In the silent hospital room, the sharp smell of antiseptic clouded my senses. The lifeless beep of the machines was a constant reminder that time was slipping through my fingers. My mother lay on the white bed, a mere shadow of herself, her life slowly fading.
Her pale face, sunken eyes, and the faint smile resting on her lips said more than words ever could. The tears spilling from her eyes pierced my soul, pulling me into a quiet sorrow. Her trembling hands gently touched my cheeks—soft, light, and full of everything she couldn't express.
I leaned closer. Her breaths were short, struggling to hold on just a moment longer. But even in the midst of her pain, there was a strange sparkle in her eyes—a dream left unfinished. Her lips parted slightly, and a weak whisper reached my ears:
"Son… take care of your sister…"
For a fleeting moment, a gentle smile played on her lips—a smile that said everything. Then, as if time itself exhaled, everything came to a halt.
My lips parted, but no words came. My heart sank under the weight of an unfamiliar sorrow. Only one word escaped: "Ma…"
And then… silence.
Suddenly, my eyes snapped open.
My breathing was heavy, sweat clung to my forehead, and my heart pounded in my chest. The room was still dark, but the soft yellow light creeping through the window signaled that morning was near.
I whispered something—anything—to push the feeling of dread away. Reaching for my phone... 5:30 AM. I had almost forgotten what waking up this early felt like.
I dragged myself out of bed, hoping to lift the weight pressing down on my chest.
The house was still. The usual silence greeted me. Everything sat as it always had, but today, the air felt different—like the night had left behind a story, still hidden in the walls. I moved through my routine—cleaning a bit, then freshening up. The sound of tea boiling and the warm scent of toast brought an odd sense of peace to the morning.
Everything is set. I'm ready, but Anya is still asleep.
"Anya, wake up, breakfast is ready," I call out, a bit louder. Last night, she had been completely lost in her books.
No response.
A flicker of worry tightened my chest. I walk toward her room, my steps slow, cautious. As I gently push the door open, the scene inside unfolds—Anya slumped over her study table, fast asleep. Books scattered around her, a pen dangling from the edge of the table, almost touching the floor. Her hand still rested on an open page—as if sleep had stolen her away in the middle of writing.
I just stand there for a moment, watching her.
I don't want to wake her, but if she keeps sleeping like this, she'll miss her tuition—and she has a test today.
I take a deep breath and gently, but firmly, wake her up.
Ayaan is only 21, but the weight of responsibility on his shoulders feels far heavier than his age should bear. He lives in a small rented house, with a sister who means more to him than the entire world. Their story has been written in shadows of pain and loneliness since childhood. There was a day, long ago, when their father left without a word, vanishing like mist into thin air. Their mother was there, but sick—so sick that one day, death took away her suffering... leaving Ayaan and Anya with nothing but each other.
Now, Ayaan works as non-technical staff in a hospital. In that sterile building of white walls, he's known only as a clinical sample delivery boy. From lab to ward, from ward to the operation theatre—he runs all day, carrying files and test samples. He earns just 17,000 rupees a month, but every rupee has a purpose: paying rent and covering Anya's tuition fees.
Anya is a cheerful, confident 17-year-old with a small scar on her face—a lingering reminder of a wound given by their father in childhood. At just 5'1, her dream-filled eyes and ever-smiling face paint a picture of innocence. It's as though she's built her own little world in the middle of a sea of sorrow. She loves long skirts and simple salwar suits, wearing them with an innocent charm. But that innocence is only skin-deep. Beneath it, she's fighting a battle of her own.
Anya dreams of becoming a doctor. She's preparing for NEET, hoping to make life easier for Ayaan.
For Ayaan, the world is a place where living is a compulsion.
For Anya, it's a dream she's determined to fulfill—no matter what.
Ayaan stands at 5'9", slender with long, messy black hair—so tangled it gives him the look of a lost Tarzan among the city crowd. He doesn't care much for fashion, but he seems oddly attached to black—black shirts, black pants, black shoes. A monochrome style, perhaps an attempt to mask the emptiness within.
As he walks through the sterile, white corridors of the hospital, a wave of loneliness washes over him. He reaches his department and sits in front of an old computer. The soft clicking of the keyboard breaks the silence. Patient files and new data entries pop up on the screen, but today, his mind is elsewhere.
"Man, when is Priyanshi ma'am going to show up?"
