Kabir's PoV

I'm exhausted.

It feels like my soul might give up on me any moment. Seventy two hours. That is how long it has been since I last closed my eyes. A newly built bridge collapsed, and ever since then, the hospital has been nothing but a battlefield of broken bodies and fading breaths.

I have lost count of how many patients I treated, how many died in my arms. Faces blur together, pleas, screams, the metallic stench of blood. But some memories refuse to fade. Like the little girl, barely five. Her tiny fingers clutched my coat as she whimpered, "Doctor uncle, please save me." But her head injury was too severe, the bleeding too deep. She went still in my arms, and I felt utterly helpless.

Even after all these years, I never get used to it. I do not think I ever will.

Now, finally, the chaos has settled. Every patient that could be saved is stable. I dragged myself into my cabin, body screaming for rest, food, maybe even a hot shower. But food feels impossible, the moment I think of it, the images return. Torn flesh. Blood. Death. My stomach twists.

A knock pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Come in," I rasp.

Dr. Ranveer Mahajan, my assistant, steps inside. "Dr. Kabir, Dr. Batra said all the patients have stabilized. You should go home now. The other doctors are back too, we have enough hands."

Relief washes through me. "Thank you, Ranveer," I mutter. He nods and leaves.

I grab my keys and belongings, step out into the evening air, and head home.

My house is not a mansion, just a simple 3000 sq ft home, expanded over time from the little 1000 sq ft place I bought when I first started working. There is a small garden outside with a few flowers and vegetables. I park my bike, drag myself inside, and collapse onto the sofa. My body sinks into the cushions like it finally found forgiveness.

I close my eyes, breathing slow, when I feel a presence beside me. I open them to see him, my father.

"Papa," I whisper.

He studies me with gentle eyes. "Tired?"

"Exhausted," I groan, every bone in my body aching.

"Alright. Have some tea, freshen up, and I will make you something to eat."

He sets a steaming cup on the table. The warmth seeps into me with the first sip, calming nerves that felt like frayed wires. I drag myself to the shower, wash away the stench of the hospital, and change into casual clothes.

When I return, Papa has already set the table. A simple home cooked meal waits for me, smelling like comfort. I sit down, and he serves me.

"Aren't you eating?" I ask.

He shakes his head with a smile. "I already had lunch before you came."

So we talk. Or rather, he talks, guiding the conversation toward small, ordinary things. Distracting me from the horrors replaying in my head. He knows me too well.

By the time I retreat to my room, my body feels lighter, though the ghosts of the past three days still linger. I lie down, and this time, exhaustion wins.

♡

I felt someone patting me. Then I heard a voice. "Kabir, wake up."

It was Papa. I opened my eyes to see him standing near the bed with a phone in his hand. "You were sleeping since yesterday afternoon. It's already morning," he said.

I sat up groggily. He handed me the phone. "Here, take it. It's Arjun."

I accepted the phone and he stepped outside.

I cleared my throat. "Hello?"

"I've been calling your number since yesterday," Arjun's voice said. "You weren't picking up, so I had to call uncle."

I realized he was right. "Yes, I was asleep. I was tired, three continuous days at the hospital."

"Oh, okay. Then rest," he said.

"No, I just woke up. Why were you calling?"

"Did you forget? Your best friend's wedding is in three days idiot"

I blinked, then remembered. "Yes, yes. My wedding." I could hear the excitement in his voice over the line.

"Okay, okay. I'll be there in an hour. Tone down your excitement or else Megha might run away," I joked.

"Chup reh, kameene. Nazar mat laga dena. She won't, she loves me too much," he replied.

(Shut up, idiot. Don't jinx it. She won't. She loves me too much.)

"Okay, okay. I'm single, don't rub it in," I shot back.

"First come here, then I'll find a girl for you," he promised.

"No thank you," I said, laughing, and ended the call.

I got up, took a quick bath, and changed into a yellow kurta. It was the day of his haldi. Downstairs, Papa sat sipping chai. "I'm leaving," I told him.

"Have breakfast," he said.

"I'll have some there," I answered, hugging him briefly. He wouldn't be coming with me; he planned to go straight to the wedding later.

As I left, Avni called. "Pick me up too," she said before I could even answer properly. Typical Avni.

I swung by her apartment; she was already waiting outside. I handed her the spare helmet as she hopped on. "You're looking beautiful, Avni. Dress like this more often, sometimes I forget you're a girl," I teased.

"Drive quietly, or you might forget yourself," she shot back.

Avni Shrinivasan wore her officer's discipline like armor. Becoming an officer had only sharpened what she'd always been: strict, no-nonsense. The only person she softened for was Arjun.

We pulled up to the Oberoi mansion where the rest of the gang was gathering. I rushed inside and greeted Dadu and the Oberoi family, then found Arjun. The rest of our circle, Rajat, Saanjh, Saman, joined in. Richa aunty fussed over us. "Have some breakfast, all of you."

Most refused, eager to get on with the day, but I rubbed my hands together theatrically. "I would love some."

