16

Pranvi stood in Ishan's cabin, a neat stack of files held close to her chest. She was waiting for him, going through case notes again and again.... though her mind was hardly focused on the papers. The ticking clock on the wall felt louder than usual.

Finally, after a few minutes, she sighed and stepped out into the corridor, thinking she could return later when he came back.

The hospital corridor was its usual blend of calm chaos patients being wheeled, interns rushing with clipboards, the faint beeping of monitors from distant wards. But suddenly, Pranvi's eyes froze.

Her gaze fell on a woman walking confidently toward the OT block.

She had an aura that immediately drew attention. Her hair sleek, straight, shoulder-length, swung lightly with each step. A crisp white shirt tucked into black trousers, a long white doctor's coat, a slim black bag slung casually over one shoulder and a thick patient file in her other hand. Her black heels clicked against the floor, sharp and purposeful. A pair of dark goggles covered her eyes, making her look even more intimidating... and undeniably beautiful.

Pranvi blinked. "Kaun hai ye...?" she muttered under her breath.

Before she could guess further, the woman's lips curved into a wide smile.

"Heyy...!" the woman called out brightly.

And without hesitation, she walked right up to Ishan, who had just turned the corner and wrapped him in a tight hug.

Ishan smiled politely, returning it briefly. "Hi..." he said in his calm, composed tone.

From where she stood, Pranvi felt something snap inside her. Her grip on the pen she was holding tightened so hard her knuckles turned white. Her jaw clenched, her chest felt heavy, and her eyes... her eyes burned.

Jealousy. A sharp, unexpected wave of it.

"How... how can she hug him like that?" she muttered, her breath uneven. "Who is she..."

Her face remained carefully blank on the outside, but inside her thoughts were a storm. Her pen was on the verge of breaking between her fingers.

A few moments later, Ishan and the woman began walking toward her.

Pranvi immediately straightened her posture, forcing herself into her usual calm, professional self. She adjusted the files in her hand, lifted her chin, and fixed a polite smile on her lips even though her heart was still hammering.

"Pranvi," Ishan said as they reached her, "this is Dr. Radhika."

The woman smiled warmly and extended her hand.

Ishan continued, "She's a brilliant Neurosurgon. She'll be with you during today's surgery."

Pranvi's eyes widened. "Whattt...?" The word slipped out before she could stop herself.

Ishan raised an eyebrow. "Any problem?"

"Uh... no, no... no problem," Pranvi said quickly, forcing her voice steady.

Her smile stayed in place, but inside, her thoughts screamed a thousand questions. Of all people... why her?

Ishan didn't seem to notice her inner turmoil. He went on, his tone proud.

"Dr. Radhika has been practicing for the last few years. She's handled some of the most complicated cases in Delhi , same level of training, one of the best in her field."

Radhika nodded humbly. "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Pranvi. I've heard good things already."

Pranvi managed to nod back, her smile thin. "Same here..." she murmured.

Forcing herself to stay composed, she adjusted her coat, clutching her files like armor.

"And she's my.... " Ishan started to add, but before he could finish, a hospital attendant rushed toward them.

"Dr. Pranvi, bed number 78 ke patient ki family aapse milna chahti hai," he informed.

Pranvi exhaled, almost relieved by the interruption. "Excuse me," she said softly.

Both Ishan and Radhika nodded, and as Pranvi turned away, she caught a glimpse of them walking into the cabin together.

Her feet carried her forward toward the ward, but her mind... her mind stayed behind, replaying that hug over and over.

Vani had woken up earlier than usual, humming to herself while rolling out parathas. The kitchen filled with the smell of ghee, crisp golden layers puffing on the tawa. She placed one on the plate, tore a piece, and dipped it in achaar.

"Wahh...Vani!" she praised herself, eating happily. "Aaj ka din toh mast suru hua hai."

She booked her cab in between bites, checking the screen after every chew. "Do minute mein aa rahi hai... perfect! Dekha, organization is key."

With confidence, she packed her things, slipped on her coat, and stood outside the gate with her bag. She scrolled her phone, waiting, still munching the last piece of paratha wrapped in tissue.

"Do minute," she muttered. "Two minutes means two minutes, na? Pichhle paanch minute se wahi likha hai."

