Adolescence of Love - Chap15/Pg136 (11/29) - Page 97

A/N - Okay, so not precisely within the week, but some few hours late. Not exactly that unforgivable, right?! *sheepish grin* Anyway, I seem to have acquired this redundant habit of spending some few weeks working on nitty gritties of one draft, only to discover in the penultimate moment that I've tired of it and dislike it immensely, so I scrap it all and start afresh. So that, like last time, I held myself back from the temptation to even try and edit this version.

But all that aside - I want to make an important note here. Changing the update format a little, at least for the next few updates, where each chapter is shorter - well as short as you think of some 3000 odd words to be 😲 - because I'm going to break dealing with bit by bit. When you read this chapter, you might realize it takes more than one read to make sure you're gathering all the hints to build up the plot. I don't want to do several characters and scenes in one update and leave you with very little energy to sort of dwell over it for the next few sequences, so I'm breaking them up. I repeat - crucial building blocks for the plot, and the individual characters. Good news is, and you can wear the shocked surprised expression in advance, I shall update the next 'so-claimed'brief' chapter by tomorrow. I want to keep the link, and my next two weeks will involve lesser internet time, which in my case translates to more scope for writing.

Anyway - if you find this chapter 'not so happening' - I can't help my unhealthy penchant for intricacy suddenly, and plot complication But I promise its all going somewhere, and I know where somewhere - so we're not lost 😎

ps: mitzi - I just read about your request for more AN, and I assure you they're coming in great chunks, and soon. If its any solace, their's will be the fastest love story to evolve

Aria - you're olive green again?! 🤔 I was beginning to get cozy about the other name... ! okie, so no PM spams, because honestly, if I was someone on my own PM list, I would be like, seriously, this woman thinks we're still reading this story after her year long breaks?! well she can wish! 😆 Sooo, I decided to be safe and avoid those mental hexes thrown at me 😆

As for everyone who continues to be here - so sorry about not being able to reply to everyone, but its literally between that or an update sometimes, so please excuse my lack of expressing gratitude. To make up, you all get one virtual Nobel Perseverance award each from me, for being the way you are. I really mean it.

And well - enjoy reading - please please pay great attention to details. There's stuff happening in all those lines of description that one might only glance through. So yeh. I'm back with a story moving in my head - and reasonably excited about it, more than last update anyway - so there. =) Now comment/like QUICK - because I'll post the next one by tomorrow!

cheers,

NJ

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recap:

Armaan gets a call about some accident involving a 'she'. Ridhima is left behind restless, with a party to deal with, and an unaccepted apology - overall an evening that is just not going her way.

~ Part 14 ~

Almost nothing had changed since he had last stepped inside this place. Corridors were the same pale blue grey, bend after bend, floor over floor; the continuity of appearance maze-like to an outsider. There were name and sign boards to guide at requisite points, but the bold red enamel chosen to paint them in was bloody than bright, hardly becoming of a hospital structure, even if clinically appropriate. No more agreeable was the perpetual unpleasant mix of characteristic smells.

It was a wonder he had spent such a generous part of his childhood frequenting this place like a second home, without losing his bearings to the constant reminders of mortal solemnity. Innocence was such a conditional bliss after all.

Presently, as he rushed his way through one set of heavy swinging doors after the next, his familiarity with the place was evident; he needed no navigation, and lost his way not once.

It was somewhat anti climatic then that after making it to the OT wing in record time, he was stopped from going further by the attendant on duty at this entrance. Such that, it only just occurred to him how this visit was different from all those in the past, not just in the obvious purpose of it, but also in the much less obvious annoyingly mandatory procedures involved. Like stopping at the reception to get patient details, and consequently getting a 'formal' pass which would authorize his entry to this limited access zone.

Expectedly, he was chagrined now, on being asked to produce the same, and swore to be damned if he be kept up another moment from seeing her when he was finally, at long last here. Willing to push in his mother's reference, he had just begun to talk his way in, when a voice from behind interrupted.

"Armaan…?"

It was not an encounter he would have borne well in pretty much any circumstance, and was much less needed in the given state of events, but his debate to acknowledge or ignore was the briefest ever, given the primary urgency. With a resolved deep breath he turned around to face the man, who bore exactly half the blame for Armaan's not having stepped inside this hospital in almost a decade now.

"Dr. Kher."

