UNWILLINGLY HIS

The subtle bond

Samaira’s life for the next few days was a whirlwind of college lectures, study sessions, and sleepless nights. Her dream of becoming a neurosurgeon was so close, and she could almost feel its weight pressing on her. Her mind barely registered the world around her—her thoughts were consumed by notes, diagrams, and practice questions.

One evening, she sat at her desk, flipping through her books. The pages blurred together, but she forced herself to keep going. When Advait entered with a tray of food, she didn’t even look up.

“You haven’t eaten since morning,” he said, setting the tray down on her desk.

“I don’t have time,” she muttered, scribbling something in her notebook.

Advait raised an eyebrow. “No time to eat?”

“Nope,” she replied curtly, her eyes fixed on the page.

For a moment, there was silence. Then his voice came, low and amused, but with a teasing edge. “Fine, then I’ll feed you.”

Her pen froze mid-stroke. She finally looked up, her eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, sitting down on the edge of her desk. “If you’re too busy to eat, I’ll feed you. That way, you can keep studying without interruptions.”

Samaira stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. When she realized he wasn’t joking, she shook her head. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t overthink it,” he interrupted, picking up a spoonful of rice from the plate. “Open your mouth.”

She hesitated for a moment, her cheeks heating up, but then her rumbling stomach made the decision for her. Without a word, she leaned back slightly and opened her mouth.

“There we go,” Advait said with a soft chuckle, feeding her the spoonful.

She chewed quickly, her eyes darting back to her notes. Advait continued, feeding her bite by bite as she worked through her papers. Neither of them spoke much, but the quiet between them felt strangely comfortable.

Late that night, Samaira was still at her desk, her head propped up on one hand as she reviewed yet another set of notes. Her eyelids drooped, but she stubbornly fought off sleep.

She didn’t hear Advait enter until his voice broke the silence. “Still at it?”

She jumped slightly, turning to see him leaning against the doorframe. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was slightly disheveled, as if he’d been working too.

“I’m almost done,” she mumbled, turning back to her notes.

Advait walked closer, his footsteps soft on the floor. “Samaira, do you know how the brain works?”

“What kind of question is that?” she asked, annoyed.

“A serious one,” he said, standing beside her now. “The brain works better with rest and sleep. If you keep pushing yourself like this, you’ll burn out before the exam even starts.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though her voice wavered with exhaustion.

Advait sighed and reached out, gently placing his hand on top of hers, stilling her pen. She froze, looking up at him in surprise.

“You’re going to become a neurosurgeon,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. “You, of all people, should know better. Go to bed. I’ll wake you up early.”

Samaira’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected gentleness in his voice. For a moment, she wanted to argue, but the sincerity in his gaze silenced her.