15

The morning crept softly into the room, like a guest too polite to announce itself. A faint glow filtered through the half-closed curtains, thin golden lines slicing across the pale walls and landing squarely on the bed. Dust motes danced lazily in the sunbeam, swirling as if they, too, were in no hurry to begin the day. The air still carried the chill of the AC, cool enough to make the blanket feel like a small luxury.

Pranvi stirred first. Her lashes trembled before her eyes finally opened, adjusting to the sliver of light. For a moment she just lay there, listening-the distant honking of traffic below, the steady hum of the AC, and the faint rhythm of Vani's slow breathing beside her. Everything about the room whispered calm, but then her gaze flicked to the wall clock.

8:00 AM.

Her stomach sank. She sat up in a rush, tossing the blanket aside, her mind snapping awake at once. Today she was supposed to assist in an emergency surgery. She quickly searched for her slippers, muttering under her breath as she combed her fingers through her hair.

From the other side of the bed, a sleepy voice mumbled, "Vani uth, hospital nahi jana kya?"

Vani barely opened her eyes, groaning as she buried her face deeper into the pillow. Her voice came out muffled, drenched in drowsiness. "Mmm... nahi, aaj chhutti hai."

Pranvi paused, one hand fixing her ponytail. Her brows lifted. "Chhutti kis baat ki?"

"Vo... unhone bola agar koi emergency hui to bulayenge. Aaj leave hai," Vani replied, turning to her other side, clearly uninterested in giving up the warmth of her blanket.

"Acha..." Pranvi muttered, shaking her head in mild amusement. She slipped her arms into her white coat, adjusted her collar, and grabbed the bag she had dropped carelessly on the chair last night. Slinging the strap over her shoulder, she glanced back at her friend. "Me nikalti hu fir."

Vani pushed herself up slightly on her elbows, her hair an adorable mess, eyes still half-shut. There was concern beneath the sleepiness in her voice. "Par breakfast to kar leti. Me bana doongi, aaj to kuchh..."

Pranvi smiled softly at her stubbornness. "Nahi, nahi. Tu so ja. Raat bhar nahi soi dhang se. Me canteen me kar loongi." Her tone left no space for protest, gentle but firm.

"Pakka?" Vani's voice dropped, carrying a hint of worry, though her words were slurred with sleep.

"Pakka," Pranvi assured her, pausing at the door. She blinked playfully, lifting her hand in a thumbs-up. The gesture was small, but it tugged a smile from Vani even in her drowsy state.

The door clicked softly shut, leaving the room wrapped in silence again. The beam of sunlight had shifted, now stretching across the bed and brushing against Vani's arm. She lay back, hugging the pillow close. The blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon, but her heart felt far from calm.

The dream from last night clung to her like an aftertaste she couldn't shake off. The faceless boy, the embrace, the strange warmth that had both comforted and unsettled her-it replayed in fragments whenever she closed her eyes. She pulled the blanket tighter and exhaled slowly, as though trying to breathe it all out. But the echo of that feeling still pulsed through her, faint yet undeniable.

The room felt oddly big once Pranvi left. Vani tried shutting her eyes again, but sleep danced just out of reach. Her mind refused to quiet down. With a sigh, she rolled onto her back and stretched, her hair spreading across the pillow like a messy halo.

"Great," she muttered to herself. "Holiday bhi mila, aur neend bhi nahi aa rahi."

Resigning to wakefulness, she finally got up, dragging the blanket along with her like it was a cape. Her bare feet hit the cool floor tiles, and she winced. "AC on kar ke sona hi buri aadat hai..." she grumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

A shower seemed like too much work, so she decided on a simpler morning fix - chai. Her mother always said tea could solve everything: bad moods, headaches, even heartbreak. Vani wasn't sure about heartbreak, but her soul certainly needed caffeine.

Half-asleep and still cocooned in the blanket, she trudged into the kitchen. The sunlight spilling through the balcony window was far brighter here, illuminating the tiny counter and sink. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and set about her grand mission of the day: making chai without blowing up the kitchen.

Except... the stove lighter was missing. She checked the counter, the cabinet, even under the jar of sugar. Nowhere.

