The Last Interview
Years passed, pulling Aryan away from the brink of self-destruction. The harshness in his eyes had softened, his demeanor was no longer volatile, and he was gradually behaving well enough for his parents and friends to believe he was "cured."
But inside, a steel conviction had replaced his love: "A girl cannot have true love. True love is not possible for a girl."
Every suggestion of marriage was met with a shout, driven by the belief that any woman would only ruin his life and undervalue his affection. He was a cautionary tale, a former big shot known as much for his academic prowess as for his catastrophic downfall due to love.
He agreed to a public interview about his life experiences. He spoke eloquently about his career peaks and his devastating accident. Finally, he concluded, his voice heavy with bitterness: "I learned a harsh lesson. Girls today, generally, do not understand the value of love or being loved."
The interviewer looked disappointed. Aryan leaned forward and delivered the final, painful blow: "Maybe some women do," he said. "But not my Ayra."
He had cemented his narrative: Ayra was the heartless villain, the definitive proof of his cynicism.
The Collapse of Control
That night, after the interview, Aryan sat on his balcony, trying to catch the cool night air. The time was just past nine. A strange, suffocating discomfort washed over him. He felt an unusual sense of fatigue, and his breathing became shallow and difficult. Fear, cold and immediate, sent him rushing to Dr. Runa's apartment.
Runa opened the door, her face betraying her anger from watching his interview.
"Runa, I'm having trouble breathing. I feel exhausted—"
"I am a girl too, Aryan," Runa interrupted, her voice shaking with controlled fury. "And I don't know how to love. So I'm heartless. Don't talk to me!"
Aryan, desperate and confused, tried to reason with her. "Runa, what are you talking about? Not everyone is like that! Everyone is good at loving, but not Ayra. I thought she would be my part of life, but she left me, ruining all the best parts of it."
Runa could hold her carefully constructed anger no longer. Her disappointment in his warped perspective exploded. To stop the hateful words from leaving his mouth, she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face.
Aryan froze, shocked into silence.
Runa, tears streaming down her face, struck him again. "Who said Ayra doesn't know how to love? Who told you, stupid?" she cried out, her voice raw with grief and rage.
Aryan, utterly disoriented, clutched his burning cheek. "Why the hell are you hitting me? How do you know if she loved me?"
Runa took a staggering breath. "She made us promise not to tell you. But now... now I have to. It's necessary."
Aryan stepped back, confusion giving way to a terrifying anticipation. "Tell me clearly. What are you saying?"
The Immortal Love
Runa gripped his arm, forcing him to listen. "You said you wanted Ayra to be a part of your life. But Ayra gave her whole life to you, Aryan. Her love is immortal. It will be with you until you pass away."
Aryan felt cold. "Tell me exactly what happened! How am I alive, Runa?"
Runa's voice dropped to a barely audible, broken whisper. "After the surgery, when you first responded, your heart—the shock you endured in the accident—it left your heart severely damaged. It was weakening day by day. I told Ayra the truth: 'Ayra, Aryan may live for only a few more days. His heart is failing. He will die for sure.'"
Runa was sobbing openly now. "Ayra's only reply was: 'Aryan dreamed a beautiful life. He must live. His aim must become true.'"
"How am I alive, Runa?" Aryan demanded again, the panic returning.
Runa looked at him, her eyes pools of grief. "You said her leaving ruined your dream life, Aryan. But she knew that your beautiful, achieved world needed its king to rule. She knew your greatest dream was to succeed. People say a mother's love is holy. Aryan, Ayra gave you the life you are living now."
Runa paused, forcing the ultimate truth upon him. "The strange feeling you have now—the difficulty breathing, the tiredness—it's because your damaged heart needed to be replaced to survive. Ayra gave you her heart. She closed her eyes to open yours."
Aryan staggered back, a devastating truth hitting him with the force of the truck he survived. The final sentence of her letter—"The one whom I loved a lot is my attitude of not to fall in love"—was not about an attitude. It was a shield, a lie to ensure his anger was directed at her memory, not at his debilitating guilt. She wanted him to hate her so he could live freely.
The final words of Runa echoed in the silent room: "Now tell me, Aryan, does Ayra not know how to love?"
Aryan was utterly, violently broken. He had planned to share his life with her, but she had given herself entirely to him.
He felt the beat of the new heart within his chest—her heart, her life. He dropped to his knees, his face contorted in agony. He had decided to leave this world without her, but Runa's words stopped him.
"This life you have now is not yours, Aryan," she cried. "It's Ayra's. Let her live in you as long as God's call allows."
Aryan bowed his head, grasping the magnitude of her sacrifice.
My love was only up to sharing my life with her. Her love was up to giving herself entirely so I could live.
He rose to his feet, a vessel carrying an immortal love. He threw his head back and let out a huge, agonizing shout that echoed the depths of his soul, a final, fervent declaration to the woman who was now eternally a part of him:
"LOVE YOU AYRA!!!!!"