TRISHA
But the weight of that conversation lingered, like a shadow I couldn’t shake off.
Even as the professor droned on about neurology, my mind refused to settle. The words on the projector blurred, merging into a haze of medical jargon I couldn’t absorb. My pen tapped against my notebook, my thoughts circling back to the same suffocating reality—Maa’s insistence, the unseen groom, the expectations pressing down on me like an iron cage.
"Trisha," Avika’s whisper yanked me back. "Tu dhyan de rahi hai ya kisi aur duniya mein kho gayi?" ("Are you paying attention or lost in some other world?")
I blinked, realizing I had stopped writing entirely. "Huh? Haan, haan. Bas thoda tired feel ho raha hai." ("Huh? Yeah, yeah. Just feeling a little tired.")
Ria leaned over, lowering her voice. "Tujhe kya lagta hai, kaunse neurons sabse important hai exam ke liye?" ("What do you think, which neurons are the most important for the exam?")
I frowned at her. "Mujhe toh lag raha hai, mere khud ke neurons fail ho rahe hain." ("I feel like my own neurons are failing.")
They both snickered, but the humor barely touched me. I exhaled, rubbing my temple as the lecture finally wrapped up. The moment we stepped out of the class, the crowded hallway swallowed us in a chaos of voices and hurried footsteps. My bag hung heavily on my shoulder as we made our way towards the hospital for our shift.
I was so distracted, so lost in my own world, that I didn’t see him until it was too late.
"Oof!" I collided straight into a solid chest, stumbling back. A firm grip caught my wrist before I could fully lose balance.
"Careful, Trisha," a smooth voice murmured.
I looked up, my breath hitching. Arjun Khurana. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable, a smirk playing at his lips. He was always too put together, too perfect—like he belonged in some billionaire magazine cover instead of a chaotic medical college.
"You alright?" he asked, his grip lingering a second too long before he let go.
"Yeah," I muttered, adjusting my bag. "Wasn’t paying attention."
"Clearly," he said, a teasing glint in his gaze. "Kya baat hai? Aaj tum itni lost kyun lag rahi ho? Koi problem hai?" ("What’s wrong? You seem so lost today. Is there a problem?")
I hesitated. Arjun had a way of making people talk, as if he peeled back layers with just a look. But I wasn’t about to spill my family drama to him.
"Nothing important," I said, brushing past him.
But he wasn’t done. Walking beside me, he lowered his voice. "Trisha, I know you. Kuch toh hai jo tumhe disturb kar raha hai. Agar baat karni ho, you know where to find me." ("Something is bothering you. If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.")
His voice was softer than usual, lacking his usual arrogance, and that alone threw me off. I gave him a small nod, quickening my pace. Avika and Ria caught up, exchanging knowing glances but wisely choosing to stay silent.
As we stepped into the hospital, the scent of antiseptic and the distant hum of chaos greeted us. I shoved aside all thoughts of home, of marriage, of Arjun, and braced myself for the six-hour shift ahead.
Because in this world of medicine, I was more than a daughter burdened with expectations—I was a doctor in the making. And for now, that had to be enough.
The shift passed in a blur of patients, hurried steps, and the sterile scent of antiseptic clinging to my skin. I barely had time to think, moving from one case to another under the sharp eyes of our senior doctors. But exhaustion did little to numb the creeping unease curling in my stomach when I finally checked my phone during a short break.
Unknown Number: "You think you can ignore me forever? I see you, Trisha. Always."
A shiver danced down my spine. My fingers hovered over the screen before I locked the phone, stuffing it back into my pocket. Not again. I had received messages like these before, but I had always brushed them off as harmless pranks. Some bored creep trying to mess with me.
I had more important things to focus on—like surviving this shift without losing my mind.
By the time we were done, my limbs felt like lead. The night air outside was cool against my skin as I walked toward the hostel, the campus quieter now, except for a few lingering voices and the occasional honk from a passing vehicle. My mind kept circling back to that message, to the unknown eyes watching me.
The sound of footsteps behind me made me pause. I turned my head slightly, my heart hammering for a fraction of a second before I saw him.
"Trisha."
I stiffened at the familiar voice. Turning, I found Arjun leaning against a lamppost, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. The yellowish glow from the streetlight cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity in his dark eyes.
