“Aur aapki company kya aapke manual labour se chalti hai? Nhi na. It works on your intellect. Wo toh aapke paas abhi bhi hai na. You might not be able to move. But aap kaam toh abhi bhi kr skte hai. This is the digital world. Sab kuch online ho jaata hai. Meetings ho ya phir business mergers. You just need to change the policies a little.”

(And does your company work on your manual labour? No, right. It works on your intellect. You still have that. You might not be able to move. But you can still work. This is the digital world. Everything can happen online. Be it meetings or business mergers…)

He thought about her words. Smiled and nodded. She was right. Everything could be managed if he wanted to. He just had to stay strong and keep working for it.

“Aur rahi baat aapki wife…mujhe kehna nhi chahiye. It’s your personal matter but…I don’t think ki unki jagah koi bhi hota toh aisa karta.”

(And about your wife…I should not say this. It’s your personal matter but…I don’t thin that anyone in her place would have done it.)

She started and he looked at her. He raised his eyebrows asking her to continue. She lowered her head and said.

“Shaadi sirf ek wajah se nhi hoti. It’s a promise. Of lifelong commitment. A promise to be there in every up and down of life. Jo insaan sirf khushiyon mai saath de…aur mushkilo mai muh pher le…wo jeevan saathi kaise hua?”

(Marriage doesn’t happen for one reason alone. It’s a promise. Of lifelong commitment. A promise t be there in every up and down in life. The person who stays only in happiness…and leaves in dark times…is not a life partner, right?)

Her words hit deep. He went into thoughts.

“I think you should talk to her about your feelings and get to know hers.”

She said and left him to his thoughts after making sure he was fine and did not need anything else. 

Vishesh was discharged. He had requested an in-house nurse. He didn’t want to trouble his parents too much.

They had their separate house and work. And he couldn’t keep them into his chaos for much longer. They wouldn’t complain but he didn’t want to burden them anymore.

Nishtha entered the doctor’s cabin and greeted him.

“Nishtha! These are the patient reports. Tum already attend kr chuki ho. Mr. Vishesh, if you remember.”

(You have already attended to him.)

Nishtha nodded, taking the file from him. 

“He has requested an in-house nurse. Since you’ve already attended him once, I want to give this opportunity to you first. Give me your decision by the evening, otherwise I’ll have to arrange for other nurse.”

Nishtha nodded and took the file from him. An in-house nurse? She had never done that. Something in Vishesh had pulled her towards him from the beginning. She knew it was wrong in so many ways.

First, he was already married. And second, he was her patient. She had to follow the medical code. She opened the file and looked at the proposed pay hike.

It could solve a lot of problems. She had taken education loans and other EMIs. Nishtha thought about it for a few hours. 

She convinced herself that she was saying yes only because of the pay and it had nothing to do with the man himself. She would be thoroughly professional and would stick to her medical duty.

Nishtha had no clue why she felt nervous ringing the doorbell. She took a deep breath and rang the bell. A few seconds later, the door was opened by his mother.

She looked surprised seeing Nishtha. 

“Hello aunty.”

Nishtha greeted warmly, making the lady smile.

“Arre! Aao beta!”

(Come dear!)

“Wo sir ne in-house sir request kri thi. Mujhe bheja hai.”

(Sir requested an in-house nurse. I am here.)

His mother looked pleasantly delighted.

“Ye toh bhut achha hai. Aao beta. Wo kamre mai hi hai apne.”

(This is good. Come dear. He is in his room.)

Nishtha nodded and followed his mother to his room. Vishesh had been made to sit with support. His eyes lit up with a soft happiness as soon as they fell on Nishtha.

She too smiled, trying to keep her giddiness in control. Duty! Duty! She reminded herself.

“Hello sir.”

“Hi.”

She heard him greet. She kept her bag on the couch and checked his vitals.

“Kahi koi sensation hai?”

(Is there any sensation anywhere?)

He shook his head.

“Aapki physiotherapy kabse start hai?”

(When does your physiotherapy start?)

“Aaj pehla session hai.”

(Today is the first session.)

He answered. She looked at the time and mumbled.

“Aapki medicines ka time hai. Kuch khaaya hai?”

(It’s your medicine time. Did you have anything?)

He nodded and she gave him his medicines. 

“Jab tak wo physiotherapy wala nhi aata, mujhe mera laptop dedo. I need to attend a meeting.”

(Until the physiotherapist doesn’t arrive, give me my laptop.)

He said and she smiled. Happy that he was not letting the incident stop him. He set his laptop for him and switched on his meeting as he instructed.

Then she took her seat on the couch and busied herself while he attended his meeting. She felt her gaze shift to him every few seconds.

It was not long until the physiotherapist came. His mother guided him to the room. They stayed in the room for his first session, to observe the man and his work.

“We will start simple. Deep breathing.”

He said and Vishesh braced himself. Nishtha was ready on her feet to help him however needed. 

The therapist instructed how to do it and Vishesh followed. He closed his eyes and drew air in through his nose, slow and deliberate, as demonstrated.

His chest resisted, tight, but then expanded, just a little. He held it, two…three seconds. The silence inside him was too heavy. He couldn’t fail this. He couldn’t fail his parents, his wife. He had to recover.

He let it go, lips pursed, the breath escaping like a sigh he’d been holding for days. Nishtha observed each move carefully.

They repeated this exercise about 10 times. 

“Perfect! Now the next exercise. Air stacking.”

Vishesh hadn’t heard of it. For this, he was asked to sit upright, his back supported. Nishtha made sure his posture was appropriate as asked.

The man demonstrated and instructed and Vishesh followed.

One breath in…hold. Another breath layered on top…hold. His lungs protested, stretched beyond comfort. By the fourth breath, he felt like he might burst. 

His chest trembled and his vision prickled. His mother got worried seeing him like that but she knew it was important, necessary.

Slowly, he released the breath. His exhale was long, shaky, but it left him lighter, as if he’d emptied something more than air. His self-pity and his worries. He would do it! He will recover!

They repeated this exercise 9 more times. The therapist demonstrates the final exercise.

“Number counting. Go as far as you can.”

He said and Vishesh nodded. He inhaled, filling himself as much as he could. He then let it out, whispering numbers into the quiet.

“One…two…three…”

He repeats and repeats. Each time the number increases. By the time he reaches seven, the breath run out, collapsing into silence. He wanted to push further, but his body reminded him of its limits.