Page 13 of Born in Grief

“No!” The word came out a lot stronger than anything she’d managed so far. Dhrithi glared at her mother who didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed. “I don’t need a shrink.”

“Okay then. Press the bell if you need me again. I’m on duty until eight tonight.” She was almost to the door when Dhrithi spoke again.

“Amay. I want to see him.”

The girl flashed her an irritated look. “I told you Dr. Aatre is in surgery.”

“After that?” Dhrithi coughed slightly, the miniscule movement sending pain raging through her body.

“It’s a long surgery. We don’t know when he’ll be done. If you need anything, page me. There is nothing he can do for you that I can’t.”

There she was wrong. What Amay could do for Dhrithi, nobody else could.

“Please tell him to come see me after the surgery.” It was the longest sentence she’d managed in hours.

“I’ll pass on the message,” the girl said curtly. “But I can’t guarantee anything.”

And she was gone, the door slamming shut in her wake. Dhrithi tried to curl up on her side, pulling her legs into a foetal position but it didn’t help. She was just as uncomfortable as before.

“Why do you want to talk to that doctor?” her mother asked curiously.

Before Dhrithi could reply, the door banged open and her father stormed in.

“What happened that night? The night of the accident?” he asked, each word a cold, gritted out pebble of sound.

“That night?” Dhrithi asked, her tired, painfilled eyes looking at the man who’d sired her. “Don’t you already know, Pa? Haven’t you always known?”

His lips thinned into a flat line. “You won’t talk to the police. You will not say anything. Do you understand me? We need to stay quiet on this or we will lose everything.”

Dhrithi closed her eyes, blocking him out. She would not say anything. She knew better than that.

But Varun was dead, a small voice in her head reminded her. He couldn’t touch her now. He could never touch her again.

But she would still not say anything. She couldn’t afford to. She wouldn’t put it past Varun to reach for her from the bowels of hell itself.

Amay would come, she told herself. He would get her message and he would come. She held on to that thought as she slowly slipped into sleep, the medicines finally dragging her under.

But when she woke, hours later, she looked out of the window and saw the sky fading into shades of night.

And still, Amay hadn’t come.

Chapter Eight

AMAY

Ten hours later, Amay finally pushed back from the operating table, his hands trembling slightly from the relentless focus required during the marathon surgery. With a curt nod to his second, he signalled for the team to close up. His adrenaline still surged, keeping exhaustion at bay as he pulled off his surgical mask in one swift motion, letting the cool air hit his face. Sweat plastered his hair beneath the surgical cap, which he yanked off without care, his mind already moving to the next task.

Stepping out of the brightly lit operating theatre into the dimmer light of the corridor, he felt the weight of the hours spent in surgery pressing against him but pushed it aside. His hands, now free of gloves, still carried the ghostly sensation of precision, each move replaying in his head as he briskly walked toward the post-operative ward. His steps were automatic, guided more by instinct than thought as he reached the bed of his colleague, Sathe.

Sathe lay pale but stable, the steady beep of the monitors a reassuring sound in the otherwise quiet ward. Amay stood there for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning the vitals displayedon the screen, his mind parsing the numbers with practiced ease. Only when he was sure that everything was as it should be did he allow himself a brief exhale of relief. He gave a slight nod to the attending nurse and turned on his heel, the pull of exhaustion finally catching up to him.

The doctor’s lounge was a quiet refuge. Amay stepped inside and reached for the first thing within arm’s length—an energy bar from the table. His fingers fumbled with the wrapper, tearing into it with more urgency than he realised. The sweetness hit his tongue as he leaned back against the wall, letting the fatigue seep into his muscles. For the first time in hours, his body felt heavy, the adrenaline waning and the weight of the day settling in.

“Dr. Aatre?”

His gaze snapped to the junior doctor hovering by the door. He knew her face but couldn’t place her name.

“Yes?” He didn’t bother with more than that. He didn’t have the energy or the patience for it.

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