AKSHAT SINGHANIA - A literature professor in Singania Institute of Arts and Commerce. He is soft and caring person
with a tough exterior, who doesn't believe in love or marriage because of his parent's broken relationship and his ex wife's betrayal...
The hospital glowed softly in the background, its windows lit with sterile white light. Every time the main door swung open, her eyes darted to it instinctively. But he hadn't come out yet. She wasn't even sure when she started sitting here regularly just to see him after his long shifts. She never talked to him. She never would. But she watched. She waited. Because somehow, seeing him was the only constant in her otherwise chaotic world.
It was 1:05 AM. She had been there since 8.
She didn't even feel the time pass anymore.
The night had turned colder, and most of the vendors who'd lined the hospital gate had packed up and left. The air was thinner now, lonely. Only one remained , the old tea vendor who worked from his tiny, rusted cart a little ahead of where she sat. He was a simple man in a crumpled sweater, his weathered hands used to the burn of the kettle, and his eyes always kind but distant.
Tonight, for the first time, he started walking towards her.
Nandini's muscles tensed. Her breath hitched.
In one swift movement, her hand slipped into her purse, fingers wrapping tightly around the small knife she always carried. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, every step he took making her heartbeat louder in her ears. Fear , the kind she had lived with for years , gripped her like an old habit.
But then, he stopped a few feet away, his voice hesitant but laced with concern.
"Madam... ham bhi jaa rahe hain ab. Aur koi reh nahi gaya yahan. It's not safe. Aapko bhi jana chahiye."
She blinked, his words sinking in slowly. Her grip on the knife loosened. She exhaled, her body calming down by just a notch. She smiled weakly.
"Nahi... I'm fine. Aap jaiye," she replied, trying to sound firm.
But he stood his ground. His eyes studied her like a father would look at a daughter sitting alone at an odd hour.
"Ham aapko aise chhod ke kaise jaayein? Raat mein kaafi awara ladke aate hain yahan. Aap akele mat baithi rahiye."
His voice was filled with genuine worry , not curiosity, not judgment. Just concern.
Nandini's heart softened. She looked down, unsure what to say. She didn't want to leave. She wasn't waiting for any emergency , just a glimpse of someone who had unknowingly started to matter to her. Someone whose very presence made her believe , maybe, just maybe , not all men wanted to take something from her.
"Main... bas kuch aur der rukungi," she said quietly, her voice almost childlike in its honesty.
He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