"Arre yaar, yeh lighter bhi abhi gayab hona tha?" she muttered, leaning half over the counter. Then her gaze fell on the matchbox. Relief surged. She grabbed it triumphantly, only to realize there were exactly two sticks left.

"No pressure, Vani. Bas do hi chances." She bit her lip.

The first match lit beautifully... until she sneezed. The flame died instantly.

"Bless you," she told herself sarcastically. "Aur badhai ho, ab bachi sirf ek."

Determined, she struck the last matchstick with exaggerated care, like it was a surgical procedure. The flame flickered, caught, and she managed to light the stove. She exhaled in victory, only to realize she had forgotten to keep the vessel ready. In her panic, she almost dropped the vessel lid onto the flame.

"Vaah Vani, tujhe hospital mein doctors ki jagah circus me hona chahiye tha," she said under her breath.

After what felt like a small battle, she finally managed to boil the water, add tea leaves, and pour milk. The kitchen smelled comforting, and her chest swelled with pride. She leaned against the counter, humming to herself as she scrolled lazily on her phone.

Five minutes later, she poured the chai into her favorite mug, the one with a cartoon cat printed on it. She took a cautious sip only to instantly spit it back into the sink.

"Eww!" Her face scrunched up. "Salt?!"

She blinked at the countertop in horror, spotting the culprit. The small jar she had scooped from wasn't sugar. It was salt.

"Bas, aaj se oath le liya," she said, holding the mug up like it was guilty. "Kitchen ke paas bhi nahi jaungi bina supervision ke. Salt wali chai... kya hi naya innovation le aayi hu."

Laughing at her own misery, she dumped the tea and grabbed a biscuit packet instead. Settling on the sofa, blanket still draped around her shoulders, she munched quietly. Somewhere deep inside, she was still unsettled by last night's dream. But the ridiculousness of salt-tea had left her smiling again.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start the day.

The hospital corridors were already alive with their usual quiet buzz. Nurses hurried with charts in their hands, the faint smell of antiseptic hung in the air, and sunlight poured in through the tall glass windows, casting pale golden lines across the tiled floor.

Pranvi walked in with her bag slung over her shoulder, adjusting her coat as she moved. Her steps echoed lightly as she headed towards the reception.

"Excuse me, have you seen Ishan sir?" she asked softly, stopping at the desk.

The young receptionist glanced up from her files. "Yes ma'am, he's in surgery right now."

Pranvi blinked. "Surgery? But... wasn't it scheduled for tomorrow?"

"Haan, but an emergency case aaya tha. So he went straight in."

"Oh, okay," she nodded, forcing a little smile. Her heart sank for a second, she'd been hoping to catch him before he got too busy. But she brushed the thought away and headed towards the cabins.

Her steps slowed as she murmured under her breath, "What should I do now... Ishan bhi nahi hai aur..." She sighed and opened her file, reminding herself she had her own patients to see.

The first stop was the pediatric ward. A little girl lay tucked in the bed, her mother sitting beside her, worry still visible on her face.

Pranvi's tone instantly softened. "Kaise hai ab? Better?" she asked, crouching beside the bed.

The mother's eyes warmed. "Ji doctor, she's better now. Thank you so much."

Pranvi shook her head gently. "Nahi... no need to thank me. She has to be good, haina? Look how cute she is." She leaned closer, tapping the little girl's cheek lightly. "Cuteii!"

The little girl gave a shy smile, her tiny fingers curling around Pranvi's wrist. Something tugged inside her chest, moments like these reminded her why she loved her work.

"Bas, ab aap tension mat lijiye," Pranvi reassured the mother softly. "Medication theek se chalti rahegi toh she'll recover fast."

The mother nodded gratefully, and Pranvi gave her a comforting smile before moving on.

As she stepped into the corridor again, her eyes flickered automatically towards the OT signboard. Still red. Still busy. She exhaled slowly and hugged her file closer, telling herself it didn't matter. But deep inside, she knew her heart was waiting for just a glimpse of him.

The corridor felt unusually quiet to Pranvi as she walked toward the doctors' lounge. Her shoes clicked softly against the floor, her mind drifting back to the little girl's shy smile. Moments like those filled her heart, but at the same time, something felt incomplete today.