"You’re walking alone this late?" His tone was laced with concern, but there was something else in his gaze—something that made my skin prickle.
I forced a small smile. "Hostel is just five minutes away, Arjun. I think I can manage."
He pushed off the lamppost, falling into step beside me. "I know you can. But that doesn’t mean you have to."
A strange weight settled in my chest. His words—so simple, yet heavy. I quickened my pace, but he easily matched my strides.
"Long shift?" he asked, glancing sideways at me.
I nodded. "The usual madness. Patients, doctors, chaos."
He let out a low chuckle. "And in the middle of all that, did you even eat?"
I sighed. "Arjun—"
"I take that as a no." He stopped walking and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small chocolate bar. Without a word, he held it out to me.
I blinked at it, then at him. "Seriously?"
"You need sugar. You look like you’re about to pass out."
I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. "I’m fine."
His jaw tightened. "You always say that."
I took a deep breath, gripping the strap of my bag. "Because it’s true."
His eyes darkened slightly, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he extended the chocolate once more, a flicker of insistence in his gaze.
"Just take it, Trisha."
I hesitated before finally grabbing it from his hand. "Happy now?"
A smirk tugged at his lips. "Getting there."
Rolling my eyes, I unwrapped the chocolate, taking a small bite just to appease him. The sweetness melted on my tongue, but the unease in my chest refused to dissolve.
We walked in silence for a few moments, the only sound the distant murmur of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the night breeze. But the quiet didn’t last long.
"Trisha," he said, his voice lower this time, almost careful. "Is something wrong?"
I froze for half a second. "What?"
He exhaled, tilting his head. "You’ve been distracted all day. And don’t tell me it’s just exhaustion. It’s something else."
I looked away, my fingers tightening around the half-eaten chocolate. The message from earlier flashed in my mind, sending another ripple of unease through me. But telling Arjun? That would only make things worse.
"It’s nothing," I said flatly. "Just… family stuff."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Family stuff?"
I forced a casual shrug. "Yeah. You know, the usual ‘you’re 24, get married’ nonsense."
He studied me for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Ah. The great Indian tradition of forcing people into marriages they don’t want."
I let out a dry laugh. "Exactly."
"And you?" He tilted his head. "You don’t want it?"
My throat tightened. "I want to live my life on my terms, Arjun. That’s all."
Something flickered in his gaze, something unreadable. He took a step closer, and suddenly, the space between us felt too small, too charged.
"I get it," he murmured. "But sometimes… care isn’t a burden, Trisha."
A lump formed in my throat. "Sometimes, care can feel suffocating."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The night stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. Then, slowly, he took a step back, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
"Noted," he said softly. "But just so you know—I’m not going anywhere."
He turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, the weight of his words pressing down on me. Even as I continued toward my hostel, my mind buzzed with too many thoughts.
As I pushed open the door to my hostel room, I let out an exaggerated groan and flung my bag onto the chair. "Meri zindagi pagalon se bhari padi hai! Jise dekho, kuch na kuch sochta, bolta rehta hai. Kisi ko meri sunni hi nahi!"
(My life is full of lunatics! Everyone keeps saying and thinking something. No one wants to listen to me!)
Avika, sprawled on her bed with an anatomy textbook open but clearly ignored, peeked out with a raised eyebrow. "Lo, fir se drama shuru. Kya hua ab?"
(Here we go again. What happened now?)
Ria, already sitting cross-legged with a bowl of Maggi in her lap, pointed her fork at me, chewing as she spoke. "Maa ka phone aaya kya? Ya phir kisi aur ne tere dimaag ke saath khel khela?"
(Did your mom call? Or did someone else play with your mind?)
I flopped onto my bed, rubbing my temples. "Dono. Pehle maa ne phone karke shaadi ka lecture diya, phir Arjun ka ‘caring’ overload ho gaya."
(Both. First, Mom called and gave me a marriage lecture, then Arjun’s ‘caring’ went into overdrive.)
Avika shut her book with a thud and sat up straight. "Maa aur Arjun? Ek din mein do dukh? Tu theek hai na? Tera BP toh check karna padega!"
(Mom and Arjun? Two tragedies in one day? Are you okay? We might have to check your blood pressure!)