The road was empty, the sun already blazing a little. Sweat trickled near her forehead as she stared at the screen. Suddenly, the app pinged.

Her eyes widened.

"Whatttt! ... HOW can they do this?!" she shrieked.

"Cancel kar di ride?!" She waved her phone in the air like a protest sign. "Arey kamino... logon ki izzat ka sawaal hai! Naya surgeon, pehla din... aur main aise road pe line maar ke khadi rahu?!"

She furiously tapped the screen to rebook. "Chal chal chal... load ho na, app! Abhi hi natak karna tha?!" She slapped her forehead. " Jab insaan already late ho, tabhi ye technology strike pe chali jaati hai."

A few pedestrians gave her a look as she stomped her foot and muttered,

"Great! Ajj hi in sab ko drama karna tha. Din kharab hone ka world record banega lagta hai."

Finally, she huffed, tightened her dupatta and said, "Theek hai... auto hi le leti hoon."

She marched towards the main road, half-arguing with herself.

"Ajj new surgeon ke saath pehla din hai... aur mujhe hi late hona hai!! Nahi nahi... aisa nahi sochna. Positive thinking! Main pahunch jaungi time se. Yes. Bas ek auto mil jaye, bas..."

But destiny had other plans.

As she walked briskly along the side of the road, a car suddenly zoomed past her. Its wheels hit a pothole full of muddy water, splashhh! Brown drops sprayed across her crisp white coat, kurti, and neatly ironed trousers.

Vani froze, looking down at herself in disbelief. Her mouth fell open.

"AREEEE OOO GENDE KI.....aulad !" she roared, turning towards the disappearing car.

Her hands automatically grabbed a rock from the ground. "Thoda toh dekh ke chala le buddhu! Surgery karne jaa rahi hoon ya laundry?! Oiii rukkkk!!"

She threw the rock with all her might, but by then the car had long vanished. The stone bounced uselessly on the road.

She stood there, covered in blotches of mud, arms spread like a tragic heroine. "Wow... wah re kismat! Ajj toh tumne... ab kya hi bolo.."

With a loud groan, she turned back towards her house.

"Ab kya? Phir se shower... phir se ready hona... aur upar se aur late!"

As she marched back inside, she muttered under her breath:

"New surgeon mujhe irresponsible samajhe toh samajhe, but main aise dalmatian banke toh hospital nahi jaaungi. Bhagwan, please... ek din normal kyun nahi hota?!"

And with that, Vani stomped upstairs for round two, shower, iron, and an even bigger race against time.

The waiting lounge outside the OT was quiet, except for the soft hum of machines and the occasional footsteps of nurses. Dinesh's wife sat on the edge of the chair, fingers tightly clutching the pallu of her saree. His mother had her rosary beads in hand, lips moving in a silent prayer. His younger brother looked restless, pacing a little. Shreya, his teenage daughter, sat straight, her face calm but her eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

Pranvi walked in, holding the patient file, her expression calm but warm. She smiled softly.

"Namaste... main Dr. Pranvi hoon. Aaj ki surgery main lead kar rahi hoon. Main chahungi aapse thoda baith kar baat karun."

All of them immediately straightened. His wife almost whispered, "Doctor saab... bas unhe theek kar dijiye."

Pranvi sat down with them, her voice steady but gentle. "Dekhiye, mujhe pata hai yeh waqt kitna mushkil lag raha hoga. Tumor surgery ek serious cheez hai. Lekin mujhe aapko ek baat batani hai Dinesh ji ke reports, scans, unki age, sab cheezein humein ek achhi hope deti hain. Haan, risk hai... par chances unke favor mein bhi hain. Aur hum sab mil kar apna best denge."

Dinesh's mother looked at her with teary eyes. "Beti... main roz prarthna karti hoon... bas mera beta theek ho jaye."

Pranvi reached forward and gently touched her hand. " Mam aapke ashirwaad unke liye ek shield banenge. OT mein hum dawaiyon aur machines se ladenge, aur bahar se aapki dua unhe strength degi. Aap chinta mat kijiye."

Shreya, who had been silent till now, finally spoke up, her voice steady. "Doctor, mujhe pata hai papa strong hain. Unhone hamesha kaha ki problem se bhaagna nahi chahiye. Main chahti hoon ki aap unhe usi strength ke saath wapas laayein."