She pushed the lounge door open with her shoulder and stepped inside. The air smelled faintly of coffee; a couple of senior doctors were sitting on the couch, speaking in hushed tones. She gave them a polite nod, then sank into a chair in the corner, setting her file on the table.

For a moment, she let her shoulders relax. The morning had already been heavy, and she hadn't even had breakfast. Her stomach growled softly, making her smile at herself.

She picked up a cup and poured some coffee, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. The heat spread through her palms, calming her. Yet, her eyes kept drifting toward the clock on the wall. Every second that passed only reminded her that he was still in surgery.

By the time she finished her coffee, the red "IN USE" light outside the OT finally blinked off. A strange nervousness bubbled inside her chest. She pretended to busy herself with her file, but her ears caught every sound from the corridor, footsteps, voices, the rustle of scrubs.

And then, there he was.

Dr. Ishan walked down the hallway, still in his OT cap, his mask dangling loose around his neck. His eyes looked tired, but his posture was steady as ever, calm yet confident. Something about the way he carried himself always made her pause, even if just for a second too long.

He stopped when he noticed her standing near the doorway. "Pranvi? Tum yahan?" His voice was casual, but it always seemed to stir something deep in her chest.

She quickly straightened, clutching her file. "Uh... haan, actually I came to check the patients. Reception pe suna tum surgery mein ho."

"Emergency case tha," he explained, pulling off his cap and running a hand through his hair. "Couldn't wait."

She nodded. "How did it go?"

"Successful." A small smile touched his lips. "The boy's stable now. We'll keep him under observation, but he'll be fine."

Relief flickered in her eyes, genuine and warm. "That's... really good."

For a second, silence lingered between them. He seemed distracted, adjusting the papers in his hand, while she struggled to steady her racing heart. She wanted to say more, ask him if he'd eaten, if he was tired but the words stuck to her throat.

Before she could speak, he tilted his head, studying her. "Tum thaki Hui lag rahi ho . Have you even eaten?"

Her lips parted in surprise. "Me? No... I mean, haan... I was going to."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. "That sounds like a no."

She smiled nervously, caught. "Coffee li thi bas."

"Coffee doesn't count." His tone was firm but not harsh. Then, to her shock, he added, "Chalo, cafeteria chalte hain. I need food too."

Her heart skipped. "Uh... abhi?"

"Abhi." He started walking, expecting her to follow. And she did, her steps uncertain but her heart secretly racing.

As they walked side by side, Pranvi kept her gaze down, fiddling with her file. She told herself it was just lunch, nothing else. He didn't mean anything by it. But her silly heart refused to listen.

The cafeteria wasn't crowded at this hour. A few nurses chatted at one table, and the smell of fresh parathas and tea filled the air. The soft hum of the ceiling fan made the space feel calmer, almost homely.

Ishan walked straight to the counter, ordered something quickly, then looked back at her. "Pranvi, tumhe kya chahiye?"

She fumbled, not expecting him to ask. "Uh... kuch bhi, simple sa. "

He nodded and placed her order along with his. When he returned to the table with the tokens, he sat across from her, loosening his white coat slightly.

For a moment, neither spoke. She traced the rim of her glass with her finger, her eyes darting anywhere but him. But he had this way of sitting, calm, collected, like the entire room adjusted itself to his rhythm.

"You know," he said finally, his tone casual, "I don't think I've ever seen you take a proper break."

Her head shot up. "Kya? That's not true."

"It is," he said, smirking faintly. "You're always running around. Case to case, patient to patient. Sometimes I wonder if you even remember you're human too."

She laughed softly, trying to hide the flutter in her chest. "Says the one who just finished a six-hour emergency surgery without blinking."

"Difference ye hai," he replied, leaning back in his chair, "main kaam ke beech mein switch off kar leta hoon. Tum nahi karti."

Her lips curved, touched by his observation. She hadn't realized he noticed her that much. "Maybe I just care too much."

"That's not a bad thing." His voice softened, unexpectedly. "But you can't pour from an empty cup, Pranvi."

The words landed heavier than she expected, echoing in her chest. She looked at him, really looked, and for a brief second his eyes met hers. Steady, serious, and so close that her breath hitched.

