Chapter 38: Allowed

-Archi-

@-Archi-

The content of this story belongs strictly to the author, -Archi-. Any unwarranted use/copy of it is not encouraged and is strictly prohibited.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Allowed

Khushi hummed to herself as she entered Abhaya Hospital, bustling with business as per usual. It was another sunny Wednesday, the rain from the previous day having cleared to pave way for a light, breezy atmosphere. She knew it was going to be good day; she felt it in her gut as she got ready that morning, choosing her favorite kurti –a white colored organza piece gifted by her aunt– paired with white palazzo pants, eating a freshly made smoothie bowl by Arnav –who insisted on starting the day healthy–  and zooming through almost a traffic-free city –courtesy of her late call time.

 It was perfect. As perfect as things could be.

“Good morning Sona,” Khushi chirpily greeted the receptionist. 

“You’re happy today Dr. Gupta… anything special?”

Khushi shrugged, knowing the nurse wouldn’t understand even a bit of her muddled, messy life. “Same old… so how come I’m assigned the emergency again today? I thought I already finished my quota for the month?”

Sona sighed. “It was on Dr. Awasthi’s orders… a difficult case arrived late last night. She wants you to handle it.”

Strange, Khushi thought. Thanking the nurse, she departed to the emergency room at once. No sooner had she arrived that–

“Thank god you’re here!” 

It was a first-year intern, Durga, who appeared as though she had been to hell and back in one single night. 

Khushi looked at her with pity, knowing exactly what it felt like to be so clueless and overworked. “What’s wrong?” she asked calmly. 

Durga handed her the patient charts in answer. “A nine-year-old girl was brought in last night, complaining of high fever, severe headache and neck pain… the mother was saying that she was talking gibberish–”

“Gibberish?”

“Random words strung together in a sentence.”

Khushi nodded, urging her to continue while quickly scanning the reports. 

“The nurses were just about to shift her into the pediatric ward when the girl suddenly collapsed and started seizing. We obviously hooked her up –the usual seizure protocol– and ran all the tests. But before we even got back the CT scans, she became unresponsive and slipped into coma and–”

Durga broke off, as though trying to contain the panic ebbing out of her. Khushi kept her eyes on the reports, absorbing the information as quickly as she could. 

“A-and she stopped r-responding,” Durga continued, her voice on the brink of hysteria. “I’m trying everything I can, but she is not waking up and t-the p-parents are asking all these questions and they w-wanna talk to the chief and I… I don’t know what to do Dr. Gupta!”

Khushi closed the file with a sigh. So much for a perfect day. 

Although the diagnosis was still pending –for only a specialist can confirm, not interns or residents– it was a clear case of bacterial meningitis, with an added complication of encephalitis. In simpler terms, the poor girl, named Adya, had a severe infection in her brain, causing the brain to swell in response and damage her brainstem, which controlled basic body functions such as breathing. She had been admitted too late, which was why instead of recovering upon the administration of high antibacterial medications, she slipped into coma and as per the most recent check-up, was officially on life support. 

It was her mother all over again. 

Khushi took a deep breath, trying not to recollect the horrific events of Garima’s accident. This time she was on the other side of the story; this time she was the one who will give the verdict, not the one who listens to it. 

Beside her, Durga was looking with hopeful eyes, as though Khushi was going to give some good news. Perhaps this was her first time handling a case where the patient doesn’t survive. 

“Come sit,” Khushi told her quietly, pointing to a bench nearby. 

The intern nervously sat down, her hands still shaking. 

“Look,” Khushi said gently, but the seriousness of her voice was unmistakable. “It doesn’t matter who you are or where you came from or how long you have been here… what matters is the patient. Your job is help her. Worrying about the rest is not your responsibility.”

Durga gulped. 

“You did your best,” Khushi continued pointedly. “Always know that. Given all the circumstances and resources and guidance you had, you did your best. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise, okay? If it wasn’t for you, the girl would have passed away last night. But she is still here, isn’t she?”

Tears welled in Durga’s eyes at that. “She is practically dead. I have been checking her myself… her pupils are not reacting.”

Khushi knew that –it was written clearly in the reports– but she pressed on. “Perhaps. But the neurologist has to confirm it, not us. When is he coming in?”

“In two hours.”

“Okay, so until two more hours she is alive. And for two more hours, we do our duty.”

Durga stared at her lap, perhaps trying to hide the tears now leaking down her face.

