AbhiRa Short Story: Broken

Part 3 - Abhimanyu

10pm. I knew my family like clockwork. Maa was wrapping up the dishes in the kitchen and helping the staff prepare the menu for the next morning. Sir was in his library, reading up on whatever new technology or techniques were up and coming in the medical field and how to make the most profitable cause at Birla Hospital. Tauji and Tayji, if they didn't have any emergencies holding them up had probably retired to their room and in the midst of discussing cases over a hot cup of tea.

Parth and Shefali were probably in their own room, finding the most mundane thing to argue about. Neil was probably in his own room, playing video games and Nishtha was most likely finishing up a last minute essay due tomorrow but which she had just started not too long ago.

There was only one person left. Akshu. And I had no idea what she was doing or what her next step was going to be. My best guess was that she was somewhere downstairs, helping Maa cleanup the kitchen to prolong seeing me, most probably dreading our forthcoming conversations. Just like I was.

It had been 4 hours since she has came back from her music therapy session and she had not spoken one single word to me.

4 hours, 18 minutes and 20 seconds —I looked at the digital clock on my side of the table —22 seconds since she had been home and not talked or even acknowledged me.

During dinner, she had helped pass food and water to me. Even fed me like she usually did. The small bites of roti from her even tinier hands had used to be the highlight of my days. But today eyes were hollow and her demeanor cold. She was just fulfilling the expectations as a wife but her eyes were nothing short of hurt.

I.  Me. I was the reason she was hurting. My lies —my incompetence, my pulling away from her touch, my inability to keep my frustrations in check was the reason she was hurting.

Reason. She wanted a good reason for why I didn't tell her about the reports myself. The entire day, I had been trying to find the right words, the right reason for why I didn't tell her.

And nothing. There was no excuse, no answer, no reason good enough for what I had done.

Suddenly there was a loud pounding at the temple of my forehead, right on the bridge of my nose. I leaned back on sofa chair and closed my eyes. Just for a few seconds.

I felt a warm presence around me, and the soft brush of a hand running through my hair while applying light pressure to the part of my forehead that was thumping in pain. My lips started to turn upwards into a slow and mellow smile just when the soft caresses came to a halt.

"Akshu."

I sat upright on the sofa chair and in the process, ended up applying unwanted pressure to my damaged hand.

"Ouch."

"Be careful," she responded panicked, "Abhimanyu."

Abhimanyu. The hesitation with which she had called me Abhimanyu didn't escape me. It was as if she had thought multiple times before finally deciding to call me Abhimanyu.

"Main tumhare liye Abhimanyu kab se ban gaya? Since when?" I couldn't withhold a rough and gruff chuckle from escaping.

"Jab se tum ne mujhe Akshu se Akshara jaise treat karna start kar diya tha. Tab se."

"Never did I ever treat you like Akshara. You were always my Akshu."

"But then why do I feel like an Akshara and not an Akshu? Huh?"

And to that I had no answer.

"Reason."

"What?"

"I need a good reason for why you didn't tell me.  When I left this morning, I told you to be ready with a reason. So I need a reason, and that too a damned good one Dr. Abhimanyu Birla."

I looked away from Akshu's eyes. Those were the eyes of a lioness on the hunt for some very valid answers to her questions.

"Akshu..."

"No, Abhi. I need answers. Kyun? Kyun? Kyun? Why? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell your Akshu what was going on?!"

"I'm sorry Akshu."

"I don't need your sorry, Abhi. I need answers."

"I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me? From what, Abhi? The truth?"

"From getting hurt."

"Hurt? Is that the best you can come up with? You didn't tell me the truth because you didn't think I was capable of handling it? You were protecting me from getting hurt?"

"Akshu, that's not what I meant."

I got up from the chair and took a step forward, towards her, holding out my hands to soothe her.

Akshu held out her hand to stop me from inching closer. "Stop. Don't touch me. Abhi. What did you mean? Bolo. Jawab do mujhe."

"Akshu, you won't understand."

"Then make me understand. Please. I'm begging you."

"Akshu, you're not a surgeon. You won't understand what I'm going through." The pounding in my head got louder and more unbearable by the second. I ran my fingers across my face and my hair to get a sense of peace.

"I'm not a surgeon but I am a music therapist. I have learnt psychology. Aur main tumhe toh samajh thi hoon na."

The pounding in my head got louder. The thumping was beating constantly like a set of heavy metal drums.

"Talk to me Abhi. Please."

And this is where my patience ran out. I grabbed Akshu by the shoulders and pulled her up against my chest.

"Okay, fine, tumhe answers chahiye toh listen. You don't know how important a surgeons hands are. And you won't ever be able to understand either. They are everything to a surgeon and without the stability of his hands, a Surgeon is nothing. Without my hands, I am nothing Akshu. Being a doctor is part of my personality. It's who I am. I take care of my patients. I make sure they walk out of my surgery room with a stronger heart. And I may not be able to do that anymore. If I can't be a doctor or surgeon then who am I? And that is what I was trying to protect you from. My own incompetence. I was protecting you from getting hurt."

I let go off my tight grip on Akshu and turned to face away from her. I hadn't meant to be this harsh but the headache had suddenly disappeared and I was feeling 10 times lighter —as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.