They glared at me, especially Arjun, who couldn't wait to see his bride. "What? I'm hungry. If you're not, it's not my problem."

Soon we piled into cars and drove to the RS mansion. The ride was a chorus of teasing aimed at Arjun. Avni took the wheel, Saman sat shotgun, and Arjun rode between Saanjh and the rest of us squeezed in the back. Rajat and I exchanged mischievous looks.

"Let's sing," I suggested.

"Which one?" he asked.

I launched into it loud and dramatic: "Barso re Megha, Megha, barso re Megha, Megha."

Arjun glared and everyone burst into laughter. Teasing him was effortless; he blushed like a boy.

At the mansion we were welcomed warmly and the haldi ceremony began. When it was my turn to apply haldi to Arjun, I scooped up a generous handful. Normal? Not my style. I slathered it over his face until he howled, "Kabir!"

I ran. He chased me, trying to return the favor, but I dodged and the haldi smeared over Rajat instead. Chaos ensued and soon every one of us was drenched in yellow, laughing at each other's paint-streaked faces.

I heard someone mention that Megha had her own group of six too. I had met five of them; one girl was missing, probably inside the house. We had fun for hours. Later, as I walked toward my room, someone approached from the opposite direction. I stopped dead.

She was like a fairy on earth, gorgeous, impossibly graceful, and for the first time all day I couldn't peel my eyes away.

Her beauty was breathtaking. But beneath it was something else, a sense of familiarity that tugged at my chest, one I couldn’t quite place. Then, as her face came into full view, the dam inside me broke. Memories I had buried long ago flashed before my eyes, and before I could stop myself, a single word slipped from my lips.

“Inaa…”

It was her. I knew it. Even after more than twenty years, my heart recognized her instantly. Because she was the only one who had ever truly lived there. I had loved her since before I even understood what love meant. But I never knew where life had taken her, until now.

My chest tightened with joy. Fate had led me to her again. To meet her here, like this, it felt unreal.

I took a step forward, ready to call out to her. But my feet faltered. What if she didn’t remember me? After all, we had been just five years old when we last saw each other. I may have recognized her, but would she recognize me? Still, maybe if I told her my name, she would remember. Childhood memories have a way of lingering, no matter how much time changes us.

But I was wrong. She walked past me without even a flicker of recognition. For a moment her gaze brushed mine, and then moved on as though I were just another stranger.

I forced myself back toward the crowd, my chest hollow, my smile forced. She was standing with Megha now, and I overheard as Megha introduced her to someone.

“That’s Naina. My best friend, Naina Chauhan. CEO of the Chauhan Group of Companies.”

He greeted her warmly, his voice laced with admiration as they spoke. And I, well, I just stood there, listening. She wasn’t just beautiful. She had become someone powerful, someone untouchable. A CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country.

My heart swelled with pride, but at the same time, a cold weight sank inside me. Quietly, I slipped away and returned to my room.

In front of the mirror, I stared at my reflection. My hands were on the sink as my own voice broke the silence.

“What were you thinking, Kabir? Why would you even try to approach her? Did you think she’d leap into your arms after seeing you? No. She won’t.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “Look at the difference between you and her. She’s a CEO. Her monthly revenue is ten times what you make in a year. And you? You’re not the same Kabir Singh Rathore anymore. The heir of the Rathore family is gone. You’ve got nothing now, nothing worth standing beside her with.”

Now stay away from her, I told myself. Don’t embarrass yourself again. You promised you’d protect her, but how? How do you protect someone who is stronger, sharper, and farther ahead than you? She deserves someone who matches her, someone who can stand beside her, not stumble behind.

I sounded pathetic even in my head, but that was the truth. Once we were a wealthy family. Papa built a company from scratch with his sweat and stubbornness, and for a while we had everything. Then someone close betrayed him. They forced him out of the company he had created and left him with nothing. Not a rupee. Not dignity.

He was crushed. He lost the will to fight. But he did it for me. For my sake he kept going; he taught me to be stubborn in a kinder way. Even with so little, he gave me the best he could. He is the best father anyone could ask for.

When we left that life behind, when we started again, I found friendship, Arjun, the others. In the process I lost her. Maybe that was fate, maybe it was mercy. Maybe it was both.

I wanted to give Papa something back, so I worked from the moment I could. I took on jobs, I studied, and I kept going. I tried to patch up the holes that betrayal had made. We built a house, earned a little security. It’s more than we had, less than what we dreamed.

Even with a bigger house and some savings, how could I ever imagine being with her? She is a star, distant, radiant, untouchable. I am dust on the ground, useful only to be stirred by her light.

After drowning in that storm of self-loathing, I finally forced myself under the shower. The cold water stung, biting against my skin, as if it wanted to wash away every thought, every weakness clinging to me. By the time I stepped out, I wasn’t lighter, just quieter, like a man who’d buried his ache under a fresh layer of silence.

I pulled on clean clothes, straightened the creases as if that could straighten me too, put on my signature smile and left the room.