Chapter 57: Impasse

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Chapter Fifty-Seven

Impasse

“Good morning Dr. Rai– err, I mean Dr. Gupta. How are you doing today?”

Khushi suppressed a grin, taking pity on a very flustered looking Sona.

It was the day after Arnav’s birthday –which, despite all the mishaps, had unfolded better than she could’ve dreamed of– and she was once again, back in the hospital, reporting for her 8 a.m. shift. 

It was a sunny Thursday morning. The traffic was lighter than usual, the hospital more empty than customary and the nurses more polite than necessary. Or perhaps, it was just her exceptionally good mood. 

After all, the nurses had dropped their ammunition since the moment they realized she was married to Arnav –thanks to Ved’s timely interference– last week. Since then, they had all gone out of their way to be nice to Khushi, striking up a conversation without much cause, scheduling her appointments without any fuss and overall, acting like her very own army of minions. 

She wasn’t complaining, of course. It felt nice to be treated like a V.I.P. especially after experiencing them ganging up on her. However, at the same time, she also knew that they were acting more out of fear –for they all felt their jobs were in jeopardy– than goodwill. She wished she could reassure them –not that she hadn’t tried already– and things could go back to the way they were. The nurses were a fun bunch to hang out with during a coffee break. 

“I’m doing good Sona,” Khushi answered. “How are you?”

“Good. Did you have a nice, relaxing day-off yesterday?”

“Better than nice, actually. Is Dr. Awasti in yet? I need to discuss a case with her.”

“Not yet. Should I page you when she comes?”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Khushi nodded awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. Luckily, Ved had arrived just then to pick up his patient charts for the day. 

“Err– good morning,” she greeted him, uncertainly. 

Things with Ved had sort of improved over the past week. He wasn’t actively avoiding her, but at the same time, he wasn’t actively trying to strike up a conversation either. They had reached an impasse of sorts, where he knew she was genuinely sorry, but somehow still couldn’t get himself to forgive her– or so she thought, anyway. 

“Good morning,” Ved answered politely. 

“Busy day?” she asked him. 

“Not really… you?”

“Same. Weird, isn’t it? Maybe we are finally growing out of being slaves.”

Ved smiled. “Do… do you want to grab coffee then?”

Khushi gasped inaudibly, not sure if she heard right. Did he really just offer to have coffee like old times? 

“Earth to Khushi,” Ved called, snapping his fingers. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, blinking. “I would love coffee.”

Collecting their charts and bidding Sona goodbye, both of them set off towards the cafeteria. 

“You know,” Ved said slowly, his voice regretful. “I never congratulated you for winning at the awards.”

Khushi waved him off. “It’s no big deal, it’s not like I won a Nobel prize–”

“Still. Congratulations… aside from being jealous that I didn’t win, I don’t think there is anyone else who deserves the award more than you. And that speech… damn. You truly are an inspiration Khushi, or should I start calling you Dr. Raizada like the rest of the hospital?”

Khushi groaned. “It’s all your fault.”

“My fault? How?”

“Well, ever since you told Sona that I was married to the trustee, all the nurses think I’m going to get them fired if they aren’t extra nice to me.”

Ved chuckled. “So what exactly is the complaint here?”

Khushi simply rolled her eyes. 

They had reached the cafeteria at this point, so grabbing two coffees –black for him, lots of milk for her– they settled on their favorite table beside the wall-sized windows, overlooking the front side of the hospital. 

“So, you were saying?” Ved asked, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Don’t call me Dr. Raizada.”

“Oh, lighten up… people just like to gossip around here. In a few weeks, they will find some other new shiny toy to obsess over.”

“I suppose.”

Ved took a few deep breaths, as though steeling himself for what he was about to say. Khushi looked at him curiously, waiting. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about you,” he began. “I left you in a very bad place that night you told me about you and Arnav.”

Khushi looked at her hands, clasped neatly around her coffee cup. She wasn’t expecting him to talk so openly about their argument, assuming that he would just brush everything under the carpet and just go back to his smiling, old self. 

It was nice to be wrong. Avoiding conversations never ended up being good. 

“I think I reacted more as someone who has feelings for you than someone who is your best friend,” Ved continued seriously. “And for that I’m sorry. I had no right to scream at you… or judge you.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize–”

 “But I do,” he insisted. “A marriage is a big deal… it’s not like dating where if things don’t work out, you can just leave. So, I understand where your hesitation is coming from.”

