They Don't Know about Us

Chapter 45 - Unsatiated

🚨Slight mature content advisory🚨

The automatic hospital doors slid open, spilling cold morning air into the lobby. The tiled floor gleamed under sterile lights, reflecting white coats and sleepy residents clutching half-finished coffees.

Riddhima stepped inside, stethoscope around her neck, hair still damp from a rushed shower. She'd gotten maybe three hours of sleep. Not because she'd stayed up on her phone, but because her body kept reliving the slow drag of Armaan's thumb on her jaw, the low rumble of his voice saying Don't say goodnight like this is casual.

The anticipation of seeing him again was too strong. She pressed her lips together and exhaled through her nose, cheeks warming at the memory. She walked toward the elevators, scrolling through early patient notes on her tablet.

The elevator doors slid open with a loud ding and a cluster of residents squeezed inside. She stepped in, flattening herself against the back wall to make space as people filtered in. The doors stayed open. The group shifted slightly, murmuring. Someone new was approaching.

Armaan.

He strode toward the elevator, collar slightly buttoned-open, hair still damp like he'd just showered. The memory of her hands in that hair last night slammed so violently into her chest she had to grip the railing behind her.

He didn't notice her at first as he was scrolling through something on his phone. And then he did. His gaze lifted and met hers and the air thinned sharply.

A slow awareness settled in his expression, something dark and devastating spreading through his eyes. His eyes stayed on her and her only as he stepped inside.

People shuffled aside to make space. The elevator was now tightly packed, shoulder-to-shoulder, leaving him no choice but to walk towards the back.

Armaan ended up directly behind her, his chest brushing her shoulder with each jolt of the elevator. He didn't reach for the handrail, instead he rested one palm against the wall beside her head, trapping her in a loose cage formed by other bodies and the metal wall.

She stared straight ahead at the glowing buttons. Her pulse thudded in her throat. Her breathing betrayed her, turning shallow. Behind her, she felt the slow rise and fall of his chest, felt the heat radiating through his body.

He leaned slightly forward, pretending he needed balance when the elevator shifted floors. His breath ghosted across her ear, just enough to be felt, not seen. She closed her eyes for half a second. Internally she was chanting a mantra to stay calm and composed.

Control Riddhima. Control. Control yourself girl.

The elevator jerked slightly, people swayed. Instinctively his hand slid to her waist, steadying her, just a fraction of a second. She stiffened, breath catching. And then he withdrew his hand like nothing happened. He didn't look at her. The sly man was pretending it was nothing.

Her fingers curled around her tablet to stop them from trembling.

The doors opened on the pathology floor. A few people stepped out. The crowd loosened, but Armaan still stayed behind her, close enough that the back of her lab coat brushed the front of his suit jacket when she exhaled.

Residents chatted absently about patient admissions and morning rounds, oblivious to the silent electricity caging the two doctors in the back corner. Her shoulder blades tingled under the weight of his stare burning into them.

Stop thinking about his hands on your neck last night.

Just when she thought she had her emotions under control, he leaned just a breath closer.