Pranvi looked at her, a small smile touching her lips. "Tum bahut himmatwali ho, Shreya. Tumhari baaton se hi pata chalta hai ki tum apne papa ki beti ho. Tum strong raho, tumhari strength unhe recover karne mein madad karegi."

Shreya's eyes welled up, but she quickly blinked the tears away. "Main strong rahungi."

Dinesh's younger brother leaned forward. "Doctor, hum sirf yahi chahte hain ki woh normal life jee paayein. Unki muskaan... unka josh... sab wapas aa jaye."

Pranvi nodded. Her voice was calm but filled with quiet conviction. "Aap sab yaad rakhiye, har badi surgery ek team effort hoti hai.... doctor, patient aur unka parivaar. Hum apna kaam karenge, par aapka kaam hai unhe positivity dena. Recovery ke waqt unhe aap sab ki zarurat hogi. Agar aap log himmat rakhenge, to unhe bhi lagega ki woh jeet sakte hain."

His wife folded her hands, whispering, "Doctor saab, aap hi hamari umeed ho."

Pranvi shook her head softly. "Nahi... main sirf ek zariya hoon. Umeed to aapke andar hai, aapke parivaar ke andar hai. Aur woh umeed hi Dinesh ji ko wapas laayegi."

The room grew silent for a moment. Then Shreya suddenly stood, her small hands holding tightly onto Pranvi's. "Bas ek promise kijiye... jo bhi ho, aap mujhe sach batayengi. Main sambhal lungi."

Pranvi's throat tightened at the bravery in that young voice. She gently squeezed her hand. "Main promise karti hoon, Shreya. Aur main promise karti hoon ki hum apna best denge."

The family's eyes filled with both tears and a flicker of hope. As Pranvi stood to leave, she turned back once more.

"Strong rahiye. Jab aap strong rahenge, Dinesh ji bhi ladne ki himmat rakhenge. Aur mujhe yakeen hai ki woh yeh jung jeetenge."

With that, she walked back towards the OT, her steps firm, while behind her, the family folded their hands together in silent prayer but this time, with a little more faith than before.

Pranvi sat down across from Dinesh's younger brother in the consultation room, opening the file in her hand. She adjusted her glasses slightly and spoke in her calm, clear tone.

"Mr. Rajesh... main aapse ek zaruri baat karni thi. Aap hi patient ke legal guardian hain na, kyunki Dinesh ji abhi apni medical decisions khud nahi le pa rahe."

Rajesh nodded quickly. "Haan doctor, main hi dekh raha hoon. Bataiye."

Pranvi placed a paper on the table, turning it towards him. "Dekhiye, yeh surgical consent form hai. Ispe sign karna ek formal process hai, isse humein aapki permission milti hai ki hum surgery proceed kar sakte hain. Main chahungi pehle main aapko sab explain kar doon."

Rajesh leaned forward nervously. "Doctor... please mujhe samjhaaiye. Mujhe medical cheezein samajh nahi aati, simple shabdon mein bataiye."

Pranvi gave a reassuring nod. "Bilkul. Dinesh ji ka jo tumor hai na, woh brain ke ek aise hissa mein hai jo thoda sensitive hai, motor control aur speech ke pass. Agar usse wahan rehne diya to pressure badhta jaayega aur unki health rapidly deteriorate karegi. Aaj surgery karna isliye zaruri hai, taaki hum us pressure ko relieve kar saken aur tumor ko maximum safe removal ke saath nikal saken."

Rajesh's eyes widened. "Matlab... risk bhi hoga?"

Pranvi's tone remained steady, but honest. "Haan, risk har brain surgery mein hota hai. Yeh main aapse chhupana nahi chahti. Complications ho sakti hain temporary weakness, speech issues, ya kabhi kabhi infection bhi. Lekin good news yeh hai ki humne case carefully plan kiya hai. Advanced monitoring hoga, aur mere saath Dr. Ishan aur Dr. Radhika jaise experienced neurologists bhi OT mein honge. Team strong hai, aur humne sab precaution liye hain."

Rajesh exhaled deeply, rubbing his forehead. "Doctor, agar surgery successful ho gayi to?"

