Page 6 of Born in Grief

A man walked in, followed by an entire entourage of people. A doctor. Her doctor, she thought dimly.

He didn’t glance at her as he continued quizzing the younger lot streaming around him. Another nurse bustled in and took her blood pressure while the others talked over her.

Voices, so many voices, she thought as her head started to pound. She squeezed her eyes shut tight.

“The patient regained consciousness eighteen hours post-surgery.” She heard the doctor say, his voice a deep, warm baritone. There was something wonderfully reassuring andstrangely familiar about it. She wanted to cocoon herself in that voice and sleep for days.

“We’re going to check her dressing now.”

Dhrithi’s eyes snapped open, the sudden movement making her wince again.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” the man asked, his voice sharp and a stark contrast to the calm tone he’d had seconds ago.

“Yes,” Dhrithi whispered, agony making her face contort as she struggled to get comfortable on the hard bed.

“What’s her painkiller dose?” The nurse he was snapping questions at jumped to pull up Dhrithi’s file before responding.

“Increase the dosage,” the man ordered. “It will bring her more relief.”

The nurse nodded and left, presumably to get that magic bottle that would make Dhrithi feel better. Gnarly faced nurse stayed close, looking ready to jump to the Doctor’s command.

“I’m going to check your dressing now,” the doctor told a spot somewhere over Dhrithi’s head. He hadn’t looked directly at her since the moment he’d walked in.

“Sure,” she croaked, trying to move but unable to do anything other than flop like a fish out of water on the bed.

“Shh,” Gnarly nurse murmured. “Let me help the doctor.”

Within seconds, Dhrithi’s medical robe had magically moved to bare her chest to the doctor’s view. If she’d had even a second to think about it, she would have found the strength to be embarrassed but she didn’t. She just shut her eyes and lay there,allowing him to poke and prod her as he opened up her dressing and examined her.

Whore.

She heard Varun’s hissed whisper in her ear and her heartbeat escalated, a rapid yet erratic thrumming that had the doctor pausing in his examination.

“Relax,” he muttered. “I won’t hurt you.”

He wouldn’t but someone else would. Especially if he saw Dhrithi lying essentially topless in front of a room full of strangers. Her eyes opened, her gaze going to the door.

Where was Varun? Waiting outside? Or had he gone home? How angry was he? A shiver snaked through her as she stared at the door, wondering how much time she had before he walked through it and back into her life.

“Take a deep breath.” His voice was like hot honey seeping through her veins, bringing calm when there was none.

Dhrithi took a deep breath, powerless to disobey his command.

“Now exhale slowly,” he said quietly.

She blew out the breath, his hair ruffling in the strength of her exhale. He chuckled softly. “There you go. Now do that over and over again.”

So, she did. She watched the top of his head, thick waves of black hair falling forward over his brow as he worked on her surgical wound.

“Looks good,” he said finally, holding out a hand for the dressing the nurse had ready. He cleaned and packed the wound again, strapping everything down with military precision.

His hand grazed her side and Dhrithi cried out in pain, a sharp sound. His head snapped up, dark, intense eyes lasering into hers.

And time stood still.

Dhrithi stared at him. She knew those eyes. She knew this man. Or rather, she’d known the boy he’d once been.

“Amay.” His name was a bare breath of sound.

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