Samaira’s eyes fluttered open gently, the light in the room blinding at first. Her head throbbed, and the sterile scent of the hospital air made her blink in confusion. The soft beeping of machines filled the silence, but everything around her seemed distant, blurry.

She blinked several times, trying to adjust her focus. The reality of the situation slowly hit her—she was in a hospital bed, her head bandaged, and she could feel the dull ache across her body. For a moment, her thoughts scattered, trying to piece together what had happened—the crash, the truck, the impact—and the darkness that had followed.

Then, as if on cue, the room started to come into focus. There, sitting beside her, was Advait. His eyes, usual icy calm, were now filled with something she couldn't quite place—concern, worry, maybe even guilt.

“Samaira…” His voice cracked slightly, as he leaned forward, his gaze never leaving her face. His concern was so evident that for a second, she felt a strange pang of comfort despite everything.

But that comfort didn’t last. Her heart still had that gnawing uncertainty. The truth she’d uncovered—the betrayal, the lies—lingered like a heavy fog in her mind. And as she turned her head toward him, her face was unreadable.

She took a deep breath, trying to mask the dizziness from her waking state, but her voice came out soft, hoarse, and matter-of-fact. “I’m fine. Just feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.” Her attempt at humor was weak, but she couldn’t help it—her body felt like it had taken a beating, but there was no point in wallowing in it.

Advait, who had been staring at her with a solemn expression, visibly relaxed at her words, but there was still a lingering tension in his eyes.

Before he could say anything more, the door to the room opened, and in walked Rajveer—her father. He looked exhausted, his face a mix of concern and restrained fear. The moment he laid eyes on his daughter, he rushed to her side, but stopped just short of her bed.

“Beta,” Rajveer whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Are you alright?”

Samaira’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but there was something bittersweet about it. “I’m fine, don’t worry,” she reassured him, though the hoarseness of her voice betrayed her efforts to stay strong. “Just... a little tired, that’s all.”

Her father’s gaze softened, but his hands trembled as he reached out to her. He pulled back, as though unsure if he should touch her, afraid of causing her any more pain. His eyes met Advait’s for a brief moment, but then quickly moved back to Samaira, the pain of seeing her like this clearly affecting him more than he was willing to admit.

Samaira, noticing her father’s hesitation, laughed softly, though it was more out of habit than genuine amusement. “Papa, I’m not made of glass, you know. I’m tougher than I look.”

Rajveer just gave a shaky smile, but there was no joy in it—only a father’s desperate hope that his daughter would be alright. Samaira's gaze softened, but it quickly shifted as she turned back to Advait.

She looked at him, studying him with those sharp eyes of hers, noticing the tension in his jaw, the way he seemed to hold himself in place, ready for whatever she would say next.

"You’re still here, huh?" she said with a smirk, her tone playful in a way Advait never expected.

Advait, who had been waiting for some kind of emotional outburst, or even just some sign of the anger and betrayal she must have been feeling, was taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanor. The usual seriousness he was used to seeing in her had been replaced by something... lighter, almost mocking in the best possible way.

"Samaira..." he started, his voice faltering slightly as he tried to understand what was happening. "I... I don’t know what to say—"

But before he could finish, she cut him off with a lazy flick of her wrist. “You don’t have to say anything, Advait. It’s not like I’m going to cry and beg for a divorce or something. I’m not the drama lead who’s going to sob and make a scene.” She chuckled, but the sound was almost too casual, as if the gravity of their situation didn’t matter to her.

Advait blinked, taken aback by her words. "Samaira, after everything you—"

“I acted recklessly when I found out the truth,” she continued, her voice softening. “I get it. Maybe I didn’t handle it well. But there’s no point in holding onto the past, is there?” She gave a small shrug, as if the truth that had shattered her world no longer mattered.

Her words hit Advait like a punch to the gut. He had expected anger, maybe even tears. But this? This nonchalant attitude, as if she could just shrug everything off—it unsettled him. "You… don’t hold a grudge?" His voice was incredulous, the shock evident in his expression.

Samaira looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Of course, I do. I’m not some saint. But come on. There’s no point in going around holding grudges, right? We don’t have a time machine to fix everything. We just have to deal with what’s in front of us.” Her tone was almost flippant, but there was something deeper in her words.

Advait couldn’t quite process it. “You’re telling me you’re fine with this?”

She gave him a sly smile. “Oh, I’m not fine. But I can’t waste this life I got back just quarreling with you over things we can’t change.”

Rajveer, still standing in the background, could hardly bring himself to look at Samaira. His eyes darted from his daughter to Advait, then back again, as if he was bracing for the storm that might come. But seeing her like this—so calm, so seemingly at ease—was more than he could handle. He didn’t know how to respond to this version of his daughter, who had always been the emotional one, the one who would cry when hurt. But now? Now, she was different.

Samaira turned to her father and smiled softly. “Papa, it’s okay. Really. I’m just trying to figure things out. But ya I am surely a little furious at you too for hiding the truth”

Rajveer cleared his throat, struggling to hold back the emotion in his voice. “I know, beta. I just... I’m not sure I can see you like this.” He shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m not sure how to handle all of this. Trust me whatever I did was for your safety and I am really sorry for hurting you like this”

Samaira’s face softened, and she reached out for his hand, her grip firm despite her frailty. “You don’t have to, Papa. I’ve got this. It's just that I would need some time to... I don't know maybe to absorb this all, it's really a lot”

Advait watched them both, still processing everything. But as Samaira turned back to him, the playful edge in her tone returned. “And about you,” she said, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint, “I’m still not going anywhere. You think I’d leave you like this? Nah, we’ve got unfinished business, Advait.”

Her words, though light-hearted, were filled with an intensity that made Advait’s chest tighten. “We finish what we started,” she added, her gaze piercing through him. “And I’ll be right by your side while we do it.”

He stared at her, unsure whether to feel relieved or alarmed. The unpredictability of Samaira had always been both her charm and her curse, but this? This was something he wasn’t ready for.

But no matter what, it was clear—Samaira wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet.