Hey FolksHere is next installment ..Hope you will like this chapter .

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Sometimes the mind wants to settle, but the heart craves more.

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Sanskaar tossed and turned on bed for umpteenth time trying to get some sleep but all his attempts in vain. Every time he closed his eyes, the flashes of that hug

Damn! he got up

Why is he so restless, its just a hug for god's sake and hug was nothing but a casual affair in his college, elite business parties and it's not like he never hugged a girl.

"She's not any other girl, she is SWARA", a small voice chided in

True ,he nodded in agreement Its not just anyone .Its Swara .

From the time he met her no doubt she had been in his thoughts one way or other but today ..his thoughts drifted back to play ground . That hug , how it felt so right holding her, the feel of her warm breath, their faces so close and how his heart raced like marathon.

Enough saNSkaar! He snapped at himself.

Trying to stop the trail of his thoughts and for the need of fresh air ,he got up from his bed , made his way towards balcony . Standing near the window feeling cool night breeze and letting the moon cast light on him ,he closed his eyes taking deep breath and his first thought was what she would be doing at this moment.

The same moon light and night breeze caressed her face gently as she stood rooted to her fav spot, near balcony. Her heart was reeling in that moment in play ground they shared, his arms around her and how it felt so right being there , that look in his eyes like he...

Stop it swara! a voice sprang up .She can't feel all this, This has to stop .it's wrong in so many ways , She just cant. He is her friend , just a friend that should do.

She closed the window and went back to sleep

Just a friend?? .Better not to try figuring out why this thought troubled him but he already has too much chaos to deal with at this moment., In fact shouldn't he be happy that his mind is trying to knock him out of her thoughts but his heart...

He sighed in defeat. He was fighting too much with himself, and he was too tired to keep it up. It was a long day...and good memories. Why spoil his own pleasure in it by arguing with himself? He went back to bed, sighing as he sank in, closed his eyes. The day ran behind his closed eyelids like a slideshow, his equivalent of counting sheep. The children's joy over his gifts, their little moments of triumphs in the silly match, the boundaries she hit, even their missed catches, hitting the final six, running up to Swara, the world spinning with her in his arms, that freeze frame moment when it stopped spinning altogether with her in his arms...Swara as she laughed, Swara as she smiled, Swara as she looked down at him from the church steps, surrounded by that halo of light...Swara as she stood by the gate and smiled as she called out to him and said Good night...

He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his lips.

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The next few days were...interesting, to say the least. Everything was as close to their normal routines, because they both took extra effort to make sure it was. But there were slightly imperceptible changes...a glance here, a glance there, the occasional blush when she was caught staring or found herself stared at, which featured in his slideshow at night. But they were both careful. No handshakes, not even the accidental brush of hands when handing things over or playing with Angel and the kids, because neither knew what to do with lightning bolts and electric currents, and the friendship was too precious to risk it.

And then one day came when none of this mattered...

It had been a good day for Sanskaar. Long, but good. He had just closed a deal, a merger. And it was a relatively painless one for both sides. He had to nag his own team and charm the other to achieve this, but it was fine. Haggling over the fine print was the last step. He sighed as he ditched his jacket, washed up for dinner. He enjoyed wheeling and dealing, solving problems. It just left him tired some days. But yeah, so worth it, he thought as he descended the stairs.

Annapurna called out to him from the dining hall. "Aya, Ma." He answered, smiling to himself. It was a good day, and now all he needed was food his mom made, a good night's sleep.

It was soothing, his mom's affectionate scold for working too hard, the pat on his cheek after declaring he looked tired, and her announcement she had all his favorite dishes ready for him. He lifted the chafing dishes happily, taking his time inhaling the scents. He was telling her how he had a very productive day at the office, and how food she made and fed him would make the day just perfect. He got a laugh and another pat on the cheek for that. He made her sit next to him, asked to be served.

Just as she lifted the rice bowl, his phone rang. He glanced at the phone, then at his mom in apology. She shook her head indulgently, spooned rice onto his plate. Then she stood back as she saw him tense.

"Kaha?" he laid a hand on hers gently, requesting her to stop. "Ok. I'll be there."

He rose immediately. "Ma, muje jana hai."

"kya hua beta?" she was concerned as to how grave he looked all of a sudden. "kaha ja rahe ho itni rat ko...khana bhi nai khaya.."

"Meri friend. Hospital me hai. I'm sorry Ma," he gave her a quick peck on the cheek, dashed upstairs. "I have to go..." he called down to her on his way up.

Just as he ran out, DP walked in, brows raised in question. "Dost hospital me hai," she explained. He nodded, sat down. "Jake Aa jayega, khana laga do."

She began serving him, with another glance up the stairs. Who was this friend...

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The sight of her at the end of a dim corridor, sitting on a lonely visitor's chair broke him. Swara was the eponym of life; she was life. She didn't belong in a hospital, any more than baby Angel did.

