Chapter 3

"I need to see her, Uncle. Please."

Shashi did not bother to look at him once. He looked like he had aged a few decades since Arnav had last seen him. Harish got to his feet, seething. "Don't make matters worse, Arnav!"

"Please," he begged, his eyes fixed on Shashi.

He finally lifted his gaze onto him and almost simultaneously, Shyam had reached him too. "Get lost. Don't try to show us your face again!"

He opened his mouth but Harish looked at him firmly. "Go home."

Arnav frowned with desperation, ready to protest but right then, the doctors came out of her room, looking confused. They looked at each other thoughtfully, nodded, then Dr Waghela came up to them.

"I don't know how to explain this... The patient is still in coma but her body seems to be functioning well now. She no longer needs the machines to keep her alive." Waghela gave Shashi a pat on the shoulder and left.

"Let me see her once, Uncle. Please." He winced as Shyam's fist connected with his jaw, making him stagger but without shaking his decision. Arnav straightened himself and looked at Shashi who was regarding him intently. Harish started to pull him away. "Arnav, don't create a scene. Go home."

"Harish, wait," Shashi spoke up, his voice weak. He sighed and stood up. "Whenever Khushi rebelled against us, there was no way of stopping her. She doesn't listen to anyone. But she listens to Arnav. She got better after he came here, let him go inside."

"But Papa-" Shyam started, only to be cut off by his father. "Go, Arnav."

***

They had removed the tubes from her, but she still had needles ridden under the skin on the back of her left hand. Her veins appeared more prominent, he noticed. She was white, with a tinge of yellow, bruised with violet but nothing diminished her beauty. Her dark contrasting hair had been tied back loosely at the base of her neck. He perched himself on the edge of the bed uneasily.

"You've never been this quiet before, you know?" he whispered. "You talk even when you sleep." Sweet memories of her made him smile and his eyes watered at the same time. "I know you are angry at me. I didn't mean I don't love you, Khushi. You mean everything to me. I was just... scared... of commitment... Don't do this. Don't just leave me like that. You know I'm not worth it, right? Wake up. Make me pay for it by staying alive. I'm not asking you to give me another chance. I hurt you too much for that. But don't die."

He brushed his fingertips against her wrist lightly. The intervals between the regular beeps shortened a bit. He looked up to find her heartbeat had increased and smiled. "I love you, Khushi," he breathed, finding it more difficult to say the words out loud than to accept them. "I have been an idiot but I really do. Don't let go."

He raised his hand to her smooth cheek and the beeps increased. Smiling sadly he leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead, pulling back only slightly to look at her. His thumb traced the path of the cut on her face. It was not deep. It would fill in soon, but he doubted that the wound he had inflicted upon her would heal so easily. How he wished he hadn't taken that rash step. He knew he had no right to ask for it, but he wanted another chance with her. He wanted to be the better man she deserved.

Without thinking, he bent his head and pressed his lips on her cold ones for ten whole heart beats of hers. They had sped up even more this time, and he had realised that his were in perfect sync with hers. Strange... He reluctantly got up and left the room before she could kill him with her torturous silence...

***

Voices she could not discern called out to her. Her head was hurting. She wanted to tell them to shut up, but she could not. She tried to move but it felt like her body was frozen in time. Noise kept disturbing her but she could do nothing about it. There were instances of calmness and silence. They were too short though. She wanted them to go away, she wanted to sleep. What were they wanting her to wake up for?

There was one voice in particular that had caught her attention. Somehow, it seemed to pull her out of the hole she felt she was in, only to let go of her just as a beacon of light appeared, and she would find herself falling back into the dark pit that held her prisoner. She felt both sad and happy about it. She was lonely, but she felt safe too. No one could reach her where she was. No one could break her heart here... But why was she scared of being hurt?