“You signed up for this,” Khushi reminded her. “I’m sure your parents were very proud to see you in a white coat, I’m sure you were very proud when you walked into this hospital thinking you will help people… but the reality behind the pretty picture is that we can’t save everyone. To survive here, a case you save and a case you lose should mean exactly the same to you.”

“Y-you’re right,” she mumbled, wiping the tears away. “I’m sorry… I’m being so silly.”

“No, you are being human. Kids are always the hardest.”

Durga nodded. “I just can’t look at her mother… every time I go into the room, she looks at me full of hope and I try to tell her it’s not looking good… but it just doesn’t go in. At all.”

“It takes time,” Khushi murmured. “When they see her breathing… or hear her heart on the monitor… they still have hope.”

“But… but for how long?”

Alok’s face unwillingly came to Khushi’s mind, his anger and frustration were all just too easy to remember. 

“Sometimes forever,” Khushi replied monotonously, standing up. 

Durga sighed. “Thank you, Dr. Gupta… I-I don’t know what… what I would have done without you.”

Khushi gave her a grim smile. “You’re welcome. But the real test is inside.”

And together they set off towards the end of the hallway, where Adya was being treated.

“Who was the resident in charge here last night?” Khushi asked just before they entered the room. “Why didn’t they sign off on any of the charts?”

Durga gritted her teeth. “It was Dr. Sood… he came maybe once or twice and said that I had it in control. I couldn’t leave the patient… so I never checked in with him again.”

Khushi pursued her lip. Rumor had it that Dr. Sood, a year senior to her, was not the brightest of the resident doctors. It was worrisome, however, that he decided to leave a first-year intern in charge of such a complicated case. 

“Never mind then,” Khushi mumbled, not wanting to divert the topic. 

Then pushing the I.C.U. doors, they stepped inside. 

It was a heart-breaking sight. 

Although Khushi knew what to expect, it still killed her to see a young girl of nine with curly hair lying on the bed, with at least five different tubes coming out of her. Her mother sat at her head, gently stroking her hair while tears rolled down her face and her father sat at her feet, his eyes too hollow to even be alive. 

Khushi cleared her throat. 

The parents stood up at once, alerted, a flicker of hope arising on their faces upon seeing a new doctor. 

“Are you the neurologist?” the mother –Mrs. Vig– asked hurriedly. “Is she going to be okay? We have been here since last night, but no one is telling us anything!”

Durga anxiously shuffled her feet behind Khushi. 

“No, actually I’m Dr. Gupta, a resident doctor here… our neurologist, Dr. Yadav will be here once we run some more tests.”

The father stepped towards them at that, his hands rolled into fists. “More tests?!” he fumed angrily. 

Khushi didn’t flinch. “I understand your situation Mr. Vig, believe me, I do–”

“DO YOU?!”

Durga cowered behind Khushi. Her fear wasn’t unjustified; Mr. Vig was at least six feet tall, his biceps looked menacing. He was literally towering over them. 

“Perhaps we should take this outside,” Khushi murmured.

Without waiting for a reply, she came back out into the hallway, Durga at her heels. Eventually, the parents stepped out as well along with a teenager having strikingly similar features as the little girl: perhaps, her older sister. 

“I’m sorry for the situation you are in Mr. Vig,” Khushi said sternly. “But we are trying our best here.”

“And you expect us to believe you?!” roared the father. “My daughter was perfectly healthy when we brought her in and look at her now! You doctors did something! YOU are the reason she is in coma!!”

“No.”

“What?!”

“No, your daughter was not healthy when you brought her in. She had been fighting a bacterial infection for days before she started complaining of neck pain… surely, you would have noticed that she had high fever?”

It was the mother who answered. “She did! I took her to our family doctor, and he said it was normal viral fever and gave her some tablets. But from yesterday morning, she was complaining of neck pain… she is a dancer, you see, so I thought maybe she sprained her neck during practice, but then she started saying that light was hurting her eyes, and that she was watching TV when the TV wasn’t even there… I-I panicked and brought her here right away!”

“And you did the right thing,” Khushi stressed. “As Dr. Durga explained to you already, your daughter has meningitis… infection in the brain. If it was viral, then her being in coma wouldn’t be so worrisome – in cases like this, the brain usually shuts down to fight off the virus, and after a few days, she will wake up.”

“But you don’t t-think that’s what this is?”

“No. This is bacterial and it’s a lot more dangerous… the brain has swelled too much, and that’s why your daughter had seizures last night.”

“So… so what’s the solution?” Mrs. Vig asked faintly. 

