12. ECHOES OF DEFIANCE AND SCARS

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Avya

I was drying my hair when my phone rang. It had been buzzing for a while since I was in the bathroom, and now, whoever it was, they weren't giving up.

Who was calling me in the morning?

I picked up the phone, my hands still wrestling with the damp strands.

"Dr. Avya, thank god you picked-" Mary, one of the nurses from the hospital, her voice tight with urgency.

"Mary, I told you not to contact me," I replied, my frustration growing. Partially because of the unexpected call and partially because my hair kept falling into my eyes. Why did I even washed it today?

"You were feeling better," my subconscious offered, but I wasn't in the mood for its reasoning.

Mary continued despite my tone. "It's patient 205," she said, her words striking me cold.

My hand froze in my hair, letting it fall across my face again.

"What's wrong, Mary?" I asked, a hint of concern creeping into my voice.

"She's been asking for you. Lately, she has stopped eating and even taking her medicine," Mary replied, her words as urgent as her voice. "Your absence in the hospital hasn't gone unnoticed by her."

Stars, I thought. Miss Mythila was a stubborn woman. It took months to earn her trust, and even longer to maintain it. I walked toward the corner of the room, tossing the towel aside, trying to think.

"Mary, I'll try to visit soon," I said, but the uncertainty in my voice was clear.

"Dr. Avya, please," Mary pleaded. "Her health is starting to deteriorate."

I sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing on me. I cared about Miss Mythila, but my freedom wasn't something I could just grant myself.

My guilt had that right, it has long since stopped me from entering the hospital for the past three months.

"Mary..." I began, not sure how to finish my sentence. I couldn't promise anything, but maybe.

Mary waited on the line, hopeful but silent. I had to find a way. For her, and for me.

"Dr. Avya, her panic attacks have significantly increased too. Please," Mary urged, her voice growing more desperate.

I stood there, one hand on my phone, the other tugging at my damp hair.

On one hand, I felt an overwhelming urge to rush to the hospital without missing a beat. But on the other, I felt a heavy weight, like a chain binding me to this mansion.

Am I even deserving to be called a doctor? The hands that used to heal someone now had been accused of killing.

It was the very reason that when someone called me doctor, I heard a life taker instead of life saver. Especially when Hridhaan called me Dr. Avya Rawal.

But, Mythila needed me. I couldn't turn my back on her, not when she had relied on me for so long. She had no family, she was a lone forty-six year old lady.
I can't possibly disappoint her.

She already was lonely enough. And I know exactly how that feels.

Like hell, but without demons, just darkness.

"I'll be there in an hour, Mary," I said, though my voice wavered.

"Thank you so much, Avya, dear!" she exclaimed with relief.

"But," I interrupted, "just don't tell anyone, okay?" I needed this to stay quiet. The last thing I wanted was my Father finding it out.

She agreed, and I ended the call. I grabbed my purse and glanced at my reflection. A simple full sleeved kurti and pants would have to do.

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