Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
DHRITHI
Everything hurt. Despite the steady drip of painkillers coursing through her system, Dhrithi felt as though a truck had plowed into her, leaving nothing untouched. A soft moan escaped her lips as she shifted slightly on the unforgiving hospital bed, searching in vain for some semblance of comfort.
The attempt only made things worse. Her body, raw and hypersensitive, protested even the slightest movement. The stiff, sterile sheet covering her felt like sandpaper scraping against her skin, each fiber an unwelcome irritant. She clenched her jaw, swallowing another wave of discomfort, her mind spinning as she tried to endure the ceaseless assault.
“Mom,” she whispered. Her mother didn’t look up from where she was scrolling through something on her phone.
“Mom,” she said, again, a little louder this time. Her mother jerked, her attention finally leaving the phone.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Should I call the doctor? Or the nurse?”
Dhrithi went to shake her head but even that slight movement made her feel like her body would cleave in two with the pain.
“Amay,” she gasped, trying to breathe slowly in an effort to battle the pain.
“Who?” Her mother frowned. “Who is that?”
Her parents hadn’t recognised him, she realised. Of course, they hadn’t. He looked nothing like the thin, nerdy boy from school. But Dhrithi would recognise him anywhere. It didn’t matter if decades passed, she would know him, know his soul. Not just in this lifetime, in every lifetime, she would know him.
Her mother was still frowning at her. “Dhrithi?”
“Doctor,” she mumbled. “Call the doctor.”
Her mother pressed the bell that summoned the nurse on duty. When she explained that she wanted to see a doctor, the duty doctor arrived. A young, fresh faced girl with a remarkably fierce glint to her eye. Her dark blue scrubs and white coat were perfectly accentuated by her high ponytail and make up free face.
“Yes?” she asked, already shining a torch in Dhrithi’s eyes without waiting for a reply.
Dhrithi stared at the younger girl. Had she ever been that competent, that confident, so sure of the space she took up in the world? If she had, she didn’t remember it.
“Amay,” she said, wetting her lips and trying to force the words out. “I want to see Amay.”
A small line notched itself in the middle of the girl’s brows. “Dr. Aatre is in surgery.”
Of course he was. He was a busy man. A busy man who’d saved her life. A busy man who hated her.
“She’s having a lot of pain,” her mother interjected, her vaguely worried gaze a direct counterpoint to the snooty attitude in her tone. “Can’t you do something about it?”
The Doctor consulted Dhrithi’s chart. “The medicines are already maxed out. I don’t think there is much I can do about it right now.” She gave Dhrithi a brief, clinical look, one completely devoid of compassion. “Try and sleep. We’ll see what we can do in a few hours.”
Sleep? How was Dhrithi going to be able to sleep when it felt like her body was lying on a bed of nails.
“Doctor.” Her mother darted a furtive look around before whispering, “Can you give her a sleeping pill or something for anxiety or depression?”
The doctor looked at Dhrithi. “If that’s how you’re feeling, I’ll send someone from the Psychiatry department to evaluate.”
“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.