Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
I shut the door behind me as we enter our flat, relieved to have cleared the air between us but terrified by what her admission means for her, and for any friendship we might have.
She knocks into me while balancing to untie her trainers, my hands shooting out to steady her.
Her eyes flit to mine, and I swear I see the corners of her lips lift into a grin, but it vanishes before I can be sure.
“Thanks,” she says, stepping out of my grasp.
“I think I need to eat something, so my balance is a little off.” To anyone else, that would sound like one of the most natural things in the world for someone to say, but with Adhira, I know better.
She’s letting me in, even if she might not know she’s doing it yet.
And hell, maybe she does know, and that would make it even more spectacular.
“Go sit down, and I’ll make us dinner. Does soup sound good?
” I ask, and instead of arguing, she agrees and has a seat at the kitchen island.
“Mum used to get really uncomfortable sores in her mouth because of the acid reflux, but staying away from acidic foods remedied the issue. Have you noticed either?” I ask, peering into the fridge and taking stock of what we have.
“Both,” she admits, her voice void of emotion.
I make a mental note to avoid foods that might worsen her reflux and pull things from the cupboards and fridge, getting to work.
The skillet crackles as I toss in a handful of chopped vegetables.
The scent of cumin rises with the steam, warm and sharp.
From the other side of the kitchen island, Adhira rests her chin in her hand, her eyes closed as if she’s taking a nap.
She’s wrapped in a hoodie two sizes too big, sleeves tugged over her hands, one leg tucked up on the stool beneath her.
She doesn’t say much—just occasionally reacts to something I’ve inadvertently mumbled to myself with a quiet huff of laughter or a raised eyebrow.
Her phone is face down beside her, untouched.
I glance over now and then, half expecting a question, a comment, something to fill the air between us.
But she’s content in our silence, and for the time being, so am I.
She doesn't look bored or impatient. Just...there. With me. Not asking anything of the moment except to be in it.
And somehow, that feels like more than enough.
We eat in the same comfortable silence, and I can tell the day has worn on her. If I’m honest, it’s wearing on me, too, my chest heavy under the weight of this new knowledge of her.
I’m proud of myself for not hyperventilating over everything she’s told me today.
Hodgkin’s lymphoma is enough to have my stomach twisting in knots, but with the added bonus of her apparent desire to keep it from her parents and friends?
Friends who have connections to some of my teammates—people I’ve recently become close with—and it would kill me to lose their trust so soon.
But it’s not my business to share, and hopefully they’ll see it that way too when they eventually find out.
I take a seat beside her on the sofa, where she’s snuggled beneath her usual mountain of blankets, making sure to keep a safe distance between us despite the overwhelming need to squish her in my arms.
She always looks so grumpy, and I just want to wrap her in a hug. The urge is so intense that the muscles in my forearms twitch, as if overtaken by cute aggression.
Luckily, she speaks, drawing me back to reality before I can do something that might get me bitten.
She can bite me any day. No, no. Bad brain. Go sit in time-out.
“I’m going to drown myself in the sweet, sweet sounds of idiots on the telly pretending to fall in love with other idiots so they can get clout and make a bunch of money by starting drama. If that’s of no interest to you, I suggest you leave,” she says.
If she’d told me this last week, I’d have thought she was kicking me out, but now, I realise this is her way of explaining what she wants and not compromising on it while also inviting me to join her.
So instead of sprinting out of here to avoid confrontation, leaving me feeling like an empty shell of myself, I sink back into the cushions and drown myself alongside her.
Chewing on my bottom lip, my attention remains focused on Adhira as she flicks her gaze between the telly and her phone screen, mumbling words in a language I don’t understand.
“I thought we’d gone over this, Elijah. If you have something to say, please share with the class rather than stare at me like you want to take a bite out of me.” She tuts, her cheeks twitching with a smile that warms the very marrow of my bones.
I release my swollen lip from between my teeth and reach for the remote, lowering the volume.
“I’m just curious about what you’re mumbling over there.”
Her brows wrinkle, but a second later, she passes me her phone, and I stare down at the screen with the chubby green bird and a sentence with an English translation beneath it.
