Page 42 of Born in Grief

The soft question was a dagger through his stupid heart. “At your review day after tomorrow.”

“At the hospital?”

He nodded, not turning back. He heard her exhale and then say, “Okay.”

He took another step forward to the sound of blankets rustling. She wasn’t eating. She was settling in to sleep, without her food and medicines.

“You need to eat,” he told her, dropping his head to the door, his forehead connecting with a thunk.

“I will.”

“When?” His eyes squeezed shut, his head still bonding with the wood of the door.

“In a bit.” More rustling.

He clenched his fist, doing his best not to punch the door with it. “Dhrithi-“

“I have nightmares.” Her quiet voice stopped his heart. “Are they even nightmares when they’re just snippets of a life you’ve already lived? I don’t know. But they play in my head, a constant reel that’s just there, awake or asleep. The silence in my life, it echoes.”

He turned around, his doomed fate tugging him forward. Toward her, always toward her.

“Would you stay for a bit?” she asked, her voice a thready whisper. “Please?”

He sat down on the side of her bed, his gaze on his hands. Fucked. He was fucked. He reached for the plate, pulling it towards him. He forked up some unappetising looking khichidi and held it out to her.

“Eat,” he said.

She opened her mouth, allowing the tines of the fork to slip between her lips. She swallowed before she said, “Thank you.”

Amay nodded.

“Amay, I’m sorry. For everything.”

He froze for a second before forking up another mouthful for her. She opened her mouth, taking her cue from his and not going down a path he had no wish to tread.

Fucked. Absolutely fucked.

Chapter Twenty-Five

DHRITHI

Run bitch!

She came awake with a suddenness that had her sitting straight up in bed, the comforter she’d been huddled under falling to her waist. Varun’s vicious whisper still rang in her ears. Sweat beaded her brow even as the air conditioner continued to hum, a soundless companion.

She glanced around the room but there was no sign of Amay. Like the night in the hospital, he’d disappeared before she could wake up, leaving her no room or opportunity for apologies or further requests.

Run bitch!

She should run. She should take her mess and run as far away as she could from these guys. She knew they wanted to help but she had no right accepting that help. Well, Amay and Virat wanted to help. Ishaan was just being dragged along, grumbling and moaning, for the ride.

She got out of bed and went looking for her duffle bag, the one she’d stuffed all her hospital stuff into. She couldn’t keep rummaging through the cupboards and dressing herself like a homeless person in the hand-me-downs she found there. Especially now that she’d found out that they were Virat’s hand-me-downs.

She found her bag and pulled out a pair of tracks and a t-shirt. She showered as fast as she could while wrapping plastic around her surgical sites to keep them as dry as possible. She patted her wounds down carefully and dressed it the way the nurse had shown her in the hospital before discharge.

And then she got out, got dressed and stuffed her things into her bag. She looked at the messy, crumpled bed and knew she should do something about it but she didn’t have time. She had to leave before any of them came looking for her.

She found a notepad with a pencil on the workstation in the hall and scribbled a quick note to Amay. She had so much to say and no right to say anything of it. So, in the end she kept it short and to the point.

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