“What brought all this on?” Khushi asked, taken aback to hear the maturity in his voice. 

Ved shrugged. “I was talking to my mom yesterday –she is staying over for a couple of days– and she was complaining about my dad and it just suddenly hit me…. they argue, they fight, but they will never leave each other.”

Khushi couldn’t help but recollect her own parents. Wasn’t it the same with them? Her father, despite his obstinacy, loved her mother. And her mother too, was no less. Perhaps, all marriages were like that. There was a deep sense of belonging that wasn’t always outwardly visible.

“You and Mr. Raizada are the same.”   

“We are?” she asked, blankly. 

He nodded. “He’s fiercely protective of you.”

She knew that already. She had seen it not once, but many times over. But had it become so obvious that even others started noticing it, especially Ved, who until a week ago was fuming that Arnav was all wrong for her?

“So that’s all it took?” Khushi asked, a slow smile working its way up her face. “You figuring out that Arnav is protective of me?”

“Amongst other things.”

“What other things?” Upon second thought, however, she said: “Actually, you know what… it doesn’t matter. After our argument that day, I thought you would never even consider the thought of forgiving me, let alone us sitting here having coffee just like old times.”

Ved sat up in his chair and leaned forward. “Of course, I was going to forgive you Khushi... we are friends, before anything else, aren’t we?”

She had hoped for that much, yes. But like many things in her life, she hadn’t taken it for granted. 

“I just….” Ved said, struggling to find words. “I just needed time, y’know? Time to process that you can never love me... at least, in the way I wanted you to.”

Khushi felt guilt pool in the pit of her stomach. It was such a messy situation. 

“Do you still need time?” she asked him softly. “To… you know…”

He averted his eyes, giving her a curt nod. 

She sighed. “I’m so sorry Ved… that you feel like this, that I can’t help… But I’m confident that one day, you will get someone who’ll truly love you for who you are. And then, none of this will matter.”

Ved smiled, but it didn’t really reach his eyes.

They sat in silence like that for several long minutes, sipping their coffee and looking out the window, watching the morning traffic struggle to flow. It was the first time she was seeing Ved so quiet, for he always had things to talk about. But perhaps, this was better. 

Both of them needed time to adjust: Ved to (hopefully) get over his feelings and she, to make sense of the fact that their friendship may not go back to being as unhampered as it was. She will need to be patient. 

“I guess we should get going,” he said, draining the last of his coffee. 

Khushi couldn’t agree more. They had put off their duties for long enough. 

To her utter surprise, when they stood up to leave, Ved hugged her. Just a quick, instantaneous embrace –nothing like the fervent one with Arnav last night– that barely lasted half a minute. He stepped back even before she had time to react.

“I promise I won’t be such a bad friend again,” he said in earnest. “No matter what happens, whether you stay with him or not, I will always be here for you.”

“You’re on my speed dial too, Ved.”

He chuckled, heading off to his morning rounds with a wave of his hand. 

Khushi watched him leave, feeling as if a mountain had been lifted off her shoulders. She had just begun to make her way to the Ob/GYN floor –where she was on shift for the day– when she heard a familiar voice float across to her in the hallway, where she was waiting for the elevators. 

Curiously, she rounded the corner to see a sturdy man in his fifties, chatting merrily away with someone from the respirology department. 

“Dr. Madan?” she called, recognizing him to be her comatose mother’s newest doctor. He had been appointed after her father fired Dr. Bedi last June for “not trying hard enough”. In fact, it was the continuation of that very same argument –of continuing Garima on life support– that had resulted in her marriage with Arnav. 

Dr. Madan looked up, surprised and also, very content to see her. “Khushi?” he said. “My goodness, what are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you that,” she answered, stopping a foot from him. “It’s been so long!”

“Indeed!”

Dr. Madan bid goodbye to the respirology resident, before turning his full attention towards her, noticing the white coat she was wearing over her floral print kurti in coral colored organza.

“You work here?” he asked, stunned.  

After that horrendous argument with her father –which costed her, her internship– she was banned from taking any part in Garima’s treatment, including staying absent during Dr. Madan’s regular check-ups. Khushi followed those orders, not wanting to irk her father any more than she already did. Of course, it was another thing that despite resigning herself to her room and abandoning her medical practice, Alok had still wedded her off like a goat for sacrifice. 

“I’m a first-year resident here,” Khushi explained. 

Dr. Madan’s eyes twinkled. “Resident? That’s wonderful! But how come you never told me you are in medicine all those times I came by to check on your mother?”

