Dr. Beast and his Inamorata

8. Cold War

If I assume, what if my father comes and sees us, in such and similar to state as a private or intimate position. Others can expect, he might bang Dr. Ishaan's head or cut him into two. But, no... Instead, he will hug Dr. Ishaan with enthusiasm and kiss his cheeks wholeheartedly. As he is seriously in need of his daughter to have a boyfriend and me on other hand never thought to make my life to be controlled by another, unknown bullshit man. Albeit, if I give a thought to assign a boyfriend for myself, I have my standards, and a jackass, moron, used third-hand person like Dr. Ishaan can never, ever full fill those standards. 

A warm, soft, and smooth cloth pressed over my right eye with low pressure brought my train of thoughts out of the cerebrating track.  I heard soft, low blows over a cloth, I suppose, and then the same touch sensation of warm cloth over my left eye. He repeated the same a couple of times and simultaneously, I started feeling the wellness of my eyes. That cloth might be his handkerchief.

Dear Ishika, In lieu of shouting, barking and yelling. He cares about you. He has to go to O.T. but he left that and look he is cleaning your eyes, now. Yes, I agree with that. He shows care to me sometimes. Even on our first night duty, he ordered food for me. Then, why did he snapped, that he dunno who I am? And why is that injustice in addressing me? 

"Slowly open your eyes, now." I did as he said. Slowly, slowly I opened and saw his face is still in the same position very close to mine. For a moment I thought the time, place, and Dr. Ishaan Sharma got frozen. There was no blink just in and out movements of nares. The air he was breathing out warmed my face, substantially my lips. He was gazing at my eyes, stock-still. As per my present situation, my hands still being in his strong grip, I also gazed back in his warm, caring, tender ash-brown eyes. The tension growing between us was making me nervous. 

Before firework began in my heart, "Th-thank you!" I spoke to broke the silence. Next, he blinked and wetting his lips, he straightened up his body, glanced at my hands, and left them to fell on either side of my body."Why you spat last evening that you dunno me?"

He didn't reply, instead commanded me while striding to the closet. "Clean your hair and come to the dressing room." He took out clean and new water-absorbent blue sheets. "And. That's true. I dunno you! You dunno me! We dunno each other," he replied avoiding eye contact in a cold, calculating, and harsh tone. You stupid moron, then why this care? Why?  Leave me, on the way I am, and also stop your injustice and odd behavior.

"Formal introduction merely requires a name."

"Listen, Doctor. You already wasted my time, I have no patience to waste more."

"Then stop interacting with me. And let's maintain a professional relationship, only!" 

He walked back to me, raised his finger, as other was holding sheats, "Don't show attitude. And—" He cut off, exhaled staring with intense yet soft gaze at me. "Clean up! And come. I need your assistance." then ducked out. 

Avoid. Ishika, avoid him. 

I batted my hair with the flat of my hands and a half-kilo of dust particles came out of them. Before walking out I confirmed that liquid bottle to be the surgical spirit, which smashed, crashed, and mashed my head a few minutes ago. I gave a kick to the bottle just to take my revenge.

Until I reach Dr. Ishaan started doing the patient's dressing. Meanwhile, he asked to check, if the patient is suffering from diabetes. I checked and his reports showed a high-level fasting and postprandial glucose level. Next, he asked to repeat the blood glucose test and also changed his treatment plan. It felt good to maintain a professional relationship. 

Directing my way into the ward, I trudged to the cash sheet muffled table of the ward. Sitting on a chair in front of the table, Nisha with beetroot cheeks was gleaming and gawking in her mobile. My dear friend, Nisha has lost her way on cloud nine, since the last day.