Abhimanyu poured himself another drink, this time with a satisfied hand. He raised the glass, finished it in one easy gulp, and walked back to his room with a calm heart that finally everything would fall into place.
***************
Next Morning
Karan came down for breakfast, already dressed for work. He was about to step into the living room when he noticed Maria heading for the stairs with a tray in her hands. A glass of water, medicine strips placed neatly on the tray.
He stopped her instinctively.
“What is that for?” he asked.
Maria paused. “For Mishti Ma’am,” she replied. “She has a fever.”
“Fever?” he repeated, in disbelief.
“Yes, Sir. This morning, when Ma’am did not come down at her usual time for prayers, I went to check on her. When I entered her room, she was shivering in bed. She is running a high temperature.”
Karan could hardly think. Mishti had been perfectly fine the previous day. More than fine. Walking, talking, arguing with him, standing her ground like she always did. And now she’s sick? How?
Maria resumed climbing the stairs, and Karan just wondered what to do. He had to leave for work, had back-to-back meetings to handle. But somehow, he couldn’t take another step out. So, without thinking much, he followed Maria instead.
Inside the room, Mishti lay curled on the bed, her face pale, her lips faintly parted, her hair scattered messily across the pillow. The colour that usually warmed her cheeks was gone, replaced by a fragile stillness. He didn’t like seeing her this weak and sick.
Maria moved closer, trying to wake her gently. “Ma’am,” she said softly. “Please take these medicines.”
Before Maria could do anything further, Karan was already at the bed.
He placed his palm against Mishti’s forehead and immediately pulled back, realising her skin was burning hot.
“Call the doctor,” he said at once. “Doctor Patel. Not Komal.”
Maria nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”
“And bring a bowl of ice-cold water,” he added. “Put some salt in it. And bring a clean cloth.”
Maria hurried out.
Mishti stirred faintly but did not wake. Her brows furrowed as if she were trapped in an uneasy dream. Her lips moved, and a soft murmur escaped her.
“…love…” she whispered. “…love…”
Karan leaned closer, trying to hear and stiffened.
Of all the words she could have spoken, that was the last one he expected.
Love.
His gaze stayed on her face. Was she still caught in the aftermath of yesterday’s argument? The discussion about Abhimanyu and Komal, about love, choices, and blessings he had refused to give? Or was this fever pulling thoughts out of her that she kept locked away while awake?
He did not know.
Without thinking further, he removed his jacket, set it aside, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows and sat down on the edge of the bed, protectively.
Maria returned moments later with the bowl of ice water. Karan took it from her hands without hesitation.
“I will do it,” he said.
“Sir, I can—” Maria began, but one look from him stopped her mid-sentence. She understood immediately.
