When our Hearts Aligned

7

Haseena's eyes never for once looked away from the red bulb fitted above the placard that read "OT" against the sterile, white walls.

Her hands were still trembling from signing the consent form her mother's operation. The doctors had not given much reassurance before proceeding to the OT with grim expressions. 

The sterile, clinical environment of the hospital seemed distant, her focus solely on the ominous red light.

She tried to focus on her breathing, fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. The minutes ticked by slowly, each second stretching into an eternity.

A gentle, almost hesitant hand on her shoulder startled her out of her reverie.It was so gentle she might have missed it if she weren’t so on edge. She turned, her gaze meeting Amar Vidrohi’s.

He stood beside her, his expression impossible to discern at that moment but Haseena was certain she saw a kind of softness in his eyes which she had never seen before.

Haseena’s lips tightened into a thin line. She nodded stiffly, acknowledging his presence without really inviting it. She really didn't know how to respond to this.

She focussed her attention on the red bulb again,  just as she heard Amar's footsteps walking away. She didn't dare look away from the bulb, the doctors had not given much assurance before proceeding with the surgery.

A few minutes later, the soft sound of approaching footsteps pulled her attention away from the light. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Amar return. This time, he was holding two small cups of coffee, steam rising gently from the rims.

He hesitated for a moment, standing just a step away from her, his posture uncertain. Finally, he took a seat beside her on the cold metal bench, placing one hand on her shoulder and  with another, holding out the small cuo of coffee to her.

Amar Vidrohi cleared his throat, "Here,” he said, his voice low and tentative, “You should have something.”

Amar squeezed her shoulder with some firmness but the gentleness it carried mafe  something tightened in Haseena's chest. She almost turned to him, almost let herself lean into the comfort he offered—but she stopped herself.

She swallowed hard, the tension in her throat making it difficult to speak. Reluctantly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his briefly as she took the cup.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t look at him, but the weight of his presence beside her was impossible to ignore.

Amar took a sip of his own coffee, the warmth spreading through him, though it did little to alleviate the tension that coiled in his chest. He shifted slightly, trying to find the right words, but all that came out was, “It’ll be okay. Your mother is a very strong woman she will be okay.”

"How do you know that?" Haseena said almost bitterly.

"Because you are so strong" amar said simply and cursed himself immediately afterwards. Haseena blinked and stared at him awhile before she shrugged her shoulders and turned away again.

They sat in silence for a while,  Amar kept stealing glances at her, noticing the way her shoulders remained stiff, her body language closed off, but he didn’t push. He knew better than to try and breach those walls.

After what felt like an eternity, Haseena spoke, her voice barely audible. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I know,” he replied softly, turning to face her,“But I wanted to.”

Had the situation been different Amar might as well have admired her beauty as she looked at him for a while, quiet but her eyes screaming a thousand many things, drowning in emotions that he longed to figure out.

But he couldn't as he look down between his feet again, tracing pattens on the sterile floor. Something about the way she had looked at him just then had left him feeling a strange kind of  unease and thrill at the same time.

Haseena's gaze eventually drifted back to the red bulb. The light, unchanging and constant, seemed to mock her inner turmoil. She gripped the cup of coffee in her hands, feeling its warmth but not tasting it.

She knew he was trying, and she appreciated the effort, even if the reassurance felt hollow. But it had also seemed to churn out her vulnerability more to the surface than assuage it. She was used to being the one offering comfort, not receiving it, and this role reversal left her feeling exposed.

"But I don't want you to stay. I want to be left alone " the bitter, sharp words flew out of her tongue before she knew it.

Amar Vidrohi's hand holding the coffee froze mid-way, his jaw tightening as the bitter words cut through the air. Haseena could swear she saw a flicker of hurt flash across his eyes, quickly masked by a neutral expression.

But it was there, unmistakable, for just a moment—a crack in the armor he always wore so well.