Chapter 18 – A Crippled Man
White.
That was the first thing Krishna saw.
A white ceiling. White lights. A white smell of medicines in the air.
His eyes blinked slowly. His head felt heavy, like he had been sleeping for a very long time.
He tried to move.
His fingers moved slightly.
His lips parted.
A nurse who was checking the monitor suddenly froze.
Her eyes widened.
"He… he's awake," she whispered.
Krishna looked at her, confused. "Where… am I?"
But his voice did not sound like a grown man.
It was soft.
Innocent.
Like a five-year-old child who just woke up from an afternoon nap.
The nurse stepped back and rushed outside. Within seconds, hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor.
The door opened.
A woman walked in.
She was breathtaking. Calm face. Sharp eyes. But those eyes were shaking now.
She came closer, slowly, as if afraid that this moment would break.
"Krishna…" she called softly. "Are you okay?"
Krishna looked at her.
He stared for a long time.
"I… who are you?" he asked.
The words were simple. The tone was childish.
The woman's heart shattered silently.
Before she could respond, the doctor entered with the nurse. He examined Krishna carefully—his eyes, his reflexes, his responses.
After a few minutes, the doctor stepped aside and looked at the woman seriously.
"There has been damage to his brain due to the accident," he said quietly. "His mental state has regressed. Right now… his cognitive age is around five years old."
The woman's hands trembled. "Temporary?"
The doctor hesitated.
"It might be temporary. Or… it could take years. Maybe even a lifetime."
Her breath became unsteady.
"And there is something else."
She forced herself to listen.
"The nerves in his legs are severely damaged. They are not responding. As of now… he cannot walk. There is no guaranteed treatment. He may never walk again."
The room went silent.
The machines continued their soft beeping.
"My husband… can't walk?" she whispered.
Krishna, unaware of the weight of those words, was looking at the chocolate the nurse had left on the table.
He picked it up and smiled faintly.
"Can I eat?"
The nurse nodded weakly.
While he ate, he looked at the nurse again. "Who that girl?" he asked, pointing at the woman standing near his bed.
The nurse swallowed. "She is your wife."
Krishna frowned. "Wife?"
The word meant nothing to him.
The nurse hesitated. "She is… like your closest friend. A very special friend."
That seemed to satisfy him.
He turned to the woman. "Friend?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Yes," she replied softly. "I am Radha."
"Radha…" he repeated, as if memorizing it.
After the doctor and nurse left, silence filled the room again.
Krishna looked around nervously.
"I want to go home," he said suddenly. "Why I here?"
Radha took a deep breath. "You were sleeping for a long time, Krishna. Six years."
He blinked.
"Six?"
He couldn't understand time like that.
Radha wiped her tears quickly. "There's someone I want you to see."
She stepped toward the door and called softly.
A small girl entered.
Six and a half years old.
She had Radha's face.
But Krishna's eyes.
Sharp. Intense. Almost dangerously similar.
The little girl ran inside but stopped midway, afraid.
"Mom… is Daddy awake?"
Radha nodded.
The girl slowly walked closer.
Krishna looked at her curiously. "Who this?"
Radha's voice trembled. "She is our daughter."
He stared blankly.
Daughter.
It meant nothing.
Radha quickly adjusted. "She is like your small friend."
The girl looked at him carefully. "I will take care of Papa," she said seriously.
Krishna smiled innocently. "Okay."
To him, this was simple.
To Radha, it was unbearable.
—
Days later, Krishna was discharged.
He was brought to his home.
But it was not a normal home.
It was a palace.
A symbol of power.
A symbol of wealth.
A symbol of the Empress Group.
But inside that palace, the air was cold.
Judging eyes followed him as the wheelchair rolled forward.
Radha's mother stepped forward first.
"Why did you bring him back?" she snapped. "We told you years ago to let him go when he was in a coma. Now look at him. A cripple. A man who doesn't even remember you."
Radha's jaw tightened. "He is my husband."
"You are the CEO of the Empress Group!" her mother shouted. "How can you tie your life to someone like this?"
Her father stepped in, raising his voice as well. "Leave him. This is your final chance."
Krishna looked between them, confused.
"Why angry?" he asked softly.
His daughter suddenly stepped forward.
"Don't talk about my father like that!" she shouted at her grandparents. "If you say bad things again, I'll smash your head while you're sleeping!"
The old man's face darkened.
"How dare you!" He raised his hand to slap the little girl.
Before anyone could react—
A hand stopped him.
Krishna's hand.
He was still sitting in the wheelchair.
He didn't stand.
He couldn't.
But his grip was strong.
Shockingly strong.
For a man who had been in a coma for six years.
The old man tried to pull back.
He couldn't.
Krishna's eyes lifted slowly.
They were not childish now.
For one second.
Just one second.
They were something else.
Cold.
Heavy.
Ancient.
The old man felt his spine freeze.
Then Krishna blinked.
His expression returned to confusion.
"Don't hit small friend," he said simply.
He released the hand.
Everyone stood silent.
They told themselves it was nothing.
Just reflex.
Just coincidence.
But deep inside—
They knew.
This man was not ordinary.
Even broken.
Even forgotten.
Even crippled.
Krishna was still Krishna.
And somewhere, far away in the shadows—
Nameless felt a strange shift in the air.
As if a sleeping storm had just opened its eyes.
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Thank you for reading
Bye love all