Posted:
Hello guys! I'm not sure how it's going in the me vs. CVs race. I haven't seen any hints of their plan to bring Abhi's memory back...I promise I do have a plan, though you might not see any hints yet either 😉
Special thanks to Raji and Viji for help with this chapter; hugs and badam ki barfi to MMM, and lots of love to all the WA crew for putting up with me ❤️
AT THE END OF THE LAST CHAPTER
-TO BE CONTINUED-
Special thanks to Raji and Viji for help with this chapter; hugs and badam ki barfi to MMM, and lots of love to all the WA crew for putting up with me ❤️
Enough
A KKB FF by -mina-
Chapter 1 (p1) | Chapter 2 (p6) | Chapter 3 (p11) | Chapter 4 (p13) | Chapter 5 (p16) |
Chapter 6 (p19) | Chapter 7 (below)
STORY TILL NOW
Chapter 6 (p19) | Chapter 7 (below)
STORY TILL NOW
The last straw for Pragya is when Abhi tries to punish Puneet to cover up for his own misdeeds with Tanu. She reveals the truth about Aaliya's revenge plan and walks out of her marriage. Heartbreak follows all around, until a random act of violence steals three months of Abhi's memories and brings Pragya back to his life, whether she wants to be or not.
AT THE END OF THE LAST CHAPTER
Abhi's recovery seems to be going well, but Pragya is surprised to find that her husband is a lot mellower than he used to be...
Aab, aage...⭐️
CHAPTER SEVEN
The doctor was flirting with his wife.
At first Abhi doubted his own eyes. How could a doctor be so unprofessional as to flirt with a patient's spouse? And more to the point, how could any idiot dare to flirt with the wife of Abhi the rockstar - right in front of him?
But doubt couldn't change fact.
The damn fool doctor was flirting with his wife!
Dr. Aman did not spend much time talking to or looking at Abhi. He would read his charts, discuss the notes briefly with the nurses, and then spend the majority of his very short visits talking directly to Pragya. He always looked into her eyes as he smoothly reassured her that Abhi was recovering well. Sometimes, the bast--d took one of her hands into both of his for a comforting squeeze. And once when Abhi had been pretending to be asleep, he overheard the too-good doctor spending at least five extra minutes just chatting with Pragya about matters completely unrelated to Abhi's health.
That was how Abhi learned that his wife was a literature professor, on sabbatical from her job while adjusting to married life. That was how he learned that she worked at Chembur College of Arts and Commerce, where she herself had completed not one, not two, not three, but actually four and a half degrees.
Apparently the half degree translated into some other kind of credential that Abhi didn't recognize - but the too-good doctor had recognized it, and actually complimented her on it. In that moment, Abhi felt a fierce flash of regret that he had never gone to college himself. Since he wasn't familiar with the academic world, he couldn't understand just exactly what it was about Pragya's qualifications that had made Dr. Flirtmaster whistle in appreciation and say that she was "as accomplished as she was beautiful."
Then again, Abhi suspected that if he had been able to see the doctor's face when he said those greasy words, he would have seen something other than mere academic admiration in the other man's eyes. Dr. Know-It-All was probably doing something Abhi knew that sleazy, over-educated guys often did - trying to make a woman believe they appreciated something about her other than her looks, when in reality they were just as shallow as other men.
But since Abhi had kept his eyes closed for his pretend sleep, he had not seen the doctor's face. So at the back of his mind, there remained the niggling question of whether there really was something about his wife's accomplishments that he couldn't personally understand enough to appreciate - or whether the casanova doctor was just using the advantage of his education to camouflage plain, old-fashioned gandi nazar.
Either way, Abhi found it deeply irritating. He hardly knew Pragya and didn't remember anything about their relationship, but seeing that the lecherous doctor had an eye on her was triggering his possessive instinct anyway. Bad enough that he couldn't remember his own wife - now he was feeling insecure about her on top of that!
Not that Pragya was really giving him any reason to feel insecure. She didn't respond to Dr. Aman's flirting at all. She was always completely focused on Abhi himself. And she didn't even seem conscious that any man - whether a slimy doctor or her own husband - could be romantically interested in her.
