Rachel's POV
Dinner with Alan had been an enervating affair, more exhausting than open-heart surgery. In retrospect, surgeries have guided steps, protocols and superior mentors to aid us in time of crisis.
Such was not the case with dating.
I lacked the first-hand experience, knowledge and prowess in the field of dating. When thrown into a problematic situation, my brain was as young as a new born’s. I was entirely powerless against his arguments, and there was nobody to turn to for help.
Once closed, I rested my head against the door and let out a long sigh of exhaustion. Noises from the dining room were beckoning me to follow and thus I took the call. Upon entering, I caught sight of a long dinner table situated accurately at the centre of the room.
There was not a hint of dust on the floor nor the dinner table, and the immaculate surrounding intimidated my posture, forcing my body to grow vividly conscious of my movements. My mother followed a strict unforgiving policy when it came to maintenance of her house, therefore disappointing her was out of the question.
I was tempted to say she suffered from an obsessive-compulsive disorder, but since I was not in the habit of throwing away medical diagnosis carelessly, I held my tongue back. OCD was a major mental disorder, and I refused to make light of its intense deleterious impacts.
“How was dinner?” Asked my dad.
His demeanour was that of a strict policeman, which in many ways he was, and there was not a sign of softness or paternal love visible on his face. For anybody else, his look would’ve stirred an alarm, as though he was upset about something, but not to me. In my twenty nine years of existence, I had grown accustomed to his moods and the one he was currently sporting was that of mild nervousness.
“He was alright,” I murmured. But soon enough, I realised that that wasn’t his original question, “I meant, it was alright. We, uh, had fun.”
My mother could tell that I was being an awful liar, but my father wasn’t as perceptive, and I was surprisingly thankful for that. “Well, is he impressed with you?”
“I suppose.”
“Well, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow then,” He said as he got up from his seat. Carrying his wine glass, he retreated to his bedroom, “Let’s just hope for the best.”
I resisted the urge to snort.
Once he was away, I descended onto the chair he had previously occupied, situated right across my mother. She had an unreadable expression plastered on her face, but I bet she was trying to analyse me. “How was dinner?”
“You tell me, how was yours?” I retorted.
She rolled her eyes, “Peaceful, as your father wasn’t around to make it miserable.”
“I wasn’t as lucky,” I shrugged, “Alan’s not going to budge. Congratulations, your daughter is finally going to get married.”
“Don’t give me that look,” My mother reclined defensively, “I’m not the one forcing you into this.”
“Right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I know you’re not the one forcing me,” I said, “but as my mother, I expected you to stand up for me.”
“Oh! And did you ever stand up for me?”
“I was ten years old!” I yelled.
I hadn’t meant for my pitch to escalate like that, but when somebody falsely accused me or blamed me for what was beyond my control, my patience couldn’t be sustained. With an irate look, she left the room.
Scoffing at her audacity, I looked toward the ceiling. I was mystified as to how she could always find reasons to blame me for everything that went wrong in her life. The biggest mistake in her life occurred even before I was born and she was responsible for it. She was merely facing the price of it till date. If anything, I was one of the consequences her decision had caused, and I must be the one to blame her for that.
Having had enough for the day, I got up from the chair. After ensuring that the doors were locked and the gas was safely turned off, I made my way to my bedroom. The sight of me in the mirror enraged me. Frustrated, I peeled the clothes off of me as soon as I could and resisted the urge to lit the piece of clothing on fire, maybe that would give me the peace I was yearning for.
A cold shower often was my saviour, but it had fallen to incompetence that day. Nothing seemed to help me get rid of my vexation, and that reality was drawing me close to a total breakdown. I refused to cry because I knew that there wouldn’t be an end to it anytime soon.
Sighing, I picked up my phone to call my best friend. It was when I found her contact that I realised I couldn’t call her. Like me, she was dealing with a crisis of her own, and contrarily, she wasn’t as accustomed to adversities of the like as I was. I refused to be that selfish friend who moaned about relationship problems to someone who had just endured a heartbreak.
Quickly changing my mind, I scrolled further down and called another close friend of mine, who was well known to brighten up my mood in trying situations.
“You told him I was your boyfriend?” Mark’s voice edged over incredulous on the phone. “Oh, my God, Rachel. You’re hot, like really hot, but I’m sorry, you’ll always be like a little sister to me.”
I rolled my eyes at his stupid humour, “Not really, since I’m two months older than you. Anyway, I called you to know if there’s any way you’ll help me escape from here before the wedding happens.”
“I’d rather give up surgery. I do not wish to run into your mother again and get accused of having flirted with her naïve daughter. I have better things to take care of.”
That memory triggered a laugh from me, “It’s been years, Mark. Would you let that story rest in a grave?”
