A/N: I don't normally post notes at the beginning, but I'm doing so here to add a trigger warning for medical trauma that happens in this chapter. It's not graphic, but there's enough detail that I thought I should warn anyone who might be sensitive.
This is a long update, so thanks to KinoGlowWorm for betaing, and thanks to messedup4good for the reality check 3
I'm apologizing in advance for the angst. It's no one's fault but mine :P
...
Kala lays in bed the next morning, eyes firmly closed because it's Saturday and it's 5:30AM and she's only slept - if you can call it that - for three hours.
Every time she closes her eyes, Kala's mind fills with restless memories, revisited under a different light, a different perspective, even though learning why Wolfgang disappeared and what happened to him while he was gone doesn't really change anything.
She thinks about the great irony in Papaji's involvement. Had he just left things alone, had he just let matters unfold, she would not have married Rajan. She would have learned of Wolfgang's marriage, eventually. But it would not have led to marrying Rajan.
She turns to her side and wonders what would have happened if she'd been home when Wolfgang returned, looking for her. What she would have said.
Kala thinks too much about these things. She's bothered that she entertains these thoughts at all, because they make no difference to her present reality. She's divorced. She's moving to Toronto. She's starting a new job.
Knowing what happened to Wolfgang changes nothing.
…
The evening of the argument, Will barely keeps Kala from filing a missing person report. He tells her, in his Officer Gorski voice, that Wolfgang is a grown man, not unknown to disappear for a few days. Ok, maybe not since he's been sober. And maybe not since she's known him. But it's not unlike Wolfgang. Wolfgang is probably blowing off steam somewhere.
She doesn't believe Will. Wolfgang has never ignored her, and she has texted and called, and he hasn't answered any of her frantic messages. She barely sleeps or eats for two days until Will finally receives a text: Wolfgang is ok.
That's it, but it's enough for the time being.
Kala gives in to relief and exhaustion and crawls into bed.
She finds it difficult to get up.
She sleeps, and when she's not sleeping, she relives the argument in a semi-permanent loop; wonders each time whether she shouldn't have just given in, but knows that wouldn't have been right. She's convinced something had been bothering Wolfgang, something that made him defensive and on edge; something he couldn't share with her. And always, there's the nagging fear that something happened, that she'll never see him again.
There are deadlines for projects but Kala calls in sick to work for three days. It is so unlike her that Rajan calls to make sure she's ok. Daya visits and gives Kala medication. Kala refuses to take it, but she returns to work on the fourth day.
Three weeks after Wolfgang disappears, Will shows up at the loft, in uniform, pale-faced and uncomfortable. Daya is already there, and Kala almost panics, thinking the worst. When Will only tells them that Wolfgang messaged him to say again that he's fine, and he'll be back after he takes care of something, Kala's initial relief quickly turns into hurt that Wolfgang has yet to contact her at all. She feels betrayed, slighted.
The hurt fans a little ember of rebellion. It motivates her to focus on other things besides worrying about Wolfgang. She throws herself into her projects like they're lifelines: She gets in early, works late, collapses every night to the loft where she lays in bed and sleeps for a few hours before getting up again. She is tired and sluggish with little appetite.
At the end of her first full week back to work, she goes to dinner with Daya but doesn't finish her salad. She takes a cab back, gets ready for bed, and watches the news for several minutes before she gets up to use the bathroom. She walks by the dresser, takes a package she purchased weeks ago from the drugstore but had been reluctant to use.
A few minutes later, her heart races, and she is flushed but also relieved to finally know for sure. She is pregnant.
…..
Kala is at work, eating at her desk, when Daya calls. Kala hesitates for a second before wiping her hands and picking up her phone.
"What's up?" she asks, glancing at her clock. "Are you cancelling this afternoon?" Daya is supposed to help her bring boxes of things she's not taking to Toronto to their mother's house. Daya is not on call and Kala took the rest of the afternoon off.
"He's here," says Daya. "What do you want me to tell him?"
There's no need to clarify who "he" is. "He's where?" asks Kala instead.
