Page 43 of No Other Love

‘Remember Dr. Prajapati …at our hospital?’ At my nod, he continued with, ‘He refused to take on his case. Because he isn’t an ideal candidate. His blood sugar levels fluctuate a lot. He didn’t want to fuck up his perfect record and lose his bonus with the hospital board,’ Vikrant said meditatively.

I sighed. Dropped down on the desk and toyed with his hand. His lovely healer hands.

‘Sweetheart,’ I began hesitantly.

‘It was hell for me, Anika. Watching good people, people who deserved to be treated, not get their treatment because of insurance or something so selfish as a doctor’s track record. It killed me every day,’ he said baldly.

The level of care he’d given at the Mumbai hospital was dictated by monetary concerns, by filling out of a hundred different forms from five different departments. A corporation, after all, required paperwork.

‘It was frustrating for me to deal with the ways bureaucracy interfered with patient care,’ he ended softly. ‘And how bureaucracy won against patient care, almost every time.’

And that, I now knew, combined with the pressure of studying for his Doctor of Medicine exams while his heart wasn’t in it, had led us down the disastrous road of destroying our relationship.

All because neither he nor I had ever had an honest chat about who we were, who we wanted to be, to the exclusion of the great love we had for each other.That’swhy our love hadn’t saved our marriage in the end.

‘I see it now, Vik,’ I said softly. Squeezing his hands. ‘You’re not just wanted or needed here. You thrive here. In this environment. Helping all of these people.’

This time, he tugged me down to his chair and kissed me brainless. His tongue sneaking into my mouth, squeezing till I felt the action deep inside my core. But this was a working environment so I reluctantly pushed him away with a murmur.

But his kiss was incendiary, indelible. So much so I had to wash my face before facing the next patient a few minutes later.

I realized all of this the more time I spent working with Vikrant at the clinic. Watching him treat and minister to patients with kindness, empathy, and patience. While also being clinical and efficient and objective.

It was a masterclass in internist medicine.

And I was so damn proud of him!

***

Back home, the family – immediate and extended – did not question my absence over the last year. In fact, they were incredibly supportive and excited to hear about my cases. So was Vikrant.

And then there were the moments we weren’t working or entertaining the family as the ideal married couple.

Those were the moments I captured in my mind’s camera, to cherish forevermore.

Like the time we accidentally reached for the last naan and the family teased Vikrant mercilessly for generously giving it to me. Or when I’d almost chopped my own finger off because I wastoo busy making googly eyes at him instead of the onion I was supposed to be cutting.

The nights…oh, the nights were special. Silky. Secretive.

We made love in a frenzy and in slow, syrupy movements. Taking the time to learn the rhythms of our breaths, our bodies. Then, he draped an arm over my shoulder, hugged her close and we talked about medicine.

Drunk on each other and what we were passionate about. In sync like we hadn’t been in a long time. It was perfect, an idyll, time out of time.

Because we didn’t talk about the past. Or the future. Content to live in the now. Knowing these two subjects were emotional landmines destined to blow them up.

***

And more and more, I found myself wishing Vikrant would ask me to stay. To continue our lives together, divorce papers be damned. The hospital wasn’t exactly high-stakes surgery, and I didn’t get the same rush I got when I told desperate, grateful newborn parents that their child would live…but it hadVikrant.

And wasn’t he worth the sacrifice?

Vikrant kissed me every chance he got, touching me with confidence and ownership. I did the same too, of course, and he actively encouraged me to do more. But he never said the words I longed to hear.

Will you give us another chance, Anika?

Although the hope that was resurrected with his office kiss still remained. Stubborn and insistent, like a staph infection that just wouldn’t go.

Of course, idylls ended, and perfection couldn’t last forever. No matter how badly I wanted it to.