He quickened his steps. "Swara?" he called out softly. She looked up, and as he came closer he could see... "Swara," he said again, though in shock this time. She was as heartsick as he was over the child, and more...

She patted the chair next to her wordlessly.

He sat down, took her hand in his; he forgot all words of comfort that he had thought to offer...this close to her, the light seemed harsh suddenly as it fell on her face, her red-rimmed eyes. He simply couldn't bear to see her quietly weeping. Forgetting everything else, he drew her into his arms. "She'll be okay," he said as he rocked her gently.

"she's so young, Sanskaar," she said in a choked voice. "nanhi si bachi hai..."

"she'll be fine." He chafed her arms; they were cold.

She sat there quietly, willing the chill away, drawing from the strength he offered. She wiped the tears away; more followed their meandering course down her cheeks. She closed her eyes a moment. Maybe she could stop crying, stop distressing him at least. He was worried for Angel, she had seen that when he walked up. She shouldn't add to those worries...

"Swara," He said softly, wishing she wasn't so...broken over this. He was worried about Angel too, but his questions would have to wait.

She drew back after a while, knuckled stay tears away, and told him. Of Father Benedict and the nuns gone for a prayer meeting in a village some distance from Little Flowers, how there was a landslide somewhere en route so they couldn't be back by evening, how the old housekeeper had her hands full with twenty four children and one baby who was running a fever since afternoon. How when the fever worsened, the child needed to be brought to a hospital but she couldn't leave the other children there by themselves so late at night. She had gotten the call as she was doing her dishes, winding up for the day. Gotten the call, grabbed her purse and run out to Little Flowers immediately. She had taken a cab, gotten there, bundled the child in and set off for the hospital. Getting her admitted, being barred from the room while they tended to her. And now they sat out here, in front of the glass doors of ICU, waiting for news.

Another tear leaked out unheeded as she related all this to him. He was unfamiliar with this cadence of her voice, sad and hollowed out. Determined to do what he could to make it go away, he got up. "I'll go check with the doctors." He said gently. She looked up, nodded. "OK."

She leaned back, resting her head against the wall for a moment. Fate could be so cruel some times...she knew this, understood this. Yet sometimes, it was difficult to comprehend the subjects fate chose for its frivolities. She thought nothing of the trials fate put her through; it was part of life. But a baby, a three month old infant, who had her entire life to live...? There was so much the child had to be, so much she had to see and know and experience...the carefree freedom of childhood, the silly and frivolous joys and dreams of adolescence, the right to chase those dreams into adulthood, and the rest of this wonderful thing called life... How could fate be so unkind...?

She snapped back, sat up straight. Enough moping. Angel had to get well. She had to. She sent a silent prayer up to the gods, got up from the chair. She had company, and it helped that it was someone else who cared for Angel...more good thoughts for the baby. She wiped her face, combed her fingers through her hair. God, she must look a mess. No need to scare other patients or their relatives. Or Sanskaar. He had come, she thought with gratitude. No wasting time with questions or explanations. He must have dashed out of the house just as she had.

Sanskaar had gone looking for the doctors. She wondered if he had had anything before she called him out. Looking up and down the corridor, she spotted a coffee dispenser and made way for it.

When he came back, she was waiting. With two paper cups of coffee and a tired smile. Appreciating the effort, he smiled back and sat down, accepting his cup. "They have given her medicines, sedated her. Fever has not come down, but it doesn't look very bad." When she started to rise, he took her hand. "Wait. Abhi nahi mil sakte usse." She sniffed once, closed her eyes for a moment. Sat back down.

"Kab?" she asked quietly.

"Few hours," he replied, sipping the coffee, wincing a little internally. It was terrible, but something was to be said for caffeine. And the fact that she cared. "She'll be fine, Swara," he said placatingly.

She nodded. "aren't you going back?"

"mazak kar rahi ho?" he chided. "I'm staying."

"ok."

He took their cups to the bin; she got up to pace.

They spent the night in that corridor, taking turns pacing to the ICU doors for a glimpse, watching the doctors and nurses who went in and out.

After god knows how many hours of pacing and bad coffee, he made her sit again. "you'll wear yourself out, Swara."

"Janti hu. Par..."

He nodded. "rest a little. Wo uthegi tho tumhe milna haina usse?" he said gently. "Iss rate pe tho tum behosh ho jaogi. Phir tumhe admit karana padega."

"oh, God. Ok." She sat down by him. He was right. Her legs were giving out; maybe she could sit for a while, gather her strength. She leaned back, closed her eyes. Just had to get her breath, then she could keep her vigil for Angel...

He watched her as she relaxed, degree by degree. Until her breathing was slower. The hard plastic chair was hardly a cushion for her weary head. He shifted her slowly so as to not wake her up, slid his arm around the back of the chair, eased her head back so it was cushioned better. Then he leaned back himself, against the wall. The doctor would come soon. Had to be soon. He could catch a few winks himself meanwhile.

