Panting, I rushed into the room.
My eyes went straight to the bed.
Rahul was half-lying on it. His face was drenched in sweat, his breathing rapid and uneven. Sarita really was very close to him—but the scene was not what my poisoned imagination had already pictured.
One of her arms was under Rahul’s shoulder, the other pressed gently against his chest, the way someone supports another person to help them sit up.
The moment she saw me, Sarita panicked.
“Anushka! You’re back already?” Her voice was shaking.
“I… I was just about to call you.”
No sound came out of my throat. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst.
“What… what is going on?” I finally managed to ask.
Rahul looked at me. There was fear in his eyes—the same fear I had seen many times since the accident.
“Anu… I was having trouble breathing,” he said in a broken voice.
“My chest felt heavy… Sarita was helping me sit upright.”
Sarita explained quickly, her words tumbling out.
“He suddenly started having spasms. After partial paralysis, this can happen sometimes. I was turning him onto his side so he could breathe properly.”
The ground seemed to slip away beneath my feet.
Then… what had Meena Aunty seen?
I sat down beside the bed. My hands were trembling.
“Why… why were you leaning over him?” I asked softly.
Sarita’s eyes filled with tears.
“Because he was about to fall, Anushka,” she said.
“I live alone, but I’m not a bad person.”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Just then, a voice came from outside. Meena Aunty was standing at the door, her face still full of agitation.
“Did you see it?” she said.
“I saw it with my own eyes—”
I stood up.
For the first time, I didn’t feel tired.
For the first time, I wasn’t afraid.
“Meena Aunty,” I said calmly,
“You only saw through the window. You didn’t see what was actually happening inside.”
She was about to say something when Rahul spoke up.
“If Sarita hadn’t been here tonight, I might have had to be taken to the hospital.”
Meena Aunty fell silent.
Her eyes dropped to the floor.
Sarita slowly stood up.
“Anushka, if this makes you uncomfortable, I won’t come anymore from tomorrow.”
I reached out and held her hand.
“No,” my voice broke.
“Please forgive me… even I, for a moment, thought the wrong thing.”
That night, I stayed sitting beside Rahul.
When everything finally calmed down, Rahul held my hand.
“Anu,” he said softly,
“I know you’re exhausted.”
Tears began to fall from my eyes.
“I thought I could handle everything on my own,” I said.
“But maybe… I shouldn’t have been ashamed to ask for help.”
The next day, I stopped doing overtime at the factory.
A few days later, we contacted a government rehabilitation center, and Rahul began regular physiotherapy.
Sarita still came to help—but now everything was open, clear, and within fixed hours.
One day, Meena Aunty came herself to apologize.
“I exaggerated things out of fear,” she said.
“That day I realized how easy it is for rumors to spread in society.”
Time passed.
Rahul’s condition slowly began to improve.
He started talking more.
He started smiling again.
And me?
I learned that not every scene reflects the truth, not everything we hear is right, and not every act of help hides bad intentions.
Life taught me a bitter but necessary lesson—
👉 Trust doesn’t break on its own.
👉 Trust often gets sick after being poisoned by other people’s words.
Even today, when it rains, I remember that night.
But I’m no longer afraid.
Now I only think this—
If that day I had decided before knowing the truth,
perhaps three lives would have been broken forever.