“Easy for you to say. That memory still haunts me in my dreams. I have PTSD from it.”
“That’s brutal! But yeah, my mom can traumatize one’s life so I won’t fight you on it.”
He sighed from the other end and gone was his playful mood, “I can’t believe how you hold it together, Rach. I mean, your childhood was a legit trauma. I don’t know how you got past it.”
“Well, I convinced myself that it’s the way of life so it doesn’t affect me anymore. Practice makes perfect.”
“I would’ve been depressed.”
“Who said I wasn’t? But then, ‘there are no limitations to the mind except those you acknowledge’ and it changed my life.”
“By developing sarcasm?”
“Yep.”
That’s the thing about mental illness. No amount of self-help books will help you. Well, it would be wrong to generalise it like that but for me, no book, podcast or therapy helped. I was convinced that it had become a part of my routine.
Acceptance was the deal-breaker.
“I’m sorry, Rach, I hate that I can’t help you,” He said, “I can wait for you with a car outside the venue should you want to run away.”
“Tempting,” I said, “But unachievable.”
“Shall I fly to London then?” He asked, “For moral support?”
“I’d like to skip the humiliation in front of my friends,” I said, “Anyway, how’s Emilia doing? She okay?”
“She’s barely holding it together,” He said, “The bastard ruined her. She won’t talk to any of us. She needs you.”
My chest constricted painfully at his words. She was one of the reasons why I didn’t want to fly to London at that time, and I hated not being there for my friends when they needed me the most. She’s been with me through everything; failed surgeries, suspensions, mental break downs and financial crisis and demanded very little in return. Being her friend was not as grueling as it took a tremendous amount of fucking up to upset her and Caleb had done exactly that.
“Is he still trying to reach out to her?”
“Thankfully, he stopped,” Mark said, “She suspects he moved on, apparently heard a rumour about him getting a new chick already.”
“Oh, my God,” I moaned, “She doesn’t deserve it.”
“She really doesn’t.” He said, “Well, I’m trying my best to cheer her up at home but it’s harder to take care of her at the hospital. And the workload is intense.”
“That’s probably for the better, she could use that distraction.” I said, “Anyway, it’s getting really late. I gotta hit the bed. I’ve got a lunch date with the future in-laws to prepare for.”
“Already? Damn it. Are they any good?”
“Well, yes. But that’s immaterial. I’m going to try my best to get them to hate me.”
“You’re crazy.”
“They’re forcing my hand, got to do everything I can to convince people that this marriage will never work.”
“From what I’ve heard, they’re hard to influence, Rach, but yeah, I wish you all the luck.”
“Thanks. Take care of Emilia for me.”
“Will do. Take care of yourself for me.”
Rachel's POV Friday afternoon, I was summoned to the Hedger’s residence. It was set in an aesthetically pleasing corner of an elite neighbourhood, and the serene vibe of the sight eased the tension we’d carried throughout the ride. Before Alan could use his chivalry to impress me, I opened the door for myself. My eyes continued to admire the beauty of the mansion as Alan walked up to me. “It’s beautiful,” I said, mesmerized. “It’s better inside,” That seemed impossible. “Come on.” He guided me toward the entrance door with a hand on the small of my back. Although I’d not preferred it, I didn’t make any conscious effort to escape the intimacy. Once we’d reached the doorstep, Alan spread his arm over my shoulder to reach the doorbell, but I’d quickly turned around and blocked his path. He looked at me quizically. “Should I be worried?” “Of what?” “Your parents.” I said, “Are they going to like me?” “Just be yourself,” He said, leaning closer to me so he could get to the buzzer,
Alan's POV Sasha often told me that if the girl hadn’t splashed her red wine over my face one hour through the date, I should consider it a huge accomplishment. According to her, I was the next bad thing after ghosting, that failed relationships. I honestly couldn’t blame her and might as well agree with her on that note, because I had no serious dating experience as such to defend myself. I was a hardcore workaholic who never found time for romantic endeavors and serious commitments outside of work. Of course, I had been with a fair share of women through high school and college but they weren’t very serious. I was a top student and that required a tremendous amount of time and attention to studies, and girls weren’t extremely patient to keep up with my preferences. After getting a job , the intense training and work ethic demanded my full and exclusive attention and I was gladly letting it. It’s a common misconception that people in my field generally feel like they have no time
Alan's POV “What’d she say?” Bruce asked. Rachel practised being passive-aggressive better than anybody I knew. I had always known her to remain calm and composed despite any stressful condition, and for a long time, I even admired it. It was only now that I was realising the downside of such behaviour. Sometimes, it’s just better to get yelled at; at least the outburst helps your conscience. “She hates me,” I groaned. “She’s never going to forgive me for this.” “Do you think she’ll come around though? She better, because this is your last shot.” “I’m not concerned if or not she’ll marry me. Her parents will leave her no choice and that’s not a good thing, Bruce, I hate doing this to her. Damn it, it looks like I’m exploiting her vulnerabilities to get what I want. What’s worse, she probably thinks I’m doing this out of lust.” “Since when do you care about what others think about you?” “I’m not bothered about what she thinks about me. I’m more concerned about how that’s going t