Because - and this was the hardest part for Abhi to understand - she wasn't responding to his flirting either.
She rolled her eyes at his jokes instead of laughing at them. She told him briskly to behave when he pretended to be bratty to get her attention. And what he found most disturbing - she looked surprised whenever he smiled at her.
What kind of a relationship did they have if she wasn't used to him smiling at her?
And yet, even though she didn't pick up on his flirting, Abhi could feel that there was a certain chemistry simmering between them. He had not married a mere Daadi-pleasing robot. Everyone might say she was the perfect Mehra bahu, but Abhi could sense that Pragya very much had a personal interest in being his wife.
It was in the way her cheeks flushed when he reached to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. It was in the way she ever-so-slightly squeezed his fingers anytime he took hold of her hand. It was in the way their eyes sometimes locked and they couldn't look away from each other, some unspoken, pure connection binding them in endless silent moments where all need for words disappeared.
All these little hints left him without doubt that she felt more for him than mere duty. But she was trying to hide it, as if she thought the feelings were only on her side.
He tried to convince himself that she was just shy. She was obviously the traditional, sheltered type, so of course she wouldn't be comfortable expressing her attraction to him in public. He thought that when they were back home, he would get to see her playful side. When they were in private, she would surely be more open to him.
And he reminded himself that of course she must be distracted by his health, even if he was feeling better day by day. It must have been traumatic for her to see him like this, even harder for her to know he'd forgotten her. Of course romance must be the last thing on her mind at the moment.
He was a fair way to believing his own reassurances, too. Until he witnessed her jumping into the arms of that dour, mustachioed "friend and neighbour" who was not her brother.
***
When Suresh tapped on the glass window to Abhi's room, Pragya's first thought was that he had come to see how Abhi was doing. But instead of entering the room, Suresh stayed in the hall, holding up a magazine and waving at her to come out. Confused by the gesture, Pragya went to meet him, telling Abhi that she'd be back in just a minute.
Out in the hall, she was surprised by the rare sight of Suresh actually grinning. Before she could say anything, he thrust the magazine into her hands, folded open to a specific page.
"It came, Pragya, it's here! It's the second article, too, they didn't bury it in the back like you were worried. Professor Saxena was so pleased, he's handing out copies to all the grad students -"
Pragya tuned out the rest of Suresh's explanation as she examined what he had handed to her. It was not a magazine after all. It was an academic journal, and an article she had submitted six months prior was finally in print.
She ran her fingertip across the page, tracing a line under the elegant lettering of her name on the author line. It looked perfect. For the first time in her life, she was holding physical proof of a dream come true.
She looked up at Suresh and his grin was wider than ever. He opened his arms slightly, and that was as much invitation as she needed to jump up for a hug. Suresh lifted her off her feet and twirled her around once, and they laughed together from sheer exhilaration. Then he gently set her down and stepped away, folding his arms behind his back.
"Congratulations, Pragya," he said with a soft smile. "I'm sure it's the first of many."
"Thank you," Pragya replied, smiling back. She looked down at the journal and her mind raced with the implications of what this meant for career. Now that her article was published, it would surely lead to new exchanges with other scholars in her field and potentially new opportunities for her research. It had been so long since she'd given any thought to her professional future, but with the proof of her achievement in her hands, fresh hope swelled in her heart.
Suddenly, Suresh grabbed her elbow, tugging her against his chest. A team of paramedics rushed by with a patient in a gurney, shouting to clear the hall so they could get to the operation theatre. In a daze, Pragya realized she had been so lost in daydreams that she had forgotten where she was.
It was a harsh crash back to reality. She looked down at the printed page again, and the words seemed to blur into meaningless scribbles. It was like looking at an ancient artifact in a foreign script.
She had written this article in another life, when her biggest dream was to be published. Somehow she had tumbled into this new life, where she had to be Abhi's wife and caretaker before anything else. Any old dreams attached to her work had no place in her heart anymore. Now, the only achievement she could focus on was restoring her husband to health.
