Shadow of redemption

Rakshit's emotion

As the days passed, Aaravi found herself thinking more about Rakshit than she had anticipated. Each day, she tended to his wound with precision and care, silently hoping he would follow her advice. But true to his nature, Rakshit often ignored her instructions, causing his wound to reopen on more than one occasion.

Aaravi’s initial frustration had grown into something more—worry. She couldn’t deny that there was something about him, beneath that cold exterior, that stirred a sense of protectiveness within her. His arrogance was a wall she tried to break through, not out of duty as a doctor, but because she felt something deeper—an unexplainable connection.

Every time she entered his room, she was met with his aloof attitude, his dismissive smirks, and his insistence on doing things his way. And yet, in those rare moments when he let his guard down, Aaravi saw a glimpse of vulnerability. It tugged at her heart, and she found herself wanting to protect him, even though he clearly didn’t want to be protected.

Each time his wound opened, her chest tightened with a mixture of frustration and concern. She would scold him, her voice firm but her heart heavy.

"Rakshit, you need to take care of yourself," she’d say, her eyes softening even as she reprimanded him. "If you keep acting like this, your wound will never heal."

Her concern wasn’t just for his physical health. She could see how hard he tried to distance himself, how his arrogance was a shield, hiding something much darker inside him. He was someone who didn’t know how to care about himself, and that thought unsettled her more than she expected.

 

One evening, as she checked his wound for the last time before his discharge, Aaravi couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. Rakshit would be leaving soon, and though she should have been relieved to see her patient recover, there was an uneasiness that settled in her heart.

"Are you sure you’ll be alright?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.

Rakshit gave his signature smirk, his arrogance shining through. "I’ve survived worse. You don’t need to worry about me."

But Aaravi couldn’t help herself. She looked at him with concern, her brow furrowing slightly. "You say that, but I’ve seen how recklessly you handle yourself. I’m worried you’ll go back to your old habits and end up worse than before."

His eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, Rakshit’s mask slipped. He saw the genuine concern in her gaze, something he wasn’t used to. It wasn’t pity or obligation; it was something deeper, something that stirred unfamiliar emotions within him.

"I don’t need anyone to worry about me, especially not a doctor," he said, his voice low but less sharp than usual.

Aaravi sighed, shaking her head. "Maybe not. But I do, Rakshit. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s clear that you don’t know how to take care of yourself. I wish you would at least try."

Her words hung in the air, and for the first time, Rakshit found himself unsure of how to respond. No one had ever spoken to him like this—so sincerely, with such warmth. It unsettled him, but at the same time, it drew him in.

Aaravi could feel the weight of the moment between them. She had come to care for this man in a way she hadn’t expected. Not just as a patient, but as someone she felt responsible for. He was so used to living in chaos that he didn’t know how to embrace peace, and that thought made her heart ache.

 

As she prepared to leave the room, knowing that he would be discharged soon, Aaravi hesitated at the door. She turned back to him, her expression soft but serious.

"Rakshit, please… take care of yourself when you leave here," she said, her voice filled with quiet emotion. "I know you think you don’t need anyone, but just… don’t make it harder for yourself."

Rakshit looked at her, his eyes unreadable. For the first time, he didn’t respond with sarcasm or arrogance. Instead, he simply nodded, the smallest gesture of acknowledgment.

Aaravi smiled sadly, knowing that once he left, there would be no guarantee that he would ever listen to her advice. She had grown attached to him, in spite of his difficult nature. She worried about him, about the dangerous world he lived in, and the way he seemed determined to self-destruct.

As she left the room, her heart was heavy. She had done her best to heal him physically, but emotionally, he remained closed off, a fortress she could not penetrate. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from caring.

Aaravi walked down the hospital corridor, hoping—perhaps foolishly—that somewhere deep inside, Rakshit would remember her words. Because, despite his arrogance, she had seen something in him that was worth saving.

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