Chapter 30
KAVYA
“When will you return then?” I asked, my fingers tracing through my husband’s thick hair, memorizing the texture. I tried to keep my voice steady, but the tremor was there, lurking just beneath the surface.
Saurav let out a dry, short breath, a ghost of a laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe in ten years?”
It was a joke, but I didn’t smile. The thought of ten years without him felt less like a jest and more like a sentence.
“I’m going to miss you,” I whispered.
Saurav’s eyes snapped to mine, his gaze searching, intense.
“I’ve had the best time with you this last month,” I added, my heart aching with the honesty of it. This month had been a fragile bubble of peace in a life otherwise defined by chaos.
“Me too,” he murmured. He turned fully toward me, cupping my face in his large, warm hands. He leaned in, his kiss soft and lingering.
I reached up, cupping the back of his head to pull him closer, desperate to bridge the distance that was already growing between us. Saurav started to pull away, glancing at his watch with a curse. “Fuck it.”
He didn't care about the time anymore. He threw the heavy blanket over us, shielding us from the world outside. “Don’t cry,” he warned, his voice a rough command as he pressed his palm gently but firmly over my mouth to stifle my sounds. “Dad is home.”
He took me then, with a desperate, raw urgency. It was rough, fueled by the ticking clock and the looming separation, a final claim before the mission tore him away.
Half an hour later, we lay tangled in each other’s arms, our skin slick with sweat, our breathing slowly evening out. Saurav leaned over and pressed a final, lingering kiss to my forehead.
“There were so many things I wanted to talk about,” he said, his voice dropping to a serious, low register. “Your police complaint, your family… but you looked so happy on this trip. I didn't want to be the one to spoil it.”
He caught my gaze, holding it with an intensity that made me want to look away. “When I return from this mission, you’re going to tell me everything, Kavya. I want the truth. No more secrets.”
A cold shiver raced down my spine. The way he spoke, so certain, so perceptive, made me feel exposed. It was as if he could sense the rot beneath the surface, the dark truth I was so terrified of disclosing.
But I knew the reality. As long as my father was drawing breath, the truth was a luxury I couldn't afford. He would destroy my little sister if I dared to speak. I would take this secret to my grave, even if it meant enduring Saurav’s hatred all over again.
When I didn't respond, the warmth in Saurav’s expression flickered and died, replaced by a cold disappointment. He climbed out of bed in silence, washed, and began to dress for his flight. He was already thirty minutes late, and the tension in the room was thick enough to choke on.
I threw on my clothes and walked him down to the door. “Take care of yourself,” I said softly.
He gave me a curt, professional nod, the husband from the last month was gone, replaced by the soldier. Then, he was out the door.
Once the sound of his car faded, the house transformed. It felt cavernous, silent, and suffocating. It was as if the very walls knew he was gone, and something vital inside the home had already begun to crumble.
I told Mr. Chauhan I was going to visit my family. It was a half-truth; I was going to see Kirti.
It had been four weeks since I’d last seen my sister. I knew she must be wondering where I was, though I had checked in constantly. Avni and Noor had looked after her perfectly in my absence. Noor, especially, had been a lifeline, updating me via WhatsApp calls whenever she could.
When Kirti first heard I was traveling with Saurav, she had been more excited than I was. I’d never seen her so radiant. She even teased me about having a niece or nephew soon, a heartbreaking thought. Rhea had once told me Saurav never wanted to be a father.
The drive to the hospital took twenty minutes. I rushed through the sterile corridors, my heart hammering against my ribs, desperate to see her face. But when I reached her room, my feet froze at the threshold.
Abhiraj was sitting by her bed.
A surge of hot fury boiled in my veins. I didn't think; I simply barged in.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded. I tried to keep my voice down for the sake of the hospital, but the anger bled through every word.
Both of them turned to look at me, their eyes wide with surprise, as if I’d just grown a second head.
“Hey, Kavya,” Abhiraj said, his tone infuriatingly cool. “When did you get back from Bali?”
“How was the honeymoon?” Kirti chirped, her face lighting up at the sight of me.
I ignored them both, pointing a trembling finger between them. “How… how do you two even know each other?”
Kirti gave me a wide, innocent grin. “Because his grandmother is my doctor!”
I swung my gaze to Abhiraj. He gave a slow, calm nod.
“How did I not know this?” I asked, my voice tight.
“Because my grandmother only works part-time now,” Abhiraj explained with a small smile.
“She’s one of the best cardiologists in the city.
When I told her about your sister’s case, she insisted on taking it.