“Unfortunately, there isn’t one as of now… Her pupils are not responding to light, which is why we will need to take an MRI as soon as possible.”

Mr. Vig crossed his arms. “If you can’t do anything to help her, then I don’t see why we have to stay here in this hospital! There are many doctors out there who can help–” 

Khushi took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, that’s not an option. Your daughter is on a ventilator, which means she is not breathing on her own. Transporting the patient in this condition means certain death.”

The mother appeared petrified to hear that. “S-she’s not breathing?! B-but how… she was fine last night–”

Khushi didn’t let her finish, the conversation was taking quite an ugly turn. 

“Please Mrs. Vig,” she stressed. “Please understand that you did everything in your power. Meningitis is very hard to detect… It starts just as an innocent fever, and it’s really not until the last moment that there is enough cause for you to bring her to a hospital and for us to even treat her.”

Mrs. Vig was too horrified to answer. 

“So, what now?” asked Mr. Vig sharply. “You do the MRI and then what happens? Aren’t you just saying indirectly that my daughter is never going to wake up?”

Khushi tried to remain calm. “It’s complicated. Her pupil’s not responding is a sign that her brainstem is damaged and that’s why it’s crucial we do the scan. We will understand exactly what’s wrong and see if we can fix it.”

“If you can fix it?! What the hell does that mean?!”

Durga jumped. 

Khushi, however, kept her stance. She had a lot of experience dealing with difficult parents.

“The brainstem,” she explained patiently. “Is the connection between your brain and your spinal cord. It controls all basic functions of the body such as breathing, heart rate, movement… we cannot live without it. So, you must understand, repairing it is almost impossible.”

“But there has to be a way!” Mrs. Vig cried. “Y-you are a doctor! Medicine has advanced so much, c-can’t you do a surgery?!”

Khushi stretched out a timid hand to hold Mrs. Vig. How desperately she wished she had better news to give. 

“I’m in no position to advise you about surgery,” Khushi said. “We will have to wait for the neurologist… it’s just, from my experience, damage to the brainstem means being on life support indefinitely and at that point, we will need to ask ourselves certain questions.”

“What are you suggesting Dr. Gupta?” Mr. Vig interrupted shrewdly. 

Khushi was calm. “I’m not suggesting anything Mr. Vig… I am merely preparing you to think about what to do in the worst-case scenario. The rest is up to you… but I assure you, me and Dr. Durga here will do everything in our power to help your daughter. If we have your permission, we need to do an MRI scan on her.”

Mr. Vig didn’t reply. 

Understanding his situation, Khushi left the family alone, whispering instructions to Durga to get the scan done as soon as possible. 

As expected, the situation didn’t get better in the next two hours. 

The neurologist, Dr. Yadav, had finally arrived, up to date with all of the reports. The MRI scan confirmed Khushi’s suspicions down to the last grain. There was diffused swelling in the brain due to the bacteria, making surgery out of question – there was nothing to operate on. Due to the increased intercranial pressure, the brainstem had indeed been damaged beyond repair. Even if by some miracle Adya’s brain recovered from the infection and the swelling came down, the damaged brainstem would make her nothing more than just a vegetable who would need constant care and attention. 

There was no solution. 

So, when Dr. Yadav requested a meeting with the parents to explain his diagnosis in detail along with the options left in this case, Khushi decided to wait outside. She was sure she had already earned a place on Mr. Vig’s ‘forever to hate’ list, so she didn’t find much use in staying within his sight when the news of his daughter’s condition was broken to him. 

Surprisingly, Khushi was joined by Adya’s older sister. 

“How come you aren’t in the meeting with Dr. Yadav?” Khushi asked curiously, when the teenager slid onto the bench beside her. 

The girl rolled her eyes. “I’m too young apparently. I’m freaking fourteen.”

Khushi smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Abhira.”

“Nice to meet you Abhira… my name is Khushi.”

“I like Dr. Gupta better.”

Khushi laughed. “Me too… makes me feel important, even though my dad still thinks I’m a kid.”

Abhira sighed. “They never learn, do they?”

“Nope.”

The two of them settled into an easy silence. 

“Do you know what they are talking about inside?” Abhira asked fearfully. 

Khushi nodded gravely. “It’s not good news.”

“Will you tell me?”

“Maybe, it’s best to wait for your parents.”

“Your diagnosis was correct then?”

Khushi was surprised to hear that. “Why do you think so?”

“Because you said you were preparing us for the worst-case scenario. You refusing to tell me the truth only confirms it.”

