Love, Kajal, and Banana Chips.

He can't not be fine. Just. Can't.

*most of the dialogue exchange in this chapter occurs in Malayalam*

The room was small and clean. Walls, a light blue.

There was a TV facing the bed that had RomedyNow playing.

It was easy to take in the room.

It wasn't easy to see him like this.

Both his legs were in casts, and he'd lost a lot of weight; he looked tired, thin, and weak. Each breath he drew came with a rattle.

Aziya blinked back unexpected tears. She hadn't actually stopped to think about what he would be going through.

Vishwa uncle drew in another rattling breath, and Ariya could tell that there was more to his illness than the casts on his legs.

'Hello,' she said softly.

'Azi!' he said, his face lighting up, displaying, for a second, the vitality it always had. 'When did you get here?'

'This morning.' she said, trying not to let her voice betray how close she was to crying. She sat beside him.

'And you came to see me, first thing? You honour this old man,' he said, his tone light and humorous, but his voice thick.

She smiled, shaking her head. 'What old man? I only see this handsome, healthy man, who will be back on his feet in no time,' she said, patting his arm. And your incredibly adorable son, who's presence I am constantly aware of, she mentally added.

He chuckled, and it turned into a terrible wheezing cough. Before Aziya could react, Varun was already there, a glass of water in hand, speaking in soothing tones.

Vishwa uncle sounded so ill. So broken.

Aziya suddenly felt very small. Very scared. Terrified, even. There was nothing she could do.

She put on a brave face and smiled. "Which asura is it this time?"

When she was smaller, she would worry whenever Vishwa uncle started coughing. She had always hated the sound. He used to tell her that he had swallowed a demon to keep her safe, and that by the time he'd digested it, he would be fine. Then he would tell her old folk tales of heroes and heroines and mythology.
Even though she grew old enough to know the reality, it was their little inside joke.

He smiled wanly, 'Ravana, probably.'

Ravana, one of the most powerful, evil asuras in Indian mythology.

'You'll be fine,' she said, patting his hand,'It'll just take you a little longer than usual.'

If Varun found their exchange weird, he kept it to himself. Aziya glanced at him. He was sat beside his father, opposite her, on the bed. His hand absently scratched the bed-sheet.

Vishwa uncle cleared his throat. 'Varun, could fill me another bottle of water?'

'Sure, I'll be back in a minute,' he said, more to Aziya than to his father.

'Take your time,' said Vishwa uncle.

Varun closed the door softly behind him.

'Talk to me. Tell me what's been happening,' said Vishwa uncle to Aziya.

'Aside from finding out one of my favourite people is currently bedridden?' she asked jokingly, her sarcasm half-hearted.

He smiled, and said 'Yes, aside from that. Anything but that.'

She blinked rapidly to clear the reappearance of her tears, and talked, animatedly, as if every word did not get stuck in her throat.

And he talked, vibrantly, as if the pain wasn't eating him from the inside. After all, this special girl, almost a daughter to him, had come to see him.

He didn't want to waste a single second whining.

Some time later, Aziya's phone buzzed. She checked it, it was a missed call from her mother. She was wanted at home.

'I'll come back tomorrow, for sure,' she said, and he nodded.

As soon as she opened the door, Varun walked down the stairs.

'You leaving?'

'Weren't you supposed to be filling him a water bottle?' she asked, smiling slightly, ignoring his question.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned. 'There was already a filled bottle there. In the room, I mean. I guess - well, he probably just wanted to spend some time with you.'

They walked towards the door.

He opened the door for her, and she stepped out.

'Come again, okay? Soon.' he said, surprised he'd had the guts to say it.

Her smile grew even more pronounced. 'After your incredible hosting skills? Of course, how could I resist?', she teased.

'Ha. Ha. But seriously. My Dad hasn't had the energy to hold a long conversation in a while. So. Well. Thanks.'

Her smile trembled a bit. 'You're welcome,' she said softly.

'See you tomorrow?'

'Yes, you will.'

'Bye then.'

'Bye, Varun.'

She walked away as he closed he door.

He leaned against the closed door and sighed, thinking about the way her teeth grazed her lip when she said his name.