She quickly looked away, just as the waiter brought their plates. Her idli, his paratha.

"See? Healthy choice," he teased lightly, nodding at her plate.

She smiled, grateful for the shift in mood. "And yours? That looks heavy enough to feed three people."

"Surgeon's appetite," he said with a grin, picking up his fork.

As they ate, the conversation shifted to patients, upcoming schedules, little hospital jokes. But every so often, she found her eyes lingering on his face, the way his hair fell slightly into his eyes, the way his jaw flexed when he chewed, the ease with which he carried himself even in the simplest moments.

And then, it happened.

She had just lifted a spoonful of sambar when he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping low. "By the way... you had something here."

Before she could react, his hand reached out fingers brushing the corner of her lip gently. A small fleck of chutney wiped away, just like that.

Her entire body froze.

His touch was so light, almost casual, yet it sent a rush through her veins like fire spreading too quickly. She couldn't breathe, couldn't blink. For him, it seemed nothing, he leaned back easily, wiping his fingers with a tissue, continuing his food as if it was no big deal.

But for her? It was everything. Her heart thundered against her ribcage, each beat louder than the last. She pressed her spoon down, pretending to focus on her plate, but her mind replayed that single fleeting touch again and again.

She wanted to scream at herself to calm down. To stop reading into it. He didn't mean anything, Pranvi. He doesn't see you that way.

And yet... her cheeks burned, her hands trembled slightly under the table, and a part of her knew this moment would haunt her for days.

Pranvi tried to steady her breath, forcing herself to focus on the food. But the idli on her plate suddenly looked blurry. Her fingers toyed with the spoon, and she prayed he wouldn't notice how restless she felt.

But of course, he did.

"Tum theek ho?" Ishan's voice broke through, calm but curious.

"H-huh?" She blinked, looking up too quickly. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine."

His brow raised slightly, like he wasn't convinced. "You look... distracted."

Distracted? The word stung her. She wanted to laugh at the understatement. Distracted was far too soft for what she felt. Her heart was practically running a marathon inside her chest.

She forced a small smile. "Bas thodi thakan hai. Long week, you know."

He studied her for another moment but didn't press further. Instead, he reached for his tea, sipping it slowly, his gaze drifting toward the window. Outside, the hospital garden was alive with nurses on breaks and patients taking short walks with attendants. The world looked normal, peaceful. Not at all like the storm inside her.

"Sometimes I think," Ishan said suddenly, breaking the silence, "we forget we're still young."

Pranvi tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He set his cup down, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. "We're doctors, yes. Neurologists, surgeons, whatever labels. But behind all that, we're just... people. With life we barely live because we're always here."

She bit her lip. His words struck her again, softer this time but deep. He didn't know that she felt the weight of those words differently, because her life, her world, revolved around more than just medicine. It revolved around him too.

"That's true," she said quietly. "Sometimes I feel like... hospital ke walls ke bahar kuch aur hota hi nahi."

He chuckled faintly. "Exactly. You get it."

For a moment, they both just sat there, in the kind of silence that wasn't heavy but... charged. Her eyes lingered on the way his hand rested on the table, steady and strong. She wondered what it would feel like to hold it, and instantly scolded herself for even thinking that.

The spell broke when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, frowned slightly, then looked back at her.

"Emergency consult in ten minutes," he sighed. "No rest for the weary."

She nodded quickly, pushing her plate away. "I should get back too."

They both stood, collecting their things. As they moved toward the door, the cafeteria crowd had grown a little, nurses brushing past them in a hurry. In the shuffle, someone bumped hard into Pranvi's shoulder, making her stumble.

Before she could fall, Ishan's hand shot out, gripping her wrist firmly, pulling her toward him.

For one suspended moment, she was against him, his hand steady on her, his scent mingling with the faint smell of sanitizer and coffee, his chest solid against her shoulder.

Her breath caught. Again.

"You okay?" His voice was low, close. Too close.

"Y-yeah," she whispered, pulling back quickly though her skin still burned where he'd touched her.

He released her with an easy smile, already stepping ahead as if nothing had happened. But for Pranvi... her world had shifted again, just a little more than before.

"Ye sari cheeze aaj hi kyun ho rahi hai achanak..." Pranvi muttered under her breath as she stepped out of the hospital gates.