Her answer was ready: “It’s a long story… Anyway, what are you doing here? You work on the other side of town, right?”

Dr. Madan held up a portable-sized cooler, labeled extensively with yellow biohazardous stickers. “I’m picking up a lung.”

“Why are you doing it?” she asked, puzzled. Usually, organs were delivered only by select authorized staff. 

“It’s also a long story,” he replied drily. “I owed someone big time.”

Khushi laughed. 

“So how come I don’t see you at the Gupta house anymore?” Dr. Madan asked.

“I got married, actually–”

“Yes, the nurse told me… my hearty congratulations. But I thought, you would still come down to visit your mother once in a while?” 

Khushi shuffled her feet, avoiding eye contact. “I… I have been busy.”

“Is that this generation’s excuse for everything?” 

She grimaced in answer. 

Dr. Madan, unlike his predecessor Dr. Bedi, was very preceptive about the situations in the Gupta manor. He had learned, within a week of taking up his job as Garima’s doctor, not to argue with her father under any circumstance. He had also learned not to ask too many personal, unnecessary questions. So, it was quite strange to see him overstep his boundaries and ask upfront about the dysfunctional dynamics of her family. 

“H-how is my mother?” Khushi asked nervously, changing the topic. She didn’t have the energy to explain why she couldn’t be in the same room as her father. 

Dr. Madan sighed. “Not very well, unfortunately… I thought you would have received the news by now.”

Khushi’s heart constricted. “What news?”

“Your mother’s BP was fluctuating incessantly yesterday evening. The nurse, limited with the medications she was allowed to administer, could not get it under control and called me straight away… there wasn’t much I could do, however–”

“What do you mean you couldn’t do much?” she interrupted sharply. “Controlling BP is basic–”

He smiled ironically. “You sound like your father.”

Khushi fell quiet, not at all happy with the comparison. 

“Anyway, I stayed there for many hours,” Dr. Madan continued grimly. “Bringing up her BP when it went down and vice versa. Eventually, around midnight, she stabilized.”

Khushi took a moment to process all that. What were the chances that she received a call from her father the very same night her mother’s blood pressure had been erratic? Could it be that Alok was calling for advice or… perhaps, support? 

“What does this mean?” she asked, almost in a whisper. 

Dr. Madan took a deep breath. “It means her body is slowing down… I don’t know for how much longer we can keep doing this. It’s time we thought about our options.”

Oh. 

So, he wanted her to convince her father. But didn’t he know by now that’s not possible?

Clearing her throat, she said seriously: “My father is never going to sign off on a DNR, Dr. Madan, he is stubborn and unreasonable–” 

“–and lonely,” he interrupted, pointedly. 

Khushi stared at him, not following. 

“I know very well that your father can be a difficult man,” he clarified. “But he is hurt. He is acting exactly like how I would expect anyone else in his position to.”

“You don’t know the full story–”

“No,” he agreed heavily. “But I know enough. Tell me something Khushi… in your practice, have you ever come across a family that doesn’t fight with you to save their loved one? Or a family that doesn’t have hope even when you tell them not to?”

The answer was obvious: she hadn’t. 

Whether it was nine-year-old Adya or a seventy-year-old grandfather who was brought in two days ago for a massive stroke, the family members all had insisted that the doctors to do their best. They all refused to accept that sometimes, there was nothing even doctors could do. 

“So, can we really blame Mr. Gupta for wanting to hold on to the only thing he has left?”

Khushi slid her hands into the pockets of her coat, dumfounded. She knew Dr. Madan meant well, but at the same time, she got the distinct feeling that he was being too optimistic by thinking her father was acting insensible out to grief. 

If two years of expensive treatment didn’t convince him that Garima wasn’t going to recover, then what will? 

It seemed Dr. Madan understood her predicament, for he kindly patted her shoulder and offered his last words –thankfully– without posing anymore awkward questions:

“Make it a point to go home Khushi.... Your mother at least has someone looking after her, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same about Mr. Gupta.”

And he was gone, leaving her all alone to gather her troubled thoughts. 

Was her father really sad and alone? He had appeared perfectly fine last week, storming at Arnav, looking just the same as ever: adamant, poised and egoistic. But even as Khushi recollected that memory, she knew it was wrong. She had noticed something off about him that evening, when instead of threatening Arnav for his defiance, he had simply walked out, never to be heard from again. 

