Page 66 - Till the Last Breath . . .

‘As if …’

Her mom broke down and Pihu wrapped her arms around her. She kept
weeping and mumbling in sobs till the time they reached home. The taxi
driver unloaded the boxes and carried them to the apartment. He was

instructed to keep the boxes near the door itself. Her dad went back with the
driver to get some food and check in with the hospital about the

arrangements.
Pihu felt bad for her dad. Not a single teardrop had escaped his eyes. He

knew it would make his wife feel worse. But Pihu had noticed every time
her father tried to look away from her. He did his best not to make any eye

contact with her, to stem the barrage of overwhelming feelings he had held
back behind those stoic eyes. At times, she would think that it would’ve
been better if she had just died the first time around. She hated the false

hope the experimental drugs had momentarily generated.
‘Dad’s not talking to me,’ Pihu said as her mother laid down lunch. ‘I am

not going to be here for long, I think he should.’ Her mom’s mouth went
dry and the colour drained from her face. Seeing that, Pihu apologized, ‘I

am sorry. I won’t say that.’
Sometimes, she felt suffocated. She wanted to crib and cry and shout at

how unfair it was. But she couldn’t, because it wasn’t just she who was
suffering. Her suffering would end with her last breath while her parents’
would just start.

‘I have cooked everything you like,’ her mom said.
‘I can see that.’ She giggled and loaded her plate till it almost tipped

over. She didn’t know if she would be able to eat solid food again. They
smiled at each other.

‘Your dad was saying that the doctor might try some new treatment on
you? Do you think the new treatment will help? Has anyone been cured?

How many patients have shown signs of relapse?’ her mom asked as she
ate.
‘A few. The next stage has not been tried on anyone else. They might

start with a few patients next week.’