It had been one of those day, endless patient rounds, nonstop questions from interns, and the cafeteria moment that still replayed in her mind like a scene she couldn't escape. Now, waiting for her cab in the dim evening light, she felt the exhaustion sink into her shoulders.

Her phone screen lit up for the sixth time. No notification. No cab update. She sighed, shifting her bag from one shoulder to another.

Just then, a familiar car slowed in front of her. The window rolled down, and there he was Ishan. His face was calm, the same faint smile that always carried a strange reassurance.

"Want a lift?" he asked casually, eyes flickering toward her.

Her heart skipped, as it always did when he appeared without warning. "N-no, it's okay. Tum jao... meri cab aati hogi."

He tilted his head, smile deepening. "Come , Pranvi. It's getting dark. Cab ka wait mat karo."

She hesitated, then nodded. "Okay..."

Sliding into the passenger seat, she adjusted her bag on her lap. The car smelled faintly of coffee and cologne the same scent that clung to him in the hospital corridors. She kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead, afraid that even one glance at him might give away the storm inside her.

A yawn escaped her before she could stop it. She pressed her temple, massaging it lightly.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed him glance at her. Then, without a word, he extended a bottle of water.

She shook her head. "Nahi... it's fine."

"Take it, Pranvi. It's warm," he said gently, the firmness in his tone leaving no room for refusal.

She took it, sipping slowly, the warmth easing something deeper than just her throat.

"Hectic day?" he asked, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the car.

She only nodded.

"I think you're not getting your sleep properly," he remarked after a pause.

"I do," she replied quickly, staring out of the window. "Bas... aise hi."

The car halted at a red signal. For the first time that evening, he turned toward her fully, his gaze steady.

"Ohh... really?" he said softly. "Because I can see it in your eyes."

The words slipped into her like a secret only he had discovered. Against her will, she looked at him and instantly regretted it. His eyes, sharp yet kind, seemed to pull her in. For a moment, the world outside disappeared. The honking of cars, the chatter of pedestrians, the glow of streetlights all faded. It was just his eyes on hers, unspoken words hanging in the air.

Her breath hitched. She didn't move. Neither did he.

And then - BEEEEP! The horn behind them broke the moment. Both of them blinked, looking away at the same time.

Ishan cleared his throat, driving forward again.

"So... tomorrow's your first surgery, right?" he asked casually, as if nothing had happened.

"Yes," she said softly.

"Scared?"

She hesitated, then whispered, "Yeah... thoda sa. I mean... Why can't you be there? Not to help but... at least keep an eye? What if something goes wrong?"

He glanced at her, smiling gently, but his voice carried a quiet strength.

"Pranvi... listen. Don't worry, I have a solution for that."

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

"Believe in yourself," he said simply. Then, after a pause, added: "And don't ever see yourself as smaller just because you're junior to me. You're still a senior to many others here. Tomorrow, in that OT, you won't just be a junior. You'll be the doctor, the one leading the case. Own that. Stand tall. A beautiful, confident senior, taking her first step. And trust me... you'll do it. Perfectly."

His words sank into her like warm sunlight after a storm. For a second, she didn't know whether to smile or cry. All she managed was a soft nod, cheeks burning.

She turned toward the window, whispering so low that only the night could hear: "Thank you, Bhagwanji."

"What was that?" he asked, glancing at her.

"Kuch nahi... bas... aise hi," she stammered.

He let it go with a faint smile, turning back to the road.

"By the way... khana khaya?" he asked.

"N... nahi," she admitted quietly.

"Thought so." He sighed, slowing down as her lane approached. "Alright. We're here."

She looked at him once before opening the door, her heart heavy with a strange sweetness she couldn't name.

"Bye."

"Bye. And say hello to Vani from me," he said, his smile soft but distant.

She stepped out, waving faintly as his car pulled away. The taillights disappeared into the street, leaving her standing under the dim glow of the porch light.

She clutched her bag tighter, a shy blush still warming her face. " Ajj sab kitna alag sa lag rha hai ?" she whispered, before finally heading inside.

The door clicked shut behind her as Pranvi dropped her bag on the sofa and kicked off her shoes in the hallway.