Khushi didn’t know what to say. The girl was smart for her age.

“So, my sister will never wake-up?” Abhira asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “She is going to be in a coma forever?”

“I’m sorry… I really am.”

Abhira was silent, but her stricken expression told Khushi everything she needed to know. It would be years before this family would ever get back to some sort of normalcy, if it was at all possible. Nothing would ever erase this past night. Although Abhira was only fourteen years old, in the last few hours, she had aged ten more. 

It was unfair. Just like her mother. 

The silence, this time, continued for a very long time. Khushi knew there was nothing that could be said. She herself had scoffed at all the condolences the doctors had passed to them when Garima was declared brain dead. It seemed very hypocritical that she was the one giving them out now. 

“Do you think there is heaven?” Abhira asked suddenly. Her tears had dried up, but her voice held all the pain in the world. 

Khushi took a deep breath. “I really want to believe there is one… but sometimes, I don’t think so. Maybe heaven and hell are both on earth depending on where you were born.”

“So then where will she go? My sister?”

“I don’t know… my mother always said people became stars after they passed away, but you know how these things go.”

Abhira nodded. “What do you think the neurologist is telling my parents then? If… if Adya is never going to wake up… then what’s there left to talk about?”

Khushi had been dreading this question from the minute she saw the reports this morning. Only, she wasn’t expecting it from a lanky teenager. 

“There’s lot to talk about,” she said, trying to simplify the situation. “Why this happened for starters… people usually want to get to the bottom of things as though knowing why will help them figure out what to do about it.”

“What can we do about it?”

“We can wait.” 

“Wait for what?”

“Wait to see if there is the slightest chance of a recovery.”

“But you don’t think there is?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“Is that doctor code language?”

Khushi couldn’t help but smile. She was beginning to like her a lot. “I know it must be annoying to hear that all day… but we have rules too. We are not allowed to make promises we can’t keep.”

“You guys are liable.”

“Exactly… you’re very clever for your age.”

“I get that a lot,” Abhira replied with a shrug. “But I am fourteen…”

Khushi simply grinned, putting the two of them into silence once again. 

“About what you were saying earlier,” Abhira began once again. “How long do we wait… and what happens when… when there is no improvement?”

“We usually wait two days… and by then your parents will have to make a decision.”

Abhira was quick to catch-up or perhaps she had already known this was how the story will end. “Whether to keep her on life support or not?”

“I’m sorry,” Khushi repeated. “But you think about it… do you think watching your sister on the hospital bed will make it any easier for your mother or you or even your dad to accept that she is gone?”

“B-but she is breathing! Why can’t we keep her like that forever?! She is not in pain, right?!”

“No, she isn’t,” Khushi confirmed. “And you can keep her forever if that’s what you truly want… but this is not a decision we make in haste Abhira. This is something you and your parents will have to think about very hard.”

Abhira stared at her. “She will die if we remove the life support machine.”

Khushi stretched out a comforting hand, gently pressing her shoulder, before saying with great care, “She is already gone.”

Abhira turned away, the refusal to believe clear in her stance. 

“There is no rush,” Khushi continued solemnly. “Take all the time you want… but one day, you will have to say goodbye.”

“That’s my whole point! What if Adya is not ready to say goodbye?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“She is breathing, right? Her heart is beating, na? So, what if she doesn’t want to leave her body and go? What if she wants to stay here with us?”

Khushi looked at Abhira, pity coursing through her. This was a decision that she wished on no one, forget a fourteen-year-old. 

“Abhira,” she finally said. “It doesn’t work like that… your sister is gone. She is just a shell now–”

“Then how do you explain the breathing?”

“It’s the machine–”

“Do you believe all of us have a soul Dr. Gupta?”

Khushi paused. “I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you ever wonder what makes us… us? According to you, all of our bodies are the same, the brain is also the same… so then why am I, Abhira and you, Dr. Gupta?”

Khushi didn’t know what to say. She knew where the conversation was heading but wasn’t prepared for the conclusion that was coming. 

“It’s our soul. Our soul makes us who we are. And what if Adya’s soul is refusing to leave her body?”

“Okay, let’s say that’s the case,” Khushi said. “Then for how long are you going to keep her hooked to all those machines? When are you going to say it’s enough?”

Abhira shrugged. “However long it takes…”

“But it doesn’t work like that. Adya’s body will eventually start failing… what the machines are doing is unnatural, there is only so much she can take.”

“That makes even more sense!” Abhira exclaimed.

