A Forgotten Diary

↟Vivaan↡

The machines whirled on as Meera lay lifeless in the Intensive Care Unit. I wasn't sure how long I had been there. Nurses came in, checked Meera's stats and walked back out.

One day, a nurse—placing her hand on my shoulder—said, 'Her memories are intact. She remembers everything.'

I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded. It had been eight months since I had seen any signs of improvement in Meera's condition. I waited for the slightest hint of movement. But she just lay still.

I didn't leave Meera's side except to go to the bathroom. On occasion, a nurse would order me into a shower, and I would rush under the water. Sometimes I put my dirty clothes back on; other times, I was able to change into fresh clothes that Kabir brought.

I didn't go home. Nisha or Kabir would come in every day and bring me food around mealtimes. One day, they brought some of Meera's belongings, hoping to see her wake up. One of the things Nisha brought was her diary.

'Have there been any improvements?' Kabir asked one day.

I shook my head. 'No, but the doctor still says there is brain activity. He thinks that she listens to me when I read to her. I hope that is the truth. I am going to read her story out loud, and I hope before I finish it, she wakes up.'

Kabir bent down and gave me a hug before he left.

I began to ramble. 'Oh, Meera! I wish I had told you everything instead of acting the way I did. I was wrong! There's so much I want to tell you!'

I stroked her hair. 'I want to tell you all about why I returned to India, not to tell you about Radha, but because I love you. I love you more than I wanted to admit. There will always be a place in my heart for Radha, but there will be a different place here in my heart for you. Wake up so I can tell you in person.'

I wanted to see her dark brown eyes again just looking at me, but not even a flicker of life seemed to move inside her.

I let out a sigh. Kabir had been right—I was given such a gift. I wasn't cursed, but given another opportunity to love. I looked over at her. Her face was swollen, and her eyes were still shut as tubes helped her breathe. She wasn't the same angel-faced Meera that she was just before the accident when she was hurt and angry at me and stormed out of the café.

'My love,' I begged. 'Don't just breathe, live your life.'

Still, nothing.

I picked up her forgotten diary and looked at her. There had to be a way to help her through this. Even though she was in a coma, I would help her. I had no clue if it would make her come back to our world or not, but I started reading the story she had written out loud to her. Every single day she seemed to be unchanged by the world around her. I told her about the traveller in the café and how someday he would embark on this world adventure, but for now he took her hand in his and watched a sunset in Pune.

Then, I turned a page and found the entry for the day that Kabir had read out loud. Stuffed between the pages was the napkin that read 'BEAUTIFUL'. She was beautiful, and her writing was beyond beautiful ... if only I could tell her again to her face when she was awake.

The journey with Vivaan, the traveller, seemed to keep going on. She had me doing and encountering all sorts of things. She had captured every moment as if her mind was a camera, and I was witnessing this for the very first time. I flipped through the book and found the entry from the day I'd left. The pages seemed tear-stained, and several pages had been removed. That was what she had thought was the end.

I knew I was no writer and I was far from being an author. I turned the page. 'Vivaan came back!' it read. It went into a descriptive passage on how I had surprised her. I continued reading further, about how I wanted to meet her at the café and that I had something to tell her. 'I think he is finally going to admit he loves me! I think he might propose. I am so scared and excited that I have butterflies in my stomach.'

I stopped reading. Unfortunately, that wasn't what happened. My eyes began to tear up all over again. What had I been thinking? How could I have been so ruthless?