"Okay… then what about food?"
"You bring it," he said.
"Prepare for both of us and come near the hospital."
"At this time?" she asked, glancing at her son sitting nearby.
"Yes," he replied gently.
"But listen carefully—don't come inside."
She stayed silent, listening.
"When you reach near the hospital, call me. I'll come down and take the food."
"Okay…"
"And then you go back in the same auto," he added firmly.
"Don't stay here."
"What about you?" she asked softly.
"I'll eat here and stay with Akshatha."
She hesitated for a moment.
"And the boy?" he continued.
"He shouldn't be left alone at home… not in this situation."
Her eyes moved toward her son again.
He was already watching her, sensing something serious.
"I'll bring him with me," she said.
"Yes. Bring him. But don't let him get down. Stay in the auto."
"Okay," she agreed.
After the call ended, she quickly packed the food.
Simple… light… fresh ganji for Akshatha, and rice with curry her husband.
She wrapped everything carefully, making sure it wouldn't spill.
"Come," she told her son.
They stepped out and got into an auto.
The night air was cooler now, the roads quieter.
Her son sat close to her.
"Amma… is akka okay?" he asked.
"She's better now," she said, placing her hand on his head.
"Appa said she spoke."
The boy nodded slowly, a little relieved.
At the hospital, the auto stopped a short distance away.
She called Nagaraju.
"I've reached."
"I'm coming," he said.
Within minutes, he came down.
His face looked tired… but calmer than before.
She handed him the food bag.
"How is she now?" she asked immediately.
"She's stable," he replied.
"Don't worry."
She nodded, her eyes searching his face for reassurance.
"Give her the ganji slowly," she said.
"Not too much at once."
"I know," he said gently.
For a brief moment, they just looked at each other.
No words… but understanding.
From inside the auto, their son leaned forward.
"Appa…"
Nagaraju walked closer and touched his head.
"Be good. Stay with amma."
The boy nodded.
"Go now," Nagaraju said softly.
"Don't stay late."
She nodded and signaled the auto driver.
As the auto moved away, she turned back once… looking at him standing under the hospital light.
Nagaraju stood there for a moment.
Then he took a deep breath, turned around, and walked back inside.
Back to the ward.
Back to his daughter.
Nagaraju walked back into the hospital, the food bag held carefully in his hand.
The corridors were quieter now. The rush of the evening had faded, replaced by a slower, heavier silence.
He entered the general ward.
Akshatha was lying still, her eyes half-open.
She turned slightly as he approached.
"You didn't go home…" she said softly.
Nagaraju pulled the chair closer and sat down.
"No," he replied gently.
"I'll stay here tonight."
She looked at him for a moment… then gave a faint nod.
He opened the bag slowly.
"I brought food," he said.
"Amma made ganji for you."
At the mention of her mother, something softened in her expression.
He poured a little into a small cup and let it cool slightly.
"Try a little," he said.
He supported her gently as she tried to sit up.
Her body was still weak, movements slow and careful.
He held the cup near her lips.
"Slowly…"
She took a small sip.
Warm. Light. Easy.
After everything… it felt comforting.
She swallowed with effort but didn't resist.
"Good," he said softly. "Just a little more."
Between each sip, there was silence.
But it wasn't empty.
It was calm.
Inside her mind, the System observed quietly.
"Host… physical recovery has begun."
Akshatha responded faintly—
"Yes…"
After a few spoons, she turned her face slightly.
"No more…"
"Enough?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Okay," he said, not forcing her.
He adjusted her pillow and helped her lie down again.
"Rest now."
She closed her eyes slowly.
Nagaraju then opened his own food.
He ate quietly, sitting beside her.
Every few seconds, his eyes would shift back to her—checking, making sure she was okay.
Even while eating… his attention never left her.
After finishing, he packed everything neatly and placed it aside.
The ward lights were dimmed slightly.
Other patients were already asleep or resting.
Night had fully settled.
Akshatha lay still again.
To anyone watching—she was resting.
Nagaraju finished his food quietly and kept the tiffin box aside.
He looked at Akshatha.
She was sleeping peacefully now.
Her breathing was steady… her face relaxed in a way he hadn't seen the whole day.
A small sense of relief settled in his chest.
Slowly, he stood up and adjusted her blanket, making sure it covered her properly.
His fingers paused for a moment near her forehead… then he gently moved a strand of hair away.
"Sleep well…" he whispered.
He pulled the chair closer and sat down.
It wasn't comfortable.
The metal frame pressed against his back, and the armrest was slightly bent.
But he didn't care.
As long as he was beside her—it was enough.
He leaned back slightly and closed his eyes.
But sleep didn't come.
His mind… wouldn't stay still.
This accident…
It shouldn't have happened.
Not like this.
Not now.
In his previous life—
Akshatha never met with this accident when she was this young.
Things were different.
Completely different.
His breathing slowed.
Memories began to surface.
Clear.
Sharp.
Undeniable.
That life…
The accident came much later.
And that time—
It was worse.
Much worse.
Both of them…
Father and daughter…
Didn't survive.
His fingers tightened slightly on the armrest.
Even now, the memory felt heavy.
Cold.
Final.
But this—
This wasn't that timeline.
He opened his eyes slowly and looked at Akshatha again.
She was here.
Alive.
Breathing.
Recovering.
Then what is this?
At first, he had doubted himself.
Maybe it was shock.
Maybe fear was mixing his thoughts.
But then—
He saw his elder brother.
His sister-in-law.
Their children.
Everything exactly as it used to be—
Years ago.
Not slightly different.
Not changed.
Exactly the same.
That was when the realization became unavoidable.
This is not confusion.
This is not imagination.
I have come back.
Back to the past.
His heartbeat slowed as the thought settled fully.
And not just that—
He remembered everything.
Every mistake.
Every decision.
Every loss.
Including the biggest one—
His daughter.
His eyes softened as he looked at her again.
"This time…" he thought silently.
Things will be different.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I won't let it happen again."
His gaze became firm.
Not the fear-driven confusion from before.
But clarity.
This wasn't a second chance given without reason.
It was a warning.
And he understood it.
Behind him, the ward remained quiet.
The night deepened.
In the bed—
Akshatha slept.
On the chair—
Nagaraju finally closed his eyes again.
But this time—
Not with confusion.
With resolve.