Hamesha - Always

last breaths | ii

Here's part 2!

❁❁❁

That stupid girl.

Her eyes were just beginning to scroll open when Manik's lungs filled with air again. Finally. "You're such a fool, seriously," He spat, taking a seat beside her bed and sipping on his fourth caffinated beverage in the last 24 hours.

She was still registering his presence and recovering from the anaesthetic effect but Manik had so much pent up, he couldn't hold himself back. "Iss baar toh sirf skull pe ek crack sa aaya tha you know, aur ek do haddiyaan toot gayi thi. Very average performance I must say. Next time na, I would recommend ki aur upar se jump maaro, maybe fifth ya sixth floor for the results you want to achieve,"

His voice alone felt like salve on her wounds, his words however mocking her.

She did not know how long she was out like a light for. Had it been days, or weeks? She lazily scanned his scanty appearance, his forehead still faintly red from the ceremonies. Oh, wedding.

Her eyes fixated on his hands, there was nothing on his right, but she couldn't see his left hand. He had probably purposefully hid it from her. She stretched her able but bandaged hand in his direction.

"Nahi, you're not supposed to be having coffee, most of all not mine," What was he saying? She wondered. She wanted to hold him, not have his coffee!

Meanwhile, he had been doing everything he possibly could to blur those 24 hours from his memory completely. He had almost lost her... and the fear of it was still dangling around him like an IV tube: in front of his face and essential for his existence. Trying to make conversation with her was his pathetic attempt to assure himself that she was alive and well.

He turned his back to her, so she still couldn't see his ring. Why was he not showing it to her? She wanted to move over, hassle him, play tug of war with his bitter-as-hell black coffee, and pour the hot thing all over his head until he jumped up and fought back for wasting his drink. But as of then, she was strapped to the bed with glucose in her arm, and yet very drained.

She tugged on the sea-green garment covering her. How had they gotten her into this? And who had? "Chee chee, I'm your brother-in-law now, how can you think such things of me, Nandini? That's disgusting." He touched his chest dramatically, visibly ghastly.

She tried to call the drama king with her hand, but it wasn't budging at all. "Ma... Mah–" She breathed into the respirator, and her vitals on the graph monitor slowly rose to life.

"Mujhe na actually pehle din se pata tha! With your clumsiness, first floor pe room dena hi nahi chahiye tha tumko. It was dangerous, I told Anjali." Tumko. Not tu. Nandini closed her eyes as a hot tear escaped.

She heard the door creak open and slam shut.

He had left her.

Voices that subsequently filled the room had rung in her ears, but she was finding it hard to focus on who it was from.

And then she had fallen asleep again.

❁❁❁

Five weeks later...

Nandini's eyes fluttered open. She was no longer wearing the respirator.

Manik was pacing around the room, chattering about something.

On seeing her awake, he had taken a seat beside her, "Haan earlier you fell asleep while I was talking... toh main kya bol raha tha, there is this really good book about how poisons work actually–so Agatha Christie the mystery writer... arre tumko toh pata hi hoga... she actually kills a lot of her characters with poisons only. Toh maine tumhare liye woh book laaya tha, who knows it might inspire you to consider another strategy,"