Hello, Mr. Major General (1)

Chapter 7: You Are My Medicine (4)

The houses built on C City Special Ops grounds were entirely sound-proof and insulated against radio and
electromagnetic interference. It was simply not possible for anyone to eavesdrop or spy on any of these houses.

After kicking Sandeep out, the house was now empty save for Sidharth and Shehnaaz.

At the moment, Shehnaaz had already lost her senses and was therefore not really there. Sidharth was the only
one alert and in full control of his faculties.

He was still in uniform. He sat on the white hardwood sofa— his long, boot-clad legs were stretched out, and he gazed in the direction of the bed.
The night grew darker. Inside the house, the lights were off.

The thick, sound-proof, black-out velvet curtains were drawn. They hung from the ceiling to the floor,
motionless. Opposite him was his bed, covered with a clean and fresh
ivory-white striped bed sheet. It was Egyptian cotton, with a thread count of 1800. Shehnaaz had picked it out for him.

Sidharth did not actually care about the little things.

He had slept in all kinds of places during his missions: in snow, in mud, at the polar regions, up on a mountain, in the desert, in a swamp—he had experienced them all.

But he always depended on Shehnaaz  when he was back home.

Shehnaaz had good taste for someone her age. Everything she bought for Sidharth suited him perfectly.

The ivory-white striped bedsheet, for example, was extremely comfortable and the perfect choice for a neat
freak like Sidharth.

The pillow on the bed was of the same color and material. It was Egyptian memory foam and was supposedly good for the spine and back. Shehnaaz had especially chosen this for him too.

The only thing difference with the bed today was the addition of a living, breathing, and impossibly supple girl—
Shehnaaz.

Sidharth couldn’t resist lighting another cigarette. He watched Shehnaaz for a long time. He did not smoke his cigarette: he had only lit it out of habit.

When the cigarette finally died out between his fingers, he peeled his eyes away from Shehnaaz and pressed the
cigarette into an ashtray.

There was a hint of cigarette smoke in the air. Sidharth found the remote and turned on the ventilator. The smell of smoke quickly disappeared as fresh air came rushing in.

He slowly removed the cigarette pack in his pocket, tossing it onto the table. He laid back on the sofa and let out a long sigh. He was suddenly aware of the zippo lighter in his hand. The
lighter, too, was also a present from Shehnaaz.

Sidharth raised the lighter. His face was blank and unreadable. He flicked the lighter: On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.

He continued playing with the lighter for a while.

The room was getting darker by the minute. The intermittent light produced by his lighter illuminated his
chiseled features: beautiful, forbidding, and heart- wrenching. It was quiet, save for Shehnaaz’s continuous moaning.

Sidharth could not tell how much time had passed, when his phone suddenly lit up in the dark.

He glanced at it.

It was a message from Sandeep: Remember to keep an eye on her heart rate. If it goes up, call me right away, I’ll send someone to head over.

Sidharth’s brow wrinkled. He threw his phone to the floor, smashing the screen, and tossed the lighter aside.

He stood and watched Shehnaaz for a long moment, before finally walking over to the bed and sitting on it.
He patted her cheek and in a hoarse voice asked, “Does it hurt? Do you need relief?”