As I rushed through the crowded streets, I caught a glimpse of myself in a shop window. Over my blue kurti, I still wore the gray hoodie that had become a staple of my wardrobe. It wasn't the most conventional look, but it kept me warm during early mornings like this. My hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few strands escaping to frame my face. My school bag, heavy with business textbooks, was slung over one shoulder, bouncing lightly as I hurried along.
When I finally reached the school, I paused for a moment to catch my breath. I tugged at the sleeves of my hoodie, adjusting the hem of my kurti underneath. Despite the rush, a part of me still lingered at the hospital, thinking about the man and his mother.
As I entered the classroom, the usual chatter greeted me. I slid into my seat, offering a quick, apologetic smile to my friend who had saved me a spot.
As I settled into my seat, my friend Riya leaned over from the next desk, whispering, "Hey, you made it! I thought you'd skip today."
"Yeah, almost did," I replied with a small smile, trying to shake off the morning's events. "Got caught up in something."
Riya raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. Instead, she changed the subject. "So, we're all planning to go to that new café this weekend—the one with the rooftop view. You in?"
Before I could respond, another friend, Neha, chimed in from behind them. "And there's a movie night at my place afterward! We can binge-watch all those rom-coms Riya loves."
I hesitated. Normally, I would have been excited about the plans, but I knew I didn't have any money left after buying the essentials at the hospital. I bit her lip, unsure of how to explain without dampening the mood.
"I don't know if I can make it," I finally said, trying to sound casual.
"What? Why not?" Riya asked, looking disappointed.
"I, um, had to spend some money on something important today," I admitted, lowering my voice. "So, I'm kind of broke right now."
Riya and Neha exchanged a glance, their expressions softening. "Oh, Devika, that's okay," Neha said. "We can figure something out. You don't have to miss out because of that."
"Yeah, we can cover you this time," Riya added with a reassuring smile. "It's no big deal. You've done that for us before, right?"
I felt a wave of relief but also a pang of guilt. I didn't want to be a burden, but also didn't want to miss out on the fun. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."
"Of course, we're sure," Riya said firmly. "You're coming with us, no arguments."
I smiled, grateful for her friends. "Okay, fine. But next time, it's on me."
"Deal!" Neha grinned, and the three of them exchanged a quick fist bump before the teacher's stern glare reminded them to quiet down.
As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, I found myself walking back to the hospital. The day had been long, filled with classes and conversations, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to check on the man and his mother.
As I stepped into the hospital, the familiar scent of antiseptic hit me, mingling with the quiet hum of medical equipment. The day's events played in my mind, and I felt a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety. I had to know how the man and his mother were doing.
When I reached the ward where I had left them, my heart sank. The room was empty. The bed, once occupied by the frail figure of the man's mother, was now neatly made, as if they had never been there. I stood in the doorway, feeling a pang of worry. Had something happened? Did they move her to another room?
I glanced around, hoping to spot the man nearby, but there was no sign of him. A nurse walked by, and I considered asking her, but I stopped myself. That's when it hit me—I never asked their names. I had been so focused on helping them that I didn't even think to get those details. How was I supposed to find them now?
I took a few steps back, trying to gather my thoughts. I could go to the reception and ask about the woman, but without a name, it felt like a shot in the dark. My mind raced as I tried to recall anything that could help—a detail, a clue—but all I had was the memory of the man's worried face and his mother's fragile state.
Frustrated, I stood there, feeling helpless. All I wanted was to make sure they were okay, to see if they needed anything else. But now, I was stuck, unable to move forward because of one small oversight.
After a moment, I decided to go to the reception anyway. Maybe they would remember the case, or maybe I could describe them enough to get some information. It wasn't much, but it was better than leaving without trying.
As I approached the reception desk, my heart was racing. I hoped that despite my oversight, the staff would be able to help. I took a deep breath and asked the receptionist, "Excuse me, I was here earlier today and helped a patient. I didn't get their names, but I need to check on them. Can you tell me where they are?"
The receptionist looked up from her desk and nodded, her fingers typing quickly on the computer. "I remember you. Let me check that for you," she said, scanning the screen. After a moment, she looked back at me. "The patient you're asking about has been moved to the special ward. Her name is Jessica Gupta, and her son's name is Advait Gupta."
Relief washed over me as I repeated the names in my mind, committing them to memory. "Thank you so much," I said, turning to head towards the special ward.
Navigating the hospital's labyrinthine corridors, I finally found the special ward. The atmosphere was quieter and more subdued compared to the general wards, with plush chairs and soft lighting. I approached the room where Jessica Gupta was supposed to be, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
I peeked inside the room and saw an unfamiliar face—a young man who looked to be around my age or perhaps a year or two older. He was seated near the bed, absorbed in a book. He glanced up as I entered, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity.
I took a step inside, and as I looked at the woman lying in the bed, a wave of relief washed over me. Jessica Gupta appeared to be resting comfortably, a gentle rise and fall of her chest indicating she was stable.
Seeing her in better condition than before, I decided there was no need for me to stay. I didn't want to intrude on their privacy, especially now that her son was with her. I offered a small, respectful nod to the young man before turning to leave.
As I walked back through the quiet corridors, I felt a sense of contentment. As I left the hospital and made my way back to the bus stop, the cool evening air was a welcome change from the sterile atmosphere of the hospital. The city was alive with the sounds of people winding down their day, the gentle hum of traffic blending with the distant chatter of pedestrians.
when I arrived, I saw the familiar sight of the bus stop bench and the various commuters waiting for their rides. I took a seat on the bench, pulling out my phone to check the time and the bus schedule. The bus would be arriving in a few minutes, giving me a moment to reflect on the day.
As I sat there, I glanced around, observing the people coming and going. Some looked tired after a long day, others were chatting animatedly, and a few were lost in their own thoughts. I felt a sense of connection to all these strangers, knowing that everyone had their own stories and struggles.
My mind kept drifting back to the young man I had seen in Jessica Gupta's hospital room. I tried to picture him clearly, as if visualizing him more vividly might help me understand his story.
He was around my age, maybe a year or two older. I remembered his short, slightly tousled hair, which had a casual, almost carefree look to it. Despite the relaxed appearance, his eyes were anything but carefree. They held a depth of concern and weariness that seemed to speak volumes about the challenges he was facing. There was a strong, defined jawline on his face, and his skin had a tanned, weathered quality, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors.
His clothes were simple—light blue button-down shirt over a white t-shirt, paired with dark jeans. The shirt was slightly wrinkled, a clear sign that the day had been long and exhausting for him. I noticed a practical watch on his wrist, not flashy but clearly functional, adding to the impression of someone who valued practicality over style.
The events of the day played through my mind. The bus finally pulled up to the stop, and I gathered my things, ready to head home. As I climbed aboard, I found a seat by the window and settled in, watching the city lights blur by as we started moving.
*****