Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
DHRITHI
“Amay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, yet laced with a fragile sense of relief. He had come!
A sharp wave of pain surged through her body, leaving her trembling as a feverish shiver rippled in its wake. Her breathing hitched, uneven and laboured. Amay’s dark eyes narrowed, his expression tightening with focus as he strode forward. His movements were quick but purposeful, his gaze sweeping over her pale face and fragile form, taking in every sign of her condition.
He reached her side in moments, bending to place a steady, cool hand against her burning forehead. The contrast was startling, and she flinched slightly under his touch, her skin feeling like it had been scraped raw.
Behind them, the door creaked open. A nurse peeked cautiously into the room, her wide, wary eyes flicking back and forth. First, they settled on Amay, his face a mask of emotionless control, unreadable and intimidating. Then, her gaze darted to the other doctor standing rigidly by, her expression twisting with frustration and barely contained anger.
The air in the room felt heavy, crackling with unspoken tension.
“Thermometer,” he barked now, and the nurse scurried into the room to hand him one.
Dhrithi opened her mouth to say something, and he took advantage of it to shove the thermometer under her tongue. He took it out when it beeped, his expression darkening formidably as he stared at the display on it.
“Care to take a look, Dr. Raina?” he asked the junior doctor who stood at the foot of the bed, her hands jammed into the pockets of her scrubs.
When she didn’t reach for it, he handed it over to the nurse and folded his hands over his chest. “Diagnosis?” he asked the younger girl who reluctantly stepped forward.
She took Dhrithi’s wrist between her cool fingers and proceeded to ask her an exhaustive set of questions. Dhrithi did her best to answer them though it felt like her head was spinning.
“Diagnosis?” Amay asked again, his voice hard.
“Infection?” the girl asked, her voice shaking now.
Dhrithi glanced at Amay, the sight of the doctor’s panic sparking her own. “What does that mean?”
Amay didn’t look at her, his flinty eyed gaze trained on the other girl. “What else?”
“Possibility of sepsis.” The younger doctor looked like she was going to faint from fear under Amay’s hard gaze.
“Next line of treatment?”
The girl started to talk, rattling off a list of tests and medication that had Dhrithi tuning them out. She wished she could shut them out completely but the murmur of their voices was a constant irritant. The door opened and her parents walked in followed by a man in a black coat.
“Who-“ Dhrithi coughed, the movement causing pain to lance through her. She winced, shifting in the bed and trying to get comfortable. “Who is that?”
“Lawyer,” her father said briefly. He looked at the doctors standing beside Dhrithi’s bed and frowned. “What is going on? What do you want?”
“We need to run a few tests,” Amay said calmly, his eyes landing on the lawyer for a split second before returning to her father. “There is a possibility of infection. The broad-spectrum antibiotic already prescribed doesn’t seem to be working and we’ll be changing it.”
“Hmm.” Her father dismissed them with a curt nod before gesturing to the lawyer to sit in the chair beside Dhrithi’s bed. “Dhrithi, this is Mr. Abdul Hussain. He needs to speak to you about Varun.”
Even through her pain and misery, Dhrithi was acutely conscious of the waves of silent rage rolling off of Amay’s stiff form as he stood by her bedside.
“What about Varun?” She was dimly aware of the female doctor slipping a new bottle on to her IV stand and fixing it to the tube in her cannula.
“The police are investigating the accident. We need to be prepared on our end.”
She thought she heard a weird, strangled sound from Amay but when she glanced at him, he had his usual stone-faced mask on. He picked up her medical file and started to flip through it.
“Prepared for what?” she asked, mildly distracted as the nurse swabbed her upper arm and slid a needle in. “What’s that for?” she asked the nurse.
“Painkiller,” the angry lady doctor muttered, her brusque tone not encouraging more conversation.
Dhrithi wished they’d all get out. All of them. Except Amay. She wanted him to stay beside her forever!
“Dhrithi, pay attention.” Her father’s patience on a good day was short. Today was not a good day.
She blinked, trying to clear her head and concentrate but her tenuous grip on consciousness seemed like a slippery slope.
The lawyer pulled out a pen and notepad and crossed his legs looking over at Dhrithi with a benevolent smile. “Did your husband have a registered will?”
“A will?” Dhrithi murmured, her mind fogging over as the pain receded slightly, the never-ending waves of pain changing tides.
“Yes, a will.” Her father inserted himself into the conversation again. “Do you know what he was leaving to you?”
“Was there a prenuptial agreement?” Lawyer Douche was not ready to hand over the reins of the conversation to Dhrithi’s father.
“No.” Dhrithi shook her head. “I didn’t want one.”
“Why?” The man leaned back on the uncomfortable metal attender stool and watched her.
“I didn’t marry Varun for his money. I-“ Dhrithi broke off, her tongue darting out to wet her dry, chapped lips.
“You?” the lawyer prompted.
“She married for love!” Dhrithi’s mother announced dramatically.
Following the loud statement, silence fell on the little group. Dhrithi’s gaze was drawn to Amay who was now fiddling with the speed of her IV line. She saw his fingers clench around the thin plastic tube for a microsecond before he let go and stepped back.
“Dr. Raina will be back to check on you in an hour,” he said formally before heading to the door.
Dr. Raina? Not him?
“Amay,” she called out, her voice a raspy croak.
He stopped but he didn’t turn, his back muscles tensing and bunching under the well-worn scrubs.
“Will you come again?”
He turned his head slightly to look at her, a quick glance over his shoulder. Dark, intense, piercing black eyes met her own pain filled ones.
“Dr. Raina will keep an eye on you,” he said calmly, not a hitch in his voice. “You’re in very good hands.”
Maybe, Dhrithi thought, as she watched him walk out the door. They may be very good hands, but they were not his hands.
And she was shocked by the fact that her illusion of safety seemed to be hinging on his presence. The same presence that was walking out of the door without even glancing back at her.