Page 195 - Till the Last Breath . . .

cure the woman. Days passed and she only got worse. She was beautiful …

and alone. I used to sit next to her, talking through those terrifying nights.
My father, who was no longer involved medically with the hospital and
oversaw administration, thought it was unhealthy. A month passed and my

obsession with her long hair, her fair, drained-out face, her always parted
pink lips, her sharp cheekbones and her protruding collar bones grew.

‘My failures kept piling up, but the woman had faith in me. She told me
that even if she died, she wouldn’t feel bad because she had got the chance

to see me every day before her last. We never confessed it in clear, lucid
terms, but our relationship was far beyond that. Her pain soon became

mine. Frustrated at my inability to cure her, I kept trying out one
implausible treatment after another. Since my father owned the hospital,
none of the senior doctors objected, more so because they didn’t know what

to do either. Even if they would have come up with something, I would
have written them off. She was mine to cure.

‘After two months of suffering at the hands of an incompetent, arrogant
doctor, she died. The autopsy revealed she had a rare cancer, which was

very hard to detect. No one blamed me; even cancer specialists would have
missed it seven out of ten times. She had no family, so there were no

lawsuits against me. She died at my hands. I could have saved her if I
hadn’t been so pompous and pig-headed. I watched her die … slowly …’
When he finished, Zarah found herself at a loss for words. Her throat

dried up. She had only imagined Arman as a clinical, heartless doctor who
had never gone wrong. Is this why he never works at his father’s hospital?

Is that why his relationship is strained with his family? She wanted the
answers to these questions but was unsure whether she should pry into his

life.
Before she could string her incoherent thoughts into a single sentence, he

continued, ‘I left the hospital. I think my father would have wanted me to. I
thought it would be best to leave and learn what it is to be responsible. I
never had the confidence to go back to that. It took me years to get over it

and not be emotional about the patients I treat. After all, it’s the first
fucking rule of being a doctor.’