She closed the journal and looked up at Suresh again, her smile strained but determined. "Thank you," she said once more. "It means a lot to see this. But I have to get back inside, so -"
"I know," Suresh nodded. "I don't mean to keep you, I just thought you should have this. I brought copies to your house too. When I left your Daadi was making Bulbul read it to her and explain all the arguments."
Despite her tension, Pragya laughed. "Bulbul explaining literary theory? I'll need a recording of that."
"I'll see what I can do," Suresh promised, half-teasing. Then his voice sobered to its usual serious tone. "I know you have to get back. But, Pragya? Take care of yourself too, ok?" He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "One day you'll be back. This article is really going to be the first of many, I'm sure of it."
Pragya nodded in gratitude. "Thanks for coming." She gave him a last wave before she stepped back into Abhi's room.
Abhi was waiting for her with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. "Well," he drawled, slowly dragging out the single syllable, "what was that all about?"
Pragya walked quickly back to her chair next to his bed. "Nothing important," she answered, not wanting to bother him with an explanation about her article. It wasn't something he would care about, and for now she didn't want to think about it anymore. She reached for her purse to put away the journal, but suddenly Abhi's hand closed around her wrist.
"It can't be nothing, if it had Surinder twirling you around in his arms like that." Abhi plucked the journal from Pragya's hands.
"Suresh," she corrected automatically. "You saw that?" She wondered why she could feel her cheeks heating up. What did she have to be embarrassed about, even if he had seen her celebrating that way with her best friend?
"Modern Fiction Studies," Abhi read aloud from the cover of the journal. "Huh. I thought it would be a tabloid magazine about me, but I guess not. What is this?"
Pragya reached to take the journal back from him, but he held it away from her. She frowned at him and said impatiently, "It's really nothing, just something from my college, can I have it back now?"
"Not until you explain why it made you hug Suryapratap," Abhi insisted. He was teasing in his usual insufferable way, but there was an edge to his voice that Pragya had never heard before. He had often spoken to her irritably in the past, but she couldn't remember him ever being so seriously intent on getting an answer, as if he actually cared what the real explanation was.
"Suresh," she corrected again. "And, if you must know..." She bit her lip in hesitation, still feeling reluctant to explain this part of her life to him. She hadn't forgotten how dismissive he had been about her education at their engagement, interrupting her with "That's enough" before she finished fully explaining her background. She couldn't expect him to understand why this publication was important to her, and she would rather not have to tell him about it at all.
But he was looking at her with calm patience, clearly waiting for an honest answer. What could she do but tell him the simple truth? She took a deep breath and continued, "It's, well, I got published, that's what Suresh and I were celebrating. This is an international literary journal, and one of my analytical articles is published in it."
Abhi's eyes widened. "Published? Internationally?" He flipped open the journal and started thumbing through the pages. "Where is your article?"
"Page twelve," Pragya answered, watching him in amazement. She couldn't believe he was actually taking this seriously. She thought she could even hear a hint of pride in his voice, which was beyond unexpected.
Abhi found page twelve and read out the headline. "Fantasy and Figurative Illusion: Emblems of Escape in Contemporary Diaspora Children's Literature." He let out a low whistle. "That's just the title? It seems long enough to be an article on its own."
He flashed her a quick smile, and Pragya couldn't help laughing a little. His enthusiasm certainly felt genuine.
Just as she had done earlier, he ran his fingertip beneath her name on the byline. He read as he went along, "Pragya Arora, BA, lit, MA, lit, MPhil, M Ed, G dipple - what's G dipple?"
"G Dipl," Pragya corrected. "Graduate diploma. It's what the department decided to give me as partial credit when I had to end my PhD research without finishing my thesis."
"Ah. Four and a half degrees," Abhi said, nodding in understanding. Before she could ask him what he meant, he continued, "You don't go by Pragya Mehra?"
Unconsciously, Pragya's hand flew to her mangal sutra. The diamond pendant rasped against her fingertips as she answered, "This is from before we were married. I...I'm Pragya Mehra now."
"Good," Abhi nodded again. He scanned the rest of the page, and Pragya saw his lips moving as he read to himself silently. After a few moments, he shook his head and handed the journal back to her. "I'm not going to be able to follow this. You better read it to me. Slowly."
