34 ~ Scar
I woke to the faint, sterile smell of antiseptic.
For a few seconds, I didn't know where I was.
The ceiling above me was white. A monitor beside the bed gave a steady, rhythmic beep, and there was an unfamiliar heaviness in my limbs.
Then everything came back.
Samaira. Her office. The drink. The pounding in my head and my body refusing to obey me.
The blurred fragments of her face hovering over me while I struggled to remain conscious.
And then Chahat.
I remembered her voice. I slowly turned my head and froze.
She was asleep in the chair beside my bed.
Her head had fallen slightly to one side, her hair messy around her face. Even asleep, there was tension between her brows, as though she hadn't truly relaxed all night.
She looked exhausted and worried.
And somehow, seeing her there made something inside my chest loosen.
A faint smile touched my lips.
I lifted my hand and carefully brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.
She stirred.
Her eyes opened almost immediately.
For a second she simply stared at me.
Then she shot upright.
"Kartik?"
She was already reaching for the call button.
"I should call the doctor. You're awake..."
I caught her hand. "Chahat."
She stopped.
I gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.
"I'm fine."
Her eyes searched my face.
"Are you really okay?"
I nodded. "I'm absolutely fine."
The breath she released sounded as though she'd been holding it for hours.
Then, without warning, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.
I held her immediately.
She pressed her face against my shoulder, her body trembling slightly.
I tightened my arms around her.
"Calm down."
She didn't answer.
She simply held me tighter.
After a moment, she pulled back. "Yeh sab kaise hua?"
(How did this happen?)
There was no point hiding it.
"I went to Samaira's office yesterday."
Her expression changed.
"I had a business meeting there. Her agency is still connected to one of the companies we're working with, and we're handling a modelling campaign for one of our clothing brands. I went there for work."
I paused.
"Everything was normal initially."
My jaw tightened as the memories returned.
"She offered me something to drink by the staff member so I didn't think anything of it."
I looked down at my hands.
"After a while, my head started hurting. At first, I thought it was exhaustion. Then everything became strange. I couldn't focus properly. When I stood up, my body wouldn't cooperate."
I noticed how her face had gone pale listening to everything.
"I tried to leave, but I couldn't."
I swallowed.
"I knew something was wrong, but by then I couldn't do anything about it."
Her fingers tightened around mine.
"She drugged you?"
I nodded.
Silence settled between us then I looked at her. "Tumne mujhe dhundha kaise?"
(How did you find me?)
Her eyes flickered. "Usne mujhe photo bheja tha."
(She sent me a photograph.)
My expression hardened. "Of me and her?"
She nodded.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Of course.
"Woh tumhe yeh sab dikhana chahti thi."
(She wanted you to see it.)
"Usne mujhe ek message bhi bheja tha," she whispered. "She said you were hers."
(She sent me another message too. She said you were hers.)
I exhaled slowly then I looked directly into her eyes.
"Chahat, Samaira aur mere beech kabhi kuch nahi tha."
(Chahat, there was never anything between Samaira and me.)
She froze. "Kya?"
(What?)
I repeated it, more firmly this time.
"Haan. Kuch bhi nahi."
(Yes. Nothing.)
Her lips parted. "Par..."
(But...)
"Mujhe pata hai tum kya soch rahi thi," I rubbed my forehead. "Aur mujhe sab kuch pehle hi explain kar dena chahiye tha."
(I know what you thought and I should have explained everything much earlier.)
My voice became quieter.
"But I was angry and upset."
She stared at me.
"When you called me a man-whore, I lost my temper. I thought explaining myself would make me look like I was begging you to believe me."
I had spent my entire life refusing to justify myself to anyone.
I expected people to accept what I said without demanding explanations.
And with her, my arrogance had cost me something far more important.
"I should have told you the truth."
I looked away for a moment.
"We worked together months ago. That's when this started. She became obsessed with me. She followed me, contacted me constantly, sent messages from different numbers whenever I blocked her."
She listened silently.
"I kept blocking her. She kept finding another way."
I shook my head.
"I eventually saved her number because blocking it was pointless. At least then I knew when it was her calling."
My eyes met her's again.
"I rejected her repeatedly. I told her to stay away from me. I humiliated her. I warned her. I thought what she could possibly do. I had underestimated her. I thought eventually she'd get tired and leave me alone."
