Years passed, and Surya blossomed into a tall, strong young man of twenty. He still worked faithfully beside the old lady, the one who had once given him a second chance at life. To every customer who walked into the little restaurant, he was more than just a helper—he was her grandson in spirit. And every time he heard that, he couldn't help but smile wide, serving food with pride and warmth.
But life, as always, had its own plans.
One quiet morning, as they prepared to open the restaurant, a sudden noise echoed from the kitchen—a dull thud. Surya's heart skipped a beat. He rushed in, only to find the old lady collapsed on the cold floor, her eyes shut, her body still.
Panic surged through him like a storm. He gently scooped her frail body into his arms, carried her out, and laid her carefully in the back of the truck. Without a second thought, he slammed the door shut and sped toward the hospital, his hands trembling on the wheel, his mind praying she would hold on just a little longer.
At the hospital, Surya jumped out and shouted for help. A doctor and nurse rushed out as he explained through gasps what had happened. The nurse sprinted away and returned with a stretcher, lifting the old woman and rushing her into the emergency ward.
The doctor turned to Surya, calm but urgent. "Go to reception," he said. "Fill out the patient form. Then come quickly. She needs you."
Surya nodded, his chest heavy, his legs weak. But he ran—ran like her life depended on it.
As Surya filled out the form at the hospital reception, his hands suddenly froze.
A flood of memories rushed in—this was the same hospital that had thrown him out a few years ago. The pain, the shame, the helplessness—it all came rushing back.
"Sir… Sir?" the receptionist's voice pulled him back.
"Please hand over the form and wait outside the emergency ward."
Still lost in thought, Surya blinked. "Uh… okay. Which way is the emergency ward?"
The receptionist pointed silently.
He nodded, then walked slowly down the hallway, his footsteps echoing through the sterile silence. Outside the emergency ward, he sat on a cold bench and waited, the weight of worry settling heavily on his shoulders.
Minutes passed like hours.
Finally, the doors swung open and a doctor stepped out, scanning the corridor until his eyes landed on Surya.
"Kid… hey, kid!"
Surya stood up, startled.
"Sit," the doctor said gently. "What's your name?"
"Surya," he replied, voice low but steady.
The doctor looked at him with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Surya… the old lady. What is she to you?"
Surya hesitated. His throat tightened. A thousand moments flashed before his eyes—the stories, the lullabies, the warm hands on his fevered forehead.
He swallowed hard and finally whispered,
"She… she is my grandmother."
The doctor took a deep breath and said firmly, "Listen to me, Surya. Your grandmother has a brain tumor. She needs to be admitted immediately. We need to run some urgent tests. Do you have any objections?"
Surya stood frozen, his mind struggling to process the words. The silence hung heavy in the air.
Seeing his shock, the doctor continued gently, "I know it's a lot to take in, Surya. But we must admit her today. Time is critical."
Surya swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. "I… I'm sorry, doctor. I couldn't hear you clearly. Yes… okay. Admit her. Are there any forms or procedures I need to complete?"
The doctor shook his head. "I'll handle the paperwork. Just wait here. The nurse will shift your grandmother to a private ward. Once she's settled, you can visit her."
Without another word, the doctor turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.
An hour passed like a blur.
The old lady was moved to a quiet, private room. When Surya entered, he saw her lying on the hospital bed—fragile, pale, and still. A thousand emotions crashed inside him, but he said nothing.
He sat down beside her, unable to speak, unable to cry—only silence remained, thick with fear.
After a few moments, the old lady slowly opened her eyes. She saw Surya clutching her hand tightly, as if he couldn't bear to let her go. Gently, she patted his hand, as if to say, "I'm alright now."
Surya noticed her waking and, overwhelmed with relief and desperation, asked, "Miss, are you okay now?"
The old lady smiled faintly. "Yes, Surya… I'm okay now. What time is it?"
"It's 11:30 in the morning," he replied softly.
"Oh," she said, looking around as if recalling a forgotten duty. "We must prepare for lunch at the shop. We need to go now."
Surya's expression turned stern. "No, miss," he said firmly, "you're not going anywhere. You have a brain tumor. Do you understand? You need to rest. I'm calling the doctor—right now."
The old lady didn't respond. Instead, she smiled—calmly, almost knowingly. It was as if she had always known.
Surya stared at her, confused and shaken. "Why are you smiling, miss? This isn't a joke. We need to take this seriously."
Surya rushed to call the doctor. Moments later, the doctor arrived, checked the old lady, and asked gently, "How are you feeling now?"
The old lady gave a faint smile. "I'm fine, doctor," she replied calmly.
The doctor turned to her with concern. "Your grandson was worried sick about you. You need to understand that your body doesn't have the strength it once did. We need to run a few tests. Until then, please—rest."
The old lady simply nodded, but the moment the doctor stepped away, her defiance returned. She was already getting ready to leave for the restaurant. She ignored every word Surya and the doctor said.
"Miss!" Surya cried out, frustrated. "You need to rest! If you don't—I think... I think something terrible might happen."
The old lady reached out and gently held Surya's trembling hand. "Surya," she said softly, "I've known for a long time... I have a brain tumor. And I also know—I won't live much longer."
A silence fell between them.
Surya's voice trembled, his eyes brimming with tears. "Please don't say that. If you leave me too... what will I do?"
The old lady smiled warmly, even as her eyes revealed the weight of her truth. Surya, overwhelmed by emotion, exclaimed, "You're not going anywhere, right? You're not leaving me!"
"I won't leave you, Surya," she whispered. "But I can't stop living just because I'm dying. I won't close the shop for this. I've taught you everything—how to cook, how to run the restaurant. Now, you must carry it forward... for me."
"I'm not going anywhere," Surya insisted. "I'll stay with you. I'll take care of you."
