The city lights of Kolkata's monsoon seeped through the damp windows of Genesis Super Speciality Hospital's doctors' quarters, casting wavering reflections on the walls.
Dr. Anshuman Chatterjee sat at the small wooden table, a simple lunch of rice, dal, and fish fry before him. The storm outside rattled the shutters, wind howling like a restless spirit.
His roommates — the lively Kamlesh, the calm surgeon Arjun, and the sharp-eyed Meera — had left for their shifts, their laughter fading down the hallways. Alone now, Anshuman ate slowly, his mind circling Professor N.K. Ganguly's words:
"Dedicate your lives to this noble path. Resist greed. Serve humanity."
His father Aboni's unfulfilled dream, lost in the factory fire, and his mother Malobika's sacrifices anchored his resolve. He didn't yet know that Genesis held shadows far beyond illness and medicine.
Anshuman's 5G tablet buzzed sharply on the table.
Immediate call from Dr. Manish Singha, Department Head.
Anshuman's fork froze midair. A ripple of unease tightened his chest. On his first day?
He finished his meal in silence, heart thudding, and hurried through Genesis's marble corridors. Rain lashed against the glass walls. Holographic Durga Puja ads flickered outside, their neon lights bleeding through the storm.
Manish Singha's office loomed at the corridor's end, its glass door reflecting the city's chaotic glow.
Anshuman knocked.
"Come in," Manish called.
The department head sat behind a sleek desk, eyes glinting with a mix of warmth and calculation.
"Sit, Anshuman," Manish said, voice smooth but edged with purpose.
Anshuman obeyed, posture straight, his damp kurta clinging to his shoulders.
"You handled the MLA's chaos well yesterday," Manish began. "Calm under pressure, saved the patient, silenced the shouting. People noticed."
Anshuman's gaze dropped modestly. "Just my responsibility, sir."
Manish smiled thinly, leaning forward. "I need a favor. A big one."
Anshuman nodded cautiously.
Manish leaned back, studying him with a faint smile. "Giridhar Chopra is ill. His daughter, Archana… she's the real gatekeeper. Fierce, proud, doesn't care for titles or faces. She trusts only N.K. Ganguly. But N.K. is abroad. Someone must go."
Anshuman blinked. "Why me?" The words escaped before he could stop them.
Manish leaned back, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "No one wants to go there, Anshuman," he admitted. "Not a single doctor. The moment they hear Archana's name, they vanish. Fear… the tigress."
He let the word hang in the air, then added softly, "But I saw how you handled MLA Das yesterday. Calm. Steady. Even in that chaos, you didn't lose your head. That's why I'm asking you."
Anshuman wanted to argue, to say he had joined only yesterday, that there were senior doctors better suited for this. But Dr. Manish Singha was his department head. You didn't defy orders on your first day.
And above all, a patient waited. He couldn't ignore that.
"I'll go," he said at last.
But as he left the office, the name rang in his head like a warning bell.
The tigress…
Not the illness. Not Giridhar Chopra's wealth or power.
It was her — the daughter his own age, the one known for shredding reputations with words sharper than scalpels. Facing her felt like stepping into a den with no armor but a stethoscope.
The tigress… he murmured again, gripping his bag tighter as the storm outside roared louder.The Journey
The rain-slick streets of Kolkata glistened under flickering streetlights as Anshuman boarded a crowded bus from Park Street.
He gripped the overhead railing, heart thudding, the city rushing past in streaks of gray and neon.
The tigress…
The name throbbed in his head as the bus jolted through puddles.
She wasn't just a patient's daughter. She was the daughter of the man who owned Genesis, a woman known for her fiery temper and cold pride.
The tigress…
He murmured it under his breath again, almost to steady himself. Not the illness, not the patient — it was her he was tense about.
The bus rattled on through the storm. Each time lightning split the sky, the word returned.
The tigress… waiting behind those gates.
The Mansion
The bus stopped at Alipore, Kolkata's poshest neighborhood. Rain-drenched trees lined quiet avenues. Behind high iron gates, the Chopra Mansion rose like a palace, floodlights glinting on white marble walls.
Anshuman's sneakers squelched on the wet pavement as he approached the ornate gates, heart pounding.
He pressed the bell. A deep chime echoed inside, swallowed by the storm.
The Door Opens
The heavy oak door swung open.
She stood there — Archana Chopra.
Emerald silk clung to her like fire trapped in cloth, gold threads catching the chandelier's glow. Her long black hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a face of sculpted pride — high cheekbones, defiant chin, almond-shaped eyes that blazed like unsheathed blades.
A diamond nose pin glimmered faintly. Jasmine perfume floated in the air, mixing with the storm's raw scent.
"Who are you?" Her voice was low, sharp, every syllable carrying warning.
Anshuman lowered his eyes briefly, then steadied himself. "Dr. Anshuman Chatterjee, from Genesis. Dr. Manish Singha sent me to see Mr. Giridhar Chopra."
Archana's gaze sliced through him. "Anshuman? I've never heard of you. When did you join Genesis?"
"Today," he said softly, gripping his bag.
Her laugh was short, bitter. "Today? And they send you to treat my father? Are you insane — or is Genesis?"
Anshuman held her glare, voice calm despite the storm inside him. "Professor N.K. Ganguly recommended me."
Her eyes flashed. "Only N.K. treats my father. No one else."
The hall tensed, servants watching silently.
The Mother's Word
"Anu, what's all this noise?"
From the inner rooms came Suhashini Devi, Giridhar's wife, draped in a simple white saree, her face lined with worry yet carrying quiet authority.
She looked at Anshuman, then at her furious daughter. "Who is this?"
Archana's voice cracked with frustration. "Mummy, they sent a boy who joined Genesis today! I told them only Uncle N.K. can treat Papa. Why risk his life?"
Anshuman spoke respectfully. "Ma'am, Dr. Manish Singha sent me. Professor Ganguly trusts me."
At that, Suhashini's expression softened. "If N.K. trusts this young man, we will trust him too. Let him see your father."
Archana turned sharply. "But Mummy—"
"Enough," Suhashini said, her voice firm. "Let the doctor work."
Archana fell silent, anger burning in her eyes, as Anshuman stepped into the marble corridor.
Rain pounded against the tall windows as servant led Anshuman toward Giridhar Chopra's room. Behind him, Archana stood stiff, her glare following like a shadow.
Tomorrow, he would face the illness. Tonight, he had already stepped into the Tigress's Den.