Page 19 of Born in Grief

“Mrs. Gokhale, did you go for a walk?”

The female doctor’s usage of her married name shattered the moment. Dhrithi felt dirty, like her very being was soiled from the filth of being Varun Gokhale’s wife.

Dhrithi shut her eyes, unable to meet Amay’s gaze anymore and shook her head. “No,” she murmured. “I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t or you wouldn’t? You need to move, Ma’am. If you lie in bed all day, you’re only going to slow your healing down.”

Lying in bed all day…a mirthless smile curved Dhrithi’s lips. It wasn’t like this was a day at the spa for her. She wasn’t lying in this damn bed out of choice.

Dhrithi glanced at the name sewn onto the woman’s scrubs. Dr. Arushi Raina. She’s the one Amay had brought with him to treat her the other night. Did they know each other well? Did they work together often?

There was so much she didn’t know about him. And yet, there had been a time she’d known almost everything. Almost. And it had been that almost which had changed everything.

“Nurse.” Dr. Raina wasn’t done with her yet. “Please see that the patient is made to walk this evening.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

On the television screen, the heroine screamed, a piercing sound that had everyone in the room jumping.

“Ma’am could you lower the volume, please?” Dr. Raina requested politely, a thread of irritation weaving through her voice.

“Hmm?” Dhrithi’s mother frowned distractedly at the screen, not even bothering to look at them.

A second later, the television screen faded to black, a sudden silence descending on the room. Amay straightened from where he’d bent to yank the television cord out of its socket.

Her mother’s mouth fell open, her perfectly painted red lips forming a delicate moue. Anandita Sahay was a beautiful woman. She had what most people called ‘pretty privilege.’ She also was a master at weaponised incompetence. All her mother needed to do in life was bat her eyelashes at someone and they rushed to do her bidding. What she wasn’t used to was people not rushing to do said bidding.

“What was that?” she demanded of Amay who didn’t bother answering her. He turned his back on her and gestured to Dr. Raina to continue.

Fighting a smile, the younger doctor looked at Dhrithi. “You have to walk or you’ll end up with blood clots. The nurse will help you.”

“Walk?” Dhrithi’s mother’s outraged squawk joined the conversation. “Have you seen her condition? How can she walk?”

Dhrithi sighed. Amay should have left the television on. It would have been easier than dealing with what was coming. Her mother was going to turn this into a Shakespearean tragedy.

“Ma’am, if she doesn’t-“

“Have some consideration.” Her mother’s voice quavered now, her drama on point, as always. “Is this how you treat someone who’s been widowed in such a tragic fashion? Her husband died in a car crash!”

“Would it be okay to make her walk if her spouse had died of say a heart attack?” Amay’s sardonic voice cut through her tirade. “I suppose we could let her rest an extra day if he’d been martyred during a war or something.”

Silence descended on the room as everyone gaped at Amay who was calmly watching Dhrithi’s mother, with one eyebrow raised. Until…

The giggle that burst out of Dhrithi drew every single gaze in the room. But she was watching only one. She saw it then, the slight warming of his gaze, the amusement filtering through. It was there for a second and gone before she could register it fully. But it had been there, and it left a disturbingly precious warmth in her chest.

“Nurse?” Dr. Raina gestured the nurse forward and the sturdy woman stepped up to disconnect the cannula and put an arm behind Dhrithi’s back to slowly leverage her into a sitting position.

A pained moan escaped her even though she tried to hold it in. Sweat beaded her brow as she struggled to breathe through the pain that swamped her.

“More support,” Amay barked and the nurse’s arm tightened around her lower back.

“See?” Dhrithi’s mother’s shrill cry rang through the room. “She is no condition to be walking. Why are you people torturing her? I am going to ask my husband to complain about you all. I’ll have you suspended.”

“MA!” Dhrithi’s grunted shout silenced her. “Please stop.”

Her mother’s mouth fell open for the second time that day. “You’re taking their side over mine?” she squealed. “When I’m the one fighting for you?”

“It’s not about sides,” Dhrithi gritted out, slumping back against the bed, exhausted from the effort of just trying to sit. “They’re trying to help and you’re not letting them.”

---