Rachel's POV Dualities are a distinct part of humanity. There are dualities in the way people perceive, understand and react to things. And often, the counterparts work in synchrony. Two halves make a whole. There are two sides to every story. And it takes two people to trigger a connection. The concept of soulmates, twin flames and lovers proves that everything profound in life is in possession of two parties. Covalency, symbiosis and the law of attraction work along these lines. But the question remains - does this union involve the conscious compliance of the two halves? Or is the subconscious to be blamed for the invisible power that draws one to their better half? For me, dualities operated at the basic level of everyday life. When you see something almost every day, you either fall in love with the routine or grow to hate the monotony of it. The latter was the choice I had succumbed to. I looked helplessly at the white fabric that engulfed me within its confines. White is th
Rachel's POV As promised, the wedding ceremony and the reception that followed were lowkey events. Since it was mostly just close family and friends, the evening had ended sooner than I’d expected, and I was very glad about it. But Alan had remained morose and silent as the day withdrew to an end. Generally, that would not have bothered me but since I was going to spend the rest of the evening with him, it was beginning to turn into a concern of mine. He had barely spoken to me on our ride back home but I didn’t say anything. I figured that the day had overwhelmed him and decided to give him some space. But I sincerely hoped he’d come around by the time we reached the hotel because if not, I wouldn’t know what to do. Once we’d stepped into the hotel room, I’d begun to grow nervous. The ultimate question haunted me - what now? I looked over at Alan for help and realised that his eyes had already been watching me. “I need to talk to you,” He said, “But you might want to freshen up a
Rachel's POV “You two know each other?” “Yeah, we kind of got married last week,” I snorted as I filled the charts. “Alan, why did you want to go New York City Hospital when we had someone we know work here?” The man, who I had learnt was Jason, asked. As it happens, it was Jason, Bruce and Alan who had rushed into the ER a few hours go with another man named Cameron who had collapsed in their office. Cameron was also Jason’s father and it seemed to me that he was like a father figure to the rest of them too. “Yeah, except I didn’t know.” Alan mumbled begrudgingly. I rose my eyebrows in surprise and gave him a questioning look. Seeming to slip from his trance, he corrected himself, “I mean, it slipped my mind. I thought New York City Hospital was closer.” I shook my head in despair of his dishonesty. It was perhaps a habit of his to lie so effortlessly with everybody, “Anyway, the patient is stable and will be out of surgery in an hour or two, if all goes well. Doctor Degrassee-
Rachel's POV "That’s your husband?” Emilia cocked her head toward where Alan and his friends were sitting. “That isn’t a human, Rachel. That’s a fucking greek god.” “Damn,” Mark sighed beside me. “I can’t believe that’s what you were complaining about.” I gaped my mouth at the both of them, looking over at Henry to see if he’d back me up. And like the good friend that he was, he frowned at the both of them, “What’s the matter with the both of you? Is that all you wish for in a husband - good looks? What about his cock?” My jaw dropped to the floor as Mark and Emilia burst out laughing. “Well, considering his looks, I’m guessing he’s great in bed too, right?” Mark spoke, trying to hide his grin. “What part of I hate him to the core did you not understand?” I asked them, annoyed. “I was even tempted to tear his skin open today while suturing his wound." “Jesus, I gotta be careful around you.” Emilia said took a small step back. “Oh yeah, you better.” “Anyway, Rachel.” Mark spoke
Rachel's POV The next day, the four of us gathered in the resident’s lounge. While Henry and I were changing into our scrubs, Emilia was getting ready to go home after a long night shift. Beside her, Mark had passed out on the locker door after coming back from a long surgery. “I want to kill him.” I said as I shut my locker door with a bang. Mark - who was resting his head against the locker beside mine - shook out of his trance at once and yelped in surprise. “Jesus, what the hell?” he scowled at me and placed his hand over his chest. Henry chuckled, “Go home, Mark. I’m sure Doctor Merch can manage one day without you.” Mark had a night shift the previous night which meant he had the day off. But much to our surprise, he was hell bent on working today too. Among us, Henry and I were the ones who always insisted on working more at the hospital. The both of us were very workaholic and extremely introverted, so naturally, our social life was cut down to a bare minimum. In that res