Aanya reported for her clinical postings by 9:30 AM, on reaching the ward she was nervous, the ward was noisier than usual.
She stood near the nurse's station, reviewing a patient's file. Her white coat clung to her shoulders in the late morning humidity, stethoscope slung across her neck. A small pen was tucked behind her ear, a habit she'd picked up in first year and never really dropped.
But her mind wasn't on the file.
It was on him.
She hadn't seen him all morning. Not in the cafeteria, not in the corridors. It was stupid, she told herself. They weren't anything. There was no need to expect his presence like he was part of her daily schedule.
And yet—her eyes kept searching.
It wasn't even about confrontation. She didn't want a talk. Didn't need closure or confusion. What she wanted—no, what she felt—was just… space. Quiet, undisturbed space near him. To observe how things unfolded, without rushing.
But when he finally did walk in, everything around her paused for half a second.
He hadn't even looked at her yet.
He was standing near bed 6, flipping through a patient's notes. His jaw was tense, like he hadn't slept properly. He wore a navy shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and a black watch she'd never noticed before. Maybe it was new.
Or maybe she just hadn't looked at him like this before.
And then—it happened.
Their eyes met.
It lasted less than two seconds. Maybe even one. But it was enough.
He didn't smile. Neither did she.
But they knew.
There was recognition in that silence. The kind that used to pass between them when things were… easy. Back when their exchanges were all sarcasm and surgical precision.
Now, the silence felt different. Denser. Heavy with things unsaid.
---
He had been avoiding that exact moment since the moment he woke up.
He'd considered texting her. Several times.
Hey, are you okay?
Did you sleep well?
Do you want to talk about yesterday?
But none of those messages reached her screen. They remained drafts.
He didn't want to seem desperate. Or unsure. Or worse—sincere. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that.
So, when his eyes met hers across the ward, he froze internally.
She was standing near the monitors, tapping her pen gently against her thigh. Not fidgeting—just… existing. But even in that stillness, she looked like movement. Like something he wanted to walk toward and never away from again.
He forced himself to glance back at the chart.
Focus. Focus on anything else.
But nothing else held his attention like she did.
---
Aditi nudged Aanya's arm, snapping her out of it.
"He's totally looking at you when you're not looking. Again," she whispered.
Aanya didn't answer. She just smiled faintly and turned back to the file.
"I think I need more time," she whispered to herself, not to Aditi.
Time to understand him.
Time to understand herself.
Time to decide whether what they had now was a possibility—or just a memory stretching itself thin into the present.
---
And just like that, the day moved on.
Rounds continued. Lectures resumed. Notes were passed. Blood pressures measured. Life did its usual thing—buzzing, moving, rotating.
But for the two of them, the silence between every heartbeat had started sounding louder.
And neither of them knew how long they could pretend not to hear it.