He greeted the man, older than himself, though not much over a decade his senior in years, formally so as to set the tone in advance, whatever form the consequent exchange would take between them. His face and tone accordingly, remained impassive. Yet, something must have betrayed him, for in a steady holding of each other's gaze, Armaan saw a flicker of 'unexpected' pass the man's eyes as he took in his appearance. For a mere illusion of a second, before the latter had walked up to him, then stepped in lead, and said over his shoulder,

"Come on, I'll take you," while indicating to the guard that they were together. Without allowing himself a second thought to respond, or worse, change his mind, Armaan followed.

"She fell face down with an uneven force on her chest, and it's fractured her clavicle." The man told him now, without need of a preamble, and if it wasn't for him being him, Armaan would have been grateful for being spared having to initiate an inevitable inquisition about the same. Continuing was less difficult. So long that is, as he could subdue the reflex of his overly vivid mind in imagining versions of a treacherous fall…

"So they need to operate to fix it?"

"No. It heals by itself. In fact, given her age, it will heal all the more quickly…" Armaan almost sighed in relief, before realizing the narration had been punctuated with a pause, not a period. They had taken a third right already, when the man begun to slow down in his steps in a thoughtful way which was wearisome for Armaan, before coming to a halt before a set of doors that read Operation Theater - 3 in that bloody red on an ominously spotless white door. It took everything for Armaan to wait him out, because despite his sheer anxiety, he didn't trust himself to speak more than was absolutely necessary without giving away his otherwise complete intolerance for this man.

"It's the trauma her brachial plexus was subjected to..."

"Trauma?" Armaan quipped catching the only comprehensible 'English' word in that, one that was decidedly disturbing.

"Well. It's this network of nerves between the shoulder and neck which are prime to much of the functioning of the upper body… that have suffered from the impact of her fall..." he paused taking time to choose his words, much to Armaan's vexation, "She did receive prompt medical assistance and its vital in such cases where delay can increase the extent of irreparable damage, so…" he shrugged in a way that Armaan understood was a mild positive.

"What exactly… the damage I mean…" Watching Armaan struggle with words was unprecedented for him. He couldn't but help feel for the boy, their mutual differences forsaken.

"It's nothing that hasn't been operated on successfully before," he said, with as much kindness as he could manage without risking to imply it, "With near complete recovery rate, again, given her age…"

"But…?" Armaan snapped, exasperated of waiting for the catch.

"But nothing. That's all I can tell you while the operation is still in progress. Only a surgeon operating on her can elaborate status quo subjective to her case, and much as I tried, the dean wouldn't allow me to be part of this operating team any sooner than allowing your mother..."

He hadn't meant for it to sound like an implicit reminder of all the chaos between them, which they had been carefully avoiding thus far – but with every bit of caution exercised into not aggravating Armaan's stress on the one end, he had lapsed on the other front. Swearing mentally at his slip, he watched the unusual grey blue eyes cloud briefly, before Armaan cast away his gaze. Running a hand through his hair as if to take a moment to not lose his resolve, before looking up again to ask,

"Where is she?" That the she was no longer a reference to his baby sister, was obvious to both without explicit clarification.

"The observation room. It's the closest they would let her be to Minnie..." Armaan felt a catch in his throat, which made him avert his eyes, even as he swallowed visibly hard. When he looked back up again, his eyes were just starting to turn glossy, his gaze more shifty than steady, and he started, managing barely over a whisper,

"Can you… arrange..."

"I did. You can go in." There was surprise in the eyes now, as he blinked away at the underlining gleam, so he explained, "Shenaz Bi confirmed you were on your way, so I talked to the dean..."

"Oh… thank you." Armaan managed, meaning it sans feeling, because but for this favour, his head might as well have split open if he had to wait any longer sustaining the strain of holding himself together through this anxiety and futility.

"She's had 6 long surgeries between yesterday and today. Nothing I said would change her mind, but your mother is so exhausted, she's going to make herself ill…"

And it was this piece of detail, again without preamble, at which it finally struck Armaan, realization of what this had all been about! The whole convenience of bumping into Aman Kher, and his unusually willing welcome, literally! It wasn't for him, of course, it wasn't even for Minnie… it was for her! For a brief moment, the buried storm of his teen years begun to gain gusto, so that his vulnerability was transiently overcome, and his expression hardened as if from past habit, of its own accord. But like all those times in the past, it did next to nothing, to move the man facing him.

