A stranger with tired eyes

The hospital felt colder the second night.

Not because the temperature had changed.

But because Aarohi was aware now.

Aware of the silence.

Aware of the long corridors.

And most of all…

Aware of him.

Vivaan.

⸻

“Late again?”

Aarohi stopped mid-step and turned.

He was already there.

Leaning against the counter, flipping through patient reports like he had been there for hours.

“I’m not late,” she said, checking the wall clock quickly. “I’m on time.”

“Three minutes early doesn’t count,” he replied.

She frowned.

“Three minutes matters.”

He looked at her for a second.

And for the first time…

There was a faint hint of something in his eyes.

Not quite a smile.

But close.

⸻

Aarohi walked past him, placing her file on the desk.

“Do you always judge people like this?” she asked casually.

“Only when I have to work with them,” he said.

She turned sharply.

“That’s rude.”

“That’s honest.”

Aarohi blinked.

Okay… he was definitely not like other people.

⸻

The night started like the previous one.

Vitals. Reports. Monitoring.

But this time, Aarohi wasn’t nervous.

She had settled in.

And somewhere in between checking IV lines and writing notes…

Her eyes kept searching for him.

⸻

He barely spoke.

Just instructions.

“Check bed 4.”

“Update chart.”

“Call me if BP drops.”

That was it.

No unnecessary words.

No small talk.

Nothing.

⸻

But Aarohi noticed things.

Small things.

Things others would ignore.

Like how he adjusted a patient’s blanket gently when they were asleep.

How he stayed longer near critical patients.

How he double-checked reports even after confirming them.

He wasn’t careless.

He was… precise.

And tired.

Always tired.

⸻

At around 1:30 AM, a patient suddenly started struggling to breathe.

Everything changed in seconds.

“Doctor!” Aarohi called out immediately.

Vivaan was already moving.

“Mask,” he said.

She handed it to him quickly.

“Oxygen level dropping,” she added.

“I can see that.”

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

But his hands—

Fast.

Steady.

Controlled.

⸻

Aarohi watched him closely.

There was no hesitation.

No panic.

Just focus.

Pure focus.

“Stay with me,” he said to the patient.

It wasn’t loud.

But it was firm.

Like he meant it.

Like he wasn’t going to let anything go wrong.

⸻

After a few intense minutes…

The situation stabilized.

The beeping slowed.

The breathing normalized.

Aarohi let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

⸻

Vivaan stepped back.

“Monitor closely,” he said, already turning away.

“That’s it?” Aarohi asked.

He paused.

“What else?”

“You don’t even feel anything?” she asked.

He looked at her.

“Feeling doesn’t fix patients.”

His answer was instant.

Sharp.

Final.

⸻

Aarohi didn’t reply.

But something about that answer…

Didn’t sit right.

⸻

The rest of the shift passed quietly.

Too quietly.

And this time, the silence felt heavier.

⸻

At 3 AM, Aarohi went to the pantry again.

Same coffee.

Same bad taste.

“Still drinking that?”

She didn’t turn this time.

“I like suffering,” she said.

He stood beside her.

“That explains a lot.”

She looked at him.

“What does that mean?”

“You chose this job.”

She smirked slightly.

“And you didn’t?”

He didn’t answer.

⸻

They stood there again.

Same place.

Same silence.

But something had changed.

⸻

“Why do you look so tired all the time?” Aarohi asked suddenly.

He didn’t react.

“Long shifts,” he said.

“That’s not it.”

Now he looked at her.

“You analyze everyone like this?”

“Only interesting people.”

He held her gaze for a moment.

Then—

“You shouldn’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because you won’t like what you find.”

His voice was lower now.

Different.

⸻

Aarohi tilted her head slightly.

“Try me.”

For a second…

Something broke through his expression.

Something real.

Something human.

But it disappeared just as fast.

⸻

“You’re new,” he said. “You still think everything has meaning.”

“And you don’t?” she asked.

“No.”

The answer came instantly.

Without hesitation.

Without emotion.

⸻

Aarohi felt something twist inside her.

Not sadness.

Not yet.

But… curiosity.

Deeper now.

⸻

“Everyone has a reason,” she said softly.

“Not everyone,” he replied.

“Or maybe… you just don’t want to tell yours.”

Silence.

⸻

He placed his empty cup on the counter.

“You ask too many questions.”

“And you answer too few.”

They stared at each other.

⸻

For a moment…

It didn’t feel like a doctor and a nurse.

It felt like two people standing on opposite sides of something invisible.

Something neither of them understood yet.

⸻

“Go back to work,” he said finally.

Back to the same tone.

Same distance.

Same wall.

⸻

Aarohi watched him walk away.

And this time…

She didn’t feel annoyed.

She felt…

Pulled.

⸻

Back in the ward, everything was normal again.

Machines.

Patients.

Silence.

⸻

But Aarohi’s mind wasn’t.

It kept replaying his words.

“You won’t like what you find.”

⸻

She glanced at him from across the room.

He was writing something.

Focused.

Detached.

Like nothing touched him.

⸻

“Who are you…” she whispered under her breath.

⸻

When the shift ended, Aarohi walked out again into the early morning light.

But today felt different.

Heavier.

More confusing.

⸻

She should have ignored him.

He wasn’t friendly.

He wasn’t warm.

He wasn’t even interested.

⸻

But still…

Something about him stayed.

⸻

Not his words.

Not his attitude.

But his eyes.

⸻

Tired.

Guarded.

And hiding something he refused to show.

⸻

Aarohi looked back at the hospital building.

“Why does it feel like I’ve known him before…” she murmured.

It didn’t make sense.

Nothing about him did.

⸻

But one thing was clear now.

⸻

This wasn’t just curiosity anymore.

And it definitely wasn’t simple.

⸻

Because somewhere between silence and unanswered questions…

A connection had started forming.

⸻

And neither of them was ready for what it would become.

⸻

End of Chapter 2

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***