In His Custody ✎ | (MaNan)

✰ 59 - if it's not you, it's not anyone

I have not had the chance to reply to the last few chapters with all the changes in my life, but I promise to do so over the next week as my schedule is clearing up <3 I really appreciate your support even in these erratic times :")

In saying that, I have definitely noticed some questions in my notifications about their ages in this story. As it crosses over two years 2010-2011 (actually, 11 months to be precise), Nandini is 14 and Manik is 16 from when the story begins... up until now. Abhimanyu is the only one who has turned 18 in the entire story.    

I guess at some point in the initial chapters, I had wanted Nandini's birthday to happen before her relationship with Manik but later decided against it for timeline reasons – so hers is in February. I hope this clears things for you all (and I will make those fixes in my editing stage once I finish writing the story) 

It helps a lot that you're catching these inconsistencies now itself for me :") Lots of love!

Also, disclaimer: I have never been to Mumbai so I don't know if geographically, any of this I have penned is consistent. Please forgive me if it isn't, and consider it purely fictional for those purposes.

Word count: 4577

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29 December 2010

December flew past me like a whirlwind.

The first half had been swallowed by exams and yearning for those little moments with Manik that would make my whole day worth it.

And then the week of my period had come, right in the middle of pre-boards – the week I had been walking on eggshells, torn between the guilt of lying, and selfish longing. I found myself overcompensating in some ways, to please her by washing dishes before being asked, chopping vegetables before Chikkamma had reached for them, or even reluctantly sitting beside her during her evening TV serials... all just to feel close to her again.

She wasn't outright cold, but she wasn't as warm as she usually was either. She would speak only when spoken to, even then her words measured, her eyes avoiding me. It was obvious from those behaviours that things had not gotten to full normalcy in the house, and I didn't like it one bit, but none of the men at home picked up on any of those undercurrents.

It was the last week of the month that had been an actual blur. It comprised of a series of back and forth visits to the hospital for Rishabh. The whole idea of winter holidays – and our family's plans to visit Bangalore for those ten days – had been wiped clean when he first got admitted. Instead, Ammamma came over to Mumbai for us.

On the second day, it was Christmas Day when I was alone in the visitation ward, as Abhi had gone to pick Ammamma up and Chikkamma and Chikkappa were preparing the home for her stay, Manik showed up. I had told him not to come meet me anywhere until my Chikkamma and I were on normal talking terms. He came anyway, bringing a flask of chai with him and a paper cup–pouring it out for me despite my protests, still firm in his judgment that we were doing nothing inappropriate and so there was nothing to fear. That hot beverage I reluctantly accepted was definitely from the stall he took me to on his bike nearly three months ago. From the first sip, a mild tinge of relief swept across me.

Later when the doctors came to have a chat with the patient's family, Manik sidestepped me to collect the reports, scanned them, noted all the follow-up instructions, and cross-checked all of Rishabh's old records. There were also instances where he questioned the attending physicians on his own, asking things I hadn't even thought of... and wouldn't have known how to ask without breaking down.