"I'm at the hospital." Daya sounds guilty. "I wanted to check on a patient. An old man who's been there a few days with no family here and he speaks English but it's easier to speak Hindi. And he kinda looks like Dad." Daya pauses, aware she's rambling. "Anyway. Wolfgang is here, at the hospital. They told him I'm not on call but that I'm expected. And he waited. He's been here since 9. He even ate at the cafeteria." Daya sounds genuinely horrified. It's 1:30 in the afternoon.
Kala's heart feels stuck in her throat. She told a skeptical Daya what happened last Friday after work. By the end, Daya was looking weary and sympathetic. That was 5 days ago.
"What do you want me to tell him?" Daya asks again. "Should I just avoid him?"
Kala chews on her lip, thinks before she gives a resigned sigh. "No. Go talk to him," she says quietly.
Daya is silent for a moment. "What do you want me to say if he guesses?"
Kala doesn't doubt he guesses. "You can tell him to see me. At home." She smiles ruefully. "I guess that means I'm cancelling this afternoon."
Daya sighs into the phone. "Yup."
…
It's Wednesday, and Kala's team has a presentation to make about preliminary results for a drug they're nurturing for FDA approval. She feels ill from the beginning, but when someone sits next to her at the table with a cup of black coffee, she excuses herself and makes her way quickly to the women's restroom. She dry-heaves into a toilet for several long seconds before she feels well enough to exit the stall. The face that stares back at her in the mirror as she rinses her mouth and washes her hands looks gaunt and fragile. She feels remarkably sorry for herself.
Rajan is waiting for her in the hallway. "Are you alright?" he asks. "I saw you rush in there. Are you ill?"
Kala shakes her head, meets Rajan's concerned gaze, and something about the kindness in his dark eyes causes her own to well with unshed tears. He looks around quickly and guides her into a vacant office where she spends the next several minutes fighting for composure.
Rajan waits until she looks more herself before he asks what's wrong. "Is it Wolfgang?" he guesses gently.
She rubs her temples with unsteady hands. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, face flushed. "I shouldn't be talking about this here, at work. I need to go back to the presentation."
He waves dismissively. "I'm talking to you as your friend," he says. He gives a sigh, reaches out and takes a trembling hand in his. "We've known each other since University, Kala," he says. "Please. You haven't been yourself. You can tell me."
She's not sure what possesses her to do so, other than her hormones and her self pity and the fact that Rajan was always an excellent listener. But she finds herself unburdening to him: She tells him about the argument, although she doesn't give details. She tells him Wolfgang left, and that he's been gone for weeks. She finds herself confessing that she hasn't spoken to Wolfgang since their fight.
Rajan lets her talk, watches her face keenly. "Is that why you've been on sick leave so much the last few weeks?" he asks quietly.
Kala's eyes meet his briefly. She mumbles a "yes", gives a weak shrug. He nods his head, but presses forward delicately, "Have you been feeling a bit ill too? I mean-" Rajan stumbles, goes very red.
Kala meets his gaze directly. "Are you asking if I'm pregnant?" she asks, and watches with some interest as his face grows impossibly redder. "I am, Rajan."
As dark as he'd been just a moment ago, Rajan pales. His grip on her hand tightens. "That bastard," he says quietly, and Kala's eyes grow wide at the tone that comes from him. Rajan is furious, more furious than she has ever known him to be.
She shakes her head, alarmed."No! No. It's not like that. I just found out a few days ago." She gives a slight huff. "He doesn't know. How could he know when he won't talk to me?"
She grows silent. Rajan takes a deep breath, his face tense. "What are you going to do?" he asks.
"Do?" Kala removes her hand from his. She had suspected her pregnancy for some time. She had weeks to ponder "what if": to picture the disappointment on her parents' faces, the censure from family friends. She had time to contemplate how to continue a career and raise a child, maybe by herself, although she can't help but picture Wolfgang there, too. She comes to the same conclusion each time."I want this baby, Rajan."
