Page 7 of Born in Grief

“Dr. Aatre.”

The call came from near the door, strident and loud. But he didn’t look away from her. An endless, infinite, precious moment when she saw the hope of her past reflected back at her.

“Dr. Aatre, the patient’s family is here.”

And the moment snapped. Amay’s gaze shuttered as he withdrew his hands from her body and stepped back.

Fear swam through her, a tidal wave of emotions that put her physical pain to shame. Varun was here!

“Amay,” she whispered again but he was already turning away from her.

“Amay please,” she begged, wanting to tell him something, she didn’t know what.

He glanced at her, his gaze snagging with hers.

For a second, she thought he understood what she was trying to say even though she didn’t know what it was herself.

For a second, she thought he’d stay.

“Dr. Sathe will brief the family,” he said, his voice curt, remote, cold. A stranger’s voice.

It was the last thing she heard before she saw the door slam shut behind his retreating figure, his horde of groupies scrambling along in his wake.

Chapter Four

AMAY

He stood a little distance away as he watched Dr. Sushant Sathe brief Dhrithi’s parents. Her father stood to one side, stoic and unmoved, while his wife sobbed into her expensive, monogrammed handkerchief.

His mind drifted back to the last few minutes in Dhrithi’s room. He’d seen terror in her eyes. Fear that hadn’t been there until the nurse had announced that her family was there to see her. Was it her parents she feared? He knew her father had been the typical autocratic, too-rich-to-be-there type and Dhriti had always been scared of him but fear was one thing…the frantic terror he’d seen was another.

And he knew who was capable of terrorising someone like that. Anger ignited in the pit of his stomach as he contemplated the fact that Dhrithi had chosen to marry the asshole.

The medical team, led by him, had been waiting for Dhrithi to regain consciousness to tell her about her husband’s death. It worked well that the notification would happen while her parents were around to support her.

On cue, her mother’s quavering voice reached him. “He’s dead?” she wailed, a high, keening sound.

Sushant nodded, his face a calm, composed mask. The man was a good doctor, Amay thought cynically. A good doctor with all the emotions of a good robot too.

And then they were walking towards him. He should leave, move away before they reached him. He should walk away from this unholy mess and not look back.

That flash of terror snagged at what was left of his conscience and Amay stayed where he was, right in their path. They would have to walk through him to get to Dhrithi’s room.

“Dr. Aatre.” Sushant gave him that plastic, cold smile of his.

“Dr. Sathe.” Amay nodded.

“The patient, Dhrithi Gokhale’s, parents.” He gestured with one hand towards the older couple watching them silently.

Dhrithi Gokhale. The surname attached to her name left a sour, metallic taste in his mouth. Bracing himself, he turned to face her parents. Nothing. He saw nothing in their faces. No disdain. No disgust. No recognition. Nothing.

“Dr. Aatre is the lead surgeon on your daughter’s case,” Sushanth said in his flat monotone.

“Thank you, Doctor.” Her father held his hand out. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for our daughter.

Amay stared at the outstretched hand. Life was a funny thing, he thought. If you lived long enough, you pretty much saw everything. Even the day a man who’d brushed past him and hishopeful greetings with a disdainful sneer would extend a hand in gratitude to him.

“It’s my job,” he murmured, matching Sushant’s flat monotone. And then he did the most idiotic thing he’d ever done in his life. He fell into step with them, walking them to Dhrithi’s room.

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