Days turned into weeks.
Nitya lay still - eyes closed, heart beating, lost in a world no one could enter.
But Ayansh never stopped showing up. He brought her fresh flowers, played soft music in her room, and speak to her like she was listening. And maybe... she was.
Because sometimes, her fingers twitched. Sometimes, a tear rolled down her cheek with no sound, no reason.
And once, just once - when he touched her hand - her heartbeat spiked.
He didn't know her name. He didn't know her story. But he knew pain when he saw it.
Ayansh started to imagine her voice. He pictured her smile, he even dreamed of her - standing in the sun, barefoot, laughing.
One evening, as he sat besides her, the nurse said softly, "Why do you come here everyday for someone you don't even know? "
He just smiled.
" Because maybe... I was meant to. "
In another town, her family lit a diya everday. Still mourning, still broken, still unaware -
That the girl they buried in their hearts was still breathing.
And the boy they trusted, Ritik, was already planning what to do if her body was ever found.
But the storm wasn't over.
It was waiting.
Because Nitya...
was coming back