Author's Note: This story/plot belongs to me. The characters have been altered to fit this story. This story is not meant to make profit out of, and is purely written for pleasure.
Prakash's POV:
Parikh Paediatric Ward; Delhi Memorial Hospital.
I was in the lobby of the eight floor; in the paediatric ward to meet with the doctor in charge of receiving donations.
Dr. Mehta was running behind schedule and had asked me to wait for him for fifteen minutes, as per his text message.
The elevator doors dinged and caught my attention. A woman in her late twenties stepped out. Her face was distracted as she sipped on a coffee. Her eyes were lined with smudged kohl and were weary. Her face was pale. She looked like she was carrying the burden of the whole world on her small shoulders.
She seemed really familiar. As she pushed black hair away from her face, something clicked in my head.
She was the same girl whose picture sat in the drawer of my son's office. Although, taking in the appearance of this young lady, I must say she was much different now, compared to the full faced girl who was grinning in that hidden picture.
Maybe it was the history between us or maybe it was sheer curiosity that made me follow her, but follow her I did.
Her steps were harried. Her attention seemed to be diverted; in fact so diverted that she almost walked in two different people as she stepped in one of the rooms. Room 805.
The door clicked shut behind softly.
I walked past the room in an effort to peek into the room. The small window pane did not allow me to see a lot. But, I did see her moving inside. By the bed.
I wondered if it was her child inside. A child, I wondered if in a different world, would have been my grandchild.
I closed my eyes and reigned my thoughts.
When the silhouette of the girl disappeared, I pressed my face against the glass to see better.
I felt my heart stop when I saw the small boy laying in the bed. The blood had drained from my face for this child had an uncanny resemblance to my son.
I gasped and pushed myself away from the window. That...How could that be?
Surely, I must be mistaken. I moved forward to check again. No, my eyes were not deceiving me, this boy looked very similar to my son, when he was his age.
I pushed away from the window and hurried back into the lobby; where I was to meet Dr. Mehta.
"Mr, Khanna," I heard as I entered the lobby again. I looked around to where the voice was coming from.
A young man in a white coat approached me, "Hello. I'm Dr. Aman Mehta. My apologies for the wait."
I blinked a little surprised at his introduction. He was very young. In fact, maybe younger than my son. He was in charge of the charitable section of this hospital? Today must be the day of surprises.
"Hello, Dr Mehta."
"Please, Mr Khanna. Call me Aman. My mother has told me a lot about you."
"Your mother?" I asked confused.
"Neela Parikh," he said as he gestured that we move forward, " she's my mom."
Oh.
My confusion must have been apparent because Dr. Mehta laughed, " I love how confused people get when I say this. Our family history is complicated. Neela Ma is the mother I never had, if you will."
Ms Parikh. Her family and mine seems to be intertwined. I knew that, of course.
"Are you an only child, Aman?" I asked; though I knew the answer to that question.
"No, I have an elder sister. Avni Parikh." Bingo. That was her.
"Parikh? Her last name from marriage?"
Aman laughed yet again, " No. She's not married. She took Neela Ma's last name and I took my father's. She's not really close with my paternal side of the family."
" I see," I said simply. But, the wheels were turning inside my head. Avni Parikh was not married. There was a little boy in that room who looked very much like my son. How was this possible?
Aman showed me around the wards. We went over the proposal of how my donation would help subsidize the hospital fees for the children who were a part of Ms. Parikh's NGOs.
He seemed like a good boy. Level headed, with a good head on his shoulders.
I signed the necessary paperwork, and hurried out of his cabin. I walked down the halls towards Room 805. When I saw the girl outside the room, I stopped.
Her face was streaming with tears. She took gasping breaths as she slid down the wall and pressed her fists against her eyes.
Something clenched inside my heart as I watched the raw pain that was racking her body.
Unconsciously, I grabbed my phone from my pocket. I looked down at the background on my screen. My son and wife's face stared back at me. While they were both grinning, only one's smile reached their eyes.
Unlocking the phone, I dialled a number I knew by heart.
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Within the last twenty four hours, I had been to that hallway at least 5 times. I've seen Neela Parikh coming in the room and staying for a few hours, Aman Mehta visited once and I saw a guy with curly hair bring food for the people inside the room.
I wanted to get to the bottom of this. But, I couldn't. None of the people here would break the doctor-patient confidentiality. Especially not when the Parikh family were involved.
I bid my time. My son's emergency flight landed in a few hours. I was nowhere close to knowing anything than earlier.
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