He is surprised, sits back against his heels. "Are you sure?" he asks.
Kala nods. "Yes." Her fingers link and unlink in her lap, but there is no hint of uncertainty in her voice. "I know how difficult this will be for my family, and I know how difficult this will be at work. I understand these things. But I'm 28, Rajan, a grown woman. Not some frightened teen. And a baby-" She can't explain the sudden welling of emotion. She can't. But it has been all she can think about, and she feels so very ready. "I would like it very much."
Rajan nods slowly, puzzled by her determination. He looks at her closely. "What if Wolfgang doesn't want this baby?" he asks.
Her pale face grows a little paler, but she merely shakes her head, says nothing. Had it been two months ago, she would have laughed and been certain of Wolfgang's joy. Now, she's unsure, and the doubt she has feels like a physical pain.
"Kala." Rajan brushes his hand through his hair, paces a little, eyes filled with concern. "How long are you going to wait for him?" he asks. "What if it takes months?" He looks almost frantic, and she understands. The scandal that will fall on her will do so at work. Many, if not most, of the employees at Rasal Pharmaceuticals are Indian, with traditional values that will undoubtedly censure her unmarried state. She thinks of her colleagues in the lab, knows exactly which ones will whisper.
Kala can't bring herself to care. But Rajan. She eyes him sympathetically.
"Kala," he says,"marry me."
…
Kala leaves the office at 3 and is home in less than half an hour, traffic being surprisingly light. She parks her car, exits her side, and opens the passenger door to grab a box from the seat. Her framed degrees, professional accolades, photos are carefully stacked inside. A second box on the floor is filled with books and is too heavy to carry with the first box. She leaves it and locks the car, carrying her framed mementos to her flat.
Daya called a little over an hour ago. Wolfgang had guessed about the pregnancy. Daya couldn't bring herself to confirm it; she gave him Kala's address and told him to see her.
"I never in a million years thought I would ever say this, Tai." Daya pauses and finally gives a deep sigh. "But I feel sorry for Wolfgang."
Kala has been trying to distract herself ever since. She doesn't really want to talk about it.
Kala sets her box on top of others in a corner for the movers to take. It's the only one marked "office", and she stops, realizing that she's never worked anywhere else in over a dozen years. There's a faint panic before it settles into that familiar feeling of exhilaration. She can do this. And she looks forward to it.
Kala goes about the business of sorting clothes, separating things she'll donate and things she'll keep; what she'll put in storage and what she will bring with her in her car.
Wolfgang doesn't appear at her doorstep in the next hour. Or even two. By 6, she wonders if he's coming at all. She remembers the box of books and takes her keys.
His car is parked behind hers. Kala pauses at her doorway before she takes a few more steps on the stoop. Wolfgang sits on the stairs, his back facing her. There's a smell of cigarette smoke.
She walks slowly down the steps until she is on the street and turns to face him. He puts out the cigarette and turns his gaze to meet hers. They are almost level, and Kala's breath hitches in her throat. His eyes are raw; the carefully maintained stubble along his face, rough and overgrown. He looks lost: His short blond hair sticks out as if he's been running his hands through them haphazardly. He looks like shit.
"How long have you been sitting here?" Kala asks.
He gives a faint smile. "I don't know." He shrugs. "It could be hours. It feels like days."
She nods at that but frowns. She gestures up the stairs. "Why don't you come in, Wolfgang," she says.
He lets out a breath, runs a hand through his hair and nods. "Yes," he says, getting up. "Thanks."
Kala leads him up the stairs.
…
Kala tells Daya that she felt ill at work and ended up admitting the pregnancy to Rajan. Daya's only known about the pregnancy for a day herself. She is shocked that Kala told Rajan, and even more shocked that Rajan proposed. Daya jokes that she will tell their mother this, just to get her off their backs. She marvels what would make Rajan do such a thing.
"He says he feels a little responsible," says Kala, amused. Daya nearly chokes on the pizza she brought to the loft for their dinner. "He thinks if he hadn't left to take charge in New Delhi, this would never have happened."