She squeezed his hand, her voice filled with strength. "Before you came into my life, I took care of myself. I can still do it now. But you—go. Open the restaurant. Keep it alive. If you promise me that... I promise I'll rest. I'll behave. And I'll worry no more."
After hearing that, Surya was still not convinced. He didn't trust the hospital—the same place where his mother had once been taken away from him. And now, the old lady was admitted there. He was too stubborn to leave her alone.
But her gentle smile finally persuaded Surya to go to the restaurant. As he turned to leave, he looked back at the doctor with a tense grin on his face and said, "Doctor, if anything happens, call me."
The doctor nodded as Surya silently walked off.
Taking a deep breath, the doctor turned to the old lady and said, "Your grandson is intense—I couldn't even breathe for a second. Well, I need to go to the lab to prepare for the test. Please rest for a while."
The old lady nodded, and the doctor left to get things ready for her test.
While Surya returned to the restaurant to prepare for the lunch hour, he couldn't shake off what had happened at the hospital. A mix of happiness and frustration boiled inside him. In a sudden outburst, he kicked over a bucket in the hallway.
At that exact moment, a pair of customers walked into the restaurant. They were goons from a notorious criminal gang—regulars who not only knew the place well but also knew Surya by name.
One of them called out, "Hey Surya, what's up, kid!"
Surya turned toward them with a furious look on his face.
"Chill, man," one of the goons said, raising his hands. "We came to eat, not to fight. Something happen to you?"
Surya looked at them for a moment, then snapped back to his senses. "Huh? … I apologize for the mess," he said, regaining composure. "Please take a seat. Let me clean this up first, then I'll take your orders."
After cleaning the hallway, he took the orders and began preparing their food. As he served the dishes, he overheard the goons' casual chit-chat.
The goons were discussing new recruitments happening in their gang in five days. He chose to ignore their conversation and focused on serving the customers. The evening passed uneventfully until dinner hours were over.
Once dinner was completed, he closed the restaurant and rushed to the hospital, where he met with the doctor.
The doctor said to Surya, "The test results are in. We haven't told your grandmother yet, but her brain tumor has gotten worse than we expected. We need to prepare for surgery as soon as possible."
Stunned, Surya replied, "Please, doctor... prepare for the surgery."
The doctor said, "There's an open slot in three days. I can book it for your grandmother, but you need to pay for the surgery as soon as possible so I can confirm the slot for her."
Surya asked the doctor, "Doctor, how much does the surgery cost?"
The doctor replied, "It will cost ₹8,00,000, including medication and surgery fees. Please try to pay it as soon as you can so I can secure the slot."
Surya nodded and said, "Alright, doctor. I'll let you know soon."
The old lady had been listening to their conversation from inside her room. When Surya walked in, she looked at him and said just one thing.
"Surya, under the cash register, there's a drawer. Open it. Inside, there's a cheque book. Get it tomorrow."
Surya replied, "I'll get the cheque book first thing in the morning."
After that, both the old lady and Surya talked for a few minutes, then they both fell asleep.
The next day, Surya went to the shop and got the cheque book. He gave it to the old lady; she handed him the unsigned cheque. Then Surya filled in the rest at the reception, paid the amount, and booked the slot for the surgery.
Later, he met the old lady and talked with her for some time. Then he went to open the restaurant. Like that, every day he went to the restaurant, served food to the customers, and at night, after dinner service was over, he would close the restaurant and go to the hospital to sit beside the old lady.
On the third day, during the restaurant's dinner service, the goons returned with another man who had a very familiar face. They entered the restaurant. The two goons politely spoke with the man, and one of them pulled out a chair and made the man sit. The other goon gave their order to Surya, who was in the kitchen.
After a few moments, Surya brought their food to the table. While serving them, Surya saw the man — in a flash, he remembered that face. He was one of the men who had wronged his mother. Surya started staring at him intensely, as if he was ready to kill the man, and said only one thing:
"Hey! Do you remember me?" said Surya.
The man saw Surya and ignored him, which made Surya even more furious. One of the goons nervously started laughing and told the man, "That kid is trying to make jokes, but I already told him he's very bad at it."
One of the goons tried to explain the situation, while the other one shook Surya to bring him back to his senses.
After Surya came to his senses, he silently—but furiously—served the food at the goons' table and walked off to the kitchen.
There, a flash of memories from that night came rushing back to him, making him even more furious. He stood still in the kitchen, clenching his fists, muttering over and over under his breath, "Kill you… kill you…"
After the dinner service ended, the two goons and the man stood up and walked toward the exit. A car was already waiting for the man outside. One of the goons opened the car door for him, while the other carried his bag.
The man sat inside the car as one of the goons shut the door. They both shouted cheerfully, "Goodbye, sir! Have a great day!"
Then the goons returned to the restaurant to pay for the meal. Surya approached them and said, "I apologize for earlier… I've been going through a lot. Please, forgive me."
The goons laughed and replied, "It's okay, Surya. We already know about the situation with the old lady. It's fine."
Surya nodded and said, "Thank you. By the way… who was that man?"
One of the goons replied, "He's one of our bosses."
Surya asked, "May I know his name? The old lady used to write down the names of new customers in a book so she could remember them."
"Sure," the goons said. "Our boss's name is Michael."
Surya smiled, wrote the name down in the book after the goons left, then quietly locked the restaurant.
With trembling hands and a storm in his eyes, he walked into the kitchen, picked up a knife, and in a fit of rage, carved the name "Michael" into his forearm.
The list had now grown to two names—and he was still waiting for the other two.
Burning with fury, he whispered to himself,
"I promise... I'll find you. And I'll kill you all."
He then rushed to the hospital, only to find out that the one person who meant everything to him… was gone forever.