“It’s alright, I am here. Leave the keys.”
She walked out behind him and Samar took the stairs two at a time. He was mindful of her slow steps behind him, so he slowed down too. He caught sight of her hand on the balustrade over his shoulder and saw it wobble.
“Careful.” He moved aside and caught her by the back before she stumbled. She steadied herself on his shoulder and the balustrade, breathing heavily, her face white.
“I’m fine. It’s the world that is moving.”
“Hmm.” He took her other flank and kept one hand steady behind her until they had reached the ground floor. The sun had set, unleashing a cold wave of spring chill. She shivered. He led her out of her building and to his car, then stood over her head as she settled into the passenger seat.
“Seat belt,” he muttered, slipping inside the driver’s seat and turning the key. The car sputtered twice, as it was used to, and kick-started. Samar noted her struggling in his peripheral vision. She was a ball of wool, unable to move her arms around, trying and failing to pull the seatbelt even halfway.
“One second.”
She halted. He leaned around her and pulled it down, clicking it in place. Without another word, he cranked up the heat, turned the wheel and set off down the street.
“You didn’t wear your seatbelt?” Her hoarse voice broke the silent air of his car. He checked his rearview and concentrated on the road ahead.
————————————————————
Samar felt like a nurse sitting beside her, holding her layers of wool as she held her arm out, turning her face away, eyes closed as blood was drawn. It was done in under a minute. The clinic was empty. The technician was experienced.
“Can I have the result before tonight?” He pushed up to the reception.
“We close in two hours.”
“This is urgent.”
“We will try our level best. Name?”
“Amaal Durrani.”
“Reference?”
“Dr. Samar Dixit.”
That made the man look at him differently. The suffix in front of his name always did.
“Write your email IDs and phone numbers here. I will call up if the result comes in before 8.”
Samar wrote his contact details, then turned to ask hers. She was looking like she would droop sitting up. So he pulled out his mobile and found her details from his contact list.
“Thanks.” He pushed the card across and paid.
“Amaal?” He called out to her. She startled. Then blinked, as if she had just woken up. “Yes.” She scrambled to her feet.
“Let’s go.”
He handed her sweater back, waiting for her to don it, then held her coat open for her. Once she had wrapped herself tight again, he led her down.
“The payment?”
“Taken care of.”
“KDP’s medical perks for employees?” She sputtered. He opened the door of his car, silent. She slipped in.
Samar drove to a medical store and left her sitting in the car. He returned with a brown paper bag.
“Is that blood?” She pointed with half-asleep eyes at the carpet under his accelerator.
