Chapter 25

The days were slowly passing by, and with each one, Vikram’s progress seemed to take another step forward. His legs, once stiff and resistant, were beginning to cooperate more, each motion becoming more natural, though still a challenge. It wasn’t easy, but it was happening. And he could feel the difference in his body—and in his heart.

The therapy sessions were hard, exhausting, sometimes discouraging. But Tara’s steady presence was the constant that kept him going. There were days when his body ached and he wanted to give up, but Tara would be there, always encouraging him, always by his side, never pushing too hard, but never letting him stop either.

“Come on, Vikram,” she would say with a smile that made everything seem possible. “You’ve come so far. A little more today, and we’ll be one step closer.”

And each time, he would push himself harder, feeling that spark of determination light up in his chest.

One afternoon, after a particularly intense therapy session, Vikram found himself seated in his wheelchair by the open window. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the room, and the faint sound of birds chirping outside was soothing. He had been thinking about Tara, thinking about everything she had done for him—how she had never given up on him, even when he had given up on himself.

He couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve someone like her in his life. Tara had come into his world like a whirlwind, bringing warmth and light with her. She had been patient, understanding, always encouraging, always there. And as much as he hated to admit it, as much as he tried to keep his distance, there was no denying the bond they had formed.

Vikram glanced down at his hands, resting on his lap, the palms slightly sweaty from the exertion of the day’s exercises. The soft ticking of the watch on his wrist, Tara’s father’s watch, caught his attention. The simple yet meaningful object was a constant reminder of how much Tara had given him—how much she had shared with him, even when he had been reluctant to accept it.

He turned his wrist slightly, gazing at the watch as its hands moved in slow, steady circles. There was something symbolic about it—the ticking of the watch, the steady passage of time. He had been so caught up in his past, so consumed by his own pain and guilt, that he hadn’t allowed himself to see what was in front of him. But now, it felt different. He could feel the weight of the moments they shared, and he knew—deep down—that something was changing.

Just then, Tara entered the room, her presence always calming, always familiar. She had a small smile on her face as she approached him, her eyes bright and full of life.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked, her voice soft yet filled with that unshakable energy that always made him feel like he could conquer the world.

“Better,” Vikram replied with a small smile of his own. “A little sore, but it’s getting easier.”

Tara nodded, stepping closer to him. “That’s good. You’re making progress.”

He nodded, but something in his chest felt tight. He wanted to tell her how much he appreciated everything she had done for him, how much he appreciated her. But the words felt stuck, as if they couldn’t fully escape. He wanted to tell her, but he was afraid of what it might mean. What if he said the wrong thing? What if it changed everything?

Vikram swallowed hard, trying to clear the knot in his throat. Tara’s gentle smile never wavered, though, as she stood before him, offering her silent support. She could sense that there was something on his mind, but she didn’t push him. Tara never did. She always waited for him to be ready.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Vikram finally said, his voice almost too soft. “You’ve been here for me through everything. You’ve never given up on me, even when I’ve pushed you away.”

Tara’s smile softened as she knelt down beside him, resting a hand on his arm. “I don’t know how to give up on you, Vikram. You’re not just someone I’m helping to heal. You’re someone I’ve come to care for.”

He looked at her then, really looked at her. There was no pretense in her eyes, no hesitation in her voice. It was as if she had always known, deep inside, that they were meant to walk this path together.

“I don’t deserve you,” Vikram whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, Tara.”

Tara’s eyes softened with understanding. “You don’t have to deserve anything, Vikram. You are who you are, and I care about you—just as you are.”

Vikram’s heart clenched in his chest, and for a moment, he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. It was all too much—the love, the support, the care. Everything she was giving him, everything she had already given him. And yet, he still didn’t feel worthy.

He looked down at his hands again, his fingers curling into a fist. It was a struggle, this feeling of being both overwhelmed and unsure. He wanted to tell her, to confess everything he was feeling, but there was a part of him that still held back. What if he wasn’t ready? What if it was too soon?

Tara remained quiet for a moment, as if giving him space to think, her hand still resting on his arm. Finally, she spoke again, her voice soft but certain.

“Vikram, sometimes we don’t need to have all the answers. We don’t need to know everything. We just need to trust each other, and take things one step at a time. I’m here with you, through it all.”

Her words settled into him like a balm, soothing the restless thoughts swirling in his mind. She didn’t need him to have all the answers. She didn’t need him to be perfect. She just needed him to be present, to trust her and trust himself.

Vikram looked at her, his throat tight with emotion. He didn’t say the words, not yet, but he could feel them in his chest, echoing softly like a heartbeat. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, or how it had happened, but somewhere along the way, Tara had become the center of his world.

“I’m not ready to say it yet,” he finally admitted, his voice low. “But... I think I’m getting there.”

Tara smiled gently, her eyes filled with understanding. She didn’t push him. She didn’t need him to confess just yet. She knew that things had to unfold in their own time.

“I’ll be here, Vikram,” she said softly, her voice like a promise. “Whenever you’re ready.”

And as they sat there, in the quiet of the room, with the sound of the watch ticking steadily on his wrist, Vikram realized that the journey he was on was no longer just about physical recovery. It was about healing his heart, about finding a new beginning with the one person who had stood by him when no one else had.

He wasn’t ready to voice it yet, but he was getting there. And that, for now, was enough.