🖤 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖛𝖊 🖤

Author's POV

"I really think you need to get some proper clothes," Hriday said, leaning against the archway of the hallway, arms folded loosely, a ghost of amusement in his tone. "You're starting a new job tomorrow. That threadbare kurti doesn't exactly scream 'cardiologist.'"

Yakshita didn't look up from the mug she was cradling, but one eyebrow arched. "That's rich, coming from the guy who wore a bloodstained shirt out of a temple."

His lips twitched, just barely. "Point taken. Still, you'll need more than three outfits to survive in a hospital."

He crossed the room in a few easy strides and pulled his sleek black wallet from his back pocket. From it, he slid out a platinum card and held it out to her like an offering. "Go shopping. Get what you need. It's on me."

She looked at the card, then at him, and something hardened in her face. She shook her head. "Thanks, but no."

Hriday blinked, the arm holding the card suspended mid-air. "Excuse me?"

"I'm already crashing in your guest room," she said evenly. "Eating your food. Taking rides in your car. Now you want me to shop on your dime?"

His expression didn't falter, but something subtle in his stance did-his shoulders tightening just a notch, his jaw setting just a little firmer. "I insist," he said, lightness forced. "Consider it an advance-on the life I owe you."

She folded her arms, the fabric of her kurti tugging against the movement. "And I told you-we're even. Those salwar suits your staff got me are more than enough."

His smile faded slightly. Not gone, but dimmed. "Fine," he muttered, turning away. "But don't blame me when your patients start mistaking you for an intern."

She smirked. "Might help. Less pressure."

He almost laughed, but it came out more like a breath than sound. She brushed past him, the hem of her scarf grazing his arm as she went. She didn't stop. Didn't turn. But not before she caught something in his eyes-soft, unguarded.

Gone in a blink.

She didn't ask.

And he didn't say.

But the silence between them had begun to feel like its own kind of conversation.

The Next Day

The drive to the hospital was quiet. Outside, Udaipur was waking up slowly, the early morning mist curling like breath on glass. The car cut through it smoothly, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional sigh of traffic.

Yakshita sat with her hands in her lap, twisting her fingers in small, anxious motions. Dressed in a neatly pressed suit from the modest bundle his housekeeper had insisted on delivering, she looked composed. But Hriday knew her well enough by now to notice the tight set of her mouth, the way her foot tapped quietly against the floor mat.

"I can walk from the front gate," she said when they pulled up near the hospital drop-off.

"You won't," Hriday replied, pulling the handbrake. "I'll wait until you go in."

She paused, hand on the door handle, and looked at him. For a moment, there was something unsaid hovering between them.

"Thanks," she said softly. "For... everything."

His voice was light, but his eyes didn't match the tone. "Go be brilliant, Dr. Runaway."

She gave a soft laugh, one he knew was part nerves, part deflection, and stepped out. The door closed behind her with a gentle thud.

He didn't drive off until she disappeared into the building, swallowed by glass and steel.

Hriday's POV

Later that morning, I sat in my study, laptop open but forgotten. The tall glass windows framed a view of Udaipur in full sunlight-white domes glowing, lake waters gleaming like mirrors. But I barely registered it.

My mind was elsewhere.

On a certain voice, a certain smile. On the way she'd looked when she laughed like she wasn't trying to hide it.

My phone buzzed.

Dad.

I hesitated a second too long before answering. "Yes, Dad?"

His voice was crisp, clipped by age and old expectations. "You're still in India?"

"Yes."

"I thought you'd have returned to the US by now. I was under the impression you had no interest in weddings anymore."

I rubbed at my temple, frustration brewing. "That's still true."

"Then what's keeping you there?"

My mouth opened, but no words came.

Instead, Yakshita's face surfaced in my thoughts.

Standing barefoot on temple steps, the wind playing with her dupatta. Laughing in the kitchen over burnt toast. Sleeping in the chair next to my hospital bed when I was still healing.

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the memories.

My voice turned cold, armor sliding back into place. "I have business to finish."

There was a pause on the other end. "I hope this business doesn't come with complications."

I didn't answer.

"Goodbye, Dad. I'll call you later."

I hung up.

The knock came just a beat later. Naman stepped in, looking grim.

"What is it?" I asked, straightening.

"We found him."

The air changed.

"The one behind the attack?" My voice dropped.

Naman nodded, stepping forward with a file. "Name, address, photo. He's not some street thug. This was professional. Clean. Coordinated."

I flipped open the file.

The man in the photo looked like nobody. Forgettable face. Generic haircut. But the smirk curled on his lips like he knew something the world didn't.

I studied the address, every detail etching into my mind.

"Who hired him?" I asked.

"Still digging," Naman said. "But we know where he is."

My jaw locked. My fingers closed the file slowly, deliberately.

Someone had crossed a line.

And I didn't let lines blur.

"Get the car ready," I said, my voice low and sharp. "It's time we paid a visit."

As Naman turned to leave, I leaned back in the chair, one hand resting against my chin.

I should've been focused. Strategizing. Calculating the risks.

But she was still there.

Unshakable.

Uninvited.

She lingered beneath every thought like a heartbeat under silence.

I stood, brushing past the curtains, watching the traffic move outside in slow patterns.

Author's POV

Yakshita exhaled as she entered the hospital's main atrium. The hum of fluorescent lights and murmured conversations wrapped around her. This was familiar. This she knew.

Medicine was clean. Predictable.

People? Not so much.

Her thoughts strayed to Hriday despite herself. The way his gaze lingered on her when he thought she wouldn't notice. The weight of something unsaid between them.

His presence had been enough. More than enough, if she was honest.

But she knew better than to trust comfort.

Comfort could turn cruel.

She tucked her ID badge into her pocket and made her way toward the cardiology wing.

Tomorrow, she'd pay rent. Or cook. Or do something to feel less like a guest.

Less like someone he owed.