Pranvi leaned forward slightly, her voice soft but filled with conviction. "Agar sab smoothly chala to Dinesh ji ko bahut relief milega. Pressure kam ho jaayega, unki recovery mein time lagega, par woh apni life mein wapas aa sakte hain. Aapko unki care mein actively participate karna hoga, physiotherapy aur regular check-ups important honge. Lekin chances ache hain."

He sat quietly for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing on him. His mother's muffled prayers from the hallway still echoed in his ears. Finally, he looked at Pranvi.

"Doctor, mujhe apne bhai par pura vishwas hai... aur ab mujhe aap par bhi karna hoga. Main sign karta hoon."

Pranvi gave him a small smile, sliding the pen towards him. "Thank you. Yeh form pehle carefully padh lijiye... fir sign kijiye. Aur agar aapko koi bhi doubt ho, abhi puchhiye. Main clarify kar doongi."

Rajesh quickly scanned the paper, though half the medical terms were difficult for him. His hands trembled a little as he signed. Handing the pen back, he whispered, "Bas doctor... please unhe wapas theek karke laayiye."

Pranvi placed her hand lightly over the file, her gaze steady. "Hum apna best karenge. Aap tension na lijiye, sir . Ab aapka kaam hai positive rehna."

Rajesh nodded, his eyes moist but filled with reluctant trust.

The operating theater smelled faintly of antiseptic and freshly sterilized instruments. The large overhead lights gleamed like two unblinking suns, flooding the green-draped table with a cold brightness. Machines hummed rhythmically, heart monitor beeping steady, ventilator sighing with each breath. Nurses moved quietly, their shoes squeaking faintly against the polished floor, while the anesthesiologist sat watchful at the head of the table, eyes fixed on the monitors.

And at the center of it all, standing with gloved hands poised and mask covering her face, was Dr. Pranvi Sharma.

Her heart raced faster than the monitor before her patient. She adjusted her surgical cap once more, though it hadn't moved. Across from her, Dr. Radhika, arms folded, stood calm and composed. She wasn't here to guide every step just to observe, to intervene only if disaster struck. And Pranvi knew that fact made the weight heavier, not lighter.

The patient Mr. Dinesh, 42 years oldlay still, breathing only with the help of the machine. His head was secured, scalp shaved and prepped. His life, his daughter's hope, his family's prayers, were all resting on Pranvi's hands.

She whispered under her mask, barely audible, "You can do this."

"Scalpel," she said aloud, voice firmer than she felt.

A nurse placed the instrument in her palm with practiced efficiency. The cold steel seemed to burn against her glove. She inhaled deeply, steadied her hand, and made the first incision.

For the first thirty minutes, everything went smooth. Tissue planes separated exactly where they should. The brain tumor small but lodged dangerously close to vital vessels was slowly coming into view. Pranvi's fingers moved with a mix of training and instinct, each gesture deliberate.

She could feel sweat gathering at her temples under the cap. The room felt both icy cold and unbearably hot.

"Retractor," she instructed.

The nurse complied. She gently exposed the tumor further. Radhika leaned slightly forward, eyes sharp behind her goggles.

"Good. Steady hand," Radhika murmured. It was the first time she had spoken since the start. The words gave Pranvi a flicker of reassurance.

Her mind whispered Ishan's words from last night, "Tomorrow you will be senior of your case, so beautiful, proud, confident. You'll do it."

For a moment, her lips curved beneath the mask.

As she worked deeper, a vessel tore. A sudden gush of blood filled the field. The suction whirred, nurses rushed closer, alarms beeped.

Pranvi's breath hitched. Her eyes widened behind the goggles. For a moment, the OT disappeared the beeping seemed deafening, her vision tunneled, her hand froze in the air.

Oh god. What if I lose him? What if he doesn't survive?

Her chest tightened. The image of Dinesh's teenage daughter flashed in her mind the brave girl who had held her hand just yesterday, saying, "Doctor, please take care of Papa. We trust you."

Her throat went dry. She wanted to step back, to let someone else anyone else take over.

Radhika's voice, calm but firm, broke through the storm:

"Focus on the source. Don't panic. You know what to do."

