Rohan shook his head, his vision blurred with tears. "No, Papa. I still need you. I—I need to make you proud again. There's so much more I want to do… so much more I want to show you."
"You've already made me proud, my son," Mahendra murmured, his voice soft but steady. Each word seemed to take an immense amount of effort, his breath labored. "You've done more than I ever dreamed… more than I could have imagined. Every time I look at you, I see the man you've become—the man you were always meant to be."
Rohan squeezed his father's hand tighter, as if trying to hold onto his strength, to keep him here just a little longer. "But I'm not finished yet, Papa. I'm going to keep running, keep pushing. I'll win more medals—gold ones. I'll—"
"You don't need to do that for me," Mahendra whispered, shaking his head slowly. "You've already given me everything I could ever want. Just… just be happy, Rohan. Live your life… for yourself. That's… that's all I've ever wanted."
