back then; I’m still not, except with my family. It was usually Anika who did all the blabbering, eating my ears off with her endless stories and questions. And God, I liked it. I still do. Not that she talks to me much now. But if she did, I know—anger and all aside—I’d still listen, still find comfort in it. I remember telling Aunty things I could never say to Maa... not because Maa ever scolded me—no, she was always patient, always explaining rather than shouting—but some things... you just can’t tell your parents. No matter how kind they are. And Rekha aunty... she always knew. She knew I had a stupid little crush on Anika. Maa and Aunty, whenever they weretogether, would leave no chance to tease me mercilessly. I used to pretend to hate it. But secretly, it gave me hope.
If our mothers already approved... maybe I could dream a little bigger. Maybe I just had to win Anika over. But that’s all in the past now. She left me. She never looked back.
The door creaks open. Anika stands there, a strange bewilderment in her eyes.
I shoot up from my seat, my heart immediately pounding. “What’s wrong, Anika?” I ask, the alarm clear in my voice.
“She wants to talk to you,” she says, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion, her head tilting slightly like she can’t quite understand it herself. “I don’t know why she wants to talk to you... but she won’t tell me.” Her voice trails off, her gaze darting away. Her eyes... there's doubt swirling in them. She is doubting me.Anikadoesn't trust me. And that hurts more than I am willing to admit.
“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” I whisper, needing her to know it’s her call.
She’s right—what could Aunty possibly want from me? Knowing her... it’s probably to thank me. And like always, I won’t have any words for it.
“It’s okay. You can go,” she says, her voice flat. She turns and sits on the hospital bench, her face turned away, like I’m not even there. I hesitate, staring at her—willing her to look at me just once. But she doesn’t.
With a sigh, I gather myself and push open the door to the room.
Inside, Aunty is sitting upright, her frail form facing the window. The soft beeping of the monitors fills the otherwise quiet room.
She must’ve heard the door, because she slowly turns her head. Her eyes land on me—and then, she smiles. That same gentle smile I remember.
“You look handsome as always, Aarav,” she compliments with a small smile, her voice weak but full of affection. I nod awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Compliments make me uncomfortable at the best of times—more so now.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.
She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she pats the empty space beside her on the bed. I hesitate. There’s no way I’ll fit in that tiny space. I choose the chair instead, dragging it closer to her.
“We never got to talk,” Her smile fades a bit. “How are you, beta?” she asks softly.
“Fine,” my words come out short and stiff. I don’t know what to say. Then, to cut the thick tension and pending silence, I ask her, “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she says, her smile growing a little.
“Thank—” she starts.
I lift my hand, cutting her off. “No, please don’t say that.” I shake my head.
She chuckles lightly, a glint of mischief still alive in her tired eyes. “Not for this, Aarav. Thank you for marrying my daughter,” she completes her words. “Even when you didn’t have to. You could’ve walked away. But you didn’t.” I nod, my throattightening. I don’t regret marrying Anika. Not even for a second. Even when it feels like she doesn’t want me.
I thought—stupidly—that when I saw her again, all the love I used to feel would turn into hate. It didn’t. I can’t. I can’t hate her.
“Seems like you still like her, don’t you?” Aunty teases, nudging my hand playfully. I pull it back instinctively, my face darkening. She notices but doesn’t comment, her smile sad and understanding.
“Anika is the bravest, most beautiful person I know,” Aunty says, her voice trembling. “And I am so grateful she’s my daughter.”
I believe her. Every word. Unfortunately, I believe it with all my heart.
A single tear slips down her cheek. “When she was here... she had you. But when we shifted... she was so lonely.” Her voice breaks a little, her eyes glistening. “She didn’t know how to survive without you.” A pang stabs deep in my chest. If she missed me so much, why didn’t she call? Write? Anything? But I bite back the bitter questions. She’s already struggling to get the words out.
“She tried to be strong. God, she tried so hard.” Aunty’s gaze is far away now, trapped in memories that seem to pain her more than the illness. "I hated seeing her struggle." Her hand reaches out again. Hesitating, I take it. Her skin feels papery, fragile.
“Her father wasn’t a good man, Aarav,” she whispers.