His thoughts are more consumed by Priyanshi than by his work. She's a 24-year-old independent woman, carrying quiet grace and unshakable confidence. Her self-assurance, her smile, the way she commands respect—it's all made her the object of admiration from everyone at the hospital. Ayaan, too, is just one among the many, hopelessly drawn to her.
He's always liked Priyanshi—maybe even loved her, but as an introvert, he's never had the courage to say it. Every time he sees her, his heart races, his palms sweat, but his lips remain silent.
"I wish I could tell her how special she is to me…" But time is running out.
Two days ago, a message had popped up on the hospital's WhatsApp group:
"Priyanshi ma'am is resigning today. She's joining another company."
Since then, a storm has been brewing inside Ayaan. If he doesn't speak up today, he might never get the chance.
Today, he's made up his mind—he will confess his feelings to Priyanshi, no matter what.
Ayaan was typing away at the keyboard, his eyes on the screen but his mind far from it. No matter how much he tried to focus, one thought kept circling in his head—Priyanshi.
Suddenly—Thud!
A sharp smack landed on his back.
"Ahh!" Ayaan winced, jerking upright. "What the hell, you idiot?!"
Behind him stood Roshit, grinning wide. His long upright hair looked like it had been electrocuted on purpose. Varun stood beside him, arms crossed, trying to hold back laughter.
"What were you thinking about?" Roshit teased with a wink. "Don't tell me Priyanshi ma'am broke your heart already."
Ayaan managed a faint smile, but his eyes told a different story. "Nah... Just not in the mood to work."
Varun perked up. "Then let's go party after shift!"
Ayaan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Can't. Laundry, cooking, helping Anya study—she's got a test tomorrow."
"Bro, you've gone full family man," Roshit laughed, dragging over a chair.
"We haven't chilled in ages," he added. "Come on, we'll make a plan."
"I would," Ayaan said, "but I'm broke right now. Maybe next month."
Varun clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Forget money. Just show up—we've got you."
Ayaan chuckled. "Nah, I can't come empty-handed. Seriously, next month."
"Alright, alright," Roshit said, hands up in surrender.
As the two turned to leave, Ayaan suddenly called out, "Wait."
They paused and looked back.
Ayaan took a breath. "You guys know Priyanshi ma'am's leaving today, right?"
"Yeah, everyone knows," Varun said casually.
Ayaan nodded, staring at the floor. "I've been thinking... maybe I should tell her. You know—how I feel."
"WHAT?" both of them blurted out in sync.
Varun stepped forward, raising an eyebrow. "You serious? Priyanshi? Bro, she's smart, classy, confident... You really think she'd say yes?"
Ayaan's eyes narrowed, but he stayed quiet.
Roshit stepped in, voice steady. "Hey, this is your moment. You miss this, you might never get another. Who knows—maybe she feels the same."
Something shifted in Ayaan. He clenched his fist softly, a bit of color rising in his cheeks. "Yeah… I'll do it. I have to."
Then he shot Varun a sharp look. "Didn't expect you to try and pull me down like that."
Roshit grinned. "What does he know about love? He's just horny 24/7."
"Hey!" Varun snapped, lunging at Roshit with mock outrage, grabbing him by the neck. "Watch your mouth!"
"Okay, okay, cool it," Ayaan said, trying to hold in a laugh. "Stop acting like kids."
Roshit suddenly turned serious. "By the way, Priyanshi's already here. So... when are you going to do it?"
"I thought maybe on my way home."
"Nope," Varun cut in. "She's leaving after the farewell party—half-day. Better say it before that."
Ayaan looked nervous. He twirled the pen in his fingers. "But how? She's always surrounded by people…"
Varun exchanged a glance with Roshit, then leaned in.
"Go to the storeroom. Nobody's ever there. Pretend you're looking for something. I'll send Priyanshi to help you. You'll have a minute alone."
Ayaan's heart pounded. His throat was dry. But a shy smile crept onto his face.
"You think I can actually do this?"
"Stop overthinking," Roshit said. "Just go. We'll handle the rest."
Taking a deep breath, Ayaan nodded and walked toward the storeroom. With every step, his heartbeat grew louder.
Once he disappeared, Varun glanced at Roshit.
"You think he'll actually say it?"
Roshit snorted. "Please. I'd bet money he chickens out."
Still laughing, they returned to their desks, sample tubes waiting in front of them. But the grins on their faces didn't fade.