"Ufff, aaj to hadd ho gayi..." she muttered, rubbing her neck.

From the kitchen, Vani popped her head out, holding a spatula like a sword. "Dr. Madam aa gayi! Breaking news, hospital finally ne release kar diya."

Pranvi gave her a dead stare and slumped on the couch. "Haan haan uda le majak . Tujhe kya... tujhe to aaj chhutti mil gyi ."

"Exactly!" Vani said dramatically, flipping the spatula. "Chhutti ke din doctor bhi insaan ban jaata hai. Dekh, main insaan ki tarah breakfast bhi bana rahi hoon... shaam ko."

Pranvi raised her head, surprised. "Breakfast? At 7 pm?"

"Abhi khana bana ke taste kar rahi thi... thoda zyada ban gaya. Socha tujhe khila dun. Waise bhi tu bhookhi hi aayi hogi."

Pranvi dragged herself to the dining table. "Kya banaya hai?"

Vani proudly presented the plate with a flourish. "Pasta aloo paratha fusion."

Pranvi froze. "...kya?"

"Arrey, dekh! Pasta ki filling aloo paratha ke andar. Double carbs, double energy. Cardiologist-approved."

Pranvi burst out laughing, holding her stomach. "Pagal hai kya tu? Patient ko bolti hogi, no carbs, healthy diet... aur khud..." she pointed at the plate, "...fusion experiment?"

Vani plopped down beside her. "Doctor ko bhi kabhi kabhi junk allowed hai. Tumhari aankhon ke neeche ke dark circles dekh ke mujhe lag raha hai tumhe to do plate deni chahiye."

"Bas bas, pehle tu taste kar. Agar tu zinda bachi toh main try karti hoon," Pranvi teased.

Vani took one dramatic bite, chewed slowly, then made a face. "Hmmm... thoda... ajeeb hai."

Pranvi started laughing again. "Thoda? Yeh toh kitchen ke saath insaaniyat ka bhi murder hai."

Vani put the plate down. "Fine, order kar lete hain pizza. Waise bhi tu hospital se thak ke aayi hai, aur mujhe lag raha hai main MasterChef ke finals hamesha ke liye haar gayi."

Pranvi smiled softly, her tiredness fading in their banter. "Pizza chalega. Aur haan next time, pasta aloo paratha fusion sirf sapne mein hi banana."

Both of them laughed so hard that their stomachs hurt, the entire flat echoing with their giggles.

Pizza boxes soon landed on their table, and the smell filled the entire flat. Vani opened the lid like she was unwrapping treasure.

"Ahhh... ab yeh hota hai asli medicine," she said, picking up a slice.

Pranvi snorted. "Apne patient ko bolti hogi, avoid cheese, avoid fried food, aur khud yahaan cheese ke talab mein dubi hui hai."

Vani pointed at her with a slice. "Doctor ko bhi happiness chahiye hoti hai. Happiness se heart healthy rehta hai. Tumhari neurology mein bhi to likha hoga brain happy toh body happy."

"Wah wah, kya justification hai," Pranvi teased, biting into her own slice. "Likh ke de na yeh line, main bhi kal ward round mein bol dungi."

They both laughed, munching away. Half an hour later, the boxes lay empty, and both were sprawled on the couch, too full to move.

"Ufff..." Vani groaned, clutching her stomach. "Kal koi mere dil pe bypass na kar de."

Pranvi rolled onto her side, still laughing. "Bas kar nautanki. Itni drama queen toh hospital mein patients bhi nahi hote."

Vani pouted. "Dekha, best friend bhi supportive nahi hai."

"Supportive hoon!" Pranvi grinned. "Tujhe uthne ka motivation deti hoon. Chal, uth ke dishes kar."

"WHAT?!" Vani shot up dramatically. "Maine order kiya, plates nikali, tumne sirf khaya aur ab main dishes bhi karun?"

Pranvi smirked. "Haan. Kyunki tumhari pasta-paratha fusion ki saja yeh hai."

Vani glared, then suddenly grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. "Take that, madam!"

Within seconds, their living room turned into a mini wrestling ring. Cushions flying, laughter echoing, both of them giggling like kids.

