𝐀𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥

Introduction

"Love's dagger cuts deep, leaving scars of cruel affection." 

The emergency operation theater's door swung open, and the doctor emerged, removing his surgical mask. His face displayed a mix of tension and distress. The small light on the door's dome remained red, signaling that the patient was still in critical condition.

"The patient lost a lot of blood; we need to give her more, but there's a problem," he said to Abhirudra, who had been pacing back and forth.

Abhirudra stopped and asked, "What's the problem? Do whatever needs to be done!"

"The patient has a rare blood type, O-, and we don't have that blood type available right now," the doctor explained nervously.

Abhirudra, with a harsh tone, pointed at the doctor, "Figure it out. This is a hospital, and you're a doctor; can't you handle such a simple thing?"

The doctor, visibly scared, maintained his composure, "I'm afraid we can't do that. The patient has lost a significant amount of blood, and her injuries are severe. It will take about 2-3 hours to check with other hospitals or blood banks for this rare blood type. Unfortunately, the patient doesn't have that much time. Can you or someone else donate blood?"

Abhirudra closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. His blood type was A+, making him unable to donate. He couldn't contact anyone from his family on time. His gaze shifted to Mr. Raina, who was speaking to the doctor, but he couldn't donate either, as his blood type was B positive. Suddenly, an idea struck him. He looked at Aisha, standing timidly in a corner near a pillar, tears streaming down her face. Without a second thought, Abhirudra walked over, firmly gripping her wrist, and pulled her with him.

He pulled her towards the doctor, commanding, "Her blood group is O-. Take as much blood as you need, but save the patient at any cost."

As those words reached her ears, terror gripped her. This wasn't something she anticipated. She couldn't donate blood, especially not with her anemia.

Looking at her husband, she stammered, "I can't donate."

He forcefully turned her toward him, a frigid glare in his eyes, and the grip on her wrist intensified. "Did you say something?" His tone implied he must have misheard; in his world, she had no authority to refuse.

Nervously, Aisha met his gaze. The grip on her wrist tightened further, almost as if he intended to break it. His look was menacing, but she couldn't comply; she felt utterly helpless.

"I said I can't donate; I'm scared," she affirmed.

Abhirudra's face darkened, and an icy aura seemed to lower the temperature. The doctor, visibly frightened, wiped his sweat repeatedly with a handkerchief. Abhirudra's eyes were devoid of emotion as he declared, "You should have thought of this when you pushed her down the stairs."

"I told you it was an accident; I didn't push her," she replied confidently. Her body language exuded assurance, emphasizing that it wasn't her fault.

Growing increasingly impatient, Abhirudra snapped, "Don't test my patience. She's in this condition because of you, and you need to take responsibility for your actions."

"You have to donate, whether you like it or not, and please spare me your talk about truth; it doesn't suit you," Abhirudra rolled his eyes.

Aisha appealed to the doctor, who was silently observing their argument, "I can't donate; please, I'm anemic."

"It doesn't matter; I'm sure you will recover. It's not like they need ten bottles of blood; it's just two or three, or even one; it's not a significant amount," Abhirudra's impatience was palpable.