“WHAT?!”

What she said shocked me immensely, leaving me speechless for a while.

“What happened? How…?” I was still struggling to find words.

She sighed deeply, tears in her eyes. “I was trapped in the car after the head-on collision that caused severe trauma to my legs.”

I inhaled deeply, trying to comprehend the situation in my head, and said, after a long moment, “This is extremely concerning. What’s gonna happen now?”

“The doctors and my family are still discussing the next step.”

I took her hand gently and said with sincerity, “A way will be found for you to walk again; prayers can bring miracles.”

She smiled a little and touched my hand. “That’s quite comforting. I’ll keep those words in mind.”

Her family and the doctors came a few moments later, and I had to leave, saying to her, “You’ll be fine. I’ll continue to keep you in my prayers.”

The next day, when I visited, the room was vacant. She was gone, discharged by the doctors. No one could give me any information, and Navita was on leave. I didn’t go home right away; I sat by the seawall, watching the gently rolling waves to find some calm in my mind, and I hoped in my heart that medical science would be able to help her. But at the back of my mind was a nagging fear: “What if it fails? What if she can’t walk again?”

I looked up at the clear blue sky and tears filled my eyes. “I believe in you more than science, dear Lord, and now is the time for one of your miracles.”

That night, I sat on the upper veranda of my home and drank a whole bottle of the wine I had bought from her, her special choice. I smiled, remembering that day at the Wine Vault when she was assisting me.

My eyes closed, and I was snapped out of a light sleep some time later when my phone rang.

It was Ahana!

“Hey. Am I calling too late?”

“No, no, happy to hear from you.”

She sighed, then said, “I just need you to know I’ll be leaving soon for overseas to undergo treatment by specialist doctors.”

“That’s encouraging news. I hope very much that they succeed.”

“So do I.”

There was a long pause, then she said something that touched my heart.

“If they don’t and I cannot walk again, will you still be my friend?”

“I most definitely will.”

“That’s good to know.”

Something had been on my mind, and I thought maybe now was the right time, so I said, “I want to ask you something before you leave.”

“What’s that?”

“Will you marry me?”

“What?”

The question took her by surprise, and she laughed a little, a sound I hadn’t heard since her accident.

“You do know I may not walk again.”

“Yes.”

“So, is this because you pity me?”

“No, not at all. It’s because I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, and since your accident that feeling has grown stronger.”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, then said softly, “I can’t answer you now.”

And that was the last time I heard from her.

Two years passed, and though I heard nothing from her, she still held a special place in my heart, and I hoped that she was doing fine.

“Maybe one day I will see her again.”

Meanwhile, I continued my farming business to grow more food to help feed the nation. The farm expansion projects were a success that generated higher income, but I continued to live a simple life. I did, however, buy a fibreglass speedboat to traverse the black water creek of the Water Conservancy backlands. The waterway was bordered by thick vegetation, home to a variety of birds and other small animals. Far up the wide expanse of Blackwater stood an old colonial guest house. I bought it and had it renovated, careful not to change the architecture, keeping that little piece of history intact.

It was where I went to relax, against the backdrop of undisturbed nature, a little world of its own. I was there one late afternoon, needing a weekend break. I sat on the upper deck, sipping a cold beer, watching the sun set in its glorious splendour, and I said quietly, “Such a beauty.”

As I sat there alone, my thoughts went to Ahana, and I wondered how she was doing, and I didn’t hear another boat pull up alongside mine. As I reached into the cooler for another beer, I heard a familiar voice calling my name softly. My hand froze, then I shook my head a little and sighed, thinking it was just my imagination. Then I heard the voice again, closer behind me. I got up and turned, and there she was, standing like a dream, a warm smile on her face.

“Ahana.”

That vision seemed so unreal, and I said, feeling a little emotional, “You’re walking. This must be a dream.”

“It’s not,” she said. “It’s real.”

“How did you get here?”

The sound of a boat going back up the creek, driven by a farmhand, with Priya waving her hand, answered my question.

I looked at Ahana and said with deep emotion, “It’s not a dream. You can walk again.”

“Yes, it was a long road to recovery, a long story to tell, but the one thing I can say now is that I kept my mind focused on a miracle.”

“And it happened.”

“Yes, it did.”

I smiled with overwhelming relief and joy.

“You don’t know how happy I feel for you right now.”

“I knew you would.”

“Is that why you came all the way into the backlands to see me?”

“You had asked me a question that I needed to answer.”

I inhaled deeply, unsure whether her answer would break my heart or fill it with joy. Her expression gave away nothing. Then she smiled, that smile that had captured my heart, and she said, “Yes, I will marry you.”

Once again, I was left without words, overcome with exhilaration, but there was no need for words then, and I hugged her.

We stood there in each other’s embrace for a long time, surrounded by the creek, forest and sounds of birds.

“I love this,” she said. “Peaceful and relaxing.”

“And you’d love being a farmer’s wife?”

“I should be able to,” she said with a little tease, “given that I love the farmer.”

She spent the night there with me, and that night our love story began, a beautiful story.

Repetition: No duplicated lines. Deep inhalations, sighing, speechlessness and references to dreams recur.

Editorial flags: “If they don’t” assumes she means the specialist doctors do not succeed. Confirm the intended meaning. The connection between restored mobility and the romantic resolution may warrant a sensitivity check.