Khushi didn’t follow.

“Whenever her soul is ready to leave, she will stop breathing. Let nature take its course.”

Khushi wished she could explain better. What Mr. and Mrs. Vig were being asked inside was whether the doctors should continue keeping Adya alive. This includes even restarting her heart every single time it fails – at this rate, there will never be an end to this misery. The only other option was letting Adya pass away as is, without any medical interference. But it’s clear the family will not agree to that option.  

“You know I’m talking sense Dr. Gupta,” Abhira said with finality. “I’m not a doctor, but tell me, haven’t you seen people die on the spot when something happens to their brain? Then why isn’t Adya like that? If everything you say is true about the infection in her brain, she should be dead. So why is she in this limbo? I’m sure some part of her wants to live… and you want us to take that away?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying… I’m merely suggesting the path of least misery for her and for you. Because trust me it will not be easy watching Adya like that, a million tubes coming out of her, watching her every breath thinking maybe this will be the one where she will come back to life... what you want is selfish.”

“Maybe it is… but by taking the machine away, aren’t we forcing her to die? And who are we to do that? Who are we to take away her right to die?”

Khushi felt her throat go dry.

Could there really be truth to whatever she was hearing?

Luckily, Dr. Yadav appeared at that moment, with Mr. and Mrs. Vig in tow. He gave Khushi a pointed look, that didn’t need much explaining. The family was to be left alone. They had been given all the options they had and now, it was time for them to choose the one they could live with. 

Squeezing Abhira’s shoulder in reassurance, Khushi walked away, trying her best to control the chasm of grief opening up inside of her. She had always assumed that she had made peace with the situation of her mother, and not to mention, the unfortunate turn of events that led to it. But Khushi realized with a shock, that she was far from being okay with it.

What if her mother’s soul or whatever it was, was indeed around? What if she was actually fighting to come back? What if some day she would really wake up?

These questions swarmed her mind until the end of her shift, when she promptly grabbed her purse and ran home, ignoring even Ved’s invitation for dinner. She just needed to be away from the hospital, from all the lives hanging in limbo. She needed to be alone. 

To her utter surprise, when Khushi entered the penthouse an hour later, she found her mother-in-law, Satya, walking around the kitchen, getting what looked like dinner ready. 

Khushi tried to arrange her grief-stricken face into a welcoming smile. “Err… hi Aun– Maa… how come you are here?”

Satya beamed, pulling off the oven mittens. “Sorry Khushi to barge in like this, I tried calling you but you weren’t picking up… so I let myself in.”

“Oh… I must have left my phone in the locker. It was a busy day today.”

“I’m sure. Shankar tells me you are their star doctor… he’s so proud, as am I of course.”

Khushi looked at her feet in answer. She had always been awkward with receiving praise. 

“Apparently there is some huge meeting at the company today, so Chote will be late… Since Lata is not here anymore, I thought I’d bring over dinner… you must be so tired after your shift.”

Khushi didn’t answer. 

“Why don’t you go get changed?” Satya continued absent-mindedly.  

Khushi tried her best to move, but she felt herself glued to the floor, watching her mother-in-law moving around the kitchen, so at peace. It painfully brought back the image of her own mother, who used to do the same every time she or Vihaan came home late. It was too much. 

“Khushi?”

She blinked, trying to keep herself together. Satya was looking at her full of concern. 

“What’s wrong?” Satya asked, worried. 

“Nothing,” she croaked, trying to leave. 

Satya wasn’t convinced. Pulling off her apron, she gently took Khushi by the elbow and made her sit down on the living room sofa. 

“Did you get a difficult case in the hospital?” Satya asked with a knowing look. 

Khushi averted her eyes. 

“Kind of,” she admitted slowly. “She was just nine-years old…”

“Was?”

“She is on life support now.”

“Oh.”

Satya was quiet, perhaps not knowing to say. The situation was in all ways, bleak. 

“It’s just…” Khushi said, the words spilling out on their own accord. “I know that death is inevitable and all that… but why does it happen so… so suddenly? Why don’t we get a chance to say goodbye?”

Satya smiled, melancholic. “Because they don’t ever truly leave us.”

“Is that one of the things mothers tell their kids to make them feel better?” Khushi asked, disbelievingly. “Because it’s not true… my… my mother left me. She didn’t wait to say goodbye… and I thought okay, it’s fine… shit happens, but then, this fourteen-year-old girl tells me today that my mother is technically here, her soul is in her body, refusing to let go…”

Satya’s face was stricken. 