Finally, both collapsed on the rug, hair messy, breaths uneven.

"Tu pagal hai, sach mein," Pranvi said, wiping her tears of laughter.

"Pagal toh main hoon hi," Vani replied proudly, lying flat on the floor. "Aur tu....ajj meri serious atma apne andar khusa li h kya ."

For a few seconds, there was just silence, comfortable, warm silence. Then Pranvi turned her head, looking at Vani.

"Tu hai na, to lagta hai sab manageable hai," she said softly.

Vani smiled back, no jokes this time. "Hamesha."

And just like that, their silly night ended with the softest reminder of why they were each other's safe space.

After the dishes war which Vani lost, both girls changed into their comfy pajamas. Pranvi sprawled on the bed with her phone while vani dried her hair with a towel.

"Whom are you calling?" Vani asked, eyeing her.

"Apni missing piece ko," Pranvi grinned, pressing dial.

The call connected, and Swara's sleepy voice came from the other side. "Hellooo... do you guys have any idea what time it is?"

"Don't act like dadi maa," Pranvi replied dramatically. "Itna miss karti ho hum dono ko aur ab nakhre

dikha rahi hai."

Vani leaned closer to the phone. "Hi Swaraaa!" she sang.

Swara's tone instantly brightened. "Vani! At least you sound normal. This mad woman pranvi is still a clown."

"Excuse me?" Pranvi gasped. "Main clown nahi, main stress reliever hoon."

Swara giggled. "Stress reliever ya stress giver? Last time tumne mujhe recipe di thi, salt instead of sugar dal diya maine. Whole family ne mujhe suna diya!"

Vani burst out laughing, almost dropping the towel. "Ohhh my god, Pranvi ki recipes aur Swara ki cooking, deadly combo!"

"Shut up, tum dono!" Swara laughed too, but mock angry. "Tell me what's happening in Jaipur. Hospital drama, life drama, ladke drama... sab update do."

Pranvi instantly blushed and looked away. "Life normal hai... bas kaam, kaam aur kaam."

"Arre!" Vani jumped in, smirking at her. "Normal kaam? Madam kehti thi 'Vani, aaj sab kuch mere saath hi kyun ho raha hai!' Matlab clearly kuchh chal raha hai."

"Vaniii!" Pranvi glared. "Don't exaggerate in front of Swara."

"Exaggerate? Main toh sach bol rahi hoon," Vani teased, then lowered her voice dramatically. "Actually Swara, mujhe lagta hai yeh thoda zyada blush karti hai these days."

Pranvi snatched the phone. "Ignore her! She's in her overacting mode."

Swara chuckled knowingly. "Hmm... blush? Okay okay, I won't ask. But Vani, record karna agle time. Mujhe proof chahiye."

"Done deal!" Vani said, clapping her hands.

"NO DEAL!" Pranvi shouted, covering Vani's mouth with a cushion. Both started giggling uncontrollably while Swara laughed from the other side.

Finally, after the giggles settled, Swara sighed softly. "I miss you guys, seriously. Home feels so dull without our midnight bakbak."

Vani and Pranvi both went quiet for a second. Then Vani spoke softly, "We miss you too yaar. It's not the same without your nautanki."

"Don't worry," Swara said, smiling through her voice. "Soon we'll all meet again. And then... non-stop gossip marathon."

"Promise?" Pranvi asked, her voice warm.

"Promise," Swara replied.

They talked for another hour about random memes, hospital stories, even which actor they secretly crushed on until Swara finally yawned so loudly that both burst out laughing again.

"Okay okay, ab tu so ja warna kal tu patient ko hi pila degi apna coffee," Vani joked before ending the call.

As they put their phones away, both girls felt lighter, like no matter how tiring their days were, these little calls kept their world stitched together

The night air was cool, carrying the faint sound of traffic from the main road and the smell of wet soil from someone watering plants nearby. Pranvi sat in the balcony, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the streetlights glowing in the distance. Her bag still lay on the chair, untouched.

Vani walked out, wiping her damp hair with a towel. She noticed Pranvi's unusually quiet face. "Kal hospital jayegi?" she asked casually.

"Haan," Pranvi replied without looking up.

