Chapter 9: The Pain of Forgetting

Chapter 9: The Pain of Forgetting

My head was heavy, my body sore. Every inch of me ached as if I had been crushed by the weight of the world itself. I could barely open my eyes, the blurred shapes around me an indication that something was terribly wrong. The sound of machines beeping steadily beside me was the only thing I could focus on. My chest tightened, the sensation of panic beginning to rise.

"Huh! Where am I...? Why am I still asleep?" I murmured weakly. My body hurt too much to move, and I had no idea where I was.

Then, a voice pierced through the haze, clear and familiar, like a soft whisper in the wind.

"Sai! You're awake!" The voice was gentle but filled with relief, and I recognized it immediately. It was my mom.

"Yeah, Mom... but why are you in my hostel room?" I asked, confusion clouding my thoughts. It made no sense. I was supposed to be at a different place. My body was numb, my thoughts sluggish.

My mom's tone shifted, the warmth fading into something more somber. "You're not at your hostel, sweetie. We're in a hospital. You were in an accident."

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning, shattering my foggy mind. My heart raced as the memories flooded back. "Wait... I remember now," I muttered, my chest tightening in pain. "We were on a date... for her birthday... Then... a bike... came running towards us..."

The panic set in. "Kiara! Where is Kiara?!"

My mom lowered her gaze, and the weight of her silence spoke louder than any words. "You helped her, so she's okay," she said, her voice trembling. "She's in another room with her parents... but..." She hesitated.

"But... what, Mom?" I pressed, my breath shallow with worry.

"You might not want to see her right now," my mom replied softly, her eyes filled with a sadness I couldn't understand.

"Why? Please, I need to see her," I begged, my voice cracking with desperation. I could feel the pain in my chest intensifying with each breath.

"In your condition, you can't," she answered gently, though there was a trace of hesitation in her voice. "Just wait a little while, okay? I'll see if they can bring a wheelchair."

I nodded, though my heart screamed with the need to be by Kiara's side. My father came in shortly after, his face etched with concern. He helped me into the wheelchair, his hands steady but his eyes full of sorrow as he moved me.

We headed down the sterile white hallways of the hospital. My ribs were broken, and I could feel the fractures in my legs, but nothing compared to the agony in my chest—the pain of not knowing how Kiara was.

As we approached the room, I heard her voice, faint but unmistakable. I stopped at the door, my heart skipping a beat. Kiara was sitting on the bed, her face buried in her hands. The soft sound of her crying was a knife to my heart. I couldn't move; I could only watch through the small crack in the door.

"It's my fault... it's all my fault...," she repeated over and over, her voice trembling, filled with guilt and sorrow.

I wanted to step inside, to comfort her, but I couldn't bring myself to. I heard Kiara's mother speaking, trying to calm her. "Calm down, Kiara. It was just an accident. You did nothing wrong."

But Kiara couldn't stop herself. "It's my fault... If I hadn't been there, he wouldn't have gotten hurt... It's my fault..." Her voice was broken, laced with such agony, it felt like a physical blow.

I stood there, my breath caught in my throat. Every part of me wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that it wasn't her fault. But the words wouldn't come. I could only watch, helpless and silent.

I slowly backed away from the door, my heart heavy. "She's so confused right now," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "If she sees me like this... it'll only make things worse."

"Sweetie, maybe you should leave her alone for a while," my mom said softly, her voice filled with understanding.

I nodded silently, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. My father helped me back to my room, and I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

"It's not her fault at all," I murmured, though the words felt hollow. I didn't know how to fix this, how to take away the pain that had settled between us.

The next day, I underwent surgery. The pain was unbearable, but I endured it, knowing that I had to heal, for both of us. Days turned into weeks, and I was allowed to move around in a wheelchair. But still, I couldn't contact Kiara. My body was healing, but my heart was broken, and there was nothing I could do about it.

One day, I found myself on the hospital rooftop, the cool breeze brushing against my face. The sky stretched out before me, vast and endless, just like the emptiness I felt inside. I looked down at the busy streets below—people walking, buses passing by—and for a moment, I felt a strange sense of peace.

I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over Kiara's contact. I wanted to call her. I needed to hear her voice, to know that she was okay. But doubt held me back. Was I doing the right thing? Was it too soon?

Just as I made up my mind to call, my phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unknown number. I hesitated but answered.

"Hello?" I said, my voice soft, unsure.

"Sai?" The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, but something about it felt familiar, too. "This is Kiara's father. I'm sorry to call you at a time like this."

I froze. "S-sir?" I stammered, unsure of what to expect.

"I just wanted to thank you... for saving my daughter," Kiara's father said, his voice thick with emotion. "But there's something... I need to tell you."

I braced myself. "How is she?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"She's... she's not over it," he began, and I could hear the sadness in his voice. "But a few days ago, when she woke up... she didn't remember anything. She was completely fine, like nothing had happened."

My heart stopped. "What do you mean? She... she doesn't remember me?"

Kiara's father paused. "When I asked her about you, she said she didn't know who you were. She didn't even recognize the name. She forgot about you, Sai... And I couldn't bring myself to tell her what happened. I didn't want to break her happiness."

I felt a cold emptiness wash over me. My hands shook as I clutched the phone. "She... forgot about me?" I whispered, the pain too raw to bear.

"Yes," he said, his voice full of regret. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

In that moment, I understood. Kiara's mind had chosen to forget, to protect herself from the pain. She was happy now, free from the memory of that night, and that's all that mattered.

I closed my eyes, the tears threatening to fall, but I refused to let them. "That's fine," I said, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. "Just... leave it alone. Thank you... for everything."

"Sai? Sai—" he called after me, but I hung up the phone before he could say anything more.

The sky above seemed to close in on me. The world felt smaller, and my heart felt heavier. I had wanted to build a future with Kiara, to share a life together, but now... I had to let go.

Weeks later, I learned from a mutual friend that Kiara had gone to London to study. My heart sank, but there was a sense of relief, too. I wouldn't run into her, and she would move on without the burden of the past.

But life, as it often does, had other plans. I encountered her one day at work. She looked at me, her eyes filled with recognition, but there was a distance in them—like she was trying to remember something long lost. She smiled at me faintly, as though I were a shadow of someone from her past.

And that was when I realized... she remembered me, just enough to know that I was someone important. But the pain of what could have been was still there, lingering between us.

But maybe, just maybe, we could start again.