Ria burst out laughing. "Aur tu kehti hai, zindagi exciting nahi hai. Yeh toh pura daily soap ban gaya hai! Kal tu bata degi ki ek secret twin bhi hai tera!"
(And you say your life isn’t exciting. This has turned into a full-blown TV drama! Next, you’ll tell us you have a secret twin!)
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. "Bakwaas band kar aur batao ki main kya karoon? Maa ko kaise samjhaun ki mujhe abhi shaadi nahi karni? Aur Arjun ko kaise bataun ki uska ‘care’ suffocating hai?"
(Stop your nonsense and tell me what to do! How do I make my mom understand that I don’t want to get married yet? And how do I tell Arjun that his ‘care’ is suffocating?)
Avika leaned back against the headboard, tapping her chin. "Shaadi wale topic pe maa ka koi ilaaj nahi hai. Unko bas ek hi jawaab sunai deta hai—haan. Par Arjun... Arjun ka kuch karna padega.
(There’s no cure for your mom’s marriage talk. She only hears one answer—yes. But Arjun... something needs to be done about him.)
Ria pointed her fork dramatically. "Main keh rahi hoon, kisi din Arjun hostel ke bahar ghutno pe baith ke propose kar dega! Phir kya karegi tu, haan?"
(I’m telling you, one day Arjun will be outside the hostel on his knees proposing! Then what will you do, huh?)
I groaned, rubbing my face. "Main hostel ke peechhe wale drain mein chhup jaungi."
(I’ll hide in the drain behind the hostel.)
Avika snickered. "Bas ek do cockroach tere saath honge waha."
(Only a couple of cockroaches will be your company there.)
I threw another pillow, this time hitting my target—Ria’s Maggi bowl almost fell. She yelped and balanced it just in time. "Are sambhal! Tere chakkar mein Maggi ki bali mat chadha!"
(Hey, be careful! Don’t sacrifice my Maggi because of your drama!)
I sighed dramatically and sat up. "Theek hai, bas! Phele fresh ho leti hoon, warna stress aur thakaan dono milke mujhe coma me bhej denge."
(Alright, enough! Let me freshen up first, or else stress and exhaustion together will send me into a coma.)
Avika nodded like a wise sage. "Haan, bilkul. Pehle tu apni shakl insaano jaisi kar le, fir dinner pe chalen."
(Yes, absolutely. First, make your face look human again, then we’ll go for dinner.)
Rolling my eyes, I dragged myself to the bathroom. As I washed my face, the cool water grounded me. For a few moments, I just stood there, watching the droplets drip down. No thoughts. Just silence.
By the time I stepped out, my friends were already at the door, arms folded, waiting. "Chal, warna mess ka khaana bhi khatam ho jayega," Ria declared, pulling me along.
(Let’s go, or even the mess food will be finished.)
We walked through the hostel corridors, the usual evening chaos filling the air—girls chatting, some rushing for last-minute notes, others laughing over reels. The sound of a pressure cooker whistling from the warden’s kitchen echoed in the background, mixed with distant music from someone’s speaker.
As we reached the mess, the warm, familiar smell of dal, rice, and something suspiciously burnt greeted us. I wrinkled my nose. "Aaj ka khaana dekh ke lagta hai, ek aur dukh judne wala hai."
(Looking at today’s food, I feel like another tragedy is about to be added to my list.)
Avika smirked, scooping rice onto her plate. "Pichle janam ka koi bada paap kiya hoga jo yeh mess ka khaana bhugatna pad raha hai."
(You must have committed a huge sin in your past life to be suffering through this mess food.)
We settled at our usual table, discussing everything from professors’ quirks to the latest hospital gossip. It was these moments—this madness—that kept me sane.
After dinner, we returned to our room, books sprawled across the bed. Ria lay on her stomach, flipping through her notes. Avika paced, reciting medical cases under her breath. And me? I sat cross-legged, trying to focus, but my mind kept drifting.
The messages. My mother. Arjun.
I sighed, flipping the page aggressively. "Bas! Aaj ke liye itna drama kaafi hai. Kal ka kal dekhenge."
(Enough! This is enough drama for today. Tomorrow’s problems will be dealt with tomorrow.)
Ria, without looking up, muttered, "Haan, haan, jab tak phir se koi tujhe tang karne na aa jaye."
