Chapter 19: chapter 19

Chapter NineteenMaya shifted uncomfortably in the hospital bed, her thigh twinging with the movement. She licked her dry, cracked lips as she let her eyes adjust to the dim light of the hospital nightlamp. Her throat was parched and she reached a hand out for the jug of water on the bedside table. The tube connected to her cannula kinked at the movement and she winced as the needle tugged in her skin. On the single bed in the corner, her mother snored loudly. She sighed and tried to reach for the jug again. A large hand got there first. Bemused, she looked up to see Yash pouring her a glass of water.“What are you doing here?” she croaked. He ignored her and gently helped her into a sitting position. She gaped at him as he plumped her pillows to his satisfaction before holding the glass up to her lips. She parted her lips reflexively, her gaze on his as she sipped. He watched her carefully until she raised her head signaling she was done. He placed the glass back on the nightstand with a light click, his eyes not meeting hers anymore.She caught his hand, holding him prisoner. He couldn’t move without shaking her off and right now he didn’t look like he wanted to.“What are you doing here?” she asked again, keeping her voice low so as to not wake her mother.Yash exhaled, hard, his wrist flexing in her grip. She tightened her hold on him, her fingers tingling from the contact with his skin. “I just wanted to check on you. See if you were okay.” His rough, gravelly voice did strange things to her insides. Or was she reacting to the medicines they were pumping into her? She stared suspiciously at the bottle hanging from the rod next to her bed. “Why weren’t you sleeping?” He sat down on the tiny, metal stool by the bed. It creaked under his weight. “Thirsty,” she rasped. He reached for the water again. “Some more?” She caught his hand, shaking her head when he looked at her. “Had enough,” she said, doing her best frog impression. He stared at her, the dim lighting making his eyes seem even more intense and piercing than they usually did. Her breath caught as memories she’d blocked for years flooded back. The fledgling hope of a partnership with someone she’d been growing to love, the shock of being abandoned at her lowest, and the grief of knowing she hadn’t been good enough for him. It felt like there was a weight on her chest, an anvil placed there. She struggled to catch her breath as he watched her, those dark eyes tracking her every breath and the laboured rise and fall of her chest. “An anxiety attack?” he murmured, reaching for her cold hand and engulfing it in his own large, warm ones.She nodded, trying to focus on her breathing exercises but losing track of her count when he looked at her. “What can I do to help?” he asked, that gravelly voice of his hoarser than normal. She shook her head, unable to catch her breath long enough to answer. He placed his enormous palm on her chest, just above her rapidly beating heart. “Look at me,” he murmured, his voice a low, soothing sound. She looked and lost herself in those inky black eyes framed by those fancy spectacles of his. His eyes softened as he looked at her, her visible struggles breaking down the last of his defences. “Have I told you that I’m currently homeless?” he asked, his palm rubbing gentle circles on her chest. She stared at him, unable to get a word out as she concentrated on her breathing and working on slowing it down. He continued to speak, in the same soothing murmur that had warmth sweeping through her and her breath slowing in ways that had nothing to do with breathing exercises.He told her about creepy brokers who tried to show him already occupied homes, about weird landlords who thought he was a terrible option because he was a single man looking for a home and worst of all the female landlord who winked at him and asked if he’d like to ‘see her wild pussy?’ only to show him a feral tabby cat that hissed and clawed at him. A gurgle of laughter escaped her at the last anecdote. His own eyes lightened with humour as he saw her relaxing against the pillows, her breath coming easy now.“Better?” he asked. She nodded, a strange peace flowing through her as she brought a hand up to the palm he still had spread out on her chest. She twined her fingers through his and whispered, “Thank you.” He nodded, a faint flush tinging his cheeks. “What is he doing here?” Her mother’s high pitched squawk had them both startling. They disentangled their hands as her mother got up, her nightie flapping around her in her outrage.“Haven’t you done enough?” she hissed with all the melodrama of a Bollywood mother. “What more do you want from her? Tears of blood?”“Ammmmaaaaa,” Maya groaned, mortified. She slid down in the bed and covered her face with the threadbare hospital sheet.  Yash stood up, the stool creaking in relief. “I just came to check on Maya. I’ll be going now.” “You checked. Now go.” Her mother flapped her hands at him. “Go!” Yash nodded his head in quiet acknowledgement. “Goodnight Maya. Goodnight Aunty Kamala.”Her mother snorted in response. He was almost to the door when Maya called out. “Yash!”He turned and looked at her. Her insides did the swooping thing again. “Where are you going to sleep tonight?” He smiled, his gorgeous dimples winking at her. “Holiday Inn tonight. Tomorrow,” he shrugged. “We’ll see.” “Don’t go back to Wild Pussy lady,” she said, biting back a grin. He shuddered dramatically. “I can’t. I haven’t had all my shots.” She was still laughing when the door shut on his cute butt. Then she spotted her mother’s ferocious glower.She stopped laughing.