“I hobby-swap a lot. Most hobbies don’t hold my attention for long, but I enjoy learning new languages because they’ll eventually help me provide better care to a wider patient population.”
The world is a better place with Adhira Shah in it, that I’m certain of, and suddenly, my stomach bottoms out at the thought that cancer might steal her from it. I choke down the bile rising in my throat and focus on what she’s said.
“What languages have you learned so far?”
“I grew up speaking English, Hindi, and Gujarati. We primarily spoke Gujarati at home since it’s our native language, but Hindi is common all over northern India.
So, my parents wanted to make sure I was fluent in both.
” She shifts to face me, making her blanket mountain wobble.
“Now, I just look through the British census and determine what languages would be of most use to me in the areas I’m most likely to live and practice medicine.
I wouldn’t say I’m fluent, but I learn enough to be conversational, focusing on the medical terminology, and when I get bored, I move on to something else.
” She shrugs as if that’s not the most impressive thing I’ve heard all month.
And if I truly think about it, I’m certain every other impressive thing I’ve heard this month would be related to her too.
“So far, I’ve learned Korean, Mandarin, Spanish, French, and some British Sign Language. Right now, I’m working on brushing up on Mandarin because I can’t focus enough to learn something new.” She huffs out a frustrated breath, and it’s adorable.
“That’s very cool,” I tell her, desperate to keep her talking while she’s in a decent mood. “Any other hobbies you’ve been hiding?”
A small smirk plays across her pretty mauve lips. “Like I said, nothing captures my attention for too long, but lapidary and learning anything about orcas—though I’m not sure that’s really a hobby—have been my tried and true. I always find my way back to them.”
Of course, my traitorous mind gets stuck on the words “nothing captures my attention for long,” and the muscles between my ribs contract at the reminder that the novelty of our budding friendship will likely wear off too.
“Lapidary?”
She nods. “Yeah, like finding rocks and stones, polishing, cutting, and shaping them. I have a rock tumbler in my room, but the sound is too loud for me lately, so you could say we’re on a bit of a break,” she teases.
“Next time you’re working on some stones, let me know. I’d love to get a peek at the process,” I tell her.
“Will do.” She takes her phone back from me and slumps deeper into the blankets. “And Elijah?”
“Hmm?”
“I see you covered in paint and clay when you get home sometimes. If you ever want someone to throw a pot with, you might be able to persuade me.”
My blood hums with approval at the idea of my arms wrapped around Adhira’s, her back flush to my chest as I teach her how to mould the clay into any shape her heart desires.
I nod, unable to trust my words as I sink into the daydream, allowing my mind to find solace in the idea of sharing something I love so much with this woman who keeps everyone out.
A while later, when my joints feel stiff and my eyes have grown heavy, I stretch out, groaning as I snag the remote from Adhira and flick the telly off.
Adhira tries to stand from where she’s buried herself on the sofa. I do my best to muffle my snicker, hoisting the blankets off her and beginning to fold them. She grumbles, “Thank you,” scowling at the offending pile. “And thank you for the new blanket too.” This time, the words are softer.
I clear my throat, fighting the urge to fidget. “My pleasure. Would you want me to join you for your infusion tomorrow?” I ask. The question has been on the tip of my tongue since she mentioned during dinner that her appointments are every other Tuesday.
She tilts her head, her brows pinched as she mulls it over. “No, it’s okay. Archie will be there.”
Archie?
My stomach drops to my toes, and I have no reason to be jealous of whoever that is. The fact that she lets him in enough to go to these appointments with her makes my stomach harden, easing only with the knowledge that she’s not completely alone. “Oh? A friend I haven’t met?”
She rolls her eyes. “Archie is a fellow cancer patient. He’s, like, eighty.
” She saunters past me, patting my chest in a patronising way that makes me want to snatch her hand and graze my lips over her knuckles just to get a reaction out of her, the way she so easily gets one out of me.
But I know better than to push clearly defined boundaries.
“Oh, uh, that’s nice that you’ve made a friend.”
She smirks over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Jelly Ellie,” she says before shutting her bedroom door behind her.
If there were ever any question about how goddamn obvious I’m being, it’s been answered.
I can’t even dwell in self-pity because my heart feels tragically warm.
She gave me a nickname.