Chapter 19 | Mr Raghuvendra Singh

You are sun in my day

Warming my heart, lighting my day

With your presence my world is bright

And everything feels just right

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As I woke up, I couldn't help but feel a spring in my step and a smile on my face. Memories of my time with Mr. Randhawa came flooding back, and I couldn't help but relive the moments we shared. I remembered the way he made me laugh, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and the way his voice made me feel like I was the only person in the world.

I felt a flutter in my chest as I thought about the way he listened to me, really listened, and the way he made me feel seen and heard. I couldn't help but wonder what the day would bring, if our paths would cross again, and what new memories we might create together.

I just remembered the way he gently bit my earlobe, I felt a rush of sensation that spread throughout my body, leaving me breathless and wanting more.

His touch was like a whisper, soft and gentle, yet it sent waves of pleasure crashing over me. I felt my heart racing, my pulse pounding in my ears, and my skin tingling with delight. It was as if every cell in my body was alive and responding to his touch, craving more of the sensations he was awakening within me.

Ugh, why do I always do this to myself?! I'm like a moth to a flame, drawn to him even though I know it's not good for me. Why can't I just forget about him and move on?!

"Stop thinking about him, stop thinking about him," I chant to myself, trying to shake off the lingering feelings. But it's no use, my mind is a traitor, always wandering back to him.

I scolded myself, "You're being so foolish, he's probably just playing games with you. He doesn't really care about you." But the thought only makes me feel more miserable.

I take a deep breath and try to focus on the present moment. I have to get ready for my shift at the hospital, I need to be professional and composed. I can't let my personal thoughts get in the way.

"Okay, let's go," I tell myself, grabbing my bag and heading out the door. "Time to put on a brave face and pretend like everything is fine."

As I walk to the dining table, I continue to coach myself, "You got this, you're strong, you can do this. Just don't think about him, don't think about him..."

But the voice in my head is relentless, "But what if he's not playing games? What if he really does care about you?"

Ugh, stop it! I shout back at myself, "Don't even go there!"

I stormed into the dining room, expecting to see Trisha's bright smile and chatty self, but she was nowhere to be found. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number, a hint of annoyance creeping into my voice as it rang.

"Hey, where are you? I thought we were having breakfast together?" I asked, trying to sound casual despite my growing irritation.

"Hey, girl! I'm already in Mumbai," Trisha chirped, her voice dripping with excitement.

"What?! Why didn't you tell me you were leaving today?!" I exclaimed, my annoyance boiling over into anger.

"Oops, sorry! I totally forgot. I'll make it up to you, I promise!" Trisha replied, her tone dismissive.

"Forgot?! How could you forget?! We're supposed to be best friends, Trisha!" I shouted, my voice rising.

"Okay, okay, don't be so dramatic. I'll be back soon, and we'll catch up then. Bye!" Trisha said, cutting me off.

I hung up the phone, still fuming. How could she just leave without telling me?! I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I had to get to the hospital, and I couldn't be late. I grabbed my bag and headed out to my car, still muttering curses under my breath about my so-called best friend.

I walked into the hospital, my mind still preoccupied with Trisha's sudden departure, but as I entered Mihir's room, his bright smile immediately lifted my mood. He was a tiny ball of energy, always eager to chat and play.

"Mihir! How are you today handsome?" I asked, sitting down beside him.

"I'm good, beautiful! I'm feeling happy today! Look what granny brought for me." he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling.

"That's great, baby! I'm happy too," I replied, ruffling his hair.

"Actually beautiful, Dad had brought this superhero set and he told me that he would come himself to give it to me. but he did not come." He remains silent for sometime l, sadness clearly visible on his face. "You know I want to spend time with my dad because I love him very much. I don't know who my mother is. Mere liye tha mere daddy hi sab hai." He said with glittering eyes poor child l, I feel like murdering his dad, once I get that Raghuvendra then, I'm not gonna leave him.

