Shadows Of The Stumps

Burnt Toast & Karela Chips

The morning light filtered in through sheer curtains, soft and golden — brushing against the walls, the photographs, the edge of the dresser where Eva's stuffed toy sat, left behind during a playful scuffle weeks ago.

The house, once gripped in a storm of worry, had finally begun to breathe again. But inside Meera's room, everything was still.

Meera blinked her eyes open slowly, the dull ache in her leg reminding her immediately of where she was — and why. She didn't wince; she'd already done all that yesterday. Today it was a quiet kind of pain. Familiar. Lingering. The kind that didn't ask for attention — just existed.

She didn't realize she'd been lying there for nearly ten minutes when Rahul walked in. Silent. Careful.

"Morning," he said, crouching down beside the bed, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead.

Meera turned to him, a faint smile blooming on her face. "Anna."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "You scared me like hell, Meeru. But you're here. That's enough for now."

He helped her sit up slowly, his touch measured, always watching for a wince or a flinch.

"I'm okay," Meera whispered. But her voice lacked the usual conviction.

Rahul didn't argue.

He adjusted the pillows behind her back just as Athiya entered with a change of clothes and a towel in hand. "Okay soldier," she said, already rolling up her sleeves. "Freshen-up duty. We need to bring back your skin tone under all that hospital lighting."

Meera chuckled weakly. "I'm still a Major, Tithi."

Athiya raised an eyebrow. "And I'm still your elder. So sit still."

With Rahul's help, they freshened her up, washed her face, brushed her hair. She even managed a half-decent complaint about the toothpaste. And as he left, Athiya brought her a new a pair of clothes to change into, surprisingly a rather bright mint t-shirt.

"Athu," she said, glancing toward the door, "Eva will be up soon. You should—"

Athiya turned slowly, her glare sharp.

"Don't start," she warned. "You've been home one day and you're already trying to shuffle me out of the room?"

"No— I just thought—"

Athiya cut her off. "Eva has Rahul. You have me. And I'm not about to let you talk your way into a guilt trip so soon. Now stop being dramatic and wear this."

Meera opened her mouth.

"And don't you dare say anything about managing on your own. You walked into a war zone without telling us. You came back with an injury. So for the next few weeks, you're grounded. Figuratively and literally."

Meera blinked. "Yes, ma'am."

"And you," Athiya added, jabbing a finger toward Rahul, who had just come back, "do not let her sweet-talk you into helping her sneak around."

Rahul lifted both hands. "I'm only the emotional support staff here."

Once they were done, Athiya folded the towel and turned to leave. "I'll check on Eva. You don't do anything heroic while I'm gone. Rah, chalo I'll need help."

As they turned to go, Rahul discreetly handed her a chocolate, and Meera laughed softly.

But the moment the door shut behind Athiya, her eyes slid toward the wheelchair that had been parked discreetly near the dresser.