It was so unlike him to pause and ponder. He always just jumped to conclusions, using his power to get what he wanted. So, what had changed? Why wasn’t he talking to the hospital’s board, arranging for her termination? Why wasn’t he discussing with his lawyers, plotting to revoke the merger with the Raizadas? Why wasn’t he trailing Vihaan, laying down a trap to stop him from escaping to London? 

The thought of her brother brought relief to Khushi. Vihaan had been faithfully relaying news about her father and Gupta manor since last October, when she got married, so without a doubt, he would know what happened last night. 

“Hey little sis,” he said cheerfully, picking up on the first ring. “Did the sun rise in the west today?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hilarious. Why didn’t you tell me about Maa?”

Vihaan paused, his tone sobering up considerably. “What’s wrong with Maa?”

“Weren’t you at home last night?” Khushi asked, confused. 

“No… Ahana wanted to spend time with her family before we leave for London. So, I’m staying with them. What happened to Maa?”

Oh. 

So, Vihaan wasn’t even home. No wonder he didn’t call her.  

“Khush,” Vihaan called, worried now. “What’s wrong? Is… is Maa okay?”

Khushi took a deep breath. She had always just assumed that Vihaan would take care of the situation, that he would never let come anything before Garima. But wasn’t it equally her responsibility to take care of the only parent she ever had? How irresponsible could she be, ignoring her mother for months out of resentment for her father? 

“There was a small issue last night,” she explained in a low voice. “Her BP was fluctuating a lot.”

Vihaan’s voice sounded pained. “Is it… time?”

“Not yet… but it will be soon. Dr. Madan doesn’t think she will hold on for much longer.”

He was quiet. 

“Don’t worry about it, Vihaan,” she said gently. “We always knew this was going to happen.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll go home.”

She feared just that. “No, don’t be silly… Maa is fine now–”

“I should’ve been there last night Khush, it’s my responsibility–”

“Don’t kick me out of the family so soon,” she cut-in, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll go check on her in the evening. And I will make it a point to do it once a week… it’s good practice for when you’re gone to London.”

Vihaan wasn’t happy with that, but Khushi heard none of his protests. Whether he agreed or not, it was time she stopped avoiding her father. Her mother was much more important than these silly feuds. So, hanging up the phone, she resumed her work, leaving the minute her shift ended in the evening, instructing the driver to take her straight to the Gupta house. 

Ramesh, the head butler of the manor, answered the door. 

“Khushi?” he said, surprised, stepping aside to let her inside. “What brings you here?”

“I’m here to see Maa,” she answered, curtly. “Papa is…?”

“In his study. He… I mean, your mother–”

Khushi waved off his explanation. “I know…. I will just be a few minutes. Please don’t disturb my father about this.”

Without waiting to hear his response, she sped off to the upper floors. 

The manor was oddly silent that evening. Instead of the usual bustling of servants, unnecessarily wiping and dusting the sparkling floors, there was a ringing stillness that occupied the air. Khushi’s footsteps echoed eerily as she treaded up the staircase, her mind dreading what she would find. The last time she had seen her mother was during Vihaan’s wedding, almost six months ago now. How much had she changed since then? Did she grow frailer? Would there be wrinkles and grey hair now? 

Her fears were put to rest the minute she entered Garima’s room, of course. Her mother hadn’t changed a bit since the last time she saw her. She looked just as peaceful as she did six months ago, not a hair out of place, looking as though she was caught in deep sleep, instead of an irreversible coma. 

 Her mother’s nurse –immersed in a book– looked up startled upon hearing Khushi at the door.

“Good evening Ms. Khushi,” she said, setting down the book and hurriedly standing up. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Khushi tried to smile, but she couldn’t will her lips to move. “H-how is she doing?” she croaked. 

“There was a BP scare last night… but after that, she seems to be okay.”

Khushi nodded, not knowing what to say. She was standing awkwardly at the doorway, looking at her mother in wary. 

“What don’t you come in and sit?” the nurse suggested. “I was going to go grab a glass of water from the kitchen anyway.”

Flashing her a kind smile, the nurse quickly departed the room, making sure to close the door behind her. 

Khushi sighed. “She thinks we need privacy,” she told Garima in a quiet voice. “But you probably can’t even hear me.”

The monitors beeped steadily in answer. 

Dropping her handbag on the armchair beside the window overlooking the perfectly kept lawns of the manor, she edged to her mother’s side, flopping down on the bed and taking her limp hand in hers.  