"Don't be sad baby, you know na your dad is busy, but he surely spends his time with you."

"I know beautiful! I understand him, he loves me too. " He smiled a little.

What an understanding child that basterd has.

We chatted for a bit, talking about his favorite cartoons and games, when suddenly, Aarohi, the hospital's psychologist, walked in.

"Sorry to interrupt, Ashika, but I need to discuss Mihir's progress with you," Aarohi said, her expression serious.

I nodded, excusing myself from Mihir. "It's okay, baby, I'll be right back. Let me talk to Aarohi for a bit."

As we stepped outside the room, Aarohi began, "Ashika, I wanted to discuss Mihir's mental condition. He's been showing some signs of anxiety, and I think we need to adjust his treatment plan."

My heart went out to little Mihir as Aarohi shared her concerns. I couldn't believe what he was going through - feeling unloved and unwanted by his peers, and struggling to understand his family dynamics.

"Poor baby," I thought to myself. "He's already dealing with so much at such a young age."

Aarohi's words echoed in my mind: "He's emotionally weak because he thinks his father is always busy with work and doesn't have time for him." I could sense the deep-seated insecurity and abandonment issues Mihir was facing.

And those school friends of his - how cruel could they be? Telling him he's not lovable, that his mother left him because of him. No wonder he's struggling to cope.

But what struck me most was his desire to connect with his father, to feel loved and accepted by him. He's trying to make sense of his mother's absence, but it's clear he's given up hope of ever seeing her again.

"Aarohi, I need to talk to Mihir's father, now," I said, my voice firm and resolute. "He needs to know what's going on with his son, and he needs to be here for him."

"I agree, Ashika," Aarohi replied, "but he's been so distant, so caught up in his work. I don't know if he'll even listen."

"That's exactly my point," I said, frustration etched on my face. "He's so bloody busy making money, he's forgotten what's truly important. His son needs him, Aarohi. Mihir needs his father's love and support, not just his wealth."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but my anger and concern for Mihir got the better of me. "That bastard needs to realize that his son is more important than his business deals. I don't care if I have to use some harsh words to make him understand, but he needs to be here for Mihir."

Aarohi nodded in agreement, "I'll try to reach him, Ashika. But be prepared for a fight. He's not going to listen easily."

"I'm ready for it," I said, my jaw set. "I'll make sure he understands that Mihir's well-being is not something to be taken lightly. Only money is not important in life, Aarohi. Family, love, and support - that's what truly matters."

I was engrossed in reviewing Mihir's medical reports when Aarohi approached me, looking a bit flustered. "Ashika, Mr. Raghuvendra Singh has arrived," she said, her voice low and cautious.

I looked up, my eyes narrowing slightly. "How difficult was it to reach him?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

Aarohi hesitated before speaking, "It was... challenging. I had to tell him that Mihir's condition was critical just to get him to come here. But now that he's arrived, he's furious. He looks like a hungry beast, ready to pounce."

I sighed inwardly, anticipating the confrontation ahead. "And now he's angry because he realized it wasn't as critical as you made it out to be," I stated, my mind racing with strategies to handle the situation.

Aarohi nodded, "Exactly. He's not happy about being summoned here under false pretenses. But Ashika, this was your idea, to get him here when he wouldn't listen. So, it's up to you to handle him now."

I steeled myself, taking a deep breath. "Don't worry, Aarohi. I'll deal with him. I'll make sure he understands the gravity of Mihir's emotional state, even if he doesn't care about anything else." With a determined look, I stood up, ready to face the angry Mr. Singh.

I walked into Aarohi's cabin, and there he was, Mr. Raghuvendra Singh, yelling at someone on the phone. I cleared my throat to announce my presence, but he was too engrossed in his conversation to notice me.

"Mr. Singh," I said, my voice firm but polite. But he didn't flinch.

"Mr. Singh!" I repeated, a bit louder this time. Still, he ignored me.

