But the dampness on her arm bothered her. She slowly opened her eyes, lifted her hand and touched it.
Blood.
Her breath hitched as she realised what it was. Karan’s arm was draped around her, the same arm that was injured. She pulled away immediately, the sudden movement waking him, too. Her gaze flew to his arm. The bandage was soaked through, stained deep red.
She winced in panic. Karan noticed it as well.
“This had to happen,” she said, worry spilling into her voice. “I told you. That’s why I said I’d sleep on the couch. Your stitches haven’t healed yet, Karan.”
He exhaled slowly. “Relax.”
She stared at him, disbelieving. “Relax? First, you carried me in your arms when the doctor clearly told you not to lift heavy weights for a few days. Then last night, you wouldn’t even let me sleep away from you. Of course, this was bound to happen.”
Karan countered calmly, “The doctor also said not to panic or scold the patient.” His eyes flicked to her. “So, who’s the one defying instructions now?”
She rolled her eyes. He was always good at arguing. Sliding off the bed, she immediately grabbed the first-aid kit. She helped Karan take off his shirt, then cleaned the wound carefully and changed the bandage. She wrapped a fresh one around his arm.
“This doesn’t look good,” she said, still not satisfied. “We need to get it checked again. I’ll call Komal right away.”
Karan groaned and rolled his eyes this time. “Call anyone but her.”
Mishti placed a finger on his lips, silencing him instantly. “Start being nice to her,” she warned softly. “She’s going to be Abhimanyu’s wife soon. Deal with it.”
And with that, she picked up her phone and dialled Komal, even as she heard Karan mutter behind her, “Did you just say… deal with it?”
She didn’t reply.
That was Karan Wadhwa, after all, and his tantrums had only just begun. She almost wished she could actually swat his arse to make him listen. Not that her hands didn’t twitch at the thought.
Thankfully, Komal answered immediately, and Mishti focused on the matter.
***************
An hour later, Komal was already at Wadhwa Mansion.
Mishti hadn’t come up with her. She was still downstairs, completing her morning puja, so she had sent Komal ahead, asking her to check on Karan and telling her she would join them in a few minutes.
Komal knocked on Karan’s bedroom door. He was standing near the balcony doors, looking outside, lost in thought, when he heard the knock. He told her to come in, and that was when Komal walked inside.
They had never really gotten along. And even now, when his gaze fell on her, he didn’t smile.
Neither did she.
“I was going to come see you anyway,” Komal said, breaking the silence. “Yesterday, I was caught up with another emergency at a different hospital. When Abhimanyu told me you’d beenshot…” She paused, then added honestly, “I couldn’t believe it. Just like everyone else. But thankfully, it wasn’t serious.”
Karan nodded once and walked toward her.
“Anyway,” she continued, slipping into her professional tone, “let me check your wound. Mishti is worried if the stitches are out.”
“Mishti worries too much,” he muttered as he sat down on the sofa.
Komal sat beside him and first inspected the bandage from the outside. Her brow furrowed slightly. “How did this happen, though?” she asked. “Your morning bandage was soaked in blood. Did you put any pressure on it while sleeping?”
Karan shrugged lightly. “Not deliberately,” he said. “Might’ve pulled Mishti closer in my sleep. That’s all, I guess.”
Komal paused. She stared at him like she’d just heard him crack a joke.
“What?” he asked, mildly offended. “That’s not heavy weight lifting. And honestly, what kind of bandages are these if they can’t sustain a simple gesture from a husband toward his wife?”
