A simple cute girl who's name is saara .she wants to be a doctor and make profession in heart surgent specialist that's why she take the admission in best medical university.her family is so happy about her and give wishes for their future.

after few days, she moved to the university hostel and in the first day of college she met a guy who's name is evan and get to know about that they are classmates...having happy coversation..sharing social id's..and their past study experience and why they choose doctor as profession..both feel the understanding...and bounding...so, saara ask him to be friends...and he say, yes ofcourse..

saara is very sharp in her studies so after joining classes she maintain the all lectures..practical and library timing with his friend evan.also, she makes many friends. both sit together for study and some time ended up with the funny talks and laughs....

whenever saara gets free..she goes to library and reads book...she dont like to get involve in other things as compare to his age girls who's always talks about their love life...fashion..so on.., her world is just start with their family..dream and end with books.

The curtains had been wide open for quite some time now, letting the sharp rays of the sun stream in through the open window, on to the face of a prostrate dev , who lay in bed, covered in a worn-out hospital bedsheet, very uncomfortable in his sleep but still unmoving. His eyes flickeredthrough the night and his fingers trembled. He was asleep and didn’t wake up. It wasn’t a good night’s sleep. Finally, after tossing restlessly from side to side, he woke up and tried opening his eyes. One of them refused to open, swollen from the huge gash just above his left eyebrow, which had been heavily taped and bandaged. He touched the bandage with his hands and checked for blood with his other half-open, groggy eye. He sighed as he found none … Only then did he venture to look around the hospital room. He was surrounded with medical equipment, a lot of it connected to him, a small television in one corner of theroom and an empty bed on his left side. His thoughts wandered to what had brought him there. It wasn’t the first time he was in one of these beds, but this time it seemed a little more serious than the other times. Landing up unconscious after a series of uncontrollable vomits and brain tremors was a way of life for him. It was his escape, his refuge. Being sober hadn’t got him anywhere, and being drunk obliterated the possibility. He had tubes attached to needles, which dipped into his veins and arteries, and pumped liquids from transparent pouches hanging from the stand on his right side. He was sure his parents had no idea of his hereabouts. He knew none of his friends would have given the hospital authorities his parents’ numbers or address. He was in no mood to see or talk to them. Not now, not ever. The hands of the watch on his cell phone touched. It was twelve—fourteen hours since he had been admitted. Last night, like many before, had been a night of debauchery, porn, poker, alcohol and smoke. Six of his friends in his cramped one-room apartment—a five-minute walk from college—and a few bottles of alcohol, some weed, nail-polish remover and just about everything which could get them fucked up. The evening had started withcasual banter about college professors, the new kids who had joined the college, girls and pornography. A few cell phone videos of girls bathing ***** were transferred over Bluetooth amongst them. A little later the bottles had been popped open. Dev—who had graduated just a few months back—was mentor to these kids. He knew the exact proportions for deathly cocktails and the people who would have a steady supply of highly potent weed even during a nuclear holocaust. He knew how to get out of trouble. But more than that, he knew how to get into trouble. Like he had the night before, when he passed out only to wake up in a hospital bed. He remembered a seizure; he remembered feeling as if he was dying, but nothing more than that. He waited restlessly for the nurse to come in and tell him what the hell was going on. I need to get the **** out of here , he thought. On other occasions, he would just jerk off the needles that punctured his hand and walk right out of the ward, but there were too many of them this time and he wanted to know what was wrong, if anything. He was not scared, just concerned if it was serious enough for his mother to start crying and his father to start shouting at him for being irresponsible, disgraceful and a blot on the family name.What family name? He is a bloody head-clerk at the MCD , he said to himself. He never got the flawed definitions of honour and family name . He didn’t give a ****, and frankly, he knew they wouldn’t come this time. His head hurt and he thought he could do without the nonsense his parents always put him through. While he wallowed in self-pity and cursed the hospital, the door opened and a girl—short and fair—entered the room. She had big eyes—like the schoolgirls in Japanese cartoons—and looked like a confused kid in a candy shop with gold coins in both her palms, not knowing what to buy.