I open my eyes and inhale a sterile smell, the kind which is typically found in hospitals. I look in front of me. A man is holding my hands, his face lying on it and I can feel wetness on the back of my hands. This man is crying! Of course he is my Rahul. Who else will cry for me?
"Rahul," my voice croaks as I call out his name. He looks up but he is not Rahul. He is Vikrant! He again has this painful expression of his face. Why do I feel so guilty when he looks like this? Maybe it's because of the fact that I am the reason why he feels hurt but what is my mistake in this? He feels hurt everytime I am with Rahul and I love him. Why can't he understand it?
"Where is Rahul?" I ask him with my croaked voice.
His face shows more pain and he holds my hands and says, "Rahul is dead. He is no