"Mmm," hums Daya. "I can't tell if that's ego or true love."
Kala laughs, but the words stick with her.
…..
"I think I have a beer left in the fridge, if you want it." Kala lets Wolfgang into her flat and gestures to an empty chair by the television while she heads into the kitchen. He looks around at the neat stacks of labeled boxes and piled things and sits carefully on the old stuffed club chair that had been her father's.
He thanks her when she returns with a bottle. She holds a glass of water and sits on the edge of the ottoman nearby.
There's an uncomfortable silence that falls for several seconds before Wolfgang finally clears his throat. "Daya said to talk to you, because I went to see her first, you know." His voice is low, faintly raspy. His German accent, usually barely noticeable, is pronounced. "She said she couldn't tell me anything. Privacy laws." He looks up and catches the faint smile on her face. He smiles back, but it fades quickly. "As soon as she said that, I knew I was right. Because what's to keep private if I'm wrong?"
He holds the bottle loosely but doesn't open it. He continues, almost to himself: "I was never as certain about anything in my life as I was of us, how we felt about each other. I didn't believe your mother that you were marrying Rajan. I didn't believe it until Rasal called me." He looks back at Kala. "He wanted his money back. Threatened to put me in jail. I told him I'd tell his son what he'd done. He didn't bother me after that. But I didn't give a shit what he tried to do. I'd already lost everything because of him."
Kala finds she's wrapped both hands around her glass, fingers laced together. He shifts a little toward her, eyes steadily on hers. "All this time I blamed your mother," he says softly. "But you'd never bent to her will before. And you told me the other day that you had really loved me; I didn't imagine that." He searches her face, but she is carefully poised, silent. "I wondered if you loved me, how could you marry another man so soon? Why would you? I only had one thought." He sits back, his eyes intense. "Kala, were you pregnant?"
For a brief moment, it occurs to her to lie. She doesn't know why. It serves no purpose. But it hangs in her mind for a second.
But Kala doesn't lie. She nods her head, says "yes".
Wolfgang is very still. His eyes dilate and flicker with emotions he doesn't bother to disguise, and she is unsettled by them, she doesn't want to see. Kala looks down at the water in her glass, catches her reflection frowning back at her.
"Kala?"
Her name sounds like a sigh, and she finds herself looking back at him, at the unsettling blue in his weary gaze, at the flush that stains his cheeks. He licks his lips and her eyes dart of their own volition to his mouth. "Kala. Did you?" he asks softly.
It takes her a moment to understand what he asks, and her eyes widen; an ache, a shudder ripples in her chest. She closes her eyes shut. "Wolfgang," she says, suddenly fierce. "I wanted that baby. I wanted that baby. But I lost her. On the day you came back, I lost her."
…..
She knows something isn't right.
Kala wakes up late Saturday morning but decides she needs to go to the lab to catch up on her work. She feels weighted, as if she's moving underwater, and she's achy.
She is in the shower when pain radiates along her back, and something similar to menstrual cramps seizes her abdomen. She barely finishes bathing and has to pause coming out of the shower.
She is spotting; not significantly, but enough to raise concern. She cleans herself off and uses a pad. Instead of dressing for work she throws on a robe and lays back down in bed. She falls asleep for an hour before she wakes up again from the cramping. She checks the pad and notices the spotting hasn't stopped. She calls Daya, who tells her it's best to go to the emergency room of the nearby hospital; Daya will meet her there. Kala doesn't even have a doctor yet: Her Ob/Gyn is a friend of her mother's. Her parents don't know.
Kala doesn't go to the hospital right away. She dresses, makes the bed, calls her supervisor to say she's not going into work after all. When she finally leaves for the hospital in a taxi, she is eerily calm.
Daya is already at the ER, on the phone trying to reach her. Kala barely acknowledges her sister when she approaches the admissions desk. She tells the woman behind the computer that she's bleeding. She's losing the baby.
…
The doctor tells her miscarriages are common in one of every ten women under the age of 30.
