The night had been long. Advik's parents had arrived late the previous night, rushing straight from the airport after Sakshi's frantic call. The hospital waiting area had become a small, heartbreaking camp for the family.

Advik's mother, Shanti, was inconsolable. Much like Sakshi, her eyes were swollen and red, and she spent most of the night clutching her prayer beads, whispering prayers into the cold hospital air.

"Advik thik ho jayega na, Sakshi?"

(Advik will be fine, right, Sakshi?)

Shanti had asked a dozen times, her voice trembling.

"Haan, maa. Advik bahut strong hain."

(Yes, maa. Advik is very strong.)

Sakshi would reply, though her own heart was a fragile glass ready to shatter.

Sakshi hadn't slept for a single second. She was still seated in that same chair, her body aching, but her focus remained entirely on Advik. Her fingers were still interlaced with his, her thumb gently stroking the back of his hand.

Inside the darkness of his mind, Advik felt like he was swimming through thick, heavy fog. He tried to move, but his limbs felt like they were made of lead. There was a dull, throbbing pain in his head that pulsed with every heartbeat. Slowly, painfully, he forced his eyelids to open.

It was too bright. The fluorescent lights above him felt like needles stabbing into his eyes. He blinked repeatedly, waiting for the blur to resolve into shapes. He smelled the sharp, metallic scent of blood mixed with the clinical odour of rubbing alcohol.

Where am I? he thought. The camp? No... this is too quiet.

As his vision cleared, he saw the white ceiling and the IV bags hanging from metal stands. He realized he was hooked up to machines, the rhythmic beep he had been hearing in his dreams was actually his own heart.

Then, he felt something. A warmth.

He looked down and saw his right hand was being held. A woman was slumped over the side of his bed, her head resting on the mattress right next to his arm. He couldn't see her face, only the dark waves of her hair and the simple gold bangles on her wrist.

Advik felt a surge of discomfort. Who was this? Why was she touching him so familiarly? In his mind, he searched for a face, a name, a reason, but there was nothing. 

He tried to pull his hand away. His movements were weak and jerky, but the friction was enough to wake her.

Sakshi gasped, her head snapping up. Her eyes, filled with exhaustion and fear, suddenly lit up with a brilliant, tearful joy when she saw his eyes open.

"Advik!"

She cried out, her voice a mix of a sob and a laugh.

"Advik, aap uth gaye! Thank God... oh my God, thank you!"

(Advik, you’re awake!)

She leaned forward, her face inches from his, her hands reaching out to touch his cheek. Advik flinched. He pulled his head back into the pillow, his eyes wide with confusion and a hint of suspicion.

"Papa! Doctor ko bulaiye! Advik ko hosh aa gaya!"

(Call the doctor! Advik is awake!)

Sakshi shouted toward the door, her face radiant with relief.

Outside, there was a commotion. Sakshi's father and Advik's parents, who had been dozing on the benches, scrambled to their feet. Advik's mother was the first one through the door, her face wet with fresh tears of happiness.

"Mera baccha! Advik!"

(My baby!)

Shanti cried, rushing to the other side of the bed. She grabbed his left hand, kissing it and pressing it to her forehead.

"Tu thik hai? Tune toh humein dara hi diya tha!"

(You’re fine, right? You scared us!)

Advik looked at Shanti. A wave of recognition washed over him, settling his racing heart.

"Maa..."

He croaked, his throat feeling like it was full of dry sand.

"Haan beta, main hoon. Sab theek hai ab."

(Yes, it’s me. Everything is fine.)

Shanti sobbed, smiling through her tears. Advik managed a small, weak smile for his mother. The sight of her gave him a sense of safety.

But then, his gaze drifted back to the woman standing at the foot of the bed. Sakshi was standing there, her hands clasped together, watching him with so much love that it should have been obvious.

But to Advik, she was a stranger.

"Thik hai, please step back, let me check him."

(Ok…)

Dr. Khanna said, entering the room with a nurse. Sakshi and the parents moved back to give the doctor space.

Sakshi's father stood by the door, his hand on his daughter's shoulder, supporting her. Sakshi was vibrating with nervous energy, her eyes never leaving Advik's face.

The doctor shone a small light into Advik's eyes, checked his pulse, and looked at the monitors.

"Major, can you hear me?"

The doctor asked.

