Page 79 - Till the Last Breath . . .

‘We haven’t talked in years. She is dating her ex-boyfriend now. What

did she say?’ he asked, desperately trying to hide how crushed he felt.
Zarah’s eyes seemed to see right through him, her sharp gaze looking for
their own answers. He felt naked, his secrets spilling out.

‘She wanted to know if you would live.’
‘What did you say?’ he asked. A montage of black-and-white Polaroid

images of his life from two years back flashed in front of his eyes. He felt
guilty. Ashamed.

‘I told her there’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Anything else?’

‘No,’ she said, her frosty voice giving nothing away.
Zarah left for Arman’s office after they reached the fifth floor. Before
leaving, she said she would check on him in the evening and update him on

his condition. He nodded. His mind was clogged with the sudden
reappearance of Kajal, and the images of his brain in Zarah’s hand. What

was that he saw on Zarah’s face? Concern? Was he dying? Or was she
always this cold?

The lack of answers from the doctors, the indistinguishable expression
from Zarah and the battery of tests confused him. For the first time, he was

scared. He wanted to see Kajal and tell her he was sorry. Then he brushed
the negative thoughts away, cursing himself for thinking too much. He tried
to think about the good things in life—weed, alcohol, poker and the young

female doctor with caramel skin and taut muscles.
As he climbed into his bed, he wondered what might have driven Zarah

to try to kill herself. In the elevator they had taken to the fifth floor, he had
noticed the tiny slit marks on both her wrists.

Arman had left by the time Dushyant was in the room again. He was

thankful and felt relieved. Next time, he would punch the guy in his face,
but only after Arman figured out what was wrong with him. First they said

liver and now the brain. He was freaking out a little. Hospital, MRIs, tests,
diagnosis—you see these in movies; they never happen to you.