Khushi looked at her lap. “I know it’s silly… I’m know better than to believe all this… the first rule of medicine is not to get emotional…”

“But?”

Khushi looked at her mother-in-law, a lump forming in her throat. “But maybe… maybe there is hope for my mother after all? Maybe… maybe she’s breathing for this long because there is a chance that she can make a recovery? N-not a full one… but maybe just enough… to open her eyes a-and see–”

She broke off, unable to continue. And to her great surprise, Satya’s arms were suddenly around her and Khushi was pulled into her embrace. There was something so warm in it, something so comforting, as though the whole world just turned away to give them a moment… Khushi could only close her eyes and finally let the tears out. 

She didn’t know how long they sat like that. Satya was gently stroking her hair, much like how Mrs. Vig was stroking Adya’s hair that morning, not saying anything, but just being there. 

When the pain seemed somewhat manageable, Khushi leaned back, embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sniff. “I-I… I’m a doctor. I shouldn’t be like this, I shouldn’t be so naïve…”

Satya kindly handed her a box of tissues. 

“Khushi,” she finally said. “It’s not about what you should or shouldn’t be… it’s about what you are, and you are in pain. Anyone would be in your place… seeing you mother like that is not easy, why do you think Alokji keeps her so protected?”

“Yes, but… I advocated for removing her off life support, I wanted her to pass away peacefully… and look at me now, hoping she will wake up tomorrow…”

“Wanting the best for your mother and being okay with it are two different things… and no matter what the final decision is, I don’t see how you will be happy with it… either way, you lost your mother.”

Khushi didn’t have a reply for that. 

“What I’m trying to tell you,” Satya said, holding her hands. “Is that you are allowed to be sad and angry and hopeful… stop holding yourself to high standards just because you are a doctor or Alokji’s daughter… when you walk in through that door, all of that stays outside. In here, you are just Khushi… and today, Khushi is in pain because she misses her mother, because she couldn’t save a nine-year-old girl, because death is sudden and inevitable… is that not enough reason to be upset?”

Khushi felt as though she was talking to Garima herself. Not that the two ladies shared any similarities whatsoever, but they both seemed to have a knack for discovering what bothered her even when she couldn’t figure it out herself. 

Before she could reply, however, there was a tinkling of keys and the front door opened to reveal Arnav. He stepped inside, seemingly in high spirits, when he caught sight of Khushi’s puffy eyes and immediately came to her side, worried. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Satya answered for her. “A million things go on between a mother and a daughter… don’t be so nosy Chote. How was office?”

Khushi heaved a sigh of relief. She wasn’t ready, just yet, to recount her day. 

“Fine Maa,” he answered rolling his eyes. “But seriously Khushi… are you okay?”

She nodded. 

“Why don’t you get changed?” Satya suggested. “I made chole bature.”

Arnav somewhat lightened up about that –perhaps it was his favorite– and disappeared into his bedroom. Khushi turned to her mother-in-law, not sure how to thank her. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Satya warned, easily understanding her thoughts. “This is why I’m here… I know I can never take Garimaji’s place, and I don’t want to either, but one of the beautiful things about marriage is that you get a replacement set for free.”

Khushi chuckled drily. 

“I don’t have answers to your questions sweetie, I don’t know why it had to be your mother in that dreadful accident… but I like to think that there is always a bigger plan at work. That whoever is there upstairs, they know what’s best. So, it’s okay if you get sad, or upset, but know that there is always someone looking out for you from above.”

Patting her hand, Satya stood up. 

“Oh, and I almost forgot,” she said, drawing out a key from her pocket. “I came to drop off Lata’s key… she left it with me. I will just leave it here on the table.”

Khushi held her hand. “I hope you are not mad about Lata–”

Satya patted her cheek. “Of course not, this is your apartment Khushi. Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy… I know that you kids like privacy.”

“Please keep the key,” Khushi replied, earnest. “You are welcome here whenever you want… I sent Lata away because it was time Arnav–”

“You don’t owe me any explanation silly! You don’t even want to hear about all the things I had to pull with Shankar.”

Khushi grinned and to her great relief, Satya pocketed the house key once again. And then she was off to the kitchen, back to getting dinner warmed up. 

It was true, Khushi thought as she too went inside to change. There was never any rule anywhere outlining exactly what she had to feel when. She was allowed to be sad when she wanted to, to be angry when she felt like it, to grieve when the situation demanded it and to miss her mother whenever she needed to… although that last point was no longer true. 

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