Aryav Rathore was never one to be caught off guard. Not in the operating room, not in the boardroom, and certainly not in the corridor of his own hospital.
But there she was.
Aleena Mirza.
Standing at the nurse's station like the past hadn't folded them both into origami pieces and scattered them in opposite directions.
She was dressed in her usual polished perfection—navy blazer, her long hair pulled into a sharp ponytail, a clipboard tucked under one arm, lips pressed into a neutral line. She was speaking to a nurse with practiced calm, jotting something down on a chart. As though she belonged. As though nothing had happened.
Aryav stopped mid-step, his hand tightening on the tablet in his grip.
Time didn't slow. It cracked.
No one else noticed. No one except Vihaan, who had been walking beside him and now glanced over his shoulder, voice dropping. "So... she's back."
Aryav didn't respond.
His face was unreadable, even as his throat tightened and his fingers went white around the tablet. His jaw set, sharp enough to slice through the air between them.
He hadn't known Aleena was returning today. Aaryan hadn't mentioned it. Or maybe he had, and Aryav had just... blocked it out.
Aleena looked up then. Their eyes met across the space like a forgotten scar opening.
She froze for a beat—but only just.
Then she smiled.
Not big. Not warm.
Just enough.
And Aryav?
He did what he had mastered over years of practice.
He looked through her.
He turned to Vihaan and said, casually, "Rounds?"
Vihaan blinked. "Yeah... sure."
They walked on.
But Vihaan could tell. Aryav's silence wasn't blank—it was loud. His strides were perfectly measured, but the grip on the tablet didn't relax. His jaw clenched ever so slightly. His eyes were focused forward, but Vihaan had known him long enough to recognize the weight of unspoken things.
Once they were in the elevator, Vihaan finally spoke.
"You okay?"
Aryav didn't answer for a moment. Then: "Why wouldn't I be?"
Vihaan smirked faintly, not pushing further. "No reason."
The elevator pinged at the third floor. As the doors opened, Aryav paused, hand braced on the frame.
"She's supposed to be in administration," he said without turning back.
Vihaan raised a brow. "That's where she was."
"I mean away from patients."
Vihaan watched him for a second. "You want me to check if that's still the case?"
Aryav nodded. "Quietly."
The doors closed before he said anything else.
⸻
Later that afternoon, Inaaya crossed paths with Aryav just outside the radiology wing. She was going through scans when he walked up, voice lighter than usual.
"You planning on solving cancer today, Doctor?"
She looked up and grinned. "Only if it behaves."
He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
She tilted her head. "You okay?"
He raised a brow. "I'm never okay. You know this."
She chuckled, then narrowed her eyes. "Something's off. You're more sarcastic than usual. Which is saying something."
He opened his mouth, closed it, then shrugged. "Just a long day."
She waited a moment, then leaned in and whispered, "I heard she's back."
His body stiffened just slightly.
"So it's that obvious?" he asked.
She softened. "Not to most. Just to people who know you."
He gave her a sidelong glance. "When did you get to know me?"
"You told me how you sneak your grandmother's mango pickles into the hospital pantry. That counts as bonding."
Aryav laughed—a real one this time. "She threatened to disown me if I didn't eat them."
"Fair. Mango pickles are sacred."
They shared a smile, and for a moment, the heaviness lifted.
But then it returned, like a shadow that lingered even in the brightest corridors.
"She's on the third floor," he said quietly. "Talking to board members. Handing out directives like she never left."
Inaaya bit her lip. "Are you... alright?"
Aryav's eyes clouded, but he masked it quickly. "I will be."
She hesitated, then added gently, "You don't have to pretend with me."
He looked at her for a long second. "It's not pretending. It's... surviving."
There was silence.
She didn't push him. She never did.
But she stood beside him, her presence quiet but grounding. And that, somehow, helped.
He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a chocolate bar, and handed it to her.
"Peace offering for when I inevitably get grumpy this week."
She took it with a smile. "I accept. In advance."
As she walked away, Aryav turned toward the window at the end of the hall.
Outside, the sun was setting behind the hospital tower, a wash of amber and gold on glass.
She was back.
But he wasn't that same boy anymore.
Or at least... he hoped he wasn't.