Shadow of redemption

Agrogant Rakshit

In the sterile silence of the hospital room, Rakshit had spent the last four days in a haze of pain, frustration, and an unfamiliar sense of peace he couldn’t quite grasp. He had endured surgeries, bullet wounds, and countless fights, but this—lying in a hospital bed under the care of Dr. Aaravi Kapoor—was unlike anything he had experienced.

From the moment Aaravi entered the room on that first morning, her demeanor calm and professional, Rakshit felt the simmering tension between his stubborn will and her quiet authority. His wound had been meticulously treated—deep in his lower abdomen where the knife had torn through muscle and skin during his fight with Vikram. He remembered flashes of that night, the blood, the pain, but waking up in this sterile place was a shock to his system.

"Mr. Rakshit," Aaravi’s voice was soft but firm, pulling him from his thoughts. "I’ve adjusted your treatment plan. You’ll need strict bed rest for the next few days, IV antibiotics to prevent infection, and we’ll need to check the wound every morning."

Rakshit gave her a cold, dismissive look. "I don’t need your care. I’ve survived worse."

Aaravi’s hands moved gently as she changed his dressing, unfazed by his arrogance. "Your body may be strong, but even you can’t fight infection if you keep reopening the wound. Trust me, you don’t want to risk it."

He stared at her, his jaw clenched. The pain in his side flared, and though he tried to hide it, a small wince escaped. Aaravi caught it, her expression softening for a moment, but she remained firm.

“Let yourself heal. I’ll make sure you’re out of here in a few days if you cooperate.”

Her voice had a quiet authority that both annoyed and intrigued him. No one spoke to him like that—no one dared. But here was this doctor, a woman with an unwavering calmness, speaking to him as if he were just another patient. The arrogance that defined him didn’t sit well with being told what to do, yet he found himself staring at her, almost challenging her resolve.

He tried to sit up later that afternoon, determined to leave the hospital, but the sharp pain in his abdomen stopped him. His wound had torn slightly, and blood seeped through the bandages. Aaravi entered just in time to see him struggling.

“What are you doing?” Her tone was sharp, almost scolding, as she rushed to his side. “I told you to stay still!”

Her hands were gentle as she pressed him back against the bed, but her voice was laced with frustration. "You’ll tear your stitches open if you keep this up. Do you think you’re invincible?"

Rakshit glared at her, but his words fell silent. He was too stunned by her reaction. No one had spoken to him like this before. Yet, despite her frustration, there was a softness in her eyes—genuine concern.

Rakshit’s irritation grew with each passing hour. He hated feeling weak, confined to the bed, reliant on someone else. The very idea of being treated like this grated on him. He was Phantom—the most feared mafia king across Asia. And here he was, unable to move without being told what to do.

Aaravi came in to check on him several times that day, each time adjusting his treatment plan slightly. She had reduced the dose of his painkillers to prevent dependency and started him on oral antibiotics instead of the IV drip. She also brought in a physical therapist to ensure his muscles wouldn’t stiffen during the recovery.

“You’re not going to let me rest in peace, are you?” Rakshit muttered as Aaravi took notes on his progress.

Without missing a beat, Aaravi replied, “Not if you keep trying to sabotage your own recovery.” Her voice was steady, unbothered by his attitude. “We need to monitor your wound closely. Any sign of infection, and it could become serious.”

“Serious?” he scoffed, his arrogance flaring. “I’ve been through worse.”

“Maybe,” Aaravi said, finally looking up from her notes to meet his eyes. “But you’re not indestructible. You think pain makes you stronger, but it doesn’t make you invincible.”

Her words lingered in the room longer than either of them expected. There was a challenge in her gaze, something deeper than the mere exchange of patient and doctor. Rakshit felt a strange pull, as if she could see through the armor of arrogance and power he had built around himself. It unsettled him.

That night, as he lay in bed, restless and irritated, his thoughts kept circling back to her. Aaravi wasn’t like anyone he had ever met. There was something about her—her calmness, her quiet strength—that both frustrated and intrigued him.

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺
Thanks everyone for reading my story. I request you please leave your valuable comments to share your views of my story. If you think that this story is worth reading then please vote. And share it with your friends. Thanks so much once again.