Abruptly, Armaan shook out of it, inhaling sharply. Now was not the time. Stiffly he turned to walk in through the door. Only to be startled upon feeling his hand light but firm upon his shoulder, as if to hold him back in his step. Armaan was certain there could have been no mistaking the way his own muscles stiffened in reaction under than touch, but he told himself one last time that he could not afford for anything to get the better of him for now, and refrained from further reaction. Even his higher purpose and need of the hour however, could not make him turn around to face that man without spitting fire. Keeping the back just had to do.

"The way you're looking right now is a state, and I can assure you it's the last sight your mother needs to see." It wasn't a wrong statement per se, in fact well intended, and Armaan could've done better that he did, turning around at this and looking at Aman in pure defiance.

"Who gave you the right to patronize me!"

"My rights have been an unresolved debate forever now, but this is not about me. For the record, nor about you. This is about Juhi and she is in dire need of rest. She's being reckless with her health, and it's not going to help her take care of Minnie, or her job. Unless you're planning to take the rest of the term off from college and stay back for housekeeping and nursing of course." Aman paused here, and even as Armaan felt that familiar abominable emotion gaining blood inside him, at hearing him say his mother's name, an insufferable part of his mind was simultaneously compelled to think about the situation like he hadn't. He looked away riled up and indignant. Aman took that for the best version of consent he could get out of Armaan, and continued, "There's no way you will convince your mother to take turns with you watching over Minnie, if you look as much in need of care yourself, as you do right now. There's a washroom down this corridor (he pointed to the left) that you can use. I'm going back to the dean to see how much leave he can afford your mother so I can put the papers through for that. How many days are you taking off?"

"I left it open." Armaan replied after a second. He hadn't thought about that either!

"Well how many days can you stay?"

"I don't know. It depends." Then on an afterthought he added, "How many do you suggest?"

"A week, if you can manage. At the very least, 3 days for now." Armaan stood looking at his shoes, but not really, evidently in thought. So that Aman had to clear his throat to gain attention.

"Get anyone to page me, if anything comes up. Anything at all." And with that, he was already making his way out of there. Armaan sighed heavily. Then shook his head at himself, and found his way to the washroom.

After having splashed his face with the clear and cold water continuously for about a minute, he leaned over the sink somewhat breathless, until a few seconds lapsed, his breathing returned to normal, and finally he looked up to his reflection in the mirror, in sheer reproach. To say he had hated the way Aman had made him feel outside there just minutes ago, would be greatly understating the fact. But knowing how much of it he had provoked with his own juvenile reactions made him feel still worse, if that was even possible. He could kick himself a thousand times over but it would not undo the schoolboy fool he had made out of himself. Staring at his own eyes, Armaan recognized the rare but distinct mad streak in them now. He was feeling mad. He'd undertaken a bloody 7 hour bus journey at the most ungodly of hours with nothing to do but think – why had none of the practical details occurred to him? Why had he not used all that time to sort his head and thoughts and emotions and come here with at least a rough plan of action? Being unprepared was not like him.

But he'd been too overcome by the very fact of Minnie's fall, to think about what that situation consequently imposed. He had talked to Shehnaz Bi and it hadn't helped to learn how Minnie had fallen while trying to fix a couple slipping planks in his old tree house in the dark of the night to surprise him when he reached the next forenoon. It had weighed him down in heavy guilt to think he could have been there with her a whole day early if it hadn't been for the wretched party – all his Abhi Nikki match fixing and hot and cold showdowns with Ridhima, and every other detail that had seemed such a big deal only hours ago, now felt like thoughts of a faraway fickle world. Yet all through his bus ride, endless thoughts of what if, and what if not had caught him up in a vicious circle and all he could think of was all the ways he could have prevented Minnie's accident by having been there for her, instead of thinking of all the ways he could be there for her now.

And at that thought he jerked out of the web of thoughts that had sucked him in again, ironically when he was deriding them as inconsequential! He shut his eyes forcefully, as if trying to squeeze out all these distractions which would serve no purpose but for keeping him from practically taking control of the situation as it was now.

Aman could be the second most hated person on his hate-list, but he had spoken like a man of responsibility – and it was enough that Armaan had proven himself not half as much up to now. This was it. This is it. He pulled out a bunch of dry napkins from the holder to wipe his face. Ran fingers through his now partially damp hair to plaster them in an uncharacteristically tidy way – the only way his mother ever approved of him as 'groomed', he thought ruefully - and finally brushing hands over his clothes to pat dry any splashes, he straightened up finally and gave himself a last look in the mirror.

Minnie was going to be alright. His mother was going to be alright too. He was going to make everything alright (and he would make sure Aman Kher only stood by hereon and watched how!).

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