I paused.
"She didn't. The day I was trying to tell you that there was nothing between us, she sent me a suicide note."
Her eyes widened. "She threatened to kill herself?"
"She sent a photograph of the note, then a video."
I remembered the screen.
"I wasn't worried about her life." She looked at me. I didn't soften the truth. "I was worried about the consequences."
I exhaled.
"I didn't want some woman killing herself and leaving behind a note saying I was responsible. I didn't want my name dragged into a scandal about an affair that never existed."
My voice became colder.
"I've spent years protecting my reputation. I don't involve myself in meaningless relationships or casual affairs. I wasn't going to let someone destroy everything because she couldn't accept rejection."
I looked at her
"Aur jab main us raat ghar aaya, mujhe tumhe sab kuch batana tha. "
(And when I came back that night, I wanted to tell you.)
Her eyes immediately became wet.
"Par tum so gayi thi. Dusre din tumne mujhse kuch pucha hi nahin." I gave a small shrug. "So I told myself it didn't matter anymore."
(But you were asleep. The next day, you didn't ask.)
The silence between us became unbearable.
Then I noticed the tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Chahat?"
She shook her head.
She looked devastated and suddenly I realized that she hadn't merely misunderstood me.
She had been carrying this belief inside her for weeks.
Weeks of thinking I was betraying her.
Weeks of watching me and believing there was another woman and I had done nothing to correct it.
Because my ego had convinced me that explaining myself would make me look weak.
She suddenly moved forward and hugged me again.
This time, she held me as though she was afraid to let go.
I wrapped my arms around her. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
I frowned. "Kis liye?"
(For what?)
She didn't answer.
Her fingers tightened against my shirt.
I could feel her trembling.
I gently stroked her back. "Whatever you're thinking, stop."
She shook her head against my chest.
"I misunderstood you."
I went still. There was something broken in her voice.
"I thought..." She couldn't finish.
I closed my eyes.
I didn't know what she had imagined all these weeks.
But I knew one thing. If I had simply put my pride aside and told her the truth from the beginning, none of this would have happened.
I held her tighter.
"You don't have to punish yourself for misunderstanding something I refused to explain."
She pulled back slightly.
Her eyes were red.
I wiped one of her tears away with my thumb.
.
.
.
The formalities were finally completed.
She had handled everything herself while I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, watching her move around the room. She spoke to the nurse, signed the discharge papers, collected the medicines, and made sure she understood every instruction the doctor had given.
I had barely said a word, not because I couldn't.
I simply liked watching her.
There was something strangely comforting about seeing her take care of things for me.
Once everything was done, the nurse left, and Chahat turned toward me with my clothes in her hands.
"We're leaving."
I nodded and reached for the shirt. Before I could take it from her, she stepped closer.
"I'll help you."
I smiled and She helped me out of the hospital uniform carefully, making sure I didn't move too quickly. My body still felt weak, and the headache hadn't completely disappeared, but having her so close made it easier to ignore.
She picked up my black shirt from the chair and held it open for me.
I slipped my arms through it.
She stood in front of me, her fingers moving toward the buttons.
The first one then the second. Her movements were unusually slow.
I watched her face instead of the buttons.
Something was different. Her eyes wouldn't meet mine for more than a second.
And then I felt her fingers trembled barely. But I noticed.
They trembled again when she reached for the next button.
I caught her wrist. "Kya baat hai?"
(What is it?)
She looked at me.
For a moment, there was something in her eyes that I couldn't understand.
Then she forced a smile. "Kuch nahi."
(Nothing.)
It was supposed to reassure me but It didn't.
The smile reached her lips, but not her eyes.
I studied her face for a few seconds. For a moment I felt she was hiding something.
I knew that much but I didn't know what and for once, I didn't want to force her to tell me.
Maybe she was still shaken because of what had happened.
Maybe seeing me like this had scared her.
Whatever it was, I could wait.
I released her wrist and instead lifted my hand to her face, cupping her cheek.
She leaned into my palm almost instinctively.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. "Yes."
I didn't believe her but I didn't question her again.
Instead, I brushed my thumb gently across her cheek and her eyes softened.
And before I could say anything else, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.
I stiffened for barely a second before my arms came around her.