That was it. She didn't move closer, didn't snatch the instruments. Just a reminder.

Pranvi inhaled sharply. She forced herself to blink, to see clearly again. The bleeding vessel shimmered before her eyes like a challenge.

"More suction. Clamp - quick," she said, voice suddenly steady.

The nurse's hands moved at lightning speed. Pranvi positioned the clamp, hands trembling for just a second before firming. The gush slowed. She tied it off with a suture, heart pounding in her ears.

And then silence. The monitor beeped steadily again. The field cleared. The crisis was contained.

A collective sigh seemed to ripple through the OT, though no one spoke.

Behind her mask, Pranvi closed her eyes briefly. You're not weak. You can do this.

The next hour passed in intense concentration. Every movement now carried both the memory of fear and the strength of overcoming it. She dissected the tumor carefully, piece by piece, making sure not to damage surrounding structures. Her gloved hands worked like extensions of her will sometimes delicate, sometimes firm.

Radhika occasionally nodded, once saying softly, "Excellent plane," another time simply, "Steady." But mostly she watched, silent, assessing.

At one point, Pranvi's back screamed with pain, her shoulders stiff, but she didn't move away. She couldn't. This was her case, her responsibility.

Her eyes caught the faint margins of the tumor, and she knew she was close. "Almost there," she whispered to herself.

Finally, with one careful sweep, the last piece of tumor separated. She lifted it gently, placing it into the waiting dish.

"Tumor out," the scrub nurse announced.

A wave of relief washed over her. But she wasn't done yet closure remained. She checked for any bleeders, irrigated the field, ensured everything was clean. Then layer by layer, she began closing, stitching the incision with precision.

The room felt calmer now, almost lighter, as if everyone inside could sense the battle had been won.

Radhika stepped closer finally, peering into the field. "Good job," she said quietly. Just that. But the pride in her tone was unmistakable.

Pranvi's chest warmed, eyes prickling with emotion, though she quickly blinked it away.

The last stitch went in. She removed her gloves, hands trembling slightly, not with fear this time, but with the release of adrenaline.

"Shift the patient to recovery," she said, voice steady.

When she stepped out of the OT, peeling off her mask, the hallway air felt strangely fresh, almost alive. She leaned against the wall for a moment, exhaling deeply.

Her scrubs clung to her skin with sweat. A strand of hair escaped her cap, sticking to her forehead. She pushed it back with trembling fingers.

It's done. He's safe. I did it.

In her heart, she whispered a silent thank you to Ishan's words, to Radhika's quiet strength, to her own courage for not giving up.

Outside, she knew the family would be waiting, clinging to hope. That moment was still to come. But for now, just for a breath, she allowed herself the victory of survival, of proving to herself that she was ready.

Pranvi removed her gloves, tossed them into the bin, and untied her gown with slightly trembling hands. Her scrubs clung to her, damp with sweat, but her heart was calmer now than it had been for the last few hours. She turned to Radhika, who was setting down her own gloves.

"Thank you," Pranvi said quietly, her voice carrying both relief and genuine gratitude.

Radhika looked at her, a small but knowing smile in her eyes. "Don't thank me. You handled it. I was just standing there."

"No..." Pranvi shook her head, brushing back the loose strand of hair that had slipped out of her cap. "When I froze, when the bleeding started I heard your voice. Just those words focus, don't panic. If you hadn't reminded me, I..." She trailed off, swallowing hard.

Radhika placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Every surgeon has that moment. The real test is what you do after it. And today, you proved you belong here. That's all that matters."

Pranvi's throat tightened. She managed a small nod, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. "Still... thank you, mam."

"Call me Radhika," she said with a chuckle, lowering her mask. "May be, we'll be colleagues in every surgery after this. And today, you've earned that place."

Those words wrapped around Pranvi like a warm shield.

She excused herself, stepping out into the corridor where the OT doors swung shut behind her. The hallway bustled with orderlies and nurses, but for her, the world felt slowed down, muted. She wanted needed to see Ishan, to tell him she had done it, that his belief in her hadn't gone in vain.

She turned toward his cabin, but a nurse intercepted her.

"Dr. Pranvi, Dr. Ishan is still inside OT-2. His case is long-might stretch into the night."

