I dipped the cotton in the antiseptic liquid for the nth time and pressed it gently on his cheek.
"First time?" He asked nonchalantly, looking at me and then at the cotton in my hand.
Since then, I was tending to his face and neck scratches.
I took my hand back slowly and lowered my eyes, biting my lower lip before nodding.
"Hmm, can be sensed."
My eyes shot up at him.
Firstly, I am taking care of him and then he is taunting me. Audacity of this man. I squinted my eyes and glared at him. But glaring won't alone calm me down na. So of course I pulled a smile on my face and spoke
"Great to know you can sense. But why always sense negative things?" I retorted back in sarcasm.
"What else to sense?" He asked meeting my eyes finally.
"What else?" My sarcastic smile grew wider. "These curtains, this wall, this (holds up the cotton ball) cotton ball. So many things to sense."
"I am" (spoke calmly)
"You are what?"
"Sensing."
"Really? I don't think so. Why can't you sense my worry in this then? Vivaan I have never seen someone bleed so normally, and you normalise this stupid thing. It's a big thing for me."
I spoke finally, considering the elephant in the room. My hand which was holding the cotton ball trembled slightly, but I controlled it.
"Not now Kruthi" I reminded myself.
"So? what should I do? change my life, the way of living for your sensitive soul?"
"I am not asking you to change Vivaan." The earlier irritation, anger, sarcasm... all faded back behind this sentence. It was almost a plead. My eyes teared up. Why was I always wrong in his eyes?
"Then what else was that?"
"So, you want me to stay normal when you come home almost dead huh?"
"I wasn't almost dead."
"Mirhan bhaiya was supporting you."
"Bhaiya?"
"Yes, I call him bhaiya but that's not the main topic here."
He nodded.
"Whaaat? (I raised my voice slightly getting more irritated.) Vivaan I am talking to you."
"And I am responding."
"Yes but..." My voice trailed off suppressed by a choke. I don't know why, my throat felt heavy. The remnant of anger, frustration, irritation everything was completely gone, as if it was never there. I wiped my tear and spoke again
"Why are you acting like this? is it because of me getting hopes? then please... I beg you, I won't but please... don't stay away this long because I am home... I am sorry for making you feel you have to stay out because of me"
He paused for a moment.
Looked at me.
I expected him to burst up, get angry or stay nonchalant, like he was always.
But no.
He stepped closer and...
Wrapped his arms around me gently.
"You know your tears... (Pauses) Are wet."
"Everyone's tears are wet."
"They are but not enough capable."
"Capable of?" I looked up at him with my moistened eyes.
He didn't respond.
Didn't even hug properly.
Just enough to offer comfort.
"I wasn't out because of you Kruthi. Stop blaming yourself because of my condition tonight."
"Then why did you leave the mansion only today? because of me, because of our argument..."
"Stop blaming yourself for everything Kruthi. I went out because of work issues."
"Your work is an issue?"
He chuckled dryly.
"Well, in a way it is..."
I opened my mouth to speak something, but he suddenly cut off in between.
"And before you say it again, no I ain't your dark romance obsessed mafia guy."
A small smile crept my face.
I was going to ask again if he was a mafia.
"Don't cry."
He stepped back.
I wiped my tears gently and accidentally my eyes landed on my kurti which felt a little more wet.
Fresh blood.
My eyes went to his black shirt. I thought the blood was coming out from the cheek and neck area only. But no... that black shirt was wet.
My eyes were stuck there.
How much wounded he was? it was getting difficult for me to imagine.
"Y-your shirt..." I said in almost hushed voice.
"Not a big deal."
And yes, that irritated me.
"VivAAN."
He looked at me. Didn't apologise.
"Remove your shirt."
"No." He said right away.
"Let me tend your wounds."
He looked at me as if I had asked him to transfer all his generational wealth under my name.
A squint of brows
"No." And with that he rushed to the bathroom in an instant.
"Why are you so stubborn?" I raised my voice going behind him.
"I hate the tablet you gave me." He shouted from inside. "It's giving me migraine. Now I feel almost dead."
"It's painkillers."
"Yes, but it's killing me, not the pain. I am not leaving myself under your care." He shouted again.
I paused.
His voice...
wasn't cold.
A small smile formed on my lips.
Moments later he emerged out shirtless but wrapped in white wrap over his injuries.
"Guess my work has reduced now."
He glared at me still before speaking calmly.
"I am not your work. Not anyone's work."
"Of course you are not work. You are a human."
He paused.
Stayed silent.
And then suddenly went to bed.
"Vivaan, may I get the dinner?" I asked him softly.
He shook his head.
"Please?"
He sighed and turned to face me.
"If I won't, then you'll again blame yourself."
"Maybe I won't."
"Then don't bring dinner."
"But what will I say to the family if they ask about your injuries?"
He pressed his eyes shut as if supressing his anger.
"No one will."
"Will what?"
"No one will ask."
I didn't speak another word.
So, it was really normal for him.
I went to the kitchen and looked at all the meals.
Matar paneer, parantha, rice and aloo gobhi. It wasn't something Vivaan should eat especially in this condition.
I turned on the stove and chopped some vegetable.
After almost half an hour the khichdi was ready.
Yes, this would be better for him.
When I returned to the room, he was still awake, staring at the ceiling.
When the door clicked open his eyes snapped on me.
He opened his mouth to protest again but I spoke suddenly-
"I won't force you. I am keeping this tray on the nightstand. When you feel hungry, or fine enough. Then eat yourself."
With that I turned around to leave after collecting his stained clothes.
"You ate?" He asked.
"Hmm" I hummed.
He nodded and continued staring at the ceiling.
I sighed and went out of the room to clean his blood stained clothes.
In front of the laundry room, I made sure no one was present to witness me. I don't know why it felt like a sin, as if I am a murderer trying to hide the evidence. When finally I felt no one, I sighed and stepped inside.
Before putting the clothes in the laundry I checked his pockets, making sure I wasn't washing away something important to him.
And I was right.
There was his business plus various cards, his wallet and a car key.
But also, a bill.
Lunch bill.
2:37 PM.
A realisation gnawed at me. I hurried my hands at the top the washing machine. My phone.
I checked my phone suddenly and at that time only one sentence echoed in my mind.
"Lunch kar lena"
I remembered his sentence he said before leaving.
That time I was confused, but now I wasn't.
Because I texted him at 2:30 PM... that I've had my lunch.