[Hospital – ICU Waiting Area – Late Night]
The lights above hum softly. The hallway is nearly empty. A gentle rain taps the glass outside.
Sid sits in a cold plastic chair, elbows on knees, hands locked, head hanging. His eyes are red, tears long dried but still pooling silently.
Agastya stands near the glass that separates them from Vrinda's room. She lies motionless, pale, bandaged. Machines beep steadily. Lifeline... delicate.
Sid slowly looks up at her through the glass.
Sid (barely a whisper):
"She was always stronger than us, Agastya…"
Agastya turns, eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
Agastya (softly):
"And still chose to carry our pain."
A silence settles between them — not empty, but heavy with guilt, memories, and helplessness.
Agastya sits beside Sid. Neither speaks. Just the sound of the rain.
And then — a single tear escapes Sid's eye. He covers his face.
Sid (choked):
"Why is it always the good ones? Why her?"
Agastya places a hand on his shoulder. His voice barely comes out.
Agastya:
"She'll come back to us. She has to… she's Vrinda."
They both sit in silence again, their tears speaking the things they couldn't say out loud.
Behind the glass, Vrinda's fingers twitch ever so slightly… but neither of them notices.
[Hospital – ICU Room – Few Days Later, Early Morning]
The sun peeks through the blinds, casting warm streaks across the sterile white sheets. The monitors beep rhythmically.
Sid and Agastya sit outside the room, dozing off in silence, exhaustion written all over their faces.
Suddenly… a soft, raspy voice escapes the ICU room.
Vrinda (barely audible):
"Sid… Aga…stya…"
The monitor beeps change slightly.
Inside, Vrinda blinks slowly, her eyelids fluttering open. Confused. Dizzy. But aware.
She tries to move her hand. It shifts. Weak, trembling.
Vrinda (slightly louder):
"Sid… Agastya…"
The nurse notices. She runs out.
Nurse (urgently):
"She's awake! She's calling for you!"
Sid and Agastya leap up. Hope rushes back into their eyes. They burst into the room and freeze for a second, overwhelmed to see her eyes open.
Sid (choking up):
"Vrinda…"
Agastya (relieved):
"You're okay… Oh God, you're okay!"
Vrinda offers a faint smile, then winces.
Vrinda (urgently, whispering):
"Listen to me… we're in danger… they might find us again…"
Their faces shift instantly — the warmth replaced by fear and confusion.
Agastya:
"Who, Vrinda? Who's after you?"
She grips the blanket weakly.
Vrinda (to Sid):
"Come closer…"
Sid leans in, heart pounding.
Vrinda (voice trembling):
"Find… Chaya…"
Sid's eyes widen. That name. That weight.
Agastya notices the shift in Sid's face — the way his eyes froze, the color draining slowly.
Agastya (confused, tense):
"Chaya…? Who is Chaya, Sid?"
Sid doesn't answer. His lips part… but no words come.
Agastya (stepping forward, firmer):
"Vrinda just woke up for the first time in days… and the first thing she says is find Chaya.
Why did she say that to you, Sid?"
Sid (quietly, avoiding eye contact):
"It's… nothing. Just someone I used to know."
Agastya (sharply):
"Used to know? Don't lie to me, Sid. You're shaking.
Who is she? And what does she have to do with all this?"
Sid clenches his jaw, trying to hold it together. He walks to the window and stares out, his reflection blurred against the glass.
Sid (softly):
"She's someone from my past… someone I—
I lost… a long time ago."
Agastya looks at Sid like he's seeing a version of him he never met before.
Agastya:
"Does this have anything to do with what you were about to tell me… the night before Vrinda fell?"
Sid turns, guilt and torment flashing in his eyes.
Sid:
"I don't know. Maybe everything.
But now… Vrinda knows something.
And if she said Chaya's name—
Then Chaya's not just part of my past anymore…"
Agastya steps back, processing.
Agastya (quietly):
"…She's in this with us."
Both of them look back at Vrinda — still and pale under the soft hum of machines.
And something tells them…
This is just the beginning.
[Hospital Rooftop – Late Night]
Sid and Agastya sit under the sky, wind brushing past, city lights flickering below.
Silence wraps around them.
Sid finally breaks it, voice low… distant.
Sid:
"Chaya was…
She wasn't just a part of my past, Agastya.
She was my past… my peace…
my chaos… my everything."
Agastya doesn't interrupt. He just listens
[Flashback: Two Years Ago – A Rainy Afternoon, Bookstore]
Sid was never the bookstore kind. But that day, the rain was too heavy, and the shade of the bookstore was the only escape.
He walked in, shaking water off his jacket, mumbling to himself.
That's when he heard her voice — soft, with the kind of smile you could hear without seeing.
Chaya (to the storekeeper):
"Do you have the book *'Milk and Honey'? I gave it away last week… because someone looked like they needed it more than me."
Sid looked up — and there she was.
Wavy hair falling over her shoulder, denim jacket slightly drenched, eyes glowing with something unexplainably calm.
She noticed him staring.
Chaya (smirking):
"Never seen someone donate poetry before?"
Sid blinked. Then laughed.
Sid:
"Actually, I've never seen anyone confidently ask for the same book they gave away."
Chaya:
"Books are like people. Some you love enough to let go, but hope they come back one day."
He smiled — and that's how it began.
[Weeks Later – Canteen]
Sid had started reading poetry. Not because he loved it — but because he loved how she did.
They began talking more. Over half-finished sandwiches, cold teas, and library benches.
She had this habit of doodling on Sid's hand with a pen when he wasn't paying attention. Little hearts. Stars. The word "Dodo".
Chaya:
"You overthink too much. You should laugh more."
Sid (frowning):
"I do laugh."
Chaya:
"Nope. You smirk. You don't laugh. Not with your eyes."
And one day, she made him.
Really laugh.
They were hiding under the some college auditorium stairs during an unexpected rain, both soaked, shivering.
Chaya:
"You're going to catch a cold. I'm warning you."
Sid:
"You dragged me out in the rain!"
Chaya (giggling):
"It was worth it. You looked too neat today. Now you look like a wet disaster. I approve."
And he laughed.
A real, heart-deep, unfiltered laugh.
[Months Pass – Rooftop Above an Old Bookstore]
That became their place.
Chaya would bring coffee in mismatched mugs. Sid would bring his silence.
She'd read him poems. He'd watch her talk.
One evening, she rested her head on his shoulder, voice barely above a whisper.
Chaya:
"You feel like home, Sid."
He didn't reply. He just held her hand.
That moment — soft and still — felt more like a promise than a confession.
[The Beginning of Forever… That Felt Like It Would Never End]
They were different.
She was light.
He was shadow.
She believed in dreams.
He lived in memories.
But together — they became something real.
They never needed grand gestures.
Just a terrace, a poem, a laugh… and each other.