(Yeah, yeah, until someone else comes to bother you again.)
Avika snorted. "Zindagi hai, hospital nahi. Yahan peace milne ka koi scope nahi hai."
(This is life, not a hospital. There’s no scope for peace here.)
I shook my head, biting back a smile. One thing at a time, Trisha.
For now, my books demanded my attention. The rest could wait.
And with that, I forced myself to drown in the world of medicine—because that was the one thing that still made sense.
But even that couldn’t keep my mind from drifting as the days bled into one another, filled with hospital shifts, endless lectures, and a presence that refused to leave my side.
Another morning. Another lecture. The cycle continued.
I sat in the lecture hall, my notebook open, pen poised, but my mind miles away. The hum of students filled the room—some flipping through their notes, others whispering about the latest drama in college. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered slightly, casting a pale glow over the wooden desks and scribbled notes from previous years’ students. The air was thick with the scent of old books, cheap perfume, and the faint bitterness of coffee.
"Trisha." A voice broke through my fog. I blinked and turned to find Arjun sliding a neatly written page in front of me.
"Tumhare notes hamesha incomplete hote hain. Yeh lo, likh lena.”
(Your notes are always incomplete. Here, copy these.)
I glanced at the paper, his handwriting precise and annoyingly neat. With a sigh, I took it. “Mujhe lagta hai ki tum mere bina bhi jee sakte ho, Arjun.”
(I think you can live without looking after me, Arjun.)
He smirked, leaning back in his chair, stretching his arms lazily. The movement drew the attention of a few girls sitting nearby, whispering among themselves. Arjun, as always, pretended not to notice.
“Main jee sakta hoon, par mujhe aadat ho gayi hai.”
(I can, but I’ve gotten used to it.)
I rolled my eyes and returned my focus to the lecture. Dr. Kapoor droned on about patient diagnostics, his voice monotonous, making it all the more difficult to concentrate. The projector hummed as slides flicked from one case study to another. My fingers gripped the pen, absently tracing the margins of my notebook. The weight of Arjun’s presence beside me felt like a stone pressing against my ribs.
By the time the lecture ended, I shoved my books into my bag, eager to escape. But, as expected, Arjun was there, waiting, his tall frame leaning against the wall outside the hall.
“Chalo, cafeteria?” he asked casually, adjusting the strap of his bag as he fell into step beside me. The sun outside was ruthless, baking the stone pathways of the college courtyard. The faint clang of cycles and the distant chatter of students created a familiar symphony of chaos.
“I have hospital duty in an hour,” I reminded him, dodging a couple of juniors running past us.
“Tab tak kuch kha lo. Tum breakfast bhi nahi karti.”
(At least eat something. You never have breakfast.)
I sighed. It was true. Between the exhaustion and my mother’s calls, I had barely touched food this morning. Still, the way Arjun monitored my every habit was beginning to feel like a noose tightening around my neck.
“Fine. Maggi and chai,” I relented, and his lips curved into a victorious smirk.
The cafeteria was a chaotic mess. The scent of over-fried samosas, paneer rolls, and sugary tea filled the air. The metal trays clattered as students jostled for space, balancing plates piled high with food. I found an empty table near the window, the ceiling fan overhead creaking with each slow rotation. Arjun returned with two cups of chai and a steaming plate of Maggi, setting them down with a flourish.
“Tumhe kya lagta hai, tum meri maa ho?” I teased, twirling the noodles onto my fork.
(Do you think you’re my mother?)
“Nahi,” he said, tilting his head with a lazy smile. “Par agar tum khud ka dhyan nahi rakhogi toh kisi ko toh rakhna padega.”
(No. But if you don’t take care of yourself, someone has to.)
I had no answer for that. The noodles tasted extra spicy, burning my tongue, but I welcomed the distraction.
The day passed in a blur of responsibilities. The emergency ward was its usual battlefield—nurses rushing past with clipboards, stretchers wheeled in with groaning patients, the sharp scent of antiseptic filling the air. I adjusted my lab coat, rubbing my temple as I went over a patient’s file.
Between cases, Arjun would appear like clockwork.
“Paani piya?” he asked, handing me a water bottle without waiting for an answer.
(Did you drink water?)