Pranvi paused. A faint disappointment pinched her chest. She had imagined his approving smile, his teasing words, maybe even that spark of pride in his eyes when she told him she had managed.

But he wasn't here. Not now.

She let out a slow breath, pressing her file against her chest. It's okay. He'll know later. For now, it's enough that I know.

With that thought, she turned toward the waiting area where Dinesh's family sat, their faces pale with worry, hands folded in silent prayers. She straightened her shoulders, reminding herself: You're their hope. You can't look tired you have to look strong.

And with quiet determination, she walked toward them.

The waiting lounge smelled faintly of strong disinfectant and old filter coffee. Dinesh's family was sitting together in a corner: his wife with her dupatta tightly clenched in her fists, his daughter perched upright with a maturity far beyond her years, and his elderly mother clutching a mala, lips moving in silent prayers. His brother paced back and forth, every so often glancing at the OT doors as though sheer willpower could make them open.

When Pranvi stepped into the lounge, their heads all snapped toward her at once. She could see the fear in their eyes, the raw desperation. For a second, she remembered her own nervous hands in the OT hours earlier the way her palms had sweated, the way her heart had nearly faltered when the bleeding started.

But that was over now. She couldn't carry her fear out here. What these people needed was strength.

She took a deep breath, adjusted her white coat, and approached.

"Doctor..." the brother rushed forward, his voice trembling. "How is he? Please, tell me..."

Pranvi offered a soft, steady smile. "The surgery is complete. And it was successful."

The words hit them like a sudden burst of light. His wife covered her mouth with both hands, tears springing instantly. The old mother dropped her mala, whispering, "Bhagwan ka lakh lakh shukr hai." His brother's eyes welled up too, though he tried to compose himself.

The daughter, however, looked right at Pranvi. "He's really okay?" she asked. Not pleading, not crying, just searching, needing the truth.

Pranvi crouched a little so she was closer to her eye level. "Yes," she said gently. "He's stable. The tumor was tricky, it was pressing on a very delicate part of the brain. At one point, things did get complicated. But we managed to control it. He's safe."

The girl's shoulders relaxed slightly, though her face stayed serious. "Will he... be like before?"

Pranvi paused, careful with her words. "Recovery will take time. He'll need rest, therapy, and patience. But today, today he's been given a new chance. And with all of you by his side, I believe he'll come out stronger."

That was when the wife broke down completely, sobbing into her dupatta. The brother supported her, his own eyes wet. The grandmother reached out and touched Pranvi's arm with trembling fingers. "Beta... tujhe duaon mein yaad rakhenge hum. Tu hamare liye farishta hai."

Pranvi felt her throat tighten. She wasn't supposed to get emotional doctors were trained to maintain distance but in that moment, their gratitude seeped into her heart. She thought of the hours of preparation, the books, the long nights, the doubts... and now, the sight of this family clinging to hope because of what she'd done.

The daughter suddenly stepped forward and hugged her. It was unexpected, but Pranvi's arms instinctively wrapped around her.

"Thank you," the girl whispered, her voice breaking. "Thank you for giving me my papa back."

Pranvi closed her eyes briefly, holding the trembling child, and whispered back, "He's very brave. And so are you."

When the girl pulled back, her eyes were shining with tears but also with determination. Pranvi saw a reflection of her own younger self the same fire to stay strong for the ones you love.

Straightening up, Pranvi looked at all of them. "He'll be in recovery for the next few hours. Only one person can see him once he's shifted. Please, don't lose patience. He needs all your strength now."

The brother quickly nodded, wiping his face. "We'll do anything, doctor. Whatever he needs, we'll make sure of it."

Pranvi handed him the file. "Keep this safe it has details about his post-surgery care and instructions for the next few days. Read it carefully. If there's any doubt, ask me anytime."

The family clung to her words as though they were life itself. She gave them one last reassuring smile before stepping back. Her legs felt heavy with exhaustion, but her heart was strangely light.

As she walked down the corridor, she thought of Ishan. He should've been here to see this, to see that I did it. But he was still inside his own OT, fighting his own battle for another patient.

And so, with a deep sigh, Pranvi whispered to herself, It's okay. I'll tell him later. For now, this was enough.

To be continued....

Happy reading 😊