“Dr. Madan thinks you don’t have much time,” Khushi continued, trying to keep the desolation at bay. “But all the doctors say that every time something happens to you… somehow you prove them all wrong.”

Khushi continued to watch Garima, analyzing the way her features curved prettily around her face. Many people over the years have told her that she inherited her mother’s good looks, today was the first she was actually seeing it. Just like Garima, even her forehead was wide, her eyes almond shaped, and her lips thin. The resemblance was striking. 

Unable to help herself, Khushi murmured: “Is it for me…? Are you staying for me? Or is it… Papa? Who are you worried about?”

Arnav’s voice from a few moons ago jogged into her memory.

Don’t you think maybe that’s why your mother is holding on? As long as you and your father are at loggerheads, you mother won’t be at peace… 

“Arnav thinks,” she continued. “It’s both of us… that as long as we keep fighting, you won’t find peace. But you know better than that, don’t you?”

Garima simply continued breathing, showing no other sign of life in her.

“Me and Papa are just too different to get long like how you want,” Khushi explained. “But that doesn’t mean we aren’t fine, because we are. You don’t need to worry… He’s fine, I’m fine…”

She stroked Garima’s hand absent-mindedly, recalling Arnav’s face from the night before when he told her, quite plainly and incredibly, that he would make her proud. His eyes in that moment were unforgettable. 

“I’m more than fine actually,” she murmured, staring out of the window now. “Things are finally going well between me and Arnav… I won the best first-year resident award at the hospital, everyone still talks about my speech from that night… and Vihaan is more than fine too, by the way. He is starting his own company… he and Ahana are excited to be going to London…”

She brought her eyes back to rest on her mother’s peaceful face. “So, you see? Life isn’t bad for us… we are happy after a long, long time… Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

The strenuously minutes ticked by, but other than a draft of air conditioning blowing through the room, there wasn’t much change.  

Khushi felt extremely silly. 

What was she expecting? Her mother was hanging in coma for two years. If she was going to pass on, she would’ve by now. There was no way, she waiting around for these pointless reassurances. 

Heaving a disappointed sigh, Khushi held her mother’s hand to her cheek, savoring the warmth it somehow still carried, before giving it a peck and setting it back down on the bed. The longer she stayed, the more trouble she was inviting from her father. 

Collecting her discarded handbag, she was just about to leave, when the door opened to reveal an exhausted Alok. His tired eyes widened upon spotting her. 

“When did you come?” he asked in a hoarse voice. “Why didn’t Ramesh inform me?”

Khushi cursed her luck. She had been so close to leaving undetected. 

“I just came to see Maa,” she replied briskly. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Alok was silent. Instead of his usual high collared suit, he was dressed in a white colored kurta pajama today, looking –unexpectedly– years older than his age. Like Dr. Madan had explained, Garima’s ill health seemed to be taking a rather ugly toll on him. 

“I saw your missed call from yesterday,” she said after several minutes, trying to break the thick ice in between them. 

Alok didn’t deny it, but he also didn’t offer her an explanation. 

“Was it… for Maa?” she pressed. 

“I shouldn’t have bothered,” he said at last with a shrug of his shoulders. “You and Vihaan have made it very clear you want nothing to do with this family.”

Khushi’s hands rolled into fists. 

It seemed, even in dire situations, her father couldn’t resist the urge to taunt her. What would it take for him to get off his pedestal and accept that he was human just like them? That he was in pain and he wanted their support?

“Anyway,” he continued in the same emotionless tone. “It’s quite generous of you to come… I’m sure your mother appreciates it.”

His sarcasm found its mark. 

“Perhaps she will also appreciate it if you actually made this house worth visiting,” Khushi snapped coldly. “Vihaan and I left for a reason.”

Alok pursued his lips, clearly unhappy with the harsh turn of the conversation. 

“Anyway,” she muttered pointedly. “I have to go.”

Not caring if he had something else to say, Khushi angrily slid past his frame, not allowing her to think until she was back in the safety of her care and the driver was pulling away from the mansion she once used to call home. 

So much for sympathizing with her father. 

He would never change. And it was great stupidity on her part to even give him the benefit of doubt.  

As if on cue, her phone rang with an incoming call. 

“Where are you?” Arnav’s voice echoed from the other end of the line. 

She glanced at the clock on the dashboard; the time read eight o’clock on the dot. “Didn’t you see my message?”

“I did… but there is only so much I can understand with ‘will be late’.”

Khushi bit her lip, sheepish. “Were you expecting an essay?”