***

Her mouth felt dry. She sucked a deep breath in. The blackness that had been surrounding her had turned reddish orange. She frowned, and realised she could move now. Her frown deepened. She tried to move her hands; she had felt them rest on her stomach, one on the other. They felt numb but she could slide them away by the fraction of a millimetre. Why was it so difficult? It had never been like this before. Why was her body so tired? And why was her head hurting so much?

Was she having a hangover? No, she never drank. She wasn't even into drugs... Then what? Oh, she was clumsy. Maybe she had fallen down and hurt herself? And her throat felt so desiccated... She wanted some water... Taking another lungful of air, she pried her eyes open and they fluttered to adjust with the brightness. The stark white ceiling that glared down at her made her frown. Where was she? The ceiling in her room was not blank white but dark blue with fluorescent stars filling every square inch of it.

She turned her head sideways. No. This was definitely not her room. What the hell were all these machines? Her eyes roved all over the place and she suddenly realised where she could be. She lifted her head in alarm. What was she doing in a hospital? She threw the sheets off her, only to feel a painful tug on the back of her hand. She barely contained a sharp gasp on seeing the needles that protruded from her skin. Everything went fuzzy around her. What the hell was happening?

***

When she opened her eyes again, she found her brother sitting at her side, staring into the distance. She frowned. He looked like he had aged and worry was etched on his face. "Dada?" she tried to call him, but her voice came out lower than a whisper. Shyam still heard her and sat up straight in his chair, his eyes wide. "Gudiya! Wait I'll call a doctor," he stammered hurriedly before leaping out. He returned only seconds later, alone. "He'll be here in a few seconds, baccha. Are you feeling right?"

She held his hand tight. "What happened to me, Dada? Why am I in a hospital?" Shyam frowned at her, caressing the top of her head. "Did you forget? You were a victim of the tsunami, Khushi." Her eyes flew open wide and she sat up with a jerk. "What? Tsunami? What tsunami? Are you alright? Ma and papa? And bhabhi? When did this happen?"

"Miss Gupta, you should not be getting so agitated," Dr Bahl smiled as she walked in closely followed by the family members. Khushi sighed with relief when she saw her parents were safe and sound. "Bhabhi?" she wanted to know, noticing Anjali's absence. Shyam nodded stiffly. "She's fine."

Their mother can up to hug her. She smiled and hugged the woman back tight. There was a man who stood in the doorway, his eyes dark and hooded. He was staring at her warily, making her heart race. Who was he? She pulled away from her mother, her eyes still on him. She felt her brother tense up next to her. Shashi cleared his voice. "Do you want to meet him, beta?"

She somehow knew that her father was talking about the man. She blinked confusedly. "Who is he?"

***

A smile threatened to break on his face, coupled with maniacal laughter. He turned away from the doctor and silently walked down the corridor. It was not happiness that evoked this smile, this laugh, though... He wanted to laugh at himself. He had screwed everything completely. Oh scratch that! The word screwed' was not enough to cover what he had done. He had f**ked up! And he had f**ked things up so bad, there was no point of return anymore...

She no longer remembered him. Each memory of the past two years had been erased from her mind. The doctor had said it was highly probable she would remember everything with time, but how much time, no one could tell. It could be a day, it could be never... He sighed, feeling the air itself suffocate him. He suspected she would never remember. She had been trying to forget him, she had succeeded. It was his punishment, one he truly deserved. But he did not want that... It was irrational, he realised it. He knew she would keep hurting for her whole life if she got her memory back. But he wanted her to remember. He wanted another chance.

He leaned weakly against the wall as pain consumed him from inside. He wanted to make things right. He wanted to make it up to her. He wanted to marry her and be her slave forever if she wanted it... He had waited for nearly a month in the hope that she would wake up and he would have confronted her, begged her to leave him this one last chance... But now, she had forgotten everything, she had even forgotten him... A weight started dragging his soul down but stopped midway. No. Maybe he was looking at things the wrong way? Maybe this was a good thing? Maybe her amnesia was a sign for them to start afresh?

***