The Confrontation and Retreat
The former friends stood stunned by Dr. Runa's searing honesty. They finally understood the true depth of their cruelty and the cost of their petty jealousy. Their shame was palpable. Ayra, her face stern and unforgiving, sealed their fate.
"Please," she commanded, her voice quiet but absolute. "You've done enough damage. Leave this place. Now."
Humbled and broken, the group retreated, the weight of their betrayal a heavy cloak.
The Ultimate Risk
Hours later, the team of elite doctors emerged from Aryan's room, their faces etched with fatigue and concentration. The hallway instantly fell silent.
"We have assessed the situation thoroughly," the leading physician stated, his voice grave. "There is one conventional path: extended, specialized medication and rest. He might open his eyes in that scenario. But it could take months, years, even a decade. His recovery is completely uncertain."
He paused, letting the crushing weight of that prognosis settle.
"However," he continued, leaning forward, "we have devised a solution for instant recovery. A very aggressive surgical procedure."
Aryan's parents clung to the sudden spike of hope.
"The risk," the doctor added, his tone softening, "is immense. This procedure is delicate, dangerous, and requires the body to withstand extreme stress. If there is a minute mistake in our execution, or if his body simply does not cope—he will die. Instantly. We risk losing him in minutes."
The silence that followed was deafening. Aryan's life hung precariously on this single decision. His parents, already shredded by days of fear, looked to Runa.
Dr. Runa, placing her hand gently on Aryan's mother's shoulder, spoke with calm, professional conviction, masking her own terror. "Mom, Dad. The prolonged path means losing years of his potential, maybe losing him entirely to an unresponsive state. This surgery is his best chance at a full life, at Ayra. Let us give him this fight. We are the best, and we will operate with meticulous care."
Convinced by her assurance and driven by the sheer desperation for their son's life, his parents gave their tearful consent.
The Agony of the Operating Table
The procedure began. The surgical team moved with painstaking slowness. Inside the operating theatre, every breath was measured, every instrument placement precise. They operated with a profound gentleness, watching Aryan's vital signs like hawks. If any reading spiked, signaling that his damaged body could not bear the stress, they paused, allowing him to stabilize before resuming the delicate work of repairing compressed nerves and fragmented bone.
After what felt like an eternity, the team finished.
Runa walked out, her scrubs stained and her face exhausted but resolute. "We did our work perfectly," she confirmed to the anxious group in the hallway. "We have repaired the damage. Now, it's all up to God and Aryan. He needs to find the will to fight. We can only hope he has the blessings of God and opens his eyes soon. If not, we are helpless."
The waiting began. The entire family, friends, and Ayra formed a prayerful vigil, hoping their collective faith could provide the energy Aryan needed to survive.
The Subconscious Promise
In the terrifying silence of his unconsciousness, Aryan's mind was a battlefield. He was lost in the vast, dark ocean he once feared, struggling to find the compass point. He could vaguely hear Ayra's distraught voice from the phone, Runa's professional yet loving commands, and the fervent prayers of his parents.
Driven by an instinct deeper than consciousness, a simple, profound truth echoed in the abyss of his mind, the very essence of his fight for life:
"I Love my Life because you are there in my Life....I love you because you are my life."
--Aryan
The next day, as the vigil continued, the hallway was suddenly shattered by the sound of running feet. A nurse, gasping and pale, sprinted toward Aryan's family. Her eyes were wide with a mix of shock and wonder.
"Aryan..." she stammered, unable to finish the sentence.
TO BE CONTINUED...