I took a deep breath, my patience wearing thin. "MR. SINGH!" I said, my voice is firm and authoritative.

But he continued to shout into the phone, oblivious to my presence. That's when I'd had enough.

I strode over to him, my heels clicking on the floor, and snatched the phone out of his hand. "Pay attention to me, Mr. Singh," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "And please, for the love of all things holy, do not scream like a buffalo. This is a hospital, not some tabela."

He looked up at me, his face red with anger, but I stood my ground, my eyes locked on his. "Now, let's talk about Mihir," I said, my voice firm and commanding.

As I stood there, the phone was still in hand, Mr. Singh's face hardened with anger. His eyes narrowed, and his voice took on a menacing tone. "How dare you call me a buffalo?" he growled, his words dripping with venom.

I stood my ground, unfazed by his anger. "I dare because you're acting like one," I retorted, my voice firm.

He sneered at me, his lip curling up in disgust. "And how dare you give me false information about my son's health?" he spat, his voice rising.

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "False information? You mean the part where I said Mihir needs you? That's not false, Mr. Singh. That's the truth."

He snorted, his expression dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, I'm sure you know all about my busy schedule, my important meetings. You know exactly how much time I have to devote to my son."

I rolled my eyes, tired of his egoistic attitude. "Actually, Mr. Singh, I don't care about your meetings or your busy schedule. What I care about is Mihir's well-being. And right now, he needs his father."

Mr. Singh's face turned red with rage, but I continued, my voice unwavering. "So, either you can put aside your ego and listen to me, or you can leave. The choice is yours."

Mr. Singh took a deep breath, composing himself, and nodded for me to continue. I explained everything to him - how Mihir felt abandoned, how he craved his father's love and warmth, how he needed him now more than ever.

But instead of understanding, Mr. Singh smiled smugly and said, "I provide him with everything he needs - money, power, a luxurious life. What more could he want?"

I made a face, incredulous at his stupidity. "You stupid idiot fellow," I muttered under my breath. "After I've told you all this, you're still not getting it? He doesn't need your money or power, he needs your love and attention."

I glared at him, exasperated. "He's going into surgery soon, and you're still not willing to spend time with him? What kind of father are you?"

Mr. Singh shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but I didn't let up. "Listen to me, Mr. Singh. Mihir needs you now. He needs your love, your support, your presence. Can't you see that? Can't you put aside your ego and be a father to him?"

I leaned forward, my eyes locked on his. "Spend time with him, Mr. Singh. Before it's too late."

Mr. Singh thought for a moment, then nodded gruffly. "Fine, I'll spend time with him."

But then, his expression turned sour. "And by the way, what was that you called me? 'Stupid idiot fellow'? Do you know who I am?"

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Oh, please, do tell. I'm sure it's a fascinating story."

Mr. Singh puffed out his chest. "I'm Raghuvendra Singh, a renowned politician and entrepreneur. I'm a respected member of society."

I snorted. "Wow, congratulations. I'm Ashika, a renowned surgeon and saver of lives. I'm a respected member of the medical community."

Mr. Singh's face turned red with anger. "How dare you!"

I smirked. "Oh, I dare because I'm not intimidated by your wealth and status."

We glared at each other, our silly argument escalating into a full-blown fight. It was like a dog and cat hissing at each other, except we were two grown adults acting like children.

"You're just an arrogant doctor who thinks she knows everything!" Mr. Singh shouted.

"And you're just a pompous politician who thinks he can buy everything!" I shot back.

We continued to exchange blows, our words getting more and more ridiculous. It was a ridiculous fight, but I couldn't help myself. I was determined to put Mr. Singh in his place.

Mr. Singh's face turned purple with rage. "I'll have you know, I'm a very important person! I've got a fleet of cars, a mansion, and a collection of designer suits!"

I rolled my eyes. "Wow, that's impressive. I've got a fleet of surgical tools, a clinic, and a collection of comfy scrubs!"

