Siren of Hearts

23. More Than a Profession

Siddharth's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the surroundings of the unfamiliar hospital room. The throbbing pain in his shoulder brought him back to reality, and he saw himself lying on his stomach to alleviate any pressure on the injured area. As he attempted to sit up, the movement drew his attention to the presence behind him.

Turning around, Siddharth found Ishita seated there, her eyes holding a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. Her gaze seemed distant, as if she had been lost in her thoughts or shedding tears in solitude. Despite the sterile hospital room, there was an air of raw vulnerability surrounding her.

As Siddharth prepared to rise, Ishita gently placed her hand on his bare back, a silent plea for him to remain in his current position. Her touch was delicate, and he felt the tenderness in her fingers as they traced over the white bandages and then continued to roam over his entire back.

"Stay. Stay like this for a minute, please," she whispered, her voice tight with an unspoken weight. The room seemed to echo with the heaviness of her words, and Siddharth, though puzzled, complied. He observed as she continued to caress his back with a mixture of gentleness and a silent intensity.

Confusion etched Siddharth's features as he wondered about her actions, but Ishita's next words provided some clarity. "Don't get injured. Please, don't get hurt," she pleaded, her voice cracking with an underlying emotion that tugged at his heart. Turning around to face him, Siddharth was met with the sight of fresh tears glistening in her eyes, and the vulnerability in her expression mirrored the ache within him.

In the dimly lit hospital room, Siddharth and Ishita shared a poignant moment that transcended the physical pain Siddharth was enduring. Ishita's hazel eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, locked onto Siddharth's, creating an intimate connection that spoke of shared history and unspoken emotions.

Her voice, gentle yet laden with a depth of feeling, resonated in the stillness of the room. "You remember, in our first year of university, you hurt your eye during the final match?" Ishita began, her words carrying the weight of a cherished memory. "That evening, in front of thousands of people, you were laying down on the ground, with blood dripping from your eye. That was the most helpless moment of my life."

As she recounted the vivid memory, Siddharth's gaze remained fixed on her, his eyes absorbing the intensity of her emotions. The vulnerability in Ishita's expression became more evident as tears welled up and spilled from her eyes. The room seemed to hold its breath, enveloped in the shared history and emotions of the two individuals.

"That day, I set my determination to become a doctor, to keep you safe," Ishita continued, her voice carrying the weight of the promise she had made to herself years ago. Her fingers lingered on the white bandages, tracing the lines of his injury with a tenderness that mirrored the depth of her emotions. "But I didn't think I'd have to see your wounded body to treat you. Today, a few hours ago, it was you again, making me question if I should quit this job."

As Siddharth sat there, his wounded body a testament to the risks he faced in his profession, he became a silent witness to Ishita's inner turmoil.

Siddharth shifted his gaze away from Ishita's teary eyes, attempting to shield himself from the emotions welling up within him. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he tried to downplay the severity of his injury.

"Don't worry, it was just a small injury—" he began, but Ishita swiftly interrupted him, her voice betraying a mix of concern, fear, and an unspoken acknowledgment of the potential danger he had faced.

"Small? That cut was almost 2 inches deep!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening with the realization of the depth of the wound. The gravity of the situation hit her, and she couldn't bring herself to articulate the unspeakable outcome that could have unfolded. Her words hung in the air, pregnant with the unspoken understanding of the fragility of life and the razor-thin line between safety and peril.