In a world where love is a foreign , he has found his guiding star. Desperate and unwavering, he pleads for just one chance to prove his devotion. She, lost in a life devoid of affection, sees in him the promise of a profound connection she never be...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
----
29th March'24
The setting sun bathed the campus in a warm, amber glow, the last vestiges of daylight clinging to the horizon as the air began to cool with the approach of evening. Devrudra stood at the entrance of the Neurosurgery block, his heart palpitating faster with each passing minute.
The March evening was tinged with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of life winding down after a long day. The trees lining the pathway swayed gently, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze, adding a sense of calm that sharply contrasted with the turmoil inside him.
It had been three days since the Holi incident, and the memory of it still weighed heavily on his mind. The vibrant colors that had once felt so liberating now felt like a burden, each hue tied to the moments of tension between them. Devrudra couldn't shake the feeling of regret, his thoughts spiraling back to every word, every expression from that day.
That evening, when he finally gathered the courage to approach her, hoping for some closure, for anything, she brushed it off with a dismissive wave. "It's nothing," she said, her voice was distant, as if the whole event was insignificant. Before he could utter a single word, before he could even ask if she was truly alright, she excused herself, leaving him standing there in silence, with unsaid words lingering in the air.
Now, the weight of that unfinished conversation gnawed at him, filling his mind with questions.
Why hadn't she let him speak?
Was it her way of avoiding him?
Yesterday's group meeting had been strained, Prashmita avoiding his every attempt at conversation, her silence cutting deeper than any words could. He had replayed the moments over and over, searching for something, anything, that could help him make things right.
As the clock ticked closer to 6 PM, the usual buzz of the hospital was starting to fade. The occasional murmur of departing staff and the soft clink of keys as people locked up for the night filled the air.
Devrudra shifted on his feet, glancing down the hallway where he knew Prashmita would soon emerge. His thoughts were a jumble of what he would say, how he could apologize, how he could get her to listen.
The door to the neurosurgery wing swung open, and his breath caught as he saw her step out. Prashmita looked as composed as ever, her face, a mask of calm, but Devrudra knew her well enough to sense the tension beneath.
She spotted him almost immediately, her steps faltering for just a second before she straightened and continued toward the exit, her eyes fixed ahead, as if he wasn't there.
Devrudra's anxiety spiked, his palms sweaty, as he took a deep breath and stepped forward, blocking her path. The evening light cast long shadows on the ground, making the space between them feel more expansive than it actually was.
