Enough

12

"Sirji! Sirji!" Ronnie waved his hands frantically, trying to get Abhi's attention. He stood at a safe distance from the punching bag Abhi had been pummeling.

Abhi stopped boxing and tugged off his headgear. "What?" His chest heaved as he panted to catch his breath. His tank was soaked with sweat, sticking to his skin. He felt hot all over.

And he wanted to keep punching his bag. Nothing in his life made sense and there was no one he could go to for answers. At least while working out his rage physically, he could escape his overburdened mind.

"Sirji, you've been at it for fifteen minutes. You need to stop, overexertion at this point will be dangerous for your recovery." Ronnie carefully caught the swinging bag, stilling its motion.

"Overexertion?" Abhi scoffed. "I can go twice as long -"

"Yes sir, when you're fully healthy. But for now, you need to take a break. A long break," Ronnie said firmly. There was a surprising amount of steel in the young man's voice.

Until now, Abhi had only seen the light-hearted side of Ronnie. His easygoing good humour made him comfortable to be around. This was the first time they were facing potential conflict, and Ronnie was showing more backbone than Abhi expected.

Abhi wanted to keep fighting, but he didn't want to argue with Ronnie. Regrettably, he had a point.

Abhi took off his boxing gloves. "Ok. I'll shower, how's that?"

"That's a good idea sir," Ronnie said with a smile. He took Abhi's gloves and headgear. "I'll just put these away for you."

"The bathroom here is small," Abhi said over his shoulder as he walked towards it. "Just stay by the door and I'll call if I need you."

"Yes, sir."

Abhi stepped into his shower, blasting the cold water to rinse down his body before moderating it to a comfortable temperature. He soaped up in distraction, his thoughts focused on the miserable swirl of his inner feelings.

He felt like a mess.

Working out had been a way to turn off his brain and blow off some steam, but it hadn't been enough. Rage still pulsed through his veins. Sorrow still clouded his mind.

Why did he feel like he was suffocating in secrets?

Not for the first time, he wished this new reality he had woken into was just a bad dream he could wake up from. He missed the certainty of understanding the world around him. He missed feeling comfortable in his own skin.

He just wanted to feel normal again. He would give anything to go back to the time before the accident.

Pragya's face flashed in his mind.

Well...maybe he wouldn't give any thing.

As he washed off his soap, he brooded on the thought of Pragya.

He was glad she was in his life.

He would never have picked a woman like her, if it was only up to him. She was too traditional, soft spoken, modest, quiet. She was also scary smart, with a sharp tongue when provoked.

No, he'd never have chosen a woman like that.

But having a woman like that, already, as his wife?

It was so comfortable he didn't want to do without it.

She was easy to be around. She cared what happened to him, and went out of her way to take care of him. To the point that he was starting to feel guilty that he didn't know how to take care of her.