His Fears, Regrets And Care

Chapter 2 |The unconscious beauty|

Reaching his apartment, which was located in the outskirts of the city, away from all the hassle, he stepped out of the car and came to the other side to get her.

Gladly he had already called the doctor so he would be soon arriving here to check on her.

Collecting the unconscious fairy in his masculine arms, he made his way inside, with her hiding her face in his neck and her hand clutching his collar firmly. He looked at her face which supported a slight frown too. She looked so cute, but there was no time in getting lost while admiring her anymore because he needed to take care of her now, for he was the reason she was in this condition.

You did it, you handle it.

When the lift made a sound, indicating it had arrived its floor, he made his way inside.

Nobody from his family or anyone else except Aman knew about this place. This was the obscure place he'd hide in when his grieve seemed to have heightened on a few days of a year.

His mother's birthday and his parents death commemoration. Those were the days when his pain seemed to always reach heights, making him an emotional mess so for his and the others wellbeing, he'd leave Shantivan the soonest after being done with the special rituals for these certain days ended.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the other thoughts that settled in his head.

Putting her down on his bed, covering her with a thin duvet, he looked at her disheveled form. The once tight braid with pompoms had come loose with the pompoms lost somewhere. Her dangling earrings weren't there in her ears. Her dupatta too didn't hung on her chest. Her cheeks were a bright red and her lips a dark pink, having the light pink lipstick she always wore, erased.

He went near her and placed his hand on her forehead to check her temperature, which still seemed to be quite high. He was about to go get some cold water and a cloth to treat the fever, when his eyes caught the thick red liquid on her right wrist.

He felt so guilty, so remorse, so contrite, so regretful. Bowing his head in shame he lowered till he was sitting on his knees beside her.

"I'm so sorry Khushi. I'm so so sorry."

Looking at her flushed scarlet face, impact of the fever, he made his way to his kitchen.

Judging he had very few utensils here because he almost never came here except for those days, he thankfully found a big bowl in the empty cupboards and filled it with some cold water. He made sure to to dilute it with some lukewarm water too, so it's not freezing cold. Finally finding a clean, soft and thin cloth he made his way inside.

The sight made his heart clench painfully.

She lay there, disheveled, shivering from cold with her wrist leaking with blood, injured.

Cursing himself again, he picked up the first aid box and decided to attend her wound.

Mumbling the words which he always found utterly hard to say. Sorry's!

Dragging a comfortable seat near the bed where she lay, he soaked the cloth in water, squeezing the acces out and carefully placed it on her forehead. Done with that, he attended the wound he had so mercilessly given her.

The muscular organ which pumped blood through his whole body, seemed to have gotten heavy seeing her not react to the painful antiseptic he was cleaning her wound with, it pained him seeing her like this.

She seemed to be mumbling incoherent words.

"Khushi? I'm right here baby. You're gonna be fine" he tried to calm her unconscious self with soothing words.

What the hell? Where did that come from? I've never called anyone baby ever in my life. And where is the damn doctor?

Angered by his tardiness, he gave him a second call, telling him to get to him the soonest.

Putting the phone aside he resumed with treating her fever with the cold wet cloth.

What are you doing to me Khushi?