She woke up to find her head pillowed on his arm. When she turned, she saw him in repose. Since he was taller than her, the back of the chair wasn't the right height for him; the wall behind them was. He looked tired. She wondered what kind of day he had, before he had come up here. And he had not slept a wink till she did- she checked her watch- half an hour ago. And it was two in the morning. He had come when she called, and had not complained, nor groused, simply settled into the rhythm of their vigil. He had done his best up until then, and had gone about it kindly. She looked at his arm slung around her chair again. He cared so deeply, she realized. About everything, everyone around him. What a man.

Then she remembered. His arm... it would hurt when he woke.

"Sanskaar," she called softly. He stirred a little, turned his head a bit to the right, then left, unconsciously trying to adjust to the lack of support. "Sanskaar," she tried again, patting his cheek gently. "Hmm." he murmured in sleep. She sighed. Maybe she should let him sleep a while longer. The doctor would be back by three a.m for the hourly check, not earlier. She leaned in a little closer. Carefully she adjusted his head so it rested atop hers. She figured it had to be better than the wall. Sighing, she settled in to wait.

She drifted off again.

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The doctor found them like that half an hour later, drawing comfort from one another, though even in sleep both looked tensed. Well, he could give them some relief. He leaned down, patted Sanskaar on the shoulder.

Swara opened her eyes to stare into the doctor's kind face. She was still in Sanskaar's arms. Sometime during the past half hour his arm had come down from the back of her chair, to her shoulder, drawn her close. The weight of his hand felt right. Comforting. His head was still against hers. "Doctor." she croaked out.

Sanskaar woke up, drew away slowly. When he saw the doctor waiting for them, his arm tightened around her unconsciously, both giving and taking support. She covered his hand with hers as they waited for the doctor to give them news.

"She is better now," the doctor said with a kind smile. He watched as the couple rose slowly, helping each other up. He could be patient.

"Apki bachi bilkul thik hai," he said reassuringly. "Fever has come down, we'll just keep her here for a few days to make sure it doesn't come back and she's ok."

"Oh, God," on a little sob, Swara turned her face into his shoulder. Sanskaar tightened his arm around her, patted her gently. "she's ok, Swara," to the doctor he turned and asked, "Abhi mil sakte hai usse? Is she awake?"

The doctor's smile reappeared. Young parents. But they held up well, considerably. And showed so much restraint.

"Yes, she is," the doctor smiled again when Swara ran off to the ICU after looking at Sanskaar. He had nodded go-ahead with an indulgent smile.

"She's alright?" he asked, referring to Angel.

Doc nodded. "The fever has come down like I said, but the infection. we have to keep her here until we make sure it's gone. She's young, but strong. She'll be alright." He shook hands with Sanskaar, added another smile; the young man was raring to go, anyone could see that. "You can go in now."

"Thank you doctor." He dashed away, much as Swara had a moment ago.

When he went in, there was a nurse still bustling about, fiddling with the knobs on the million equipments they kept about in the room. One nurse was standing by the baby, who appeared restless and fidgety. Little Angel looked tinier than she ever did on a bed too big for her, surrounded by all those beeping things and flashing monitors; it hurt a little, but he took that in stride. She was going to be alright.

He turned to see Swara waiting by the door like him, her gaze riveted on the little figure in bed. Watching the play of emotions on her face, he knew what she was thinking. Exactly what he was thinking ten seconds ago.

She turned, saw him. Smiled. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she smiled. He smiled right back.

"ten minutes," the nurse said firmly, though her heart went out to the young couple. They would have torn out the doors to get to the child, but we're standing quietly by the doors with bated breath. "Don't tire her out." She added, gentling her tone a bit as she stepped back.

Both Swara and Sanskaar rushed to the baby; Angel's fidgeting turned to a gurgle of delighted laughter as she saw her visitors. Unable to resist Swara snatched her up, held her close. The nurse permitted herself a little smile as she let herself out.

She drew her back to show Sanskaar, "she's alright," she said with some effort. He voice was thick with tears; one escaped from her eye as the baby's little hand grasped a lock of her hair and tugged. She was strong. She would be alright.

"Hi, baby," Sanskaar caressed the downy little head gently. "Hi, Angel." His lips curved in response to the answering gurgle. It always gave him a kick in the gut, knowing the baby recognized him, was laughing for him. A pleasant kick. He watched Swara kiss the cherub cheeks gently, and thanked God the child was fine. She laughed again when he tickled her chin, and Swara laughed with her, a watery laugh of relief. It was music to his ears, the two of them laughing like that.

She looked up at him, arms full of child, wanting to thank him, to share her joy with him, her eyes limpid pools of brown as moisture brimmed in them again. Saying nothing, understanding very word she couldn't speak, he drew them both into his arms, rocking the gently, thanking God.

Outside the ICU doors, the doctor smiled. Sweet family, he thought. The child was lucky. As were her parents. He turned to the waiting nurse to give instructions.