“No,” he answered indignantly. “A sentence would have sufficed.”

“Duly noted Mr. Chef… I will also throw in some emojis for you next time.”

He chuckled. “So, is everything okay… why are you late?”

“I went to see my mother,” she admitted without any hesitation. Experience mandated that honesty was the best way to go with him. “Her BP was fluctuating a lot last night.”

His tone changed instantly, reeking of sympathy. “I’m so sorry to hear that… How is she now?”

“She’s stable… that’s pretty much all she is nowadays. Things like ‘she is doing well’, or ‘she is fine’ don’t really apply anymore.”

Arnav was quiet. 

“I ran into my father too,” she continued in the same, blunt tone. “Apparently, he was very panicked last night.”

“You don’t believe him?”

Khushi took a deep breath. “Maybe he was... honestly, I just don’t get him. On one hand, he is doing everything he can to revive my mother, and on the other, he treats me and Vihaan like we are the biggest criminals on earth…. How can one person have two such vastly different sides?”

“Well, he is a husband to your mother and a father to you… two vastly different roles, don’t you agree?”

“So what, I have to accept that he has every right to be mean to me and move on?” she asked, deep rooted bitterness leaking through to her voice. “I mean, what’s the end to this? People like him don’t change, they can’t even if they tried to… so they will continue to inflict pain on themselves and others and I’m supposed to just stand by and watch?” 

 Arnav sighed, taking his time to answer. “Why must you have only one definition of change?”

“What?”

“I mean,” he clarified. “Have you considered that maybe your father is changing in a different way than you’re expecting?” 

She hadn’t considered that at all. But how exactly was he changing?

“Maybe he won’t come running up to you and apologize for his mistakes… maybe he just wants to put the past aside and make a fresh start with you? It must be exhausting for him too, right? Constantly arguing with you and Vihaan, having no one but your comatose mother to speak to?”

Khushi recollected her exchange with Alok just now. Perhaps she had overreacted to his comment about not visiting often enough… after all, it had to mean something that he didn’t lose his cool with her, and instead, simply let her leave withouta long drawn out argument. 

Except, no matter how much she tried, Khushi couldn’t get herself to agree to that wholeheartedly.

How could she forget all the spiteful words Alok had hurled at her over the years? And wasn’t he the one who had forbade her from visiting her mother in the first place? She could recall his thunderous voice from last June with perfect clarity:

As I said, you will resign first thing tomorrow morning, and forget that you ever even went to a medical college. You will not speak to Dr. Bedi or the nurse about Garima’s condition, you will not ask for her reports and you will not give your medical opinion to anyone. Do you understand?

So, how on earth did she become the bad person by avoiding her maternal home? 

“You there?” Arnav called. 

Khushi took a deep breath. “I can’t make peace with my father,” she said flatly. “He has put me through too much… I just can’t forget all that.”

“Yes,” he replied, gravely. “But isn’t it exhausting hating a parent? They aren’t like a classmate you dislike Khushi, where you can avoid them once school is over… Your father is always going to be around, whether you accept it or not. So why not make things okay with him? It will make your life so much easier… do you get what I’m saying?”  

She did. 

Instead of expecting an out and out apology from Alok, he was telling her to play along with his moods, accepting that he made some terrible mistakes and believing, that one day he may even repent for them. In other words, she should just let karma run its course and let go of her resentment. 

But how? 

What about all that anguish she had buried in a deep corner of her heart, which threatened to break loose every time she set her eyes on her father? How was she supposed to resolve all those feelings of hurt and negligence she had to endure since she was a child? 

“Think about it,” he murmured. “Your father is not worth this much ache.”

Khushi swallowed, not knowing if she had it in her to be the bigger person. Her father deserved every last drop of the isolation he was experiencing now. 

So, taking a deep breath, all she said was: “I’m almost home… See you in a bit.”

And like always, he understood. “See you.”

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A/N: Okay, I’m very very sorry for being late! Duties in asli duniya are beckoning more than usual, and I don’t want to compromise on the quality of the chapter by hurrying through it. Thank you once again for being patient, you guys are the best readers a writer can ask for 

How did you like this chapter? Not a lot of ArShi, yes, but their support for each other, hopefully shows from behind the text. 

Please like & comment – I know I haven’t been replying to them as well lately, but I do read and re-read them every time I get a chance. 

Lots of love,

Archi

P.S. – Next update will be up on the weekend (not making promises, since I’ve been so bad at keeping them )

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