"Y-you want me to read it to you? Really?" Pragya took the journal from him, staring at him in shock. Not only did he seem genuinely happy for her, now he wanted to hear the whole article? Never in a hundred years could she have imagined this reaction from Abhi, her rockstar husband.
Because...for once, he was behaving more like a husband than a rockstar.
"Yes, I want you to read it." He adjusted a pillow behind his back so that he could sit facing her. He propped his chin on his hand and said encouragingly, "Go on."
"But you're not interested in this kind of thing. It will bore you, honestly -"
"You'll have to hear every word of every song I will ever release. I think it's fair that I should read every word you get published. I can't read it now, so you should read it to me. Really."
Faced with such insistence, Pragya couldn't keep resisting. She settled back in her chair, getting ready for a long read. She pushed at the side of her glasses to straighten them. Then she cleared her throat and began reading, "Within the last decade of cultural studies, it has been the trend to..."
At first, she was acutely conscious of Abhi's eyes on her as she continued reading. She focused on keeping her voice even. As she did her best to read slowly and clearly, she wondered at the back of her mind if Abhi was understanding any of it. But that concern soon faded from her thoughts, as she began to get wrapped up in her own words. The argument in her essay was stronger than she remembered, and the further she read, the more she was impressed with herself.
"Eyy, Chashmish!"
Pragya's heart stuttered in her chest. The journal slipped from her hands as she stared at Abhi in a rush of shock. It felt like an eternity since she had last heard that name from his lips, and now here he was saying it the same way he had said it thousands of times before. How had his memory come back just like that, out of the blue? What would happen now that he remembered everything? Would he -
"That is the fifth time you have straightened your glasses while reading the article! If your glasses are that loose, why don't you get them tightened? I can do it for you when we get home, I have a kit I use for Daadi when her specs need fixing."
Abhi was staring back at her with his head tilted to one side, an exasperated smile playing on his lips. As she watched in bewilderment, he reached over to slide her glasses up the bridge of her nose with his fingertip. "Waise, do you mind if I call you Chashmish? It's cute. It suits you."
Her heart thunked back in place. A hollow wave of relief washed over her as she realized he hadn't remembered anything at all.
"I don't mind," she managed to say. She was even able to summon up a smile to reassure him. "You used to call me that before, too."
"Chashmish," he repeated, mischief lighting his eyes. "My cute professor Chashmish, read on."
That was too overwhelming for her to even begin to react to. So Pragya ignored the blush she could feel burning under her skin, and did as Abhi asked. She read him the rest of her article.
And did her best not to ask herself why she felt relieved that his memories had not come back yet.
-TO BE CONTINUED-
Thank you for reading!
Modern Fiction Studies is a real academic journal for literary articles - and a very prestigious one at that. Pragya's article title is completely made up 😛
We do learn around episode 46 that Pragya had completed 4 degrees ("graduation, double masters, MEd") as well as research towards a PhD which was credited towards a diploma. I have taken a bit of license with that to state that she has an MPhil and GDipl - in real life those degrees have more specific definitions. The printed form of what Abhi reads would be, "Pragya Arora, BA (Lit), MA (Lit), MPhil, M Ed, G Dipl."
AbhiGya were supposed to be back in MM by this chapter, but they had other plans. Wish me luck getting them back home for the next update 😉 😆
Thank you again to every reader - and it would mean a lot to receive your likes and comments 😳
Modern Fiction Studies is a real academic journal for literary articles - and a very prestigious one at that. Pragya's article title is completely made up 😛
We do learn around episode 46 that Pragya had completed 4 degrees ("graduation, double masters, MEd") as well as research towards a PhD which was credited towards a diploma. I have taken a bit of license with that to state that she has an MPhil and GDipl - in real life those degrees have more specific definitions. The printed form of what Abhi reads would be, "Pragya Arora, BA (Lit), MA (Lit), MPhil, M Ed, G Dipl."
AbhiGya were supposed to be back in MM by this chapter, but they had other plans. Wish me luck getting them back home for the next update 😉 😆
Thank you again to every reader - and it would mean a lot to receive your likes and comments 😳
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