I sighed, taking it. “Arjun, main bachi nahi hoon.”
(Arjun, I’m not a child.)
“Haan, par bacho ki tarah apna dhyan nahi rakhti.”
(Yeah, but you don’t take care of yourself either.)
At times, his concern was reassuring, a steady hand in the mess of my life. But other times, it felt like I was being watched too closely, controlled without being asked.
As days turned into weeks, I found myself torn—between gratitude and suffocation. Between appreciating his kindness and wanting to scream at him to stop. Because no matter how much he did for me, there was an underlying feeling I couldn’t ignore, a restlessness that settled in my bones as the days passed
_________________________
The cycle of lectures, hospital shifts, and Arjun’s constant presence continued, but something lingered in the air—a shift in energy, a quiet buzz that hinted at something different.
It wasn’t until that morning, when we were suddenly asked to gather in the auditorium, that I understood why.
The announcement spread like wildfire, whispers moving faster than oxygen in a room full of medical students desperate for gossip.
“Kuch bada hone wala hai,” Avika muttered as we walked towards the grand auditorium, her eyes alight with curiosity.
(Something big is going to happen.)
“Shaadi toh nahi karwa rahe sabki ek saath?” Ria joked, flipping her ponytail dramatically.
(Are they getting us all married together?)
I snorted. “Agar aisa hota, main sabse pehle bhag jaati.”
(If that were the case, I’d be the first one to run away.)
The air inside the auditorium was thick with murmurs, a mix of excitement and mild apprehension. Rows of dark brown wooden seats filled with students, all in their white coats, made the space feel smaller than it actually was. The stage, dimly lit at the moment, held a sleek podium with the hospital’s emblem glinting under the soft spotlight.
Dr. Mehra, our college’s dean, stepped forward, tapping the mic once. The static crackled before settling, and a hush fell over the auditorium.
“Good morning, students. I know you are all wondering why we have gathered you here today. It is my pleasure to announce that, in two weeks, we will be hosting our annual Charity Gala.”
A wave of excitement rippled through the crowd.
“For those who are new, the Charity Gala is an event where distinguished doctors, philanthropists, and business tycoons come together to raise funds for our hospital’s underprivileged patients. It is not only a formal gathering but also an opportunity for you all to make an impression in the medical community.”
I exchanged glances with Ria and Avika. This was no small affair.
“All students are required to attend. Girls will wear sarees, and boys will be in kurta-pajamas. This is a formal event, so please dress accordingly. Also, prepare yourselves—many renowned doctors and billionaires will be present. You may be asked questions, and I expect you all to be ready.”
The murmuring grew louder. I could already hear the panic rising from some students, while others, like Avika, were practically bouncing with excitement.
“Bas ab ek aur tension,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.
(One more stress to deal with.)
Ria smirked. “Haan, saree pehen kar doctor se baatein karna aur billionaire se muskura kar milna. Bada hi mushkil kaam hai.”
(Yeah, wearing a saree, talking to doctors, and smiling at billionaires. Such a difficult task.)
I nudged her with my elbow. “Tumse na ho payega.”
(You won’t be able to handle it.)
Arjun, who had been seated a few rows behind, leaned in slightly. “Tumhare liye toh yeh asaan hona chahiye, Trisha. Waise bhi, tum hamesha confident rehti ho.”
(This should be easy for you, Trisha. You’re always confident.)
Something about the way he said it made my skin prickle. I turned away, ignoring the way his gaze lingered.
Dr. Mehra continued, outlining the responsibilities we’d have—some would help with guest assistance, others would be stationed at different departments to showcase our college’s work.
By the time the assembly ended, the auditorium buzzed with anticipation. I stepped outside, the warm Rajasthan sun hitting my skin as I sighed. Two weeks. Two weeks to prepare for an event where I’d be surrounded by powerful people, expected to perform, to impress.
And yet, the thing that unsettled me most wasn’t the gala itself.
It was Arjun.
Because no matter how crowded a room was, his presence always found a way to close in around me.
_____________________________
Thank you deepians ✨
I hope you liked the chapter and please do like share comment and vote .
And I have instagram account also ...please do follow me on instagram.....
All the links are mentioned in my bio .
Have a great day 💗
_______________________________
Write a comment ...