Page 110 of Broken Destiny

Thank God.

It could have been worse… so much worse.

The nurses positioned her carefully beneath the surgical light, and I moved closer immediately, reaching for her hand again, wrapping my fingers around hers.

“I’m right here, Jiya,” I whispered near her ear. “You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby.”

She did not respond.

Her eyes remained closed, her breathing steady but slow, and the silence from her frightened me.

As the doctor stitched the wound on her head, I stayed beside her. Every careful movement of the needle made my chest constrict. My thumb moved gently over the back of her hand, tracing slow circles.

I was not leaving her.

Not for a test.

Not for a minute.

Not until I knew she was safe.

Several hours later,I had barely sat down beside her bed after speaking to the doctor again when I saw Jiya’s fingers twitch slightly against the blanket.

I immediately pushed my chair closer, my pulse quickening as her eyes began fluttering open.

“Hey,” I said softly.

I cupped her face gently between my hands, needing her to feel my presence, to know she was safe.

“You’re okay. You’re fine.”

Her breathing quickened instantly, and her eyes darted around the room before locking onto mine. Her fingers curled tightly into the bedsheet as her eyes searched mine for answers.

“What happened?” she asked, reaching up to touch her head.

Her fingers brushed against the bandage wrapped around it, and she glanced down at her hands, noticing the dried traces of blood.She tried to push herself upright and winced immediately, her right arm shifting awkwardly in the sling.

“We were in an accident,” I explained.

I slipped one arm carefully behind her back and helped her sit upright, supporting her weight.

“A drunk man ran a red light and slammed into our car on your side.” I searched her face. “How are you feeling now?”

“I’m all right. Are you okay?”

I sat down beside her and gave her a small, reassuring smile, holding her gaze.

“I’m fine if you’re fine,” I said quietly.

A loose strand of her hair fell across her cheek, and I reached up and gently tucked it behind her ear.

The curtain moved again, and a doctor stepped inside, breaking the silence between us.

“How are you feeling?” asked the young, ginger-haired man.

“I-I’m fine... I’m good,” she replied.

“That’s good,” he said, glancing down at the chart in his hand. “We had to stitch and bandage the cut on your head. You do have a mild concussion, and we did find some swelling in your right arm, hence the sling.” He looked back at her and continued, “You need to rest and relax for a week. I have prescribed some painkillers and anti-inflammatories that you need to take every day after food. Any questions?”