"Ok..." Vani narrowed her eyes, instantly sensing something off. She sat down beside her, folding her legs on the chair. "Tujhe kya hua hai? Itni tension mein kyu baithi hai yaha?"

Pranvi exhaled slowly, hugging her knees tighter. "Kuchh nahi... bas... kal first surgery hai. My own."

Vani's eyes widened. "Whattt? Surgery? Teri... akele?" she said, shocked.

Pranvi gave a small nod. "Hmm."

"But vo toh next week hone wali thi na?" Vani pressed, frowning.

"Haan, par case complicated ho gaya. Patient ko pressure aa raha hai. Tomorrow need a surgery." Her voice was calm, but her eyes gave away the storm inside.

Vani blinked, trying to process it. "Ohh..."

Silence hung for a moment. The sound of a scooter passing downstairs filled the gap.

"Tumor case hai," Pranvi finally added, her voice soft. "Temporal lobe... the seizures were increasing. Medicines are not working anymore. Family has been so strong through this." She rubbed her forehead. "His daughter... she's just a teenager. But she's so brave, yaar. So loving... har baar mujhe dekhke smile karti hai, jaise main already miracle kar dungi. She understands more than most adults. It breaks me sometimes."

Vani's stern expression softened. She placed a hand on Pranvi's arm. "That's... really something. But tu itna overthink mat kar. You'll do it. You've worked hard enough to reach here. Don't worry."

Pranvi let out a shaky smile. "Haan... maybe. But kal jab OT light on hogi na, tabhi samajh aayega."

Vani gave her a playful nudge. "Arre, madam doctor! Tu toh born confident hai. And just remember... ek family itni himmat se khadi hai na, tu bhi kar legi."

Pranvi finally chuckled faintly, shaking her head. "Thanks."

To lighten the mood, she tilted her head. "Aur tum batao, tumhare naye senior surgeon ka kya hua?"

Vani rolled her eyes dramatically. "Kya batau! Kal aayenge, Mr. Senior. Pata bhi nahi kaun hai. It's like surprise package."

Pranvi smirked. "Achha... all the best. I wish acche hi nikle."

"If khadus nikla toh... muh tod dungi main," Vani declared with mock aggression.

Pranvi burst out laughing. "Acha! Tera muh khulega bhi nahi kisi ke saamne, aur todne ki baat kar rahi hai."

Both laughed together, the heaviness of before lifting slowly into the night sky.

Vani finally stood, stretching her arms. "Chal, ab so jate hain. Warna kal tu ya to surgery karegi ya fir patient ko lullaby suna degi."

Pranvi smiled as she followed her inside, whispering under her breath, "Bas kal sab theek ho jaye."

Swara was lying on her bed, scrolling aimlessly, when her phone suddenly buzzed. Varun Calling...

Her heart did a tiny flip. In seconds, she jumped up and rushed to the terrace, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Hello..." she said with a teasing smile, "yaad aa gayi meri?"

"Sorry," his voice came, low and rushed, "meeting thi... itni sari files... main busy tha bas."

Swara's brows lifted. "Par tumne toh kaha tha ki family ke saath bahar aaye ho?"

There was a pause. Then Varun cleared his throat. "A...ha... vo... main actually meeting ke liye aaya tha, family ghoomne bhi aa gayi."

Swara tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. "Ohh... ok." She didn't argue, but her tone had turned flat.

Changing the topic quickly, she asked, "Accha... hum kab mil rahe hain?"

"Jab tum bolo."

"Is weekend?" she asked instantly, "Next week mera interview hai, toh main Jaipur shift ho jaaungi."

"Jaipur?" His voice had that familiar edge.

"Haan... kyu?" Swara asked firmly.

"Nahi, aise hi poocha. Busy tha."

She rolled her eyes. "Aur tum apne ghar walon se..... "

"Ok bye Swara, I have to go." His abrupt words cut her sentence, and then... click. The line went dead.

Swara stared at her screen, lips parting in shock. Then anger bubbled up. "Kutta kahi ka! Bye toh bol leta..." she muttered, glaring at the phone.

She stomped back into her room and flopped on her bed dramatically. Hugging her pillow, she muttered to herself, "Chhodo... jab milega tab hi khabar loongi ab."

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