Mr. Singh sputtered. "You think you're funny, don't you? Well, let me tell you, I'm the one who's funny... with money!"

I chuckled. "Oh, I'm shaking in my boots. Or should I say, my sneakers?"

Mr. Singh's eyes bulged. "How dare you mock me! I'll have you fired from this hospital!"

I grinned. "Oh, please try. I've got a union, and they're not afraid of you or your money."

We continued to exchange ridiculous threats and insults, our argument becoming more and more absurd. It was like a comedy sketch, except we were both dead serious... or at least, trying to be.

Finally, Aarohi intervened, laughing. "Okay, okay, you both win the prize for the silliest argument ever. Can we please focus on Mihir now?"

We both stopped, panting, and looked at each other. Then, glared at each other.

As Mr. Singh stood up to leave for Mihir's room, I remembered something that made my heart skip a beat. I grabbed his arm, my eyes locked on his.

"Wait, Mr. Singh. There's something you need to know."

He looked at me expectantly, and I took a deep breath.

"Mihir talks about his mother, how he's never seen her, how you've told him she's not a good person... and how he hates her because of it."

Mr. Singh's expression darkened, but I continued, my voice firm.

"Whatever issues you have with your wife, Mr. Singh, please don't let them interfere with Mihir's life. He's sensitive, and he doesn't deserve to be punished for your mistakes."

Mr. Singh's face twisted in anger, but I stood my ground.

"He may not want his mother now, but somewhere deep down, he wants to know why you hate her so much. He wants to know the truth."

I looked him straight in the eye.

"Solve this problem, Mr. Singh. Clear Mihir's doubts. He deserves to know the truth about his family, about his mother."

Mr. Singh's expression softened slightly, and for a moment, I saw a glimmer of the father he could be. But then, his mask slipped back into place

As I mentioned his wife, Mr. Singh's face hardened, and he is curly and replied, "Don't interfere in my personal matters."

I remained silent, my expression neutral, and replied sarcastically, "Oh, I'm not interested in interfering in anyone's life. I just care about Mihir's well-being."

Mr. Singh's anger was visible, but he took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "Fine. I'll think about it," he said, his voice still tense.

He turned to leave, but not before giving me a stern look, as if warning me to stay out of his personal affairs. I watched him go, my mind racing with thoughts of Mihir and his family dynamics.

As Mr. Singh walked into Mihir's room, I could sense a mix of emotions: anger, guilt, and maybe a hint of regret. I hoped that he would truly think about our conversation and consider opening up to Mihir about his mother.

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.

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As I approached the wards to check my remaining petient, I heard giggling and laughing sounds, from the particular room and my curiosity got the better of me. I peeked inside, and my eyes widened in surprise. There, in the midst of playful chaos, were Mihir and Mr. Raghuvendra Singh, laughing and tickling each other.

A small smile curved on my lips as I watched the father-son duo, their joy infectious. Mihir caught my eye and exclaimed, "Beautiful! Come see, my father is the best! He's playing with me, and we're having so much fun!"

My heart swelled at the sight, and I felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that my conversation with Mr. Singh had sparked this change.

But then, my eyes met Mr. Singh's, and I felt a jolt of discomfort. His gaze held a depth of emotion I hadn't seen before, a softness that didn't match his usual stern expression. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, I felt like he could see right through me.

I broke eye contact, feeling uneasy under his intense gaze. And I'm not feeling good. His face remained impassive, giving nothing away.

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the feeling. "I'm glad to see you two bonding," I said, my voice a little too bright.

Mihir grinned, oblivious to the tension. "Yeah! My father is the best! He brought me my favorite chocolate and superhero toy!"

I smiled, focusing on Mihir's joy. "That's wonderful, sweetie. I'll let you two enjoy your time together."

As I turned to leave, I could feel Mr. Singh's eyes on me, but I didn't dare meet his gaze again. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, and I wasn't sure how to process them.

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To be continued...

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