Page 30

ANYA

It’s been four hours. Now, I don’t like to sound desperate, but the way he left, the heartbreaking look on his face, has me worried, and there’s this gnawing feeling in my chest that even if he said no, I should have followed him anyway. I regret sitting here. I look at the books I have open in front of me, but it’s all for show. I cannot understand a single word. I can’t even call him, and he is not replying to my texts. I run a hand through my hair.

I glare at the open textbook in front of me, the words blurring together into an incomprehensible mess. My pen hovers over a highlighted line. God, I am scared. I hope his father is fine. Almost unconsciously, my hand moves to the small golden pendant hanging around my neck—a gift from my grandmother before she died. It’s a tiny figure of Ganesh Ji, who happens to be the remover of obstacles. I close my eyes, my fingers tracing the familiar contours of the pendant.

Please let everything be okay , I pray. My phone sits silent and mocking beside the books, his unanswered texts a painful reminder of how helpless I feel. I push the textbook away, leaning back in my chair and exhaling sharply, trying to shake off the suffocating sense of unease. There’s a knock on my door just then.

“Come in,” I call out. The door creaks open, and there he is—Daniel. His face is shadowed with exhaustion, his shoulders heavy with whatever weight he’s been carrying. For a moment, I’m too stunned to say anything, relief crashing over me like a tidal wave.

“You’re here,” I whisper, my voice betraying the mix of emotions swirling inside me: worry, frustration, and a tinge of anger at him for making me feel like this. How selfish.

Daniel steps in, closing the door behind him, his gaze meeting mine. “Siya let me in,” he says softly. I spring up from my chair.

Observing him carefully, I stand in front of him, unable to decide whether I should leap on him or not, because I want to hug him, tell him that it’s all going to be alright, when I don’t even know what’s wrong.

“He’s fine.” He smiles weakly. “Just dehydration and low blood pressure.” He cups my cheek, and I lean into his hand. “I am sorry for worrying you,” he says.

What the hell is wrong with this man? He is still caring for me, even in moments like this. I am angry now, because why can’t he stop and think about his own fucking self for once?

I take his hand and lead him to my bed. We sit there as I hold his hand. I am happy he came back here because there’s no way in hell I would have been at peace until I saw him.

I put my head on his shoulder. “You do know you will have to talk to me, right?” I frown.

He chuckles softly. “Yes,” he says. He exhales. “I thought I was going to lose him.” I look up at him. “He has lung cancer.” I suck in a breath. My eyes widen. He smiles almost painfully. “When I was driving there, Anya—” His voice breaks, and his tongue peaks out to wet his lips—“I realized if I lose him, too, I am going to be…” He looks at me, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I will be an orphan.” He laughs humorlessly. I tighten my grip on his hand, my heart breaking for him. I cannot imagine how he must be feeling.

“When Mom died,” he continues, his voice trembling, “I thought it was all over but—” He bites his lips.“---Dad was with me.” He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “What will I do now, Anya?” He tilts his head. My chest aches as I look into his eyes—eyes filled with fear and desperation, searching mine for something I don’t know if I can give. But I can’t let him see my uncertainty—not when he’s already so lost.

“You’ll take it one step at a time,” I say softly, brushing a strand of his hair out of his face. “And I’ll be with you at every step. I promise,” I say firmly, my voice unwavering. He might have been strong for everyone else his whole life, but I am going to show him that I can be strong for him.

He sniffles and looks away, blinking rapidly, as if to push back the tears threatening to spill. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he mutters, his voice thick with emotion. “This isn’t fair to you, Anya.”

I shake my head, placing a hand on his cheek and gently guiding his face back toward mine. “Don’t,” I whisper, my voice tender but firm. “Don’t shut me out. I care about you, Daniel, and I’m not going to let you face this alone. So stop trying to protect me from your pain. I want to share it.”

His lips tremble, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue, but instead, he nods. A single tear escapes, trailing down his cheek, and I catch it with my thumb, my heart breaking for him all over again.

As I look at him now, his walls crumbling and his emotions laid bare, I realize this is the first time I’ve truly seen him— really seen him. Daniel has always been the man who smiles through everything and carries the weight of the world on his shoulders with an ease that seems almost superhuman.

But here he is, no longer invincible, no longer perfect. Just human. I’ve always admired his strength and his unwavering positivity, but seeing this side of him—the raw, vulnerable side—makes me feel closer to him in a way I never expected. It’s not just the man who has everything together that I care for. It’s this version of him, too—the one who feels lost, afraid, and human.

My fingers linger against his cheek, tracing the path where the tear had fallen. I want to remember this moment, not because it’s painful, but because it’s real. His pain, his fear, his need for someone to lean on—these are parts of him he’s hidden away. He’s letting me see them. He’s letting me in. His gaze locks onto mine, and for a fleeting moment, I think I see something shift in his eyes. A crack in the armor he’s worn for so long. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand tightens around mine, as if holding on to me is the only thing grounding him right now.

And I don’t mind. I’ll be his anchor. I’ll be whatever he needs me to be. Because for the first time, I’m not just falling for the version of him I thought I knew. I’m falling for all of him.

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