"Neel." I exclaim.
Aditya presses his lips together to stop himself from laughing. “That sounds like a fair consequence.”
Neel seems satisfied with that answer. He turns back toward me and wraps his arms around my neck carefully, as if he’s afraid squeezing too tightly might break me. “Drink water,” he whispers.
“I will.”
“Take medicine.”
“I already did.”
“Sleep.”
“I’m planning to.” He pulls back and studies my face.
“You look very red.”
“That’s the fever.”
“Hmm.” He nods like a small doctor confirming his diagnosis. “I will check again when I come back.”
“I’m looking forward to that.”
Aditya taps his shoulder gently. “Auto.” Neel sighs like a man burdened by responsibility but climbs off the bed anyway. At the door he turns around one more time.
“Do not do anything stupid while I am gone.”
Aditya raises an eyebrow. “That instruction applies to both of you.”
Neel beams proudly and disappears down the stairs. A moment later the door downstairs opens again and closes. Silence returns to the house. I hear Aditya speaking briefly to the auto driver outside before the engine fades into the distance. Then the stairscreak again. He walks into the room and sits down beside me on the bed. For a moment neither of us says anything.
His hand reaches out instinctively to push a strand of hair away from my forehead. “Still warm but better,” he murmurs.
“I told you it’s nothing.”
He doesn’t argue this time. He just sits there watching me like he’s measuring whether I’m about to collapse again. Guilt curls uncomfortably in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
His eyebrows pull together immediately, “For what?”
“For causing all this trouble.”
His frown deepens. “You’re my wife, Divya.” The way he says it is so simple that it almost catches me off guard. “You are never trouble.”
My eyes sting suddenly. “You had to close the shop,” I whisper. “And take care of Neel too. He’s not even your responsibility and I wasn’t being helpful at all.”
Before I can say anything else he shifts on the bed and lies down beside me. His arm slides around my shoulders and pulls me gently against his chest. I blink in surprise.
“You’ll get sick,” I complain weakly.
He chuckles softly, “I will not. I haven’t been sick in five years.” He states proudly.
I gasp and swat his chest. “Don’t say that!”
He looks confused as he furrows his eyebrows, “You’ll jinx it.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “That’s not how illness works.”
For a moment neither of us speaks. I can hear his heartbeat under my ear, steady and warm, and the rhythm of it slowly starts calming the tight knot sitting in my chest. “I do not like being sick,” I mutter finally.