"Yes."

Advik whispered.

"Do you know your name?"

"Advik... Advik Verma."

The doctor asked a few more routine questions about his unit and his hometown. Advik answered them all. His memory of his life as a soldier, his childhood, and his parents seemed perfectly intact.

Sakshi let out a long breath she hadn't realized she was holding. He was okay. He was fine. He remembered everything. The doctor smiled.

"Well, Major, you've had quite a bump on the head, but your vitals are excellent. You're a lucky man."

The doctor turned to leave, but Advik cleared his throat. He looked troubled. 

"Doctor..."

Advik began, his voice sounding stronger but cold.

"Wait."

The room went silent. Sakshi's smile flickered, a small seed of unease planting itself in her stomach. Advik looked Sakshi straight in the eye. There was no warmth in his gaze. No recognition. Just a cold, polite distance.

"Excuse me"

Advik said, looking at the doctor but referring to Sakshi.

"Who is she?"

Sakshi felt the blood drain from her face. She took a half-step forward, her hand going to her chest.

"Advik? Yeh kya bol rahe hain aap? Main hoon... Sakshi."

(What are you saying? It’s me…Sakshi.)

Advik ignored her, his brow furrowing as he looked at the doctor.

"Doctor, this lady... she was holding my hand when I woke up. She was acting very close to me. Is she a nurse? Or a volunteer? Main ise nahi jaanta."

(I don’t know her.)

The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Shanti stopped crying, her mouth falling open in shock. Sakshi's father tightened his grip on her shoulder as he felt her start to shake.

"Advik, beta... yeh kya mazak hai?"

(Advik…what is this?)

Shanti said, her voice trembling.

"Yeh teri biwi hai. Sakshi. She's been sitting here all night, praying for you."

(She is your wife.)

Advik looked at his mother, then back at Sakshi. He looked genuinely confused, even a little annoyed.

"Maa, meri shaadi kab hui?"

(Maa, when did I get married?)

Advik asked, his tone completely serious.

"I'm not married. Why are you saying she's my wife?"

Sakshi felt like the floor had suddenly vanished beneath her feet. She staggered back, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. The room began to spin.

"Advik... aap... humein chaar saal ho gaye hain."

(Advik…you…it’s been four years.)

Sakshi whispered, her voice barely a breath.

"Humara ek beta hai, Satvik. Yaad kijiye... please."

(We have a son, Satvik. Remember…please.)

Advik's expression shifted from confusion to a look of utter disbelief. He actually let out a dry, harsh chuckle.

"A child? Look, I don't know who you are or what you're trying to do, but I am not married. I've been on duty. I don't have a wife, and I definitely don't have a kid."

He looked at the doctor, his eyes turning hard.

"Doctor, please ask her to leave. I don't like strangers being this close to me. It's making me uncomfortable."

Sakshi felt a pain in her chest so sharp she thought her heart might actually be breaking. The man who had promised to come back to her, the man who had held her just eleven months ago and told her she was his angel, was now looking at her like she was a con artist.

"Advik, please..."

Sakshi sobbed, stepping toward the bed, her hands reaching out in desperation.

"Look at me! Look into my eyes! Humne married hai... hamara ek beta hai Advik..."

(We are married…we have a son Advik…)

"Ma'am, please, step back."

The nurse said, gently placing a hand on Sakshi's arm. Advik turned his face away from her, looking toward the window.

"Maa, please tell her to stop. I don't know her. Just make her go away."

Sakshi stood in the center of the room, her world crumbling into a million pieces. The relief of him waking up had turned into a nightmare far worse than the one she had lived through the night before.

Her father moved forward, wrapping his arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

"Chalo, Sakshi. Bahar chalo."

(Come on, Sakshi. Come outside.)

Her father whispered, his own voice thick with pain. Sakshi didn't move. She kept staring at the side of Advik's head, waiting for him to turn around and say it was all a joke. Waiting for him to smile that crooked smile and pull her into a hug.

But he didn't. He just sat there, staring out the window, a stranger in her husband's body.

As her father led her out of the room, the last thing she heard was the doctor saying, "We need to run some more tests. It seems like a specific type of memory loss..."

The door clicked shut, and Sakshi collapsed into her father's arms in the hallway. The man she loved was alive, but the Advik who loved her back was gone.