Kala's eyes never waver from the doctor's; she hums her understanding. But she feels numb. Colder than she's ever felt in her entire life. Lonelier than she's ever been despite the steady presence of Daya.
There is no reason why Kala can't become pregnant again and carry a child to full term. She is young and healthy; no bad habits.
Kala nods her head because it seems as if a response is expected of her.
The fetus had not been outside of the uterus, as they'd first thought, and the miscarriage had been complete. The examination shows no need for a "D&C", a surgical procedure to ensure there are no remaining tissues.
Kala had shut her mind down during the examination, ignoring the invasive process to check and recheck that all signs of life are now well and truly gone. All she had wanted to do was lash out at the strange hands and wail her grief.
She had been seven weeks pregnant. She suspected the last three, known for certain in a little over one.
Her logic tells her she has no reason to mourn. But her heart…
She listens to the doctor, gives the proper responses, feels Daya's hand in hers. But she is bereft and she is confused and all she can think is how badly she had wanted that poor baby, and wonder why Wolfgang isn't with her, mourning their loss.
A little girl with your large, dark eyes and wild black hair?
She can't complete the thought.
…
"I spent three nights in the hospital, mostly at Daya's insistence." Kala opens her eyes, clear and cutting. "I'd lost a lot of blood. They thought I had an ectopic pregnancy. Anyway, Daya brought me clothes, stayed with me, and then I went home, to the loft. On Tuesday. On the day you left."
Wolfgang stares at her, and she notices that his face is aged, his eyes ragged. His hands are clasped tightly together, the unopened bottle on the floor, beside him.
"I called in sick to work and I spoke to Rajan. I told him he didn't need to marry me because I was no longer pregnant." She smiles faintly, but there is no humor in the gesture. "He said it didn't matter. He still wanted to marry me." She sighs, shakes her head. "I still held out hope that you'd come back soon, that you'd finish whatever it was that you needed to do. I had wanted to tell you about the baby. I loved you but I hated you for not being there." She stares at her glass, brows furrowing. "Then I received these pictures. They were of you, in a club and out in public." Her face flushes a deep red. "You were obviously having a good time. There were a few photos of you, with people." She stops. "I felt sick to my stomach. I'd lost a child. And you were fucking half of Berlin. I told Rajan I would marry him."
Kala looks up then from her confession, catches her breath in surprise. She's never seen sadness etched so profoundly on Wolfgang's face, never seen tears linger in his eyes until the first spills unheeded. Kala reaches impulsively to touch it; she makes a soft sound, cups his face.
Wolfgang weeps softly into her hands, his fingers wrapping gently around her wrists. He tilts his head to place a broken kiss on each palm. He murmurs her name, whispers "I'm sorry".
He had the hubris to believe he was the wronged party: that once she learned what happened to him, she'd understand he wasn't a villain. But instead, he learned he was the worst kind of villain. He was a coward. He should have been with her.
It is several minutes before Wolfgang is able to look at her. Kala frowns a little, traces his jawline as if reacquainting herself with a memory. He shuts his eyes and breathes her in. "I'm so sorry, Suesse," he murmurs.
"Wolfgang," she says gently, and when he opens his eyes he sees her watching him, sad but soft, "it's okay. We weren't meant to have her. We weren't meant -" she stops, because it is too much to admit now. But he suspects what she is about to say.
She brushes his hair back with her fingers, smiles a little at the familiar cowlicks that stand straight up despite her effort. Her palms drag across his cheeks to wipe them dry. She is remarkably composed, even when his hands reach up to hold her wrists again, keep them to his face. His eyes ache and ache.
"Kala."
She lets out a soft breath, doesn't protest when his hand reaches to the back of her neck, guides her head gently down so their foreheads touch lightly.
"Kala."
There is a world of pain and regret and longing in his voice. She closes her eyes briefly, feels an ache in her throat.
"I wish…" he murmurs, his mouth close to hers.
"I know," she says quietly. She brings her hand lightly to the nape of his neck and kisses him