Page 12 of Born in Grief

“Does she want that? Or do you?”

A niggle of awareness slid through Amay as he watched the older man. There was something there, in his tone, in his body language, and mostly in his shifty eyes. He’d always had shifty eyes.

“Leave my daughter alone or I will call my contacts and have you suspended.” With that last, obnoxious statement, Mr. Sahay stormed off.

The cop looked at Amay, tipping his head to him in acknowledgement. “Do you also think we should leave Mrs. Gokhale alone, Doc?”

Amay’s cool gaze raked over the two law enforcement officers. “I think you should do your job and allow me to do mine.”

He walked past them, his attention, at least overtly, on the case file in his hand. But every single cell in his body swam with the certain knowledge that a can of worms had just burst open and there was no way in wriggling hell that anyone was shutting the lid on it again.

Chapter Seven

DHRITHI

Everything hurt. Despite the steady drip of painkillers coursing through her system, Dhrithi felt as though a truck had plowed into her, leaving nothing untouched. A soft moan escaped her lips as she shifted slightly on the unforgiving hospital bed, searching in vain for some semblance of comfort.

The attempt only made things worse. Her body, raw and hypersensitive, protested even the slightest movement. The stiff, sterile sheet covering her felt like sandpaper scraping against her skin, each fiber an unwelcome irritant. She clenched her jaw, swallowing another wave of discomfort, her mind spinning as she tried to endure the ceaseless assault.

“Mom,” she whispered. Her mother didn’t look up from where she was scrolling through something on her phone.

“Mom,” she said, again, a little louder this time. Her mother jerked, her attention finally leaving the phone.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Should I call the doctor? Or the nurse?”

Dhrithi went to shake her head but even that slight movement made her feel like her body would cleave in two with the pain.

“Amay,” she gasped, trying to breathe slowly in an effort to battle the pain.

“Who?” Her mother frowned. “Who is that?”

Her parents hadn’t recognised him, she realised. Of course, they hadn’t. He looked nothing like the thin, nerdy boy from school. But Dhrithi would recognise him anywhere. It didn’t matter if decades passed, she would know him, know his soul. Not just in this lifetime, in every lifetime, she would know him.

Her mother was still frowning at her. “Dhrithi?”

“Doctor,” she mumbled. “Call the doctor.”

Her mother pressed the bell that summoned the nurse on duty. When she explained that she wanted to see a doctor, the duty doctor arrived. A young, fresh faced girl with a remarkably fierce glint to her eye. Her dark blue scrubs and white coat were perfectly accentuated by her high ponytail and make up free face.

“Yes?” she asked, already shining a torch in Dhrithi’s eyes without waiting for a reply.

Dhrithi stared at the younger girl. Had she ever been that competent, that confident, so sure of the space she took up in the world? If she had, she didn’t remember it.

“Amay,” she said, wetting her lips and trying to force the words out. “I want to see Amay.”

A small line notched itself in the middle of the girl’s brows. “Dr. Aatre is in surgery.”

Of course he was. He was a busy man. A busy man who’d saved her life. A busy man who hated her.

“She’s having a lot of pain,” her mother interjected, her vaguely worried gaze a direct counterpoint to the snooty attitude in her tone. “Can’t you do something about it?”

The Doctor consulted Dhrithi’s chart. “The medicines are already maxed out. I don’t think there is much I can do about it right now.” She gave Dhrithi a brief, clinical look, one completely devoid of compassion. “Try and sleep. We’ll see what we can do in a few hours.”

Sleep? How was Dhrithi going to be able to sleep when it felt like her body was lying on a bed of nails.

“Doctor.” Her mother darted a furtive look around before whispering, “Can you give her a sleeping pill or something for anxiety or depression?”

The doctor looked at Dhrithi. “If that’s how you’re feeling, I’ll send someone from the Psychiatry department to evaluate.”

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