Kushmika Prabhu Srinivasan stood at the entrance of the hospital, her tear-streaked face a stark contrast to the traditional South Indian saree she wore. A saree meant for a wedding-her wedding. The very thought sent another wave of bitterness through her heart. As she walked towards the lift, her eyes were still red, her makeup long worn away by the tears she had shed on the way here.
The hospital was a blur to her. People stared, whispering, but Kushmika barely noticed. All her thoughts were consumed by the events of the day. The doors of the lift closed, and in that brief moment, her gaze collided with a pair of eyes-a man in a white coat, a doctor, standing outside. For a split second, time seemed to freeze, and her heart beat in a rhythm that didn't match the chaos inside her. His eyes were filled with curiosity, yet there was something in them-something that felt unsettlingly familiar, as if their lives had crossed paths before in another world, another time.
And just like that, the lift doors closed, cutting off their brief moment. But the image of his gaze lingered in her mind, deeper than any memory, sharper than any pain.