Nilay chuckled — “Dr. Kaapadia is here to take us out.”
The staff around brightened up with chuckles.
“He is in good form, team,” Dr. Shravan hyped the room up. “Let’s go. Dr. Kapadia, ready?”
Ritu started taking stats and readings, asking technical-sounding questions without any emotion or reaction. Nilay tried to decipher what each reading meant — good or bad, at least. But her tone was flat, neutral, as always. He couldn’t glean anything.
“You look pale, Mr. Patel,” she remarked. And his eyes whirled up to hers, just over his head. “Try not to faint before I start. Ruins my reputation.”
He smirked — “Try to be quick, I have already ruined my plans for this.”
She leaned in slightly. “You’ll feel pressure, not pain. If anything hurts, tell me.”
“Maybe.”
“No heroics here.”
He felt pressure in his right wrist. The nick. It had been numbed some time ago and now it was being poked. No pain. Ritu’s eyes were on his, and he realised with belated shock that she was working on his wrist, already pushing something in through the cut. He couldn’t see it though, and her eyes went away from his, to the screen behind him. She was threading a wire through his artery. They had explained the procedure to him before starting. Now, he had nothing but those steps they had told him about to corroborate.
“You ok?” She asked without looking at him, eyes on the screen.
“Bored.”
He couldn’t see it behind that mask, but he knew she was smirking.
“Left main’s fine,” she said to the room. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. That meant something good.
“LAD… wait.” Her voice was just as flat. The room was quiet. He couldn’t make out anything.
“Share with the class,” he tried to instigate her. Her eyes came to his, stern, then went back. Fear set in. She wasn't joking back. She wasn’t snubbing back. She wasn’t…
“There,” Dr. Shravan was just as calm. “Plaque morphology’s different. You couldn’t have predicted this over CT.”
Therewasa block.Fuck.Of course there was! He had an attack! Something ought to have caused it. He was naive in believing it would have cleared this time too.
“Plaque has ruptured,” she finally said. “Seventy plus.”
“Any more?” Dr. Shravan asked. The room remained silent. Ritu worked, her eyes not coming back to his. On the screen behind him.
“Stenting or direct CABG?” Nilay asked, hoping his voice came out steadier than he felt.
“Gagging, for starters,” she retorted. And even though her voice was flat, dry, as always, he knew she was keeping it up for his benefit. For long minutes, nothing was said. Nilay panicked. But he kept himself grounded for her, for himself, and for the future that was waiting for them. He took his eyes up to her — masked jaw, capped hair, pretty brown eyes staring unblinkingly at the internal wiring of his heart. That was the moment he decided that he would ask her. He would ask her to marry him. Have his kids. Take care of his heart. Put him in his place. Walk on sand with him. Let him cover her eyes when she sleeps. Devour the food he cooks. Settle here or in New York, or wherever she wanted. But settlewithhim.
“What are you thinking, Mr. Patel?” She finally asked.
“Why?”
“Your pulse is better than it was a minute ago.”
“Strangling my assistant the next time I see him.”
“Keep thinking it. We are going in for stenting.”
“So… no CABG…”
“You want one?” Her eyes came to his, now amused. “Prep the balloon,” she said to the room.
Nilay grinned.
