“You yelled at the table and even at me.” He pouts a little bit making my chest tighten, guilt riding over all my other emotions.
Aditya pushes away from the doorframe and walks toward me slowly. “Divya.”
“I’m fine.” I whisper.
“You look pale."
"That's my skintone.” He stops right in front of me now, close enough that I can see the faint crease forming between his eyebrows.
“Did you sleep well last night?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“How much is enough?”
“Aditya,” I say through clenched teeth, “I am not dying.”
He doesn’t argue. He simply lifts his hand and presses the back of it against my forehead. Then his expression changes.
“Divya.”
“It's nothing.” I know I am acting like a child but I hate getting sick. I have been surrounded by so much sickness and I cannot afford to be sick.
“You’re burning up. You have a fever.”
I shake my head stubbornly. “I do not have a fever.”
Neel gasps like this is the most exciting development of the week. “I told you!”
I wave a hand at both of them. “This is ridiculous.”
The room tilts again. Not dramatically. Just enough that I instinctively grab the edge of the counter. Aditya’s hand is on my arm immediately. “That’s it,” he says genuienly concerned.
“That’s what?”
“You’re going upstairs.”
“No. I am fine, Aditya, I promise and I have to open the shop.”
“No you don’t.” He cups my face gently, "Divya, please let me take care of you?" He smiles gently and I feel my eyes well up,shit. He pecks my forhead and gently steers me toward the stairs despite my lazy attempts to protest.
“This is completely unnecessary,” I mutter.
Neel marches behind us with the determination of someone who has found a new purpose in life. “I will assist.”
“You will go to school,” Aditya replies without turning around.
“But didi is sick.”
“She will still be sick when you come back.” Neel considers this. "You can take care of her then."
“That is true.” he nods. By the time we reach the bedroom upstairs my legs feel strangely heavy, like walking requires twice the effort it normally does.
Aditya pulls the blanket over me with the efficiency of someone who has decided my opinion is no longer relevant. “I’m closing the shop today.”
