Arranged marriage was an age-old story that Khushi, the youngest of the infamous Gupta family, who revolutionized and dominated the trading market for generations, knew well.
For it was the only thing she heard growing up.
But that neither prepared...
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- June 2019 -
"I have already explained this to you Mr. Gupta. Garima is on life support, there is nothing we can do other than make her comfortable. You waited this long in obstinacy, but it's high time you accep-"
"That's enough Dr. Bedi. I don't need you to lecture me on what's right for my family."
"But-"
"You should know better than to cross me Dr. Bedi. Instead of wasting time preaching, I suggest you do what I am paying you to do – find a cure for my wife or keep her alive until then."
Dr. Bedi pressed his lips, furious.
"If that's too much for you, then I assure you there are thousands who can take your place."
Khushi watched her father depart the room in ice cold silence. It was once again the day her comatose mother was due for a check-up and like she had predicted, the doctors urged them to reconsider their decision to keep her on life support and her father arrogantly refused, although this time he was also a tad bit rude.
"At least you understand what I am saying, right?" Dr. Bedi asked her miserably, shaking his head.
Khushi nodded, empathy flooding through her. She knew too well what it felt like to be belittled by Alok Raj Gupta.
"Then maybe you can explain to Mr. Gupta why there is no cure for his wife."
Handing her Garima's files, Dr. Bedi walked out of the room, exasperated. Khushi pulled out the reports, seeing her mother's latest MRI scans. No doubt, she was brain dead. Even a first-year medical student would be able to assess that from the images, and Khushi was well on her way to finishing her internship.
Fourteen treacherous months had passed since her mother tumbled down the stairs literally to her death. Even to this day Khushi had a hard time recollecting what had exactly happened. Any time she tried to access those memories, her mind was filled with panic and anxiety, leaving no room for conscious reason. The only thing she could vaguely recollect was the doctor on shift that night in the emergency room, telling her Garima had lost too much blood and that there was almost no chance of her recovering.
Alok was devastated. They all were.
But no one came close to Vihaan, who had somehow held himself responsible for the entire accident. He adamantly refused to be consoled by his sister, claiming that had he kept his cool that night, Garima would have never stepped on that broken vase and she would have never lost balance on the staircase. It was silly, but he genuinely believed it, so much so that Vihaan had completely exiled himself to solitude, not really talking or registering what was happening around him. All Khushi could do was watch on in silence, hoping that maybe time would heal his wounds.
Her father took another route to grieving. If he was stringent before, he was now downright ruthless. He had summoned all the top doctors of the country, ordering them to find a cure for his lifeless wife. In the initial days, Khushi had thought that maybe he was seeking closure, for the accident was both sudden and ghastly. But now, more than a year later, she wasn't sure what was running on her father's mind anymore. Did he really have hope that Garima would wake up one day?