And here we are.” He looked at Kirti, then back to me.
“Your sister is a lot like you, you know.”
I pressed my palms against my forehead, trying to steady the sudden whirl of my thoughts.
I sank into a nearby chair, my gaze darting between Abhiraj and my sister.
I needed to process this. Abhiraj knew about Kirti’s condition.
He had told his grandmother. And his "sweet grandmother" just happened to be interested in the case.
Wait. Something clicked.
“What is your grandmother’s name?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“Sejal Sisodiya,” Abhiraj replied.
My heart skipped a beat. My eyes widened as the name settled in the air between us.
Sejal Sisodiya wasn't just a doctor; she was a legend, one of the finest cardiologists in all of India.
I remembered hearing her name years ago, back when Kirti first fell ill.
At the time, her fees were a distant dream, something I could never hope to afford.
And now, she was here? Looking after my sister?
“You’ve heard of her, then?” Abhiraj asked.
I couldn't even find the words to answer; I just nodded numbly. A flicker of pride crossed Abhiraj’s face.
“Now you understand why I advocate for women to lead,” he said, his voice ringing with conviction. “They don’t just nurture their own families; they look after the whole damn world without a single complaint.”
I spent a few more minutes with Kirti. She seemed happy. But the relief I felt was short-lived. A nurse soon informed me that Dr. Sisodiya was ready to see me in her private office.
The atmosphere changed the moment I stepped inside. The office was quiet, smelling of sterile air and old paper. Dr. Sejal Sisodiya sat behind a heavy desk. She looked exactly as I remembered in her birthday party.
She didn't waste time with pleasantries. “Kavya,” she began, “you already know your sister needs a heart transplant.”
I nodded, my fingers beginning to tremble in my lap.
“Her condition has worsened,” she continued, her voice soft but firm. “We cannot afford to wait any longer.”
A cold chill washed over me. “What do you mean? Worsened how?”
“She needs the transplant immediately.”
I had known this was coming.
“How much time do we have?” I asked. My voice felt brittle, like it might shatter if I spoke too loud.
“Maximum three months.”
My breath hitched. I felt the air leave the room. “But... she was just smiling. She looked fine. The previous doctors said she was stable. How can everything change so suddenly?”
Dr. Sejal shook her head gently, her expression sympathetic. “That is the most dangerous part of this illness, Kavya. Patients like Kirti can appear perfectly normal until the heart begins to fail rapidly. That is the stage we have entered.”
I bit my lip, pressing them together so hard it hurt, fighting the urge to break down right there. “So, what do we do? We can’t just sit here and wait for a donor, can we?”
She leaned forward, her silver hair catching the light.
“We won’t just wait. There is an option to buy us some time.
” She paused, ensuring I was listening. “We can implant a Ventricular Assist Device, a mechanical pump. It’s a bridge.
It will help her heart circulate blood and keep her stable for a while longer. ”
“A machine?” I repeated. The word sounded cold, industrial.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s surgically implanted. It doesn’t replace her heart, but it takes over the heavy lifting.”
For a split second, a tiny spark of hope flickered in my chest. “So... she’ll be okay? This will save her?”
Dr. Sejal didn't let that hope linger. She reached out, her hand hovering near mine. “It isn’t a cure, Kavya. It’s a lifeline. It will keep her alive only while we search for a donor heart.”
The spark died. “And if we don’t find one?”
I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it. Her voice softened even further. “Then even the device won’t be enough. It eventually runs out of time, too.”
Silence filled the room. Three months. A mechanical pump. A race against a clock that was already ticking down.
“I’ll do it,” I said. My voice was surprisingly steady, even though I felt like I was falling apart inside. “Implant the device. Do whatever you have to do. I’ll arrange the money. I'll handle everything.”
She studied me for a long moment, perhaps seeing the desperation behind my eyes, then she nodded. “We will begin the preparations immediately.”
I stood up slowly. My legs felt like lead, and my mind was a chaotic roar of fear and logistics. When I stepped out of her office and back into the hallway, the world felt distorted, like I was looking at it through thick glass. Machines. Surgery. Three months.
I walked back toward Kirti’s room. Through the small window, I saw her. She was laughing at something Abhiraj had said, her face bright and full of life. She looked so vibrant, like nothing was wrong, like her life wasn't hanging by a fraying thread.
I quickly wiped the tears from my cheeks and forced a smile onto my face. She couldn't know. Not yet. I stepped into the room, carrying the weight of the truth, the ticking of the clock, and the ghost of the machine that would soon be the only thing keeping her heart beating.
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