Caught In Your Chaos ✓

Chapter Eighty-Three

It happened after he received the call from the hospital. Brinda was on ventilation, a sudden cardiac arrest followed by neurological dysfunction. While the doctor explained that Brinda might not survive the day, I could feel how silent and rigid Jake had been throughout the conversation.

Later, when we were sitting beside Brinda. All I could see was her fragile, pale figure attached to the IV while the ventilator breathed for her. Jake took Brinda's veiny, crinkled hand in his callous hands, careful not to disturb the channel tapped for IV drips. He brought his lips lightly to her aging skin, squeezed his eyes tightly, and mumbled sorry on a repeat. I stood there beside him, clasping my hands together to contain my emotions.

I had been in that situation before when my grandfather was in place of Brinda. Death is inevitable. But it leaves behind wreckage for your loved ones to handle for a lifetime. A lone tear fell from my eyes as the heartbeat monitor flatlined, and a static beep filled the silence of the ward.

A nurse rushed to the room, followed by the doctor, but Jake stayed where he was with Brinda's lifeless hand in his shaking ones. Only when I walked up to him and placed my hands on his, he let go of her hand, jerking away from the bed. It looked as if he pulled out of a daze. A painful look appeared on his entire face but soon replaced fury and something much more. It was self-loathing.

"It's my fault," he chuckled, dry and angry. He ran a hand through his tousled hair. His eyes were red and glossy. "I fucked it all up again."

In quick strides, I followed him as he scrambled out of the ward, rushing through the corridor. "Jacob, it's not your fault."

"Yeah, but it is." He said, giving a last look towards the ward where Brinda's lifeless body remained. "I couldn't even apologize."

He cursed loudly, landing a hard punch on the wall, which drew everyone's attention around us. The caretakers from the Retirement house looked equally shocked and distraught. But my eyes were on his bloodied knuckles and his dark eyes as he fell on his knees. He buried his face in both of his palms.

I sat in front of him, throwing my arms around his shaking frame as he continued to release uncontrolled sobs.

He looked so broken that it hurt.

~~~

He didn't show up in our first class. It was the last day before the finals, and I had a couple of pending assignments to submit.

I knew he needed the space or maybe not, but he wouldn't allow me in. After his breakdown at the hospital, he didn't speak a single word. I wanted to know why he thought it was his fault and what apologies he was seeking from Brinda. But I knew it would only trigger him further if I asked him when clearly, he was in mourning.

"And that wraps up our last module for this semester." Professor Laurent tapped on the board, pulling me back into the class. I shifted my eyes to the scowling Professor as he continued to share some of his infamous methods to go through with the finals. I dug my head in my notes till the lecture ended.

While everyone headed to their next class or the cafeteria, I took extra time to pack my things. The hallway started emptying as I made my way to the library instead of going in the direction of the clattering trays and buzzing conversation across the hall. I pulled out my water bottle and twisted to uncap it when a locker shut to my right. I looked up to see Chris and immediately drew my guards.

Chris followed my actions. I raised the bottle to my lips and drank two big gulps before twisting the cap back. I held his gaze continuing on my way up the stairs and walk past the lockers.