Paakhi

S E V E N

It was a gloomy morning in Mumbai, the Sun struggling to make its presence known despite the grey clouds covering almost every inch of the blue sky.

His hands worked mechanically, as he transferred the boiling hot water from the stove into two cups. The coffee powder went into the burning liquid after one spoon of sugar and three teaspoons of milk.

Mohit walked further into the house, pushing the bedroom door open with his back as he balanced both cups of coffee in his hands. He'd already placed a small plate with a sandwich on the bedside table.

Sensing his presence in the room, Vandana stirred on the bed. Mohit rushed to her aid immediately, helping her up to a seating position. Even though she said nothing, he sensed her body flinch at his touch. His gut twisted, and a lump formed in his throat, but he gulped it down with all the effort he could put in.

Vandana didn't say anything when he seated himself by her side of the bed. He picked up the cup of coffee from the side table and held it out for her, she hesitated for only a fleeting moment, before taking the warm cup into her hand. Again, Mohit noticed how quickly she pulled her hand away because of their fingers touching for a second.

The sandwich had butter on one side, and jam on the other. It had been their favourite breakfast on days they both had forgotten to stock the fridge, and the days Vandana was too ill to cook. He would fill in with such weird sandwiches, she would eat them with acute fascination and then they'd laugh together at the stupidest forwards they'd receive on their chat messengers. Every time she would be ill, he would promise her that he would learn to cook proper meals. But every time, the promise would be forgotten with her improved health.

Vandana never complained, it had only led him to believe she didn't mind being the one handling the kitchen in their house. But even as he said that to himself, he knew he was lying. He'd been living in denial, turning a blind eye to her tired self, entering the house with him at similar odd hours and then working on the food aspect.

It hadn't made him feel too guilty before, but today, the messy sandwich seemed to trigger a lot of random memories.

Today, there was no laughter, there were no jokes and there were no empty promises shared. Vandana sipped her coffee and nibbled at her sandwich quietly. The rings under her eyes had barely faded, and the light but evident bruise on her wrist glared at him.

Mohit gulped, "I'll...be working from home for the next couple of days."

Vandana's gaze, which had so far been directed to the wall stirred for a second. He waited for it to land on his eyes, but they never did.

"Vandana I...I had to bring you back, I couldn't just let yo-"

She had tossed the quilt on top of her to the side by then, as she tried to hoist her body down from the bed. He could tell that she was trying her best to fight the weakness, but when she stood up on her feet, Mohit had to give her a hand to stabilize her. Her body froze this time, at his arm engulfing her frame from the side and his other palm on her wrist, his breath hitched too. He'd touched her on the bruise on her wrist.

His reflex was letting go.

Vandana took her time, but made it to the bathroom at last. She could see him eying her from the bed, his gaze hopeful, pleading, but her palms had shut the bathroom door on his face. Her back rested along the door. Vandana felt her tear ducts well up, her right hand twirling the ring on her left ring finger miserably.

She had never felt this claustrophobic in her own house. She worked on steadying her breathing, but her gaze landed on the mirror, and she felt a part of her resolve crumble. It was the same mirror she'd gazed at for minutes altogether; her heart beating in her chest as she'd prepared herself to take the pregnancy test. Behind her was the same bathroom door